Today is Bode’s four-week birthday. You haven’t seen any pictures of him lately because he has hit early puberty. (Translation: his formerly flawless skin is now covered in big, pussy pimples.) And not the fun kind. (Translation: fun kind being those I can actually pop. Yes, I’m sick like that.)

Now, don’t go lecturing me that I should be taking tons of pubescent pictures. I did that with Haddie during what I call The Blotch Phase, when her little body was blotchy, sore and red. And you know what? Those pictures still make me cringe to this day. I’m sure she’ll burn them when she’s in her teens because “Like, how totally gross!”

At least that’s what I did (burned all ugly pictures of myself) when I was a teen, though a few did manage to slip through the cracks. “The cracks” meaning my sadistic brothers who sent the worst picture ever to my new fiance. Some of you may know him. A man some call James. A man with a sick, twisted sense of humor. A man who posted Said Blackmail Picture on our front door the first time he welcomed me home to our new condo.

Oh well. What goes around, comes around and tonight, he got just a bit of payback. I’m sure most of us have dreamed of coming into a large inheritance from a wealthy great uncle we never knew. Jamie’s was named Uncle Jesse. OK, so maybe he wasn’t exactly rich or even related but Jamie befriended this older man last year. I think Jesse had a man-crush on Jamie because he called him (at minimum) five times a day. While tiresome, my sweet husband never whined or complained about it. That was always my job.

Our phone stopped ringing a few months ago when Uncle Jesse passed away suddenly in a tragic car accident. Sweet Hubby delivered his eulogy and never once expected anything out of it. But tonight, we discovered just how overrated money truly is. Uncle Jesse did leave one of his most prized possessions for Jamie: his old, ratty set of golf clubs, which Jamie tested out this evening.

Trying to be supportive as he swung away on our front lawn, I commented,
“You know, it really is sweet of him to bequeath these to you.”

Jamie mumbled some words of gratitude as he practiced his swing. After a few attempts, he walked over to the old leather bag and started going through the pockets and retrieving the contents.

“A Colorado Rockies jacket!” He announced. It looked and smelled like it had never been washed, neither of which stopped my father from claiming it.

“Golfing gloves!” Those were at least new.

But then came the clincher as Jamie paused and reluctantly pulled. “A diaper?” he queried. And then the sad truth was revealed: ’twas an adult diaper. And there wasn’t just one, but two. How’s that for an inheritance?

And so the quest begins for a long-lost uncle but now the qualifications have been altered. In addition to being rich without any posterity, we are preferably seeking one with bladder control.

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

Many people associate Mormons with our health code i.e. no tobacco, alcohol, drugs, etc. Those are the biggies (the addictive ones) and they’re pretty black-and-white.

While certainly devout, Jamie and I aren’t what I’d consider zealots. But there are a few grey areas when it comes to another contraband substance: “hot drinks.” These are generally interpreted to mean stimulants such as coffee and non-herbal teas. Since I don’t like any of ‘em, this has never been an issue for me. Until recently.

I was blissfully stuffing my face with my favorite new breakfast, Kashi’s Heart to Heart cereal, when Jamie queried,

“Are you sure you should be eating this?”
“Why not?”
“It has green tea listed on the ingredients.”
“I’m sure it’s baked out.”
“Tea does not bake out.”
“Sure it does. Besides, how’s that different from when we eat something that has the alcohol cooked out?”
“I repeat: it does not bake out and it is not the same thing. So, what’s next? Marijuana muffins?”
“Just so long as I don’t inhale.”

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

In honor of yesterday’s post, here’s an oldie but a goody. I like to call it
“Hadley reveals her true thoughts about her parents….”

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

I am not against using a pacifier. It was one of the only saving graces for surviving our first year with The Hurricane. However, it also became our downfall because she would drop the stupid thing. All Night Long. I spent more effort trying to plug her up than I would have if she just learned to self-soothe. She also became so addicted that her withdrawals were like dealing with a little cocaine addict. The whole thing has left a bad taste in my mouth. A bad plastic kinda taste.

I have been losing the Binky Wars at our house. Bode really hasn’t taken to it like Haddie, which makes me inclined to just skip out all together. Jamie and my parents, however, have been trying to stuff that thing in his mouth at the first squawk he makes.

During a discussion on the matter last week, Jamie revealed his true intentions. Y’see at the time, I was camping out in Bode’s room at night. You know. Before I was “generously” invited back into our bedroom to start on baby #3. Yeah, right. Anyhew, the conversation:

Me: “I just don’t think it’s worth it. He’s not nearly as fussy as Haddie and we’ll just have to put it back in his mouth over and over again.”

Jamie: “Just to reiterate, who is going to put the binky back in his mouth?”

Me: “I am, since I’m sleeping in his room right now.”

Jamie: “Exactly. And that’s why I think we should do it.”

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

I know I’m a minority in the female persuasion by saying that I hate shopping. Always have. I blame a mall-obsessed mother who used to drag me around for hours. To this day, I cannot enter a fabric store without getting hives.

And so guess what my mother wanted to do within 24 hours of arriving at our house this weekend? Yep, you guessed it. While I enviously watched the men drive up to the mountains to hike, I was stuck on estrogen duty thumbing through clothing racks of clothes that no longer fit. Talk about fun.

Chaos ensued the morning we were supposed to meet my mother-in-law (another shopper..AWK..I’m surrounded!) Not only did it take my beloved high-maintenance mother three hours to get ready (a new record), but Bode threw an all-time fit and Hadley locked herself in the bathroom.

Sensing I was about to be committed to the psych ward (did I mention I only got three hours of sleep?) Mom gave me an out and offered Super Target as an alternative to the mall (one I would have gladly taken.) But I blame Hadley when she proclaimed: “No Super Target. MALL!” Unfortunately, she has the shopping gene. I just hope Bode is on my side.

I won’t expound upon the shopping trip. Just know that we were there for a couple of hours. And hit only two stores. Yes, people: that means I was in each store for one entire hour. Did you know one hour is enough time for a Hurricane to completely dismantle everything in her wake?

I’m ashamed to say that I left my mother there. At the mall. No, don’t think ill of me. She had plenty of food and water to last for weeks. Plus, my MIL offered to take her around, an offer I strongly encouraged my mother to take. Y’see, I know I can’t be very fun to shop with because if I hate shopping with me, why would anyone else enjoy it?

Oh well. At least Bode’s baby blessing went well (the reason why the entire clan was in town the first place). Well, if you don’t count Hadley’s little bout of projectile vomit moments before we got started. After that little episode and the inevitable disasters that will likely ensue the next couple of weeks while my Murphy’s Law family is in town, maybe the mall ain’t so bad after all…

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

The other night while I was bathing Haddie, I called out to Hunky Hubby to strip Bode down for his bath. A couple of minutes later, I heard a resounding “Uhhhh ohhhhh” from the bedroom. He casually called out to me:

“Hey Amber, I have some good news and some bad news.”
“What’s the good news?”
“Well, he didn’t do it on my side of the bed….”

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

A few random, disconnected updates today.

1) Bode’s two-week appointment was yesterday and he checked out maaaavelously. Not only has he regained what he lost in the hospital, but The Slug (as he became known) has already gained half an ounce. Good to know these explosive mammaries are good for something. He also showed early signs of genius when he spoke his first three words. Vehemently. His profundities occurred when they stuck a needle in his foot and he screeched “WORST! PAIN! EVER!” Poor kid. He even included the exclamation marks in his statement.

2) I am enjoying having a boy more than I ever imagined. Admittedly, I had an aversion to getting peed on and boys, as you know, aim and fire. But I am indulging his feminine side in a way that would make Hunky Hubby cringe: by putting Vaseline on his little lips and lotion on his legs. And there isn’t any kicking and screaming. In fact, I think he kind of likes it and assures me it is absolutely no threat to his manhood. Unlike other men I know.

3) A parent is proud of their child under different circumstances during their lives: their first day of kindergarten, their first ‘A’ in school, their first goal in soccer. I reached one of these milestones with Hadley the other day when Jamie was coughing away, coughing without covering his mouth.

The Hurricane walked up to him, put her arm up to her mouth and did a fake cough to demonstrate how to politely do it. She then attempted to cover Jamie’s mouth with his arm. When he stubbornly refused, she grabbed every single one of her stuffed animals and showed Daddy how they do it. FYI, Big Bird was the only one whose arm/wing was not long enough to cover his mouth. Just in case you were wondering. I always suspected he was lacking in social graces.

4) Thanks for all the advice on the explosive mammaries. I went the cabbage leaves route and they have worked wonders. The only drawback is that after a few hours when they’ve appropriately molded to said mammaries, they start to, well, mold. I’m trying to get beyond the stench and have to put a pillow on my chest whilst sleeping. Because I just wouldn’t be me if I didn’t have any sleep issues.

Also, I’m not sure what’s more offensive. When I first put them on and Hunky Hubby told me he suddenly had a craving for coleslaw or the fact that he now calls me his little sauerkraut.

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

I have always believed in the power of prayer but this testimony has been reconfirmed the past couple of days.

Case study #1: The other night after feeding Bode at 3:30 a.m., he started fussing when I went back to bed. I said a quick prayer: “Dear Lord, if you don’t want me to be a crazed lunatic who cries because the laundry hasn’t been put away for two days, please let this kid sleep.” And do you know what? He stopped immediately. I guess that means I have to put away the laundry now….

Case study #2: I’m a bit ashamed about this one. Y’see, yesterday was supposed to be my first day alone with the kids but it didn’t happen. Why? Because I prayed my husband home. Yep, the night before I prayed I’d get some help and lo-and-behold, Jamie woke up sick for his first day back on the job. Of course, I would never pray ma honey sick. Unless I knew he’d be exceedingly helpful, of course.

Case study #3: This is the one where I learned that I control even the elements through my great faith. Several years ago when I worked as a publicist in the ski industry, I had the opportunity to participate in SkiUtah’s infamous Interconnect Adventure Tour. This tour offers the advanced skier the chance to ski often treacherous backcountry routes through five resorts in a single day for $150. Why would I submit myself to such a crazy thing? Simple: I had the opportunity to do it for free.

Photo: skiing Tahoe in non-powder conditions
I have been skiing since I was 5 years old but to put it mildly, backcountry powder skiing just ain’t my forte so I rented some “revolutionary” backcountry skis to help. In the beginning, I had some minor difficulties balancing my weight on my new skis. I fell quite a few times but overall I was doing pretty well. Doing well, that is, until I actually had to leave the summit. Though not pretty, I did manage to make it down the test run, after which time the instructors separated the wheat from the tares (meaning those of us who sucked and those who didn’t.)

I was labeled a borderline tare: one who was a strong enough skier to complete the tour but who would probably be miserable because of the harsh backcountry conditions that day. I opted to stay onboard, primarily because there were some weaker than I but mostly because I was the only female left.

As we boarded the van, I noticed all of my fellow borderline tares were gone. And suddenly, so was my comfort zone. I subsequently did what I do best in such situations: I panicked. After a few minutes, I resolved I was accomplishing nothing by stressing out so I prayed for the biggest blizzard Mother Nature could muster up.

Sound a bit crazy? I am not one of little faith when my butt is on the line. As we rounded the bend, a freak snowstorm miraculously blew threw. A few minutes later, the guides canceled the trip for fear of avalanche danger in the backcountry.

The moral of these stories?

Never underestimate the “powder” of prayer….

AMEN.

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