Last night, Jamie scored us some suite tickets for the Avalanche game against the Dallas Stars. For those lowlifes who’ve never been in a suite (OK, admittedly, I was one of ‘em until I married Mr. He-Who-Has-Connections) allow me to expand upon how the better half lives.

Watching from a suite is a completely different experience. First, even though moments ago you were with the masses in the lobby, somehow when you enter your little box you feel like you’re on top of the world. Kinda like when I go for weeks with a filthy car and start passing judgment upon everyone else’s dirt the moment I finally make it to the car wash. Snobbery. It ain’t pretty but it sure feels good once and a while.

Second, a little printout of the game summary appears after every period. Not that I care about how much T.O.I. (time on ice) each player has and other such useless knowledge. Of course, the ESPN stats junkies of the world would be in hog heaven.

Third, there is suite envy. You have some suites that are fully loaded with oodles of food and drinks. Ours was not one of them. We got water. Oh yeah, and ice. We had to resort to buying food from the vendors, where you have to mortgage your house just to pay for a hamburger. The folks in the suite next to us had the works–fabulous food, drinks and desserts. And yes, there was envy.

I had my strategy all planned out. I would hop over the barrier, ask if I could use their restroom (ours was out of soap) and while everyone was watching the game, clean out the joint. However, Jamie said this would not be appropriate suite behavior. He would’ve changed his tune the moment he sunk his teeth into their chocolate cake with little decadent suite sprinkles on it. His loss. And what’s the worse that could’ve happened? OK, an arrest. But I could’ve made the news: “Pregnant Lady Fakes Pee and Cleans Out Suite.”

Now THAT would’ve been a suite memory…..

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

The first rule in marriage should be to just go along with what the other spouse is doing or saying. No questions asked. Even if the truth is stretched just a weeeee bit. I mean, as long as it’s not hurting anyone, right? Hunky Hubby ignored this cardinal rule last night.

We had a meeting at the church. I’d been out for two weeks with this dumb flu and this was my first public appearance. Translation: I wanted to make it look good. We ran into some people, and in my best I-want-sympathy-deep-guttural-sick voice, I struck up a conversation about my sufferings. Jamie took one look at me and in his most revealing voice, exclaimed, “Hey Amber, why wasn’t your voice like that a few minutes ago?”

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

I am not a football fan. I really don’t have anything against the Broncos and their bid for the Superbowl. I just don’t have anything for them. And the way this city has because uber obsessed with their hometown heroes, you’d think we’d just taken over the world.

Unfortunately, I am married to one of them. For a while now, we have had a family trip planned to the mountains for this weekend. The weekend of The Big Game. Jamie is losing sleep over it.

“So, do you think our room will have a TV?”
“Nope. One word: TiVo.”

Truth be told, I wouldn’t mind bailing on the whole trip because I’m sicker than ever but it’s the principle of the matter. Besides, I’d rather suffer in a beautiful mountain lodge than in a sea of blue and orange.

I complained to Jamie just how obnoxious I thought all the publicity had become: Bronco songs on the radio, countless ads and articles everywhere in the media. But the REAL topper came today on Page 6 in the paper. A page that should be dedicated to murder, drought and famine. You know. The good stuff. And the headline? Broncos Fans Could Get Fuzzy. http://www.rockymountainnews.com/drmn/local/article/0,1299,DRMN_15_4399137,00.html . This article actually had pictures of about 12 local celebrities with Jake Plummer’s beard photoshopped onto them. Including women.

What’s next? Fans bartering a free vasectomy for two Bronco’s tickets. Oh wait. Too late…..

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

Disclaimer: The following observation was made at a crosswalk on the way to buy some cough medicine after Hunky Hubby had spent three sleepless nights tending to sickly Haddie and me.

“Hey Amber, have you ever wondered if they programmed the lights in the ‘Do Not Walk’ sign a certain way, if it could look like someone is flipping you off?”

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

As I hacked, whined and moaned in the middle of the night, my beloved James made what I thought was a sweet gesture when he gave me some sympathetic snuggles and backrubs. But when I awoke an hour later, face-planted and drooling on the sheets, I realized his true intentions:

During his feigned pity session, he stole my pillow.

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

It’s official! My first ever letter-to-the-editor got printed in the Sunday edition of the Denver Post. I expect all my fan mail to start pouring in anytime now. Waiting. Waiting. Still waiting….

OK, so maybe the only responses I’ll receive are from pissed-off attorneys and ultra-liberal feminists. But there was an article in last week’s paper that spurred me to action about how female attorneys are being made partners in their firms, and what a “wonderful” job they’re doing balancing family and home life.

I don’t have issues with their career aspirations; we all have hopes and dreams to pursue. I also know many women have extenuating circumstances and need to work. What ticked me off was the false praise that was given to this women for her non-existent balancing act (she was NEVER home for her kids and had brainwashed them to believe her absence was for a nobler good). When I think of all I gave up in my career to become a stay-at-home mom, I don’t have any regrets. It was my decision to have kids and though this is 100X tougher than any job I’ve ever had, I’m grateful for the opportunity. Well, most days. Anyhew, an excerpt from the letter I sent:

“According to your article, attorney Kristin Bronson has absolutely no balance in her life in regards to her family; i.e., she “can go weeks without seeing her children, and she says she relies heavily on others for child care.” How is this to be commended? Bronson has erroneously programmed her children to believe it’s a good and noble thing to choose work over family. Kids at 5 and 8 don’t need career aspirations; they need a mother to instill values and love on a daily basis. It is said that no success in the workplace can compensate for failure in the home. I sure hope Bronson can figure this out before it’s too late.”

P.S. Don’t mess with THIS Mama!!!!!

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

I’m not sure but does having a guest go into anaphylactic shock due to the peach and mango salsa we dropped off put a damper on a dinner party?

P.S. Good to know we were gone but not forgotten….

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

KARMA. That’s what Earl Hickey calls this. Because I tempted all those unassuming weight-loss masochists with Girl Scout Cookies yesterday, I have been downtrodden and beaten up with the plague. Yep, I am barely functional today with what I hope will not be strep. And so in penitence, allow me to share a little-known weight-loss secret. Here’s the story.

There is something that every pregnant lady dreads during her regular checkups: the weigh-in. I endured something exponentially worse yesterday: the weigh-in after the holidays. To be honest, I was supposed to go in last week for my 12-week appointment but pushed it back. My surface reasoning was because Grandma was out of town and I needed her to watch The Hurricane. But my real reckoning was I wanted to take an extra week to lose a pound or two. Yeah, right. I’m sure the pound of jelly bellies I ate yesterday helped out the poundage count considerably.

The doctor’s office called to confirm my appointment yesterday with Dr. Ganter. Never in my wildest pregnant lady pee dreams would I have chosen Ganter out of the other four female doctors. She is the Nazi of weight gain. And is not above reducing bloating pregnant ladies to tears. Big, FAT tears, of course.

The waiting room consisted of the usual routine: all of us subtly checking out each other’s bellies to see who was biggest. But then it came time to take part in the one thing I excel at: offering up a pee sample. I strutted on in there, grabbed my cup, assumed the position…and nothing. NOTHING! Now, there are many things I cannot do on demand (i.e. belching, passing gas, etc.) but peeing is not among them. But for the first time I knew what it was like to be a guy at a urinal experiencing “Pee Fright.” Don’t deny it, Men. Jamie has filled me in on urinal etiquette.

When I finally emerged from the bathroom, there was the nurse waiting for me by the scale. As far I was concerned, that thing was about as big and intimidating as the life-size scale on The Biggest Loser. I half expected to see my weight displayed in big, blazing numbers for all to see. I tentatively stepped on, wondering if it would be too extreme to strip down to nothing to save myself the extra ounces but I decided to keep my dignity instead.
And my total weight gain? Five pounds. Now, I’m sure most women would be wailing over that but I about jumped for joy. I would’ve gained that much just inhaling the food at the local Chinese buffet. It just goes to prove that maybe jelly bellies are the dietary miracle drug of today.

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

For all you Mad Dad weight-loss masochists out there, here’s a little road-bump:

Girl Scouts will be knocking down your door with their perky personalities and irresistible wares starting on Saturday. These little temptresses will be bringing you all the regular indulgences, as well as the Cafe Cookie. This crisp cookie has caramelized brown sugar and a hint of cinnamon spice. If you’re gonna cheat, this is the one.

P.S. Do you find it coincidental those little vixens always proselyte after New Year’s when the world is repenting from their holiday gorging?
P.P.S. I’ll buy an extra box for the abstainers and thank my lucky stars for my weight-gain diet….

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