When Hunky Hubby follows his regular routine of kissing you good-bye but instead of his normal three magical words, “I LOVE YOU!” he instead says three new ones: “Don’t kill Hadley!”

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

Welp, we’re on the homestretch…stretch of relentless 90+-degree days, that is. I don’t need to expound upon how I feel about this. But do you know what? After feeling so dog sick with various ailments throughout my third trimester, I will gladly take my life as an overheated, swollen Beluga! At least now I’m functional and Haddie and I have been on some fun, final adventures together before Junior’s arrival.

I have also been given a new survival mechanism to get through my final month of pregnancy and those brutal first months with a newborn: a vacation! And I have Hunky Hubby to thank for it. Even though I poke fun and tease him a lot, he’s definitely top-notch in the romance/thoughtfulness department. One of his most recent transactions in the Bank of Looooove was booking a B&B for Mother’s Day. A couple of weeks ago, he surprised me with a week-long cruise in February. Without children. He says it’s for our anniversary. I say it’s A Will to Live.

He found this GREAT site, www.skyauction.com, which auctions off vacations at unbelievable prices. The only problem was after he bid on and won a cruise to Mexico and Belize (destinations we already visited on a cruise last year), we found a more optimal cruise to Puerto Rico, St. Thomas, Antigua and the Bahamas. I decided that a trip to the latter destinations would give me even more motivation to live than Mexico, so I made it my personal mission to stalk the poor folks at Skyauction. They got either a loving daily phone call or email for two weeks until they finally relented and credited our account (“JUST MAKE THE WOMAN STOP CALLING US, PLEASE!”) Now all that was left was to bid on and win the trip we really wanted.

When it comes to online auctions, Jamie is The Man. I don’t think he’s ever lost an auction on eBay and has it down to an exact science when to swoop in and yank the rug from underneath all the other bidders. The only problem was he would be in a meeting when our auction expired, leaving My Will to Live entirely up to me.

The night prior to the big auction, he sat me down and wrote out everything I needed, at the exact moment I needed to do it. Anticipation swelled within me as I felt the pressure. I had stalked for two weeks and it would all come down to those final moments. Would I crack? Would I blow the whole thing?

I needed some reassurance. At the end of his Auction Essay, I reminded Jamie, “You remember those days when you used to write me sweet love notes?” I figured that surely a note saying how much he loved and cared for me would help subside some of the pressure. “Of course I do,” he reassuringly said, and proceeded to etch something for me on paper.

Touched, I looked down and read his message of loooove:

“You better win!”

Gee. Just what I was looking for. At least he could have been grammatically correct about the whole thing.

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

Jamie gets a fair amount of fabulous swag from work. The other day, he came home with some cool outdoor-wear for which he only paid a nominal fee. He even thought of me during his little shopping spree.

“Look Amber, I got you this new black fleece.”
“No, I couldn’t possibly. I stole your other one that looks just like it.”

“Yeah, but I got you this year’s design.”

“All the more reason I can’t accept it. I’ll just keep the one from last year. You take the new one.”

“But I bought it for you!”

“I can’t accept it.”

“Look Woman, why would I want this piece-of-crap fleece when I’ve got my own top-of-the-line Polartec 300 Series water-resistant jacket?”

Gee. When you put it that way….

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

Before I got married, I vowed when I had kids I’d never be the kind of lame person who spent my weekends working on my house and yard. I would, instead, head to the hills whilst hiking and biking to my little married heart’s content.

Guess what? Reality bites. Work is all we’ve done lately as we prepare for Junior’s arrival next month. Landscaping has been eating up the majority of our time the past couple of months. I have vowed that if we ever build a house again, I will ensure we have ample provisions to pay good money for someone else to do it. After all, that’s my mantra when it comes to sewing; why not yardwork as well?

Our biggest project last weekend was painting Junior’s room. I previously had great aspirations for his abode–cool wall hangings, borders and cooler-than-cool chalkboard paint for him to scribble above his bed. Guess what? Reality bites. In the end, we just slapped down a coat of paint and called it good. Perhaps if we wax ambitious in the next few weeks we’ll drag ourselves back in there. But it’s not like he really cares what his nursery looks like, right?

As part of our painting process, we moved all the furniture out of Junior’s room, including a couple of twin beds. We placed one in Haddie’s room beside her crib while we painted. When it came time for her nap, she was thrilled to see a “big-girl bed” in her room. And then I got a “brilliant idea” (mind you, brilliance is relative when exhausted and overworked): I would choose this month of all months to transition her to a real bed from her crib.

It started great! We snuggled up in the bed , kissed bye-bye and I walked out. She started to get up to explore her room but I reminded her one of the privileges of sleeping in a big-girl bed is actually staying in it. And she did. A half hour later, I peeked in on her and she was curled up in a little ball. I was so touched by how she was growing up that I dragged Jamie with paint-stained hands into her room to see. “Touching,” Mr. Monotone warily stated.

We continued painting but before long we heard her cries again. “She’ll just go back down. It’s way too early,” I prophesied. And it was. But the different denominator this time was she was not sequestered in her jail….errr…crib. Mr. Monotone cast me an “I told you so glance” and suddenly my stupidity struck me: why the crap would I want to set the world’s worst sleeper loose? Ever since her suicide attempt a couple of months ago when she launched out of her crib in rebellion over Binky’s “disappearance,” the only thing we have going for us is she’s resolved that life is better on the Inside than the Outside. Prison breaks only result in pain and suffering.

And so I stuck her back in her crib. And she slept through the night. At least I think she did. All I know is she wasn’t knocking on my door or disassembling her bedroom. At the rate we’re going, she’ll probably get parole in six months. Or would that be years?….

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

It’s been a busy week entertaining my Aunt Sue who’s visiting from Canada. We’ve had a great time taking her all around Denver, including a dining experience like no other at the four-star restaurant where Jamie and I got engaged. Haddie and I also took her to our favorite spot downtown for a “Power Lunch” with Jamie yesterday.

We ordered some gourmet salads and to compensate for our healthy choice (that undoubtedly would’ve shocked our sugar-laced bodies to the core), we also gorged ourselves on a cream-cheese brownie and a miniature coconut bundt cake. Like a typical toddler, Hadley was obsessed with devouring dessert first and desperately begged, “Cake, cake!!” when it was delivered prior to our salads.

Trying to instill polite etiquette into my little Hurricane, I tore off a piece for her and coyly asked, “Now, Haddie. What do you say?”

She looked at me, pointed to the table in front of her and emphatically stated, “RIGHT HERE!”

It’s always alarming when I am reminded that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

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

I’ve heard of the Terrible 2s and from some disillusioned parents, the Terrific 2s, but I’ve never heard of the Schizophrenic/Bi-Polar 2s. The latter is the stage Haddie entered over Memorial Day weekend.

It started whilst visiting our friends, Brent and Crystal and their 9-month-old son, Andrew. Not only does Hadley usually love babies but she generally won’t leave them alone. Not this time. As cute as he was, Andrew had this weird method of crawling–more like a scoot–and he looked more primate than human. And Hadley was petrified of poor Andrew. She spent the whole time dive-bombing into Jamie’s arms, as if to say “Get that freak away from me!”

This alone would have made for an interesting evening. But any time spent with Brent and Crystal is always entertaining, primarily because Brent is the goofiest and cheesiest guy you’ll ever meet. “Gee whiz or golly gee whillikers” are staples in his vocabulary. Juxtapose this against his graphic exposes of his hospital work and you’ve got quite the evening.

When we were driving to their place, I pondered what stories we’d hear. “I’ll bet you $10 if we mention my bout with hemorrhoids a few weeks ago that he’ll have an unbelievably gross story about it.” And Brent didn’t disappoint. We learned all about one of his spinal patients who has had some issues with his bowels. We learned all about the unfortunate process of stimulating the bowels to go to the bathroom, which is called “digging” (pronounced with a soft ‘G’ the next time you use this in conversation.) And we learned about this man’s worst case of hemorrhoids EVER that were literally his entire intestine hanging out all over his rear. Grossed out? Well, you got one second of it. Imagine 10 minutes. That Brent never disappoints.

Whew, but back to our bi-polar 2s. The next day at church? Same thing: The Hurricane was scared of the baby sitting behind us. Nice timing, too, given Junior’s entrance into the world in the next weeks.

And Memorial Day? We went hiking up in the mountains, one of her favorite activities. Usually. This time, there was a drop-down, drag-out tantrum in the middle of the trail because she wanted Jamie to carry her. Fellow hikers curiously passed us, probably pondering whether or not to report us to child services. And I’d weakly offer, “You’d never know she turned 2 this week, eh?”

Jamie finally threw in the towel and said he’d had enough. We had our little picnic lunch with Bi-Polar Hadley still raging about the injustices of having to eat chicken and cheese. Until I threatened her she wouldn’t get any cookies until after she ate her lunch. And then something triggered that little bi-polar babe. Before we knew it, she was stuffing her food in her face, barely able to chew and swallow it all. With chicken hanging out of her mouth, she hopefully asked, “Cookie?” And I obliged.

After that, she was a new kid! She skipped down the trail, rock climbed craggy cliffs with Jamie and entertained everyone who passed us. Jamie and I just shook our heads. Her chemical imbalance just didn’t make sense. Until we introduced the great neutralizers: sugar + bribery. Forget what the experts say; we’ve found our new strategy for surviving the Bi-Polar 2s….

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