One of our favorite family pastimes is to snuggle in our king-size bed and wrestle with The Hurricane. For her, snuggling is equal unto a day without Grandma. She hates anything that is a restriction from her path of destruction.

So the other night while we were torturing her with snuggles, Jamie blurted out he was working on a surprise.

“A surprise?”
“Yep!”
“So, what is it?”
“Not telling.”

This went on for a few minutes until I decided to clam up and pretend I could not care less. The problem is, I was intrigued. And I did care. More. Especially if I was the one to benefit. I finally exploded.

“OK, what is it? Give me a hint?”
Now relishing that he was in control, he teased back: “What do I get out of it?”
“Love.”
“I get love every day.”
“Even more love.”
He persisted, trying to exploit my innate sense of curiosity. I finally caved.
“OK, fine. You’ll get a back rub.”

Defeated, I listened as he divulged his secret–a 5-day trip to Crested Butte for our anniversary next month. ‘Twas a stellar reward for my trouncing but it was only the battle that was won. After all, shouldn’t love be the best payback of all?

He whipped off his shirt and assumed the back-rub position, languishing in his victory. And his reward? Hurricane Hadley covertly came up behind him and administered his prize: a 9 second back rub/horsey ride/back breaker.

The war was won.

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

Is insomnia genetic? If so, I blame my father, Stan, for my condition. Of course, Stan’s condition is probably not due to an overwhelming necessity to pee every two hours. And he probably doesn’t obsess about it to the point that on his way back from Relief, he’s already thinking about the next round. Rather, I should probably blame my latest sleep problems (this has been going on for years) on pregnancy. Sadly enough, it only gets worse. I don’t even have a baby bouncing on my bladder yet. And those blasted doctors want me to drink ONE GALLON of water every day? Why? So Baby can practice backstrokes in the womb?

I used to be the Queen of Bladder Control. Or rather, “The Camel of the Pee World” (as my friend Dave christened me during a backpacking trip through Yosemite a few years ago when I rarely had to stop for potty breaks). Oh, if he could see how much the Great Pee Camel is peeing now.

Is there a solution, a plug, a pill I can take? Perhaps we can all learn from Haddie’s resolution: a diaper. But a big one. The kind that would only fit Sumo wrestlers and pregnant ladies. I mean, if Haddie can blissfully sleep away the night soaked in her own urine, why can’t I? Though I just don’t know if their “thong” look is in….

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

Introducing my Saturday delight: the Police Beat! I’m not obsessed, really. But imagine my excitement when they also included favorites from 2005. I’m nominating the column’s writer for the equivalent of the Police Beat Pulitzer. Whatever that may be. Talk ’bout great writing!

“A Wheat Ridge police officer witnessed a man leaving a trail or urine as he walked through a grocery store parking lot… In defense of his mobile urination he said he had to “go real bad” but did not want to enter the grocery store. He was issued a summons for public urination.”

“Wheat Ridge police were called to check on a crying, naked man on July 9th.” Note: I’ll leave the rest to your imagination. It shouldn’t be surprising that drugs were involved….

“A thirsty man who may have self-esteem issues was reported to police for harassing residents. The suspect rang the doorbell , brandishing some sort of identification card. He then repeatedly said, ‘Tell me how obnoxious I am.’ He continued talking, inquiring as to whether it as his hair or the way he dressed that made him obnoxious.”

And for all you weight-loss challenge/sweat hogs out there, this one’s for you:
“An unhappy member of a fitness club reportedly threatened to blow up the facility.”

Hmmmmm, can anyone relate?….

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

Finally, I have an OUT!

If you haven’t jumped on the bandwagon yet, Mad Dad is putting on a weight-loss challenge: every pound lost goes to charity. I was feeling a bit left out from the whole venture due to my pregnant status when I thought, “Wait! How about doing it for every pound gained?” Rest assured while the rest of you are cheating with your chocolate temptations, my indulgences will be for someone’s betterment. And not just my rear end’s.

So when my doc gives me crap for packin’ on the pounds? (as they always do):

“I’m doing it for charity.”

Signed,
Crazy Bloatin’ Canuck

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

Hurricane Hadley
Best: Big, fluffy dog twice her size, a potential tripping hazard for anyone in its wake. An Elmo rug that does not sing annoying songs.
Worst: Any toy that makes incessant noise (according to the parents)

Amber
Best: $ for new camera, panini machine, chocolate fountain
Worst: Cute new clothes…that this bloated bod won’t fit into for another nine months (if ever).

Hunky Hubby
Best: Ice cream mixer, smoker for the BBQ, Harry and David’s licorice that I devoured all week…GREAT gift.
Worst: When Calgary Flames fans (my parents) impart their obsession upon Avalanche lovers (Hunky Hubby).

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

As I sit here pondering upon 2006, my thoughts turn to our family’s New Year Resolutions.

Hurricane Hadley
Overcome her addiction to her cocaine-laced pacifier (or whatever they put in those things)
Lots and LOTS and LOTS of sleepovers at Grandma’s
SLEEP MORE, CRY LESS
Summit Everest. Without oxygen.

Hunky Hubby
Daily back-rubs for beloved, pregnant wife.
Daily foot-rubs for beloved, pregnant wife.
Daily love notes for beloved, pregnant wife.
Daily meals for beloved, pregnant wife.
Daily cleanup duty for beloved, pregnant wife.
Oh, and finish landscaping the backyard ONCE AND FOR ALL. For beloved, pregnant wife, of course.

Me
I hereby covenant to uphold the ONLY New Year’s Resolution I have ever kept: to no longer make New Year’s Resolutions for myself. Besides, it’s much more fun to have such resolve for others. Perhaps they can change the name next year to New Year’s Honey-Do Lists?

Gee, 2006 is already looking up. Happy New Year!!

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog