So, we’re heading out tomorrow. Jamie’s sister Tammy is flying in from Utah on Tuesday to prevent Jamie’s mom from having a nervous breakdown. After all, she had four children who slept; I fear her body may go into insomnialeptic shock by week’s end.

I have great hopes/expectations for Tammy’s visit. Mainly, I hope she gives my kids a dose of class that they obviously don’t get at home during our belching contests. Also, she’s a great photographer and I asked her to attempt to take a few shots of the kids (because there’s nothing like giving her a nervous breakdown during her “vacation.”) But mostly I hope she shares her gift-wrapping expertise with Hadley because I could use some help in that area.

For our final full day of non-packing/cleaning/stressed-out chaos, I indulged the kids and set them loose at The Children’s Museum. Oh, and in case you can’t read “Riding-with-the-Engineer” Hadley’s favorite shirt, it says “My Mommy is the Prettiest.” OK, so maybe it’s my favorite….

It was balmy 50 degrees (a veritable heatwave) and so we then went for a run in The Limo of all Double Strollers. With its interchangeable bike/ski/jogger/stroller functions, I adore this stroller. However, it does not adore me back and I struggle to disassemble the front tire every blasted time. This is a source of conflict between Jamie and I because it is also requisite that I call to complain about it every time. And he then not-so kindly informs me he can do it in two minutes juxtaposed again my two hours.

It was Bode’s first time riding in it since he’s now sitting up and he loved it. Well, he fell asleep moments into the run so anything that conks him out gets my two thumbs up!

That night, Jamie scored us the suite at The Pepsi Center to see Denver’s professional lacrosse team, the Mammoth. I love going to the games. They are a cross between hockey and WWF with entertainment (what could be better than making fun of random spectators on The Bad Hair Day Jumbotron?), raucously delightful crowds and mind-numbing music. The makings for a perfect evening, of course.

There was also father-daughter bonding as Jamie taught Hadley her first lesson on sportsmanship: “See the white team? They’re good. The black team is bad. Booooo for the black team.” I couldn’t have been more proud.

Poor little Bode was pretty freaked out by it all. Maybe it was the flames or the motorcycles or the DJ from the local hard-rock station (but definitely not those slutty dancers “wit da big bosoms”). Regardless, his facial expression stayed frozen all night. Hopefully it will conform back to normal by tomorrow:

Anyhew, I probably won’t be posting much on the cruise due to the fact you need to mortgage your house in order to afford one minute online. Oh, and because I’ll be having fun. So much fun that I will forget that Monday, January 29th is allegedly the most depressing day of the year. For saps who are not on cruises, that is.

Seriously, though I’m in mourning over an aspect of our trip. We were supposed to go with two other couples but one of them dropped out at the last minute. Jamie is saddened because he will miss the company of his best friend. I am devastated because that best friend was the only other person in the group besides myself with two left feet.

The only people who remain are Karla (a dance teacher), Ivan (her former-dance-partner-turned-attorney husband) and Jamie (who was black in a former existence). I can count on one finger how many dances I’ve been to in my life. Though I will not divulge upon which finger I am doing the numerating.

And so in addition to avoiding the dance floor, there will be plenty of the ‘S’ word. Sleep, that is. Lots and lots of sleep….

Bon Voyage!

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

Heather over at One Woman’s World is hosting her annual “Share the Love Blog Awards.” I had a grand time cruising through her nominees and winners last year. She has fun categories and I’d strongly encourage everyone to drop by her site to give some recognition to your favorite bloggers. Voting begins TODAY!

Categories:
1. Best Humor
2. Happiest Blog
3. Best Writing
4. Best Site Design
5. Most Inspiring
6. Blogger You’d Most Like To Meet
7. Most Thought-Provoking
8. Woman Power! — Best Representative of Women
9. Best Commenter
10. Blog You’ll Never Stop Reading

Nominations: Jan 25-Jan 31 will be accepted from Thursday, January 25th, 2006 by email at onewomansworld(at)gmail.com until midnight on Wednesday, January 31st.

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

Some might entitle this picture “Colorado the Beautiful” or “Picturesque Pastoral Playground.”

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

It’s official: Bode has been tooling me.

This was confirmed yesterday when I dropped him off for a brief sojourn at Child Watch while I worked out. He had been fussy and moody since wake-up so I was a bit hesitant to leave him. But upon my return, he was sitting up with his back to me while he giggled and played with some of the other babies. Until he spotted Mama. Then the flood works started as he wailed, “You wouldn’t believe how miserable I’ve been without you.”

Busted! All your sage comments yesterday and that little experience have confirmed to me that Bode needs this little separation as much as I do. I mean, I don’t want to be the kid’s prom date fer heaven’s sake.

In case you hadn’t figured it out by now, we are model parents and human beings in general. To illustrate my case, I thought I’d include just a few of our more recent conversations:

How the Holocaust Began

Jamie: Hadley, who has brown eyes?
Hadley: I do!
Jamie: Who else?
Hadley: Daddy and Bode!
Jamie: What about Mommy?
Hadley: Noooooo. Her eyes are BLUE!
Jamie: Should we put her in a concentration camp?
Hadley: (ecstatically): Yes!
Amber: Nice. Thanks Haddie and Daddy Hitler.

Sleepy Sunday Morning Snuggles

Jamie: Did you know it snowed again last night?
Amber: Really, when?
Jamie: When it was dark outside.

When My Druggist Becomes Self-Serving

Given my inability to stave off any illness, Jamie has me on a strict supplement regimen to boost my immunity.

Jamie: I just wanted to let you know I have put you on a new vitamin, Tribulus. It helps with a number of different things, including increasing your muscle tone.
Amber: Sounds good.
Jamie: There’s something else you should know. It does have some side effects.
Amber: Oh no. What?
Jamie: An increase in libido.

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

When Jamie and I booked our cruise last year, I was exceedingly pregnant, swollen, miserable and ready for a break from the children. Particularly a difficult thing because one was still inside of me.

Fast-forward several months. We leave for our cruise on Saturday and I am having major anxieties about leaving them. Well, more particularly about leaving Bode because Haddie’s first full sentence was, after all, “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.” She has has been nothing but forthcoming over her preference to Grandma so leaving her has never been an issue.

But then there’s my mama’s boy. After having such an independent, spirited daughter, I secretly longed for another kid who pretended to like me. At least sometimes. I got him in Bode. And while it’s often extremely endearing, there are other moments when it’s NotSoMuch. Like when I dare to do the unthinkable i.e. put him down so I can actually wipe myself.

His latest illness has made him transcend cuddly to downright clingy. I don’t fault him for that but now that he has finally turned the corner, I’m left with a kid who thinks he can’t be away from me for even a moment. And who freaked out the other night when Grandma dared to pick him up. Grandma. You know: that same woman who will be his caregiver for a week.

To alleviate my concerns, Jamie printed off some articles on “Leaving the Kids Behind.” While many of the comments were encouraging about the need to periodically have a break from the children, others were scathing in their rebuke of ever leaving them. Quite coincidentally, these were also the same Nazis who nursed their kids until they were five.

And so I am in the midst of Operation Detachment and am looking for tips. By week’s end, I hope to have him bathing, feeding and dressing himself (just so long as he keeps his Calgary Flames toque on).

After all, I am nothing if not ambitious….

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

After reading my last post, I’ve had some requests to expound about my wild ‘n crazy days of Osmond Idol Worship. The Osmonds was the first concert I ever attended and I was in grade school at the time. I was enthralled with them, particularly Jimmy (the youngest).

While his siblings Donny and Marie hogged the spotlight, I coveted Jimmy from the shadows. My reasons for loving him were innumerable. That sweet, sweet, voice. The Mormon factor. Those infamous chubby cheeks. And most importantly, I figured there was only an 11-year-age difference so I had a chance.

Obviously, the word PEDOPHILIA was not something I ever considered.

Our love went unrealized for years. But when the Osmonds finally came into town, I knew this was my opportunity. The whole day of the concert, I primped and prepped. What would we first say as our eyes locked? How long would our courtship be? And most importantly: would I be stinkin’ rich?

I still remember our seats: about 50 rows back and to the left of the stage. Not ideal, but I had a plan.

I know, you’re all awaiting an 8-year-old’s strategy of seduction. Welp, brace yourselves for this. During the concert while everyone was singing and dancing around, I sat firmly planted in my chair, pretending I couldn’t walk. Because I just knew Jimmy would pick a little crippled girl out of the thousands in the audience, we would get married, and have crippled children together.

Shockingly, it was a love story that never materialized. I still don’t understand what happened to this day. I just knew I should’ve held out for Ralph Macchio.

And so, fess up. Who were the Osmond Idols of your youth?

P.S. And to circumvent all those snide comments I would inevitably receive: Yes, this very plan worked years later on snagging Jamie….

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

If I sound like a broken record, it’s because I am. Week 3 and we are still sick. Bode is worse than ever and I had to drag him into the doctor again yesterday for fear of a bout of pneumonia. We were supposed to hit the rodeo at the Stock Show tonight and then go on a fun getaway in the mountains with several neighbors this weekend. Neither look likely. Haddie is the only one who has fully recovered so she has been running the show. And you can imagine the condition of a household where a 2-year-old hurricane is in charge.

Haddie’s big news is after 2.5 years, she has finally been released from prison. I think some people call it a crib. I know I vowed it wouldn’t happen until her 5th birthday but during a moment of weakness last weekend, we setup her “big-girl bed.” Because what better timing than when we’ve already been sleep deprived for a few weeks. Oh, and also so she can have full access to her new Thomas the Train set alllll night long.

Thus far she has actually been really good but I’m still waiting for her to sneak out and paint the town red. Oh wait. She already did that to the kitchen pantry in broad daylight. I’m still dreading what she can concoct by night.

To celebrate her transition, we threw her a “big-girl bed party” at none other than Chuck-E-Cheese’s. On a Saturday night. I’ve never been there on a weekend and will never willingly do it again due to the utter chaos and all those blasted [go figure] kids.

However, Hadley had the time of her life as Party Crasher Extraordinaire. While Chuck-E was performing for some birthday kids, she shoved her way in there and stole the show, solo dancing with him, hip checking, high-fiving…basically doing moves I didn’t know she had. She had Jamie and I in tears for her little performance and her utter idol worship and devotion for that over-sized mouse.

When he finally tried to escape the web she wove, this little black widow whined, “Chuckieeeeeeee, don’t leave. Chuckieeeeeeeee” and chased him off the stage. I fear we have a serious groupie in the making.

But I was also bursting with pride because she gets it from her mama. You should’ve seen me at those wild ‘n crazy Osmond Family concerts of my youth. Ahh, the stories I could tell….

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

I’m still trying to figure out why those tomatoes kept getting chucked my way all night long….

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

I am pleased to report that here in the Den of Sickquity, three of the four of us have turned the corner. However, the lone survivor is the same who requires the most work, all day and allll night as he wails about the harsh, painful injustices to this world. And he is proving true to his gender that even the littlest sniffle brings about the most pathetic whining imaginable. Good thing he’s only five months old and still gets sympathy, though the all-night shift is certainly taking its toll.

Someone made the astute comment that we are sick a lot at our house. Gee, y’think?! I once had a friend criticize me for all the activities I do with my kids and how I surely expose them to all kind of germs on a daily basis. Because sitting on our bored-to-tears rears (and believe me, you don’t want to visualize a liquidized butt) at home and keeping them healthy is surely the better option?

Guess what: there is a flaw in her argument because I’m the one who gets sick first. And then I graciously infect my young because that’s just the kind of loving mother I am. The reason for my frequent illnesses is I have what is called a low white blood cell count. For those who don’t know, white blood cells fight infection. So even though I eat right, exercise daily, and live a healthy lifestyle, the littlest trigger (like ummm say extreme fatigue) sets me off.

We’re going on two weeks with this blasted plague so I finally took them to the doctor on Monday who prescribed their infection with some antibiotics. This was a big deal for me. I have a beloved mother and sister-in-law who drag their kids to the doctor over any little sniffle but I am the complete opposite. Call it my upbringing. I was raised in an unjust world where anytime I tried to fake sick, I was dragged to the doctor. I was denied the basic right of any kid to skip school once in a while because I just didn’t want to go. Damn Canadian socialized medicine.

The latest problem is that we have infected Grandma, that same woman who generously took the sick-and-afflicted for a few hours on Saturday. The same woman who was supposed to babysit tonight while Jamie and I attend the Avalanche vs. Flames game, the same two teams that are the source of heated rivalry between us. Oh, and did I mention we have a suite?

I was starting to resign myself that we may not be able to go until the suite owner (the same guy who invited us to his million-dollar cabin) also invited us to dine with him at the private restaurant for all the big-wigs at The Pepsi Center.

That sealed the deal; Emergency Get Grandma Well Intervention was in order. We busted in on her, stuffing her full of homemade chicken soup and vitamins. The jury is still out as to whether we’ll be able to go so just let this be a lesson to you:

DON’T INFECT THE HAND THAT BABYSITS YOU.

Amen.

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