Pest Smart

April 28, 2009 By

Spring is in full swing here at the pumpkin patch, which is not without its stresses. Jamie planted a few of his seeds indoors last week and much to his chagrin, they did not sprout when anticipated. His best seed never germinated at all. As a man obsessed with growing The Great Pumpkin, this causes an immeasurable amount of stress. He will replace the dud and move forward with the others, which will hopefully flourish.

Look at me. Being all supportive of the Lord of the Gourds.

I’ve been thinking about pests lately. Not of the little brother or sister variety that we all endured growing up, but creatures. Most of us have ‘em and we’re always battling them at our house. We have a vole that completely wiped out our rose bushes and we are replanting some new ones.

Rabbits are also our household pests. It pains me to say that because I had pet bunnies growing up and absolutely adored them. But alas, Whiskers and Snowflake never dug out a hole under and through our front porch nor completely obliterated our garden, snacking on my favorite crop of all: strawberries.

Game on, Bunnies.

Of course, our pests don’t have anything on my in-laws. Their pest de choix? Skunks. They took up residency under my inlaws’ front porch last year, creating a very real dilemma whenever entering or leaving the house. Animal control wouldn’t do anything about them unless they were rabied which, I don’t know about you, I really wouldn’t want to be the one to test that out.

My in-laws tried to stink them out with mothballs. They were unsure of exactly how many skunks they had and had only spotted a couple at a time. But imagine their delight to come home from church, only to find NINE skunks sunning themselves on their lawn. Call me crazy but having pet skunks in plain view is exponentially worse than having them burrowed under my house.

Though it could stave off those people who insist on coming over unannounced when my house is a mess.

Eventually, the skunks migrated back under their porch because well, they’re kinda used to living with stench. My inlaws’ last alternative was to hire a professional skunk trapper. Now, I’m sure he catches other animals but he was most proud of his ability to round up the Pepe le Pews of the world. He actually knocked on their door holding two captured skunks. Evidently, if you hold them by their tails, they will not spray you.

Just in case you wanted to try it next time around.

Unfortunately, he got distracted and dropped one of them, leaving a path of fresh-smelling roses behind.

How would you like to be that guy’s poor wife?

And so now I turn to you as gardening season kicks off: do you have a garden, what do you grow and what pests do you battle?

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog
Filed Under: Uncategorized

How to Prevent “Puke” and “Play Date” from Ever Going Together

April 26, 2009 By

I love play dates for my daughter. Not because I particularly enjoy entertaining another rugrat but because Haddie and her friends are finally at the age they can entertain themselves. And if they do interrupt me, I just announce, “Go play. Don’t bother me.”

OK maybe that is not exactly correct. Some days I say, “Don’t bother me. Go play.”

You know, just to mix things up.
I always take them to do something prior to setting them loose on their own. Some days we have a picnic in the park. Other times we go hiking. Last week, it was Central Park playground. If you’re a Denverite and have never been, repent now. This ultra-cool modern playground in Stapleton is a children’s Mecca and features all kinds of nifty rock-like climbing areas, swings, spray fountains, hills, playing fields and a padded ground cover.

The children’s favorite structures were the Dizzy Dummies (bonus points if you know to which show I am referring). They could not get enough of the big blue wheel that spun them around and around. It was a delightful day of spinning and dizziness.

Or so I thought until the drive home.

Hadley and Bode were chattering away while Hadley’s friend Alex remained uncharacteristically quiet. When we were about a mile from our house, she finally croaked, “WATER, I NEED WATER.”

I turned around and I kid you not–the child was green.

“ARE YOU GOING TO THROW UP?”

“WATER,” she desperately convulsed.

I threw her my CamelBak and she drank like she had been wandering lost in the desert for weeks.

“Do you feel better?”

She still looked queasy but had downgraded from green to a light sage. But still, sage is technically green and I couldn’t get her out of the car fast enough. Vomit is bad enough when it is your own kid but it is utterly reprehensible when it is someone else’s.

We fortunately made it back to my house before she regurgitated her lunch on our front lawn.

It was then that I regretted ever giving her those Doritos.

This little experience has caused me to modify my play-date strategy. No more picnics. No trips to the park.

Better off just to ignore them from the get-go.

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog
Filed Under: Hadley, Humor

The most important responsibility of all

April 23, 2009 By

Many religious denominations have some kind of voluntary “tithe” they ask their members to pay. We are no different and liberally give 10% of our wages to the LDS Church. Every month, we fill out a little tithing slip, write a check and then give it to a member of the Bishopric.

Even though I have gleefully assigned Jamie to handle our finances, for some reason he has put me in charge of paying our tithing every month. I have no problem with filling out the form and writing the check but tracking down the Bishopric is always a pain. My current “calling” (job) is teaching the 8-11 -year-old girls so I rarely see anyone other than my delightful tweens whose endless barrage of chatter makes me look mute.

I never thought it possible, either.

Last month, I once again objected about having to perform tithing search and rescue when Jamie is the one who attends the same meetings as the Bishopric.

“Jamie, why don’t you just do it? I’m busy teaching the girls the whole time!”

“Because you need to take some financial responsibility.”

“I do have financial responsibility. I am in charge of spending the money.”

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog
Filed Under: Uncategorized

Disneyland Dubailand or Bust?

April 22, 2009 By

It’s no secret that I love to travel. There have certainly been many hiccups in this process when traveling with The Children. But the older they get, the easier it gets.

Or maybe I have just grown increasingly numb.

We usually go on a big trip every summer but this year we will likely discover all that Colorado has to offer. It could be worse. We could be living in Saskatchewan and my explorations would be limited to frozen tundra and wheat fields.

Note: No offense to any of my Saskwatch readers. It’s just your province kind of sucks. I know. I’ve driven through trying to get to my dad’s hometown in Manitoba, which is almost as bad. Dad–not that I’m trying to rip on where you grew up, just to thank you moving to Alberta, The Land of Milk, Honey and Rockies, before I was born.

In The Denver Post, there was a feature on Dubai. If you’re not familiar with it, it is located along the southern coast of the Persian Gulf on the Arabian Peninsula. Last year Jamie and I watched a special about the over-the-top development going on in this city, the most populous of the United Arab Emirates.

It boasted about their indoor ski resort and the soon-to-be completed tallest building on the world. Oh, and don’t forget Dubai Hydropolis, the world’s first luxury underwater hotel, with 220 suites. They featured all this development that is moving forward at break-neck speed and then juxtaposed this against the squalor people were living in at the work camps.

A high price to pay.

But it was The Denver Post’s article that struck me as over-the-top as they attempt to topple Las Vegas as the entertainment epicenter of the world. Of course, I should explain that I loath Vegas and my idea of fun is carrying 30 pounds on my back as I journey into the back-country without toilets and with wild animals and bugs.

Though I could do without the latter.

Also, Dubai is hot. And if you have ever been around me when it is hotter than 85 degrees, you will know I automatically combust.

That said, let me introduce you to Dubailand:

Dubailand, twice as big as Walt Disney World, with the final stage to be completed in 2020, featuring theme parks, planetariums, more than 50 hotels, golf courses (including the one by Tiger Woods) and retail outlets. Among highlights: The Great Dubai Wheel, bigger than the London Eye, a Ferris-wheel-type tourist attraction on the south bank of the River Thames, which carries passengers in enclosed observation capsules; a see-through Snowdome, with a rotating ski deck, mountain run, training area, snow play area, toboggan run, ice skating rink and a theater with a virtual flight over Antarctica; a DreamWorks animation park; a Six Flags theme park; Restless Planet, a Jurassic theme park with more than 100 animatronic dinosaurs; Motor City, with an “autodrome” for motor sports races and a Formula One theme park; Sports City, with four stadiums for soccer, cricket, rugby and hockey; and Mall of Arabia, at 10 million square feet the world’s biggest mall.

Just a wee bit excessive or totally appealing to you? What’s your opinion on the matter and would you ever go? Also, do you have any travel plans this summer?

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog
Filed Under: Uncategorized

Dream follow-up: what’re you dreaming about?

April 19, 2009 By

One of the “worse” aspects of the “better or worse” marriage covenant for Jamie is having to hear about my dreams. Not the visions of someday living in a house with a white-picket fence but rather, the ones about how I dreamed I rode to a desert island in a shark’s mouth.

Those kind of dreams.

I have very vivid dreams every night. A few times they have translated into gripping nightmares or deeply spiritual experiences. Last year, I wrote how I dreamed about my friend’s ailing mother whom I had never met. The dream was so lucid that I woke up in the middle of the night to drop him an email, letting him know I was thinking about them. I found out the next morning his mom had passed away around the same time as my dream.

Before you think I am some kind of soothsayer, let me assure you that most of the time my dreams follow the same pattern: psychosis.

Case in point: I recently dreamed I was racing my leprechaun teammates from Lucky Charms and I was freaking out because I was the only Big Person.

Could happen.

Jamie has endured such absurdities many times before, only this time he chose to indulge me and came home with a box of this:

lucky charms

One morning I returned home from working out to find my daughter Hadley on the verge of tears.

“What’s wrong?”

“Daddy won’t give me apple juice for breakfast!”

“Jamie, why didn’t you give her apple juice for breakfast? You know it is the only time of day she is allowed to have it.”

“Amber, I know that. But I am sick of her only drinking her apple juice and never eating her cereal.”

I looked down at her bowl of the cereal he was trying to push to better her health.

“You gave her LUCKY CHARMS.”

“And she’d better eat every last bite.”

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog
Filed Under: Humor, Jamie

The Genesis of Amber “Murphy”

April 15, 2009 By

Last weekend, we had the pleasure of hosting one of my dearest friends from France. I taught her during my LDS mission and we formed a bond like I have never had before. She was 16 and I was 22. We have seen each other a few times since those memorable days in Europe but not as Married Women With Children.

The Canuck Clan fell in love with Isa and her sociable and charming husband, Christopher. At one point after church, he was gabbing away with his cute French accent to an adoring throng of people when Isabelle had an epiphany: “Oh my gosh, Amber. I MARRIED YOU.”

Except those people at church? They do not adore nor throng around me.

Isabelle brought us a year supply of European chocolate (because Mormons are all about having our year supply) and Christopher teased me incessantly about their wedding. Miss that one? Yeah. So did I.

It is The Ultimate in Amber Murphy Travel Screw-ups. I was single and working as a publicist in Salt Lake City when Isa announced she had met The One and they would be married in the Swiss Temple September of 1999. There was absolutely no question in my mind that I would attend and I planned to do a trip around Eastern Europe following the wedding. My family freaked out about my solo travel plans so my Aunt Sue volunteered to come with me. I love Aunt Sue but she is a lot like me and her life’s mantra is, “Things are never 100%, Amber. Never 100.”

And things were not 100.

In France, church ordinances are not recognized so all marriages are first performed civilly, followed by the church ceremony. Since they had to travel to Switzerland for the religious ceremony, Isabelle planned the civil ceremony and party the night before and they would leave for their honeymoon immediately after going to the Swiss temple the next day.

The French know how to do weddings. The party was a blast and the multiple-course meal and dancing lasted late into the night. I ate, danced and flirted with cute French men. One of these French men–Renaud–stayed at Isa’s house that night, which is coincidentally where we were as well.

Adoring and romantic Renaud would later parade me all over Paris like a French poodle and follow me back to the United States in a rather intense fling.

But that is a story for another day. And really, do I want my children to read all about it here?

All that needs to be said is I stayed up all night talking to Renaud. When the wedding party left that morning at 7 a.m., I waved them off, saying I would get just a wee bit of sleep and Sue and I would then just drive ourselves to the temple.

But here’s the deal: I didn’t know how to get there. Even with our directions, we got horribly lost. After blindly wandering around for hours, we were mere minutes away from the ceremony. I FREAKED OUT and rear-ended someone.

In the end, we never found the temple and missed the wedding. You know. The ENTIRE REASON I WENT TO EUROPE IN THE FIRST PLACE.

Christopher would later tell me that every man imagines the sweet nothings his fiancee would whisper into his ear mere moments before the wedding. Isa’s sweet nothings? “WHERE’S AMBER?”

Or maybe they were more like “Sweet Wailings.”

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog
Filed Under: Favorite Posts, Humor, travel Tagged With:

“P” is for Painful, Pumpkin and Patch

April 13, 2009 By

It is officially pumpkin season.

Of course, “pumpkin season” is year-round when you are married to a man who is obsessed with growing The Great Pumpkin. From the moment Jamie cut his 755-pound pumpkin from the vine last year, his thoughts turned to his new patch. He stalked Craigslist and reacted faster than Pavlov’s dog whenever anyone offered free compost. He raised worms in our garage (after my adamant protest against our basement). He built a pumpkin genetics Web site and updated his pumpkin blog, took various soil tests, and swapped seeds with growers around the world.

Like I said: a year-round obsession.

As I already documented, I went into the children’s playroom in the basement a few weeks ago and noticed a strange glow coming from the closet. In a Poltergeist-esque manner, I threw open the door, only to discover a makeshift greenhouse he called “The Grow Room.”

Law enforcement officers: I can assure you that he is only growing test pumpkins.

At least that is his claim.

Our winter has not been without its share of drama such as when when he realized some compost he received had sodium levels high enough to render the patch toxic. Or when he lost our 2-year-old son at the pumpkin patch (or in his words: momentary misplaced.)

He is mere weeks away from planting his seeds. The culmination of all his efforts will be at the Rocky Mountain Giant Vegetable Growers weigh-off at the end of September where he hopes his pumpkin will tip the scale at over 1,000 pounds. The Colorado record is held by Wheat Ridge dentist Joe Sherber at 1,135 pounds.

Last year, we also attended our local harvest festival. We did not enter because 1) have you ever tried to repeatedly move a 755-pound pumpkin? 2) His pumpkin outweighed the winner by 400 pounds and would have broken their small scale.

Minor details.

Jamie did, however, capitalize on the situation. I was amused to see him distributing his pumpkin business cards (because evidently every giant pumpkin grower should have them). I may have some made up for myself this season as well:

Amber Johnson
Pumpkin Widow

Because misery is looking for company.

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog
Filed Under: Humor, Jamie, pumpkins

A whole lotta mom blog nothings

April 8, 2009 By

So, we survived Spring Break. Barely. Two Snow Days + Seven Days of Spring Break = One Tired Mama. The weather was chilly so we tried to keep busy indoors by decorating Easter eggs, having playdates, going swimming, watching the cliff divers at Casa Bonita, and discovering THE COOLEST story time ever with a toy library and hilarious librarian performer.

All in all, not a bad week.

My dear friend Isabelle is arriving from France this week and we will be swept up in a whirlwind of taking in all that Colorado has to offer. And stuffing ourselves silly with all that glorious European chocolate she has brought with her.

Just remember: Friends Bring Friends Chocolate.

=========================================

I attended a social media class last weekend held by the lovely Beckie of Tech Talk for Moms. It was a great class to remind me that I have dropped the ball in so many areas when it comes to this blog. And so after the inception of this blog 25 years ago, I finally added a Share Button that enables folks to StumbleUpon, Tweet, Digg, etc. after each post. I also added a subscribe button to my right-hand sidebar. If you don’t do RSS Feeds, I also included a box for folks to receive a notice via email whenever I post.

That way, you won’t lose sleep thinking you missed something I wrote. I know I do.

:-)

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On the last night of Spring Break, Hadley stole a cucumber from the fridge. Yes, you heard correctly. And she took it upstairs to swing it as a bat at Bode, who was substituting as the ball.

He does have a really round head.

Jamie eventually told her to take it back down to the fridge. She refused.

“Hadley, I said please put it away.”

“Can’t do it, Daddy. You need to do it for me.”

“I will not do it for you. I wasn’t the one who got it out.”

“And that’s why you should do it. I got it out–you put it away. You know: taking turns!”

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog
Filed Under: Uncategorized

Dooce in Denver

April 7, 2009 By

Last night, a few of my fellow Mile High Mamas and I went to hear Dooce at her book-signing for It Sucked and Then I Cried: How I Had a Baby, a Breakdown and a Much Needed Margarita. Never heard of Dooce? In the real world, she goes by Heather Armstrong; to the blogging world she is Dooce and is one of the most popular bloggers in the blogsophere.

We heard her book signings have been overwhelmingly popular so JoAnn and I left early. Really early. As in we arrived there two and a half hours early. Luckily, we weren’t the only losers early birds–Jolene, a health blogger, was first in line. She claimed she got there just a few minutes before us.

I suspect she camped out overnight.

Lori and Sarah arrived soon thereafter and it became a veritable pow pow with the group of bloggers at the front of the line. Everyone started swapping business cards and much to my dismay, I realized a bomb had gone off in my purse and I could not find anything, least of all a skinny little card.

And so I did what everyone should do in a room of bloggers who document your every move: dumped out my purse and organized it.

I was delighted to find several notebooks and even a Christmas stocking stuffer I forgot to give Jamie. During this time, I heard a voice behind me: a pregnant gal who sat down unannounced. When we asked if she had a blog, she said, “Yeah, it’s Glory Ho. Just be careful. If you type it in wrong, you get a** p**orn.”

You can’t make this stuff up.

Heather’s actual reading was hilarious and the Q&A session was fun. Shy lil’ me even asked a question and addressed both Heather and her husband’s funny tweet (Twitter). I was all hot and sweaty with hundreds of eyes on me and it felt like I was on my first date again.

Well, if I could remember what actually qualified as my first date, it was that inconsequential.

When I arrived home, Jamie jokingly accused me: “So, where were you REALLY tonight?”

“What are you talking about? You know where I was!”

“Dooce. She was on Oprah while you were allegedly at her book signing.”

Busted.

What happens with Dooce, stays with Dooce.

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog
Filed Under: Uncategorized

Our Story of Easter, Cancer and Rebirth

April 5, 2009 By

Jamie has been cancer-free for 10 years.

He had recently graduated from college and had started his own consulting firm when a lump starting forming on his neck. It disappeared after a week but night-sweats and flu-like symptoms emerged. And then the lump returned.

He tried a few home remedies to no avail and finally sought medical attention. After Jamie described his symptoms, the doctor said, “I think it could be either mono or cancer. And I don’t think it is cancer.”

He was wrong.

Jamie was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s Disease, cancer of the lymph nodes. When detected early, the survival rate is 80%. Like all cancers, later-stage prognosis is deadly. He was single, without insurance and living in Utah, far away from his family.

His doctor told him to apply for Medicare. He was initially denied. Miraculously, he was eventually able to get on programs for which she should not have qualified and his medical expenses were covered.

But then came his personal expenses. No longer able to work, Jamie faced a very bleak, daunting future. Amidst all this turmoil, he received a call from Tom Sawyer, an influential local businessman. Tom had risen above a horrific childhood to play football for LSU, become an engineer, work on the Eagle Lander for NASA, and by accident got into politics and landed in the White House as a trusted aide for Presidents Nixon and Reagan.

He is also a cancer survivor.

Jamie had met him only once before as they both assisted their Japanese friend Yodi with becoming an American citizen.

Tom invited Jamie to his office and upon arrival said, “Jamie, let me be straight with you. I hear you need some help. Tell me about your situation.” Jamie reluctantly divulged his circumstances, to which Tom queried, “How much do you need to get through the next month?”

Initially, Jamie refused but then realized this was an answer to prayers and he gave him a number. Tom told him to come by his office the next day and he would give him a check. The next day, Jamie showed up and Tom handed him a check for twice the amount they had discussed. Jamie pointed this out to him and he brusquely said, “Yeah, I know.”

The pattern persisted. Each month, Tom called Jamie to his office. Each conversation ended the same: “Come into my office tomorrow and I will have a check waiting for you.” This lasted the duration of his chemotherapy and radiation treatments and Jamie’s cancer has never returned.

Last week, I had moments of serious refection as people very close to me suffered deeply. With immense gratitude, I looked at my life, my marriage, my children, my home. I looked at the path we have taken. It has rarely been smooth or perfect. Times may be tough but we are fortunate to not be riddled with debt and recognize the miracles we have experienced to bring us where we are today.

This time of year, millions of people celebrate Easter as a time of resurrection and new beginnings.

Today, I am grateful for the man who gave us ours.

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog
Filed Under: Health, Jamie Tagged With:
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