Famous Mug Shots
Nick
The Hurricane
Bubby
Details of these little delinquents in my next post.
© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog
Happy Mother’s Day!
May 13, 2007 by
My recent trip to Moab had me thinking a lot about my former life. You know, back when I went to the bathroom by myself, climbed mountains without hauling an extra passenger and when I chose sleep deprivation because I could. Translation: before Motherhood.
And what I came up with is that despite our daily drama that life is really, really great right now. I hesitate to say that because through this admission, I’m afraid the bottom will fall out. But I just feel really blessed for our happy home.
Jamie is a doting, hilarious and hard-working husband.
Haddie is a spitfire who, despite her fierce independent streak, is a joy to be around. Most of the time.
And I cannot get enough of Bode who is crawling, exploring and absolutely delighted for every discovery he makes. Particularly when he attempts to ingest those things you and I call “choking hazards.”
For Mother’s Day this year, my little family went all out.
Bode: Slept through the night and made his mama proud when his “cutest baby” face was sent to a 1/4 million newspaper subscribers. Who cares that his daddy is the boss? Nepotism had absolutely nothing to do with it. Really.
Hadley: Promised to be nice the entire day and generously offered to let me watch the special “Mother’s Day Mini-Marathon” Dora the Explorer with her. Gee, how did she know?
Hunky Hubby: Marathon snuggles, a thoughtful present and breakfast in bed. Admittedly, the latter present came about with a wee bit of coaxing.
“Jamie, I splurged at the store today and bought myself some fantastic blackberries, blueberries, raspberries and strawberries.”
“Errr…are you giving me your menu for tomorrow?”
“Exactly….”
At least the man takes a hint.
Happy Mother’s Day!
© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog
A Man Named Craig
May 10, 2007 by
It’s confession time: a few weeks ago there was another man in my life named Craig. And he has lists. Lots of them. Hence his name: Craig’s List. Craig and I became so intimately acquainted that my dear sweet hubby finally had to intervene.
Let me explain. I had the same affair with Craig last year when I was searching for a used swingset for Hadley. I finally found one after weeks of F5ing (for those unaware, this sordid term is in reference to refreshing my computer over and over again). You see, Craig has other lovers. Highly competitive lovers who pounce on any listing within moments. And upon finally winning his affections, I was perfectly happy with our offspring.
Until recently. You see, the Hurricane has what I call a climbing problem. She scales everything in her wake, no matter how precipitous or dangerous. Whenever we hike, she is the kid shimmying up the rock faces. And our old metal swingset has become a veritable climbing gym wherein she kills herself almost daily. She needs an outlet. Like a climbing wall.
Knowing the price of those sleek wooden playsets, there I was again: prostituting myself to Craig. It started out innocently as it always does. Logging on here and there. But then it grew to where I could not even pass my laptop without F5ing multiple times a day, skank that I am. In my defense, it’s not called obsession.
It’s called mental illness.
That is when Hunky Hubby staged an intervention. I could hear him furiously working on the computer upstairs before I received The Summons. Wearily, I dragged myself in there only to be shocked/thrilled/astounded with what he presented me: a reconfigured budget wherein we would buy the kids a spankin’ new swingset if I promised to end it with Craig forever.
And of course, there was another catch: I will have to make a good number of sacrifices to compensate for this rather daunting expense. And make my own monetary contributions to the cause.
So just look for this sassy mama coming to a street corner near you…
Addendum: I thought my playset stresses would end after Craig. I was wrong. Turns out EVERY SINGLE QUALITY PLAYSET is back-ordered for months in Denver. I’ll spare you the gory details but after hours on the phone harassing corporate executives and not taking “no” for an answer, we’re the proud owners of our very own playset. 
Aren’t those boxes the most beautiful things you’ve ever seen? Sniff. And yep, they are sitting on the crate of our old-fashioned soda fountain that, after a year and a half, is still waiting to be assembled. Hopefully Haddie will have her playset by her fifth birthday….
© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog
Wordless Wednesday
April 24, 2007 by
The Crazy Crew’s Amazing Siamese Twins.
The amazing part is not that they were attached at the butt but that they were born 26 months apart.
I expect the media to come knocking any day now.
Really.
© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog
When the chips are down
April 22, 2007 by
I am generally a chipper person and a delight to be around. At least that’s what my latest fortune cookie professed.
It obviously didn’t take Saturday into account.
Y’see, I woke up sick. Because as previously stated, I am on the six-week sick cycle and it was past due. The plague evidently does not exempt people who were ill for the first two months of the year. It does not care.
All I wanted to do was lie in bed and let everyone else disappear. Unfortunately, I married one and then gave birth to two others. You know: they-who-refuse-to dissipate.
Jamie also had his “Macho Saturday” at the church. I don’t know who named the event but all I know is I would run away FAST from anything deemed “Feminine Friday.” But that probably just means I am insecure about my femininity.
Jamie evidentally oozes machismo because he delved into the variety of classes including deck building, steel framing, welding and golf lessons. Because all the former were just a cover for the latter.
I somehow survived the day and even made it to our neighbor’s BBQ that night but I wish my ailments could all be made better by the mere mention of a Happy Meal. Y’see, Hadley recently contracted a little bug that chose to reveal itself out her butt. In mass quantities. Oh, and did I mention she is still in diapers? (For an update on just how successful our potty training efforts are going, check out Jamie’s latest post.)
For much of the day, she was downright hysterical. And of course, she finally calmed down a few minutes before Jamie arrived home. Upon entering the house, he announced we should go to McDonald’s to cheer her up. Never mind I can’t stand their food. But being the good mom I am, I reluctantly tagged along and boycotted everything except for a handful of fries and two shakes that Haddie and I fought over. OK, maybe I’m not that good of a mom.
Jamie then decided to strike up fast-food appropriate conversation.
“I watched Supersize me on TV the other day.”
“And so you figured after watching about the demise fast-food joints cause the American public that McDonald’s would be a wise choice for your sick daughter.”
“Sometimes carcinogens can do us good, Amber.”
He should have stopped there. So should have I.
“Jamie, I’m surprised they’re already showing it on TV. What station was it on?”
“I don’t remember. Oh wait. Maybe it was on the Superchannel.”
© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog
Planet Alignment Tabulation Part II
March 13, 2007 by
This post won’t make any sense unless you read my previous entry regarding my attempts to ascertain Planet Pluto’s Performance (P.P.P.) on our recent trip. Then again, most of what I say is lacking in gumption so you may just wanna be the risk taker you think you are and read on.
Daytime Drama
Despite all the setbacks (note: you would know what I’m taking about if you had just read that other entry), we had a grand time with Meredith and Andy. We had great eats, took Bode swimming for the first time and played cards until late. Well, late being 10 p.m. after the time change, which is a veritable night out on the town for us these days.
It was a flurried frenzy outside so we took the kids out to Snow Mountain Ranch’s Nordic Center. While baby Maddie was content to just eat the snow and pass out on her sled (not to beat a dead horse but… see picture on previous entry), plucky Haddie pummelled down the mountain. Because having a Dora the Explorer ski coat inspires her to conquer the world.
In the meantime, Bode and I went for a hike together in my new piece-of-crap Ergo carrier that I could not load even if my life depended on it. Or his life, which has been in jeopardy a few too many times during said loading process. Regardless, he said it was lots of fun. Too bad it was the only time he slept the entire trip.
P.P.P.: Perfectly aligned (but a little lopsided.)
Nappy Naptime
We have our own natural disaster at our place lately. Sadly, the Hurricane is slowly ceasing and desisting from that-which-is-my-only-daytime-sanity: her naptime. This weekend was no exception so instead of keeping grumpy Bode awake with her antics, I took her for a Girl’s Afternoon Out at the gymnasium.
We raced around playing soccer and basketball before Hadley announced she wanted to try roller-skating. Even though I’m a roller-blading junkie, I warily looked at her.
“You’re only 2.”
“I wanna skate!”
I caved and strapped her into the rental skates that looked about as old as me. I thought for sure she’d be screaming out of fear within moments but I was wrong. Brazenly, she pointed me in the direction she wanted to go and I obligingly supported her efforts as she glided along. Until she attempted to jump in them. And then scale the stairs. If they’d had a ramp I’m sure she would have vaulted off that as well.
When I loosened up a little, I started to appreciate her aptitude and had visions of athletic grandeur as I relished that I had blessedly escaped birthing a prissy girl. Until we removed the skates and she looked at them distastefully.
“What’s wrong, Haddie?”
“They don’t match my clothes.”
P.P.P. Perfectly aligned (but allegedly lacking in color coordination).
The Drive Home
Bode slept. Haddie puked.
P.P.P.: I’d have to call this one a draw.
SOLVE MY RIDDLE: Who in this picture had not slept for two nights? © Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog
San Francisco: From Riches to Rags
October 10, 2006 by
Well, our riches to rags story is a sordid tale of our condescension from the Ritz to the Ramada. Normally, I wouldn’t deem this to be a bad thing, except for when it’s a blatant reminder of our station in life. I.e. Glamorous Ritz Carlton: company tab. Dumpy Downtown Ramada: our sad little dime. But I digress.
First, our San Francisco experience. I LOVE that city but it rained. And rained. And rained. It didn’t start out raining. It just waited until we were too far away from Said Dumpy Hotel to turn back. We were optimistic and believed the weather would clear because of the blue skies intermingled with storm clouds. Yeah, right. I guess in California, it still rains when the skies are blue. Who knew?
And so we walked. And walked. And walked. For hours and hours. And miles and miles. To Union Square, China Town, random neighborhoods with near-naked homeless guys and finally, Fisherman’s Wharf. And it rained and rained and rained. Don’t get me wrong. It wasn’t all bad. Bode made a friend.
And despite the deluge, we kept our spirits up and just enjoyed being drenched as a family. We also had an amazing lunch at a shamelessly touristy restaurant in Fisherman’s Wharf with stellar views as Blue Angels dipped over the Bay and the Golden Gate Bridge.
And the weather did finally clear. Of course, we were on our way to the airport.
But back to Said Dumpy Hotel. It was quite a miserable experience, notwithstanding the stellar view.
Oh wait. Wrong day. This was more like it:
Yippee. It was possibly the worst hotel I’ve ever stayed in. Maybe it was the lights that didn’t work most of the time. Or the shoebox room with only one foot of maneuverability. Or the sticky bathroom floor. Or the lack of elevator for our second-story room. Or the television with crappy reception. Oh, and don’t ask about the pancakes…err…pillows.
Suffice it to say, it wasn’t our most memorable night of sleep. But imagine our delight when leaving the next day and we spotted this sign we had missed on the way in.
Next time around? I think I’ll just mortgage my house and stay at the Ritz.
© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog
Putting on The Ritz
October 8, 2006 by
So, Jamie, Bode and I survived our big California adventure. Both of my boys were a dream and made me fall in love with them even more. Especially the little one. At least he didn’t ditch me to go golfing with the good old boys.
Of course, the pampering at The Ritz Carlton definitely helped. As we drove up to the breathtaking grounds, I hestitatingly asked Jamie “How much do you tip at a place like this?”
His response was indicative of cheap buggers everywhere: “Whatever you do, avoid everyone at all costs.” No pun intended.
Our room was, welp, let’s just say one night at the Ritz cost as much as our entire week-long cruise we’re taking next year. We stayed in a garden-level room with our own private deck and firepit.
Upon arrival, we went for a brief walk along the cliffside to smell the ocean. And money. As we meandered back we eavesdropped on a cigar-smoking group of millionaires hob-nobbing around a firepit: “Yeah, when we were down at Pebble Beach, we cruised around in our $120,000 Mercedes. Blah, blah, blah.” We believed him, too. When waiting for the [$40] valet, our PT Cruiser rental was the only vehicle worth under $50,000.
Bode slept marvelously in his luxury Ritz baby crib, only waking up a couple of times to eat and then sleeping in until 9 a.m. I had been such a sleep-deprived wreck that getting my eight hours almost made me make out with the little guy in gratitude over it all. Jamie ended up reaping the rewards. I think he’s finally cluing in that it doesn’t take illustrious vacations or 1,000-thread-count sheets (though they certainly help). Just get me some freaking sleep!
While Jamie was in meetings the next day, Bode and I found a coastal trail and walked for miles along the cliffside. That afternoon, we hit downtown Half Moon Bay and then hung out on the beach together. He had a great time and was a very amiable travel companion, though he did say he always thought his first trip to the beach would involve a bit more skin.
As for Jamie, he had his first exposure to The Big Boys on the Block. You know: the VIPs of Yahoo, eBay, Amazon, Microsoft, etc. Jamie even had one of them retrieve his golf ball. I couldn’t have been more proud.
Several hours and calls from uptight golf widows later, The Boys called it a day. Or maybe it was the rain that did that. Regardless, I started to get an idea of the life these widows lead. Which is why when Jamie’s golf clubs never showed up at baggage claim after our trip, I oh-so-briefly considered tipping the United worker to have them “mysteriously” stay missing.
But then I remembered our tipping policy. Or lack thereof. I just hate it when being a cheap bugger comes back to bite you….
Next edition: From Riches to Rags. Our Condescension to San Francisco….
© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog
The Cost of Luxury
September 19, 2006 by
Ahhh, the suspense of my eventful weekend. After forgetting the blasted key, we eventually got into our luxury cabin. I won’t divulge the sordid details (no cell phone reception, the owner in Hawaii, cleaning lady unavailable, etc.) In the end, we found a spare key, something I may underhandedly use in the future because I DEMAND A DO-OVER!
As aforementioned, our weekend plans centered on relaxation and fun in the sun. We didn’t get either of them. Don’t get me wrong. If I’m going to suffer from any kind of ailment, I would rather do it at a million-dollar lakeside cabin vs. my own anarchic abode.
The excruciating stomach pains started that night, followed by a fever. And then came the mad dashes to the bathroom. Just to put this in perspective, I usually suffer from the opposite affliction, the one where you camp out there for hours. I’m sure it was just a coincidence that both the toilet and the shower broke when I was the last person to use them. My MIL tried to comfort me by talking about the cabin’s past plumbing problems, though I suspect this was code for my own maladies.
And then Haddie got sick. In addition to diarrhea in diapers, she also specialized in projectile puking.
Oh well. At least we had our kayaks and water toys.
It snowed and/or rained the entire weekend.
Oh well. At least the healthy boys had a great time playing and taking care of us. Errr…didn’t they?
© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog
Amber Murphy Strikes Again
September 17, 2006 by
As many of you know, it’s been a rough few weeks. OK, months. But I was finally feeling better and the outlook was bright.
Until we decided to chance the unthinkable last weekend: The Family Roadtrip. It had all the makings for an amazing getaway. Jamie scored us a million-dollar lakeside cabin in the mountains.
A cabin that has Tim “The Toolman” Taylor as a neighbor. A cabin where celebrities have stayed and left their mark. OK, maybe the janitor on Scrubs ain’t exactly A-list but work with me here. At least the place was extra clean.
We invited Grandma and Grandpa along (a.k.a. babysitters extraordinaire). We would hike through the verdant fall foliage, play with their numerous kayaks and water toys, and explore the quaint mountain hamlet.
And then It happened. My life. That same Amber Murphy life that plagued my travel-writing days. With allllll those unfortunate events that made my readers tune in regularly to find out what else could possibly go wrong this time.
Jamie couldn’t get off work until later so Linda and I decided to make the two-hour drive earlier in the day. That way, the kids could nap during the drive and we’d have plenty of time to get settled. Brilliant, right? Yeah, if they’d actually slept.
Undaunted, we still made great time and arrived at the cabin. We unloaded the kids and luggage and made the long trek down the steep ramp to the cabin. As we stood at the doorway, I did a victory dance over how magnificent it all was: the gorgeous cabin, the shimmering water, the fragrance of fall.
And then I tried the key. The same key I thought belonged to the cabin. The same key that turned out to be one of two keys that Hunky Hubby had received from the owner. Unbeknownst to me. I later found out I had in my possession the garbage key. How utterly convenient. While the house key sat on our kitchen counter, two hours away.
And so It began. My life.
(To be continued. When I have the strength to relive it all….)
© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog