The zoo called, they want all their animals back...

I was the kid who brought home strange animals. 

If it wasn't nailed down somewhere in the forest, it was coming home with me.  Except snakes, I always hated snakes...and scorpions.  People who keep scorpions as a pet scare the crap outta me, even more than the creature itself.  What's the point? Are they cute? Nope! Fuzzy? Nope! Smelly? Maybe Deadly? Yep.  Where is the fun in that.  Scorpions are the worst because they have crushed my dream of ever seeing the pyramids in Egypt.  I did a project on them in high school and when I learned that you can't take your shoes off in Egypt or scorpions will climb in them waiting for your foot to go back in and then sting you and kill you almost instantly.  The pyramids were crossed off my list pretty quickly after that. Now that I've offended every scorpion lover who reads this blog, let's move on shall we?

I used to make my grandfather take me to my aunt's farm quite often to catch me frogs for my kiddy pool.  I kept the frogs there so I could train them to jump through hoops.  The frogs he picked had to be the perfect one, that exact one I pointed at, and my grandfather would happily oblige, often falling face first into the pond all in the hopes of catching the perfect frog for my circus.

I was so smitten when I was given my very first puppy.  He was a Bouvier des Flandres named Brutus. Brutus liked to take me for walks (AKA- drag me down the street so he could go visit his girlfriend two blocks over), pull us on toboggans in the winter (and when we fell off he would keep on running to see his girlfriend two blocks over), bite the mail man's face (two times - luckily he never pressed charges) and visit the Family Circle restaurant quite often (where they often confused him with a bear and evacuated the restaurant and called the police).  Brutus was a great dog (and I mean that completely) he just had his own criminalistic personality, but you had to love him for it. 

Brutus and me chillin in the back of my dad's van.  This is the best pic I could find of him that was scanned.  You can kind of see his head across my stomach, that is if you can see past my super-awesome Chicago Bulls jacket!

The problem with the girl who brings home animals, she eventually grows up.  She starts bringing home pets without her parent's permission. I started off bringing home little guppies or those little frogs that sit on the bottom of your aquarium, but eventually I brought home bunnies and kittens. There was always some story why the animals had to come home with me, I was convinced if they didn't come home with me they would DIE. 

Eventually the girl who brings home a zoo grows up even more and gets her own house, and a student loan and credit card which enabled her to bring home much more exotic pets, such as a chameleon named Karma. 

Then the girl meets a boy, who has a dog.  The girl who brought home all the animals stopped bringing home animals because the boy's dog was mean (and stupid) and also because the boy put his foot down about pets.  I even tried to bring home my dog, Phoebe, who was staying with my parents, but with the big stupid dog, it just didn't work out.  Eventually the big stupid dog had puppies and I was in all my glory taking care of those little cuties like they were my own babies (which I actually had growing in my uterus at the time so the puppies were good practice I suppose).  I kept one of those puppies, named him Bosco and decided it was going to be a game of my dog versus your big stupid dog.  I knew in my heart it was too much though with a new baby on the way, so I made arrangements for Bosco to go to a new home, and while I was recovering from the birth of our son, Bosco went to his new home.  It really couldn't have worked out better because he was SO happy with his new owner and I was a bag of nerves after I came home from the hospital so it was good.

Eventually, the big stupid dog got sick and had to be put down and R. became pretty irritable about pets.  I begged and begged for a kitten, but he put his foot down and  we were a petless house.  Which actually was probably for the best because we had a lot of other things going on. 

Then the boy died.

My mom stayed with us for the whole week after he died.  Then the day of the funeral, everyone left, and I was alone.  As soon as the door shut behind them, I went to the pet store and adopted a kitten.  Which seems odd, and I really don't know why I did such a thing.  It wasn't like I did it because I was all of a sudden allowed to, it was more like I needed something to get my mind off being alone. 

and it sort of worked.

Then the cycle of pets began again.  Now that I find myself alone once again, it seems that everyday I find myself wanting to rescue some sort of pet. Everytime I see an animal, again I feel like it has to be rescued.  If someone mentions they are giving away a pet, I'm right there picking up some homeless creature. 

I find my tolerance for animals that run around and destruct things has become less and less, so now I tend to stay away from animals that run loose in the house. My weakness is caged animals that are in need of some love.  I rescued the Hermit Crab because Mason grew fond of the crabs in his daycare (that all died) and this poor little crab was ALL ALONE.   All alone is one of my weaknesses.  If I see a pet all alone, I figure they are in need of a home because they are lonely.

Then there was Junior, (hamster #1) who had owners that loved him so much (seriously, he even had a potty and two cages...TWO) but they had to move to a building with a very strict no pet rule, so Junior came to join our family.  It was a little after we had Junior that I realized Mason played with him way too much.  I was certain that driving around in that Barbie car was slowly killing the poor little guy's brain cells, so I decided that Junior needed a break from all the playtime, and Lulu (who I hope is actually a Lou) was introduced to our family. Lulu is a prick.  Mason never plays with Lulu (anymore) because he has issues with keeping his teeth to himself and not give my child a puncture wound. Lulu spends his time alone in his hamster mansion.  Junior has downgraded to something a little more compact for him since he doesn't move around as much anymore because he is considered a "hamster senior citizen".  Junior spends his time in his little igloo reading the daily paper and eating his hamster bran while complaining about the world.

Then there is Batman.  I had found an awesome cage with every single bird supply you would ever need at a church rummage sale for $5.  Plus we had never had a bird so of course we went out and bought a budgie.  He was a baby hand-fed budgie who also turned out to be a prick.  Then that super awesome $5 cage? Well it was too big for a baby budgie so he flew out daily.  He now lives in a purple heart bird cage which is beautiful, but I think because he's a boy and has to live in a purple cage with hearts all over it he gets a little grumpy.

Kijiji is a dangerous place for people who like to adopt animals.  The temptation of bringing home an animal who desperately needs a place in your heart, like the kitten that was found in a sewer grate, or the millions of cats that owners have "become allergic", when in reality they probably pissed all over their dirty clothes pile and ate their couch (Mia *waves fist*).  Last night I was searching my favourite section of Kijiji (other than searching for Beetles) "PETS TO GIVE OR DONATE" and I found an ad for free guinea pigs.  These little piggies needed to find a place where they could stay together.  My heart broke open into a million pieces and I replied.

Today I picked them up.

and I'm terrified of them.

(yes the pictures are terrible, but these guys are still scared of me and I'm still scared of them.  I'm sure better pics will follow...eventually).

They growl, and chirp, and eat weird food and their cage is big and heavy.

But I can't wait to put little baby clips in their hair and brush them everyday.

PS - This scares me and now I will have bad dreams tonight.

PPS - I love this blog (and it gave me the wonderful idea of guinea pig costumes!!)

PPPS - As soon as I figure out which one is the girl I'm sooo getting one of these (but only for picture purposes because I think that could be a choking hazard, no?)

Wordless Wednesday: November 25, 2009

Wordless One Word Wednesday....

DORK

I sit on a throne of lies!

My mother lied to me when I was little.

I'm not mad.

I realize now, as a mother, that soemtimes telling little fibs here and there is necessary and is usually beneficial to both parent and child overall.

Well sometimes more the parent, but we deserve a little break sometimes right?

Case in point would be this Saturday.  Finding a sitter this time of year can be very challenging as a single parent.  Finding someone who is not at the mall trying to do their holiday shopping with all the mounds of crazies is hard to find on a Saturday in late November.  Usually I try to cram my holiday shopping in at 24-hour stores while the kidlet is at a sleepover or quick shopping trips on my lunch break.  Saturday I was feeling festive and merry after sitting through Mason's Christmas concert at daycare and decided that some Christmas shopping was in order.

Mason held up pretty well after shopping for hours at the crowded mall wherein his mother scolded an old man in front of an entire line of people at the dollar store for cutting in line.  People applauded, it was quite awesome. As if that wasn't enough, I then dragged him to another store to pick up more items.  After that he was pretty much done with shopping (such a trooper), but I wasn't done just quite yet.

I wanted to check out the toy sale that is only in our area for a week.  I heard they had some pretty excellent deals.  I had tried to go on my lunch break the day before but the line-up was wound around the building.  With only half an hour left until they closed, I figured it would be pretty empty, great time for some ideal shoppage.

Mason was not having it, so mama had to lie. Here's how it went....

"but MASON, this STORE is where Santa sends his secret shopper elves to buy things that they don't have time to make. You HAVE to behave in this store or ELSE the elves will go back to SANTA and tell him how bad you were"

It wasn't a very well planned lie, and I realized this quickly when he started asking questions about the elves and how they got here, how they carried the toys back to Santa and a bunch of other questions I wasn't really prepared for (when did he get so smart?).  Eventually he rolled his eyes and agreed to behave and come in the store. 

I held his grubby little hand as we walked into the store where we were handed a big red bag (or what I referred to as a magical Santa sack) when suddenly I felt his grip tighten.  I looked at him and realized that his jaw was on the ground and his eyes were as big as dinner plates.  When I turned to see what he was staring at, I saw our friend "Little Dad". 

Yeah, remember him? Turns out "Little Dad" lives in our neighbourhood and my child torments this poor man by pointing out everything he does ("Look, Little Dad is riding his bike hahahaaaaaa"), rather loudly, even though I remind him every time that people are different and I'm sure that he's a nice man (yatta yatta....). 

I felt this was no time for a lesson in manners, I knew what was about to spew out of my child's mouth and it wasn't going to be a good situation. I rushed by quickly dragging my amazed child behind me.  We got about half way down the aisle when it came out "MOM, look there's an elf!!!!!"


Luckily nobody else heard, but how do you handle such a situation?

I do have to say though, he was so well behaved in the store for the rest of the time. He didn't say a peep, he didn't ask for a single toy and there was no whining to go home, so I have to thank "Little Dad" for all his help.

Archive Mondays: May 18, 2004

I was so angry.  I didn't do anything about it and now I am alone.  This very well could have been one of my first mistakes. Sitting around, watching it happen.  Getting angry but not acting on it.  It took me a long time to get over that.  I'm still not over that.

I'm so confused with R. sometimes. One minute I can't stand him...well of course I can stand him, he's the father of my child, but sometimes I just....fall out of love with him. The next minute, I can't ever see myself living without him.





Today he saw I was feeling a little down and took Mason out so I could get a break. He asked me what was wrong a million times but I really don't want to tell him how worried I am about money and the fact that he is dying. How can I live without him? I really can't raise Mason by myself, I don't know what to do! I don't know anything about boys...I don't know how to teach him to pee standing up, I don't know how to teach him to shave...you know how hard it is to find someone who will take in a woman with a child? Right now I have no job, no life without R. What was I thinking getting pregnant by a man who has cancer?



The last time we went to the doctor, the doctor was a real prick, he felt his neck for lumps, said he didn't feel any and said he'd see him in 3 months. Well I can see lumps, dammit! Just because that doctor doesn't like us, he doesn't want to see us for more than 2 minutes. The social worker said there was nothing more they could do for him, just chemotherapy to make him comfortable. Isn't that fucked up? Chemotherapy to make you comfortable...chemo makes people feel like shit!



I've been putting what she said in the back of my mind but the other night it hit me like a ton of bricks, I'm going to be alone. I don't know when, could be weeks, months, years...who knows. I think that's what scares me the most...I could find him dead one day. I could wake up in the middle of the night and find my boyfriend dead beside me in bed. I don't think I'm ready for this...but how can you ever prepare yourself for that?



I want him to go see another doctor. I want him to go for a bone marrow transplant again. I want him to get chemotherapy and get better so he can see his son grow up...but I guess it all boils down to what they think is best. I know waiting until the cancer gets worse is not going to do us any good, but they won't even see us for another 2 months...I'm demanding another appointment



I guess that's my downer post of the day...pretty bad I can't tell anybody in real life how I'm feeling, I think I may need some kind of help because feeling like this is not okay.

D is for Dentist or Dammit or Doh or Dagnabbit...

Today was D day.

(wherein the D would stand for dentist).

Let me start over.  Today was dentist day.  Yes the day has come when Mason had to get his very first filling.  Because he is so young and never had a filling before the dentist decided to send us to a special pediatric dentist at the hospital (read: ka-ching).  The problem with the pediatric dentist was that they wanted payment in full.  $400 today and $400 next Tuesday when he would have to go back.  Just not in my budget to hand over $800 in one week.  In fact, that may never happen.  Ever. 

So I told the dentist this, they said fine let your kid's teeth fall out, or something along those lines, maybe they were a bit nicer, but I totally heard it as let those teeth rot and you're a bad person and a terrible mother.  When that appointment was approaching I decided to call them to make sure the appointment was in fact cancelled so I didn't get charged a cancellation fee, at which point I found out it was not.  So I got angry and told them to destroy our file. 

Long story short, they called back and said they would bill my insurance company direction (read: woohoo I won!) and that I would just pay the difference up front when I went in.  That was no problem.  So today I went in there with my adorable little Anne Geddes baby cheque all written up ready for them to take and they were all like whoa, we don't take cheques here.  Cash only.  Great.  So I felt like a piece of shit (thanks for mentioning the no cheque thing on the phone).  I was just so used to my dentist taking cheques that I didn't even think they wouldn't. Are cheques not accepted anywhere anymore? Do people even still use cheques? Gahh!

So the woman got all huffy and told me that I would have to come in to pay tomorrow morning when they open (my boss is going to loooove me tomorrow).  Then we waited in a room with no toys (H1N1 protocols, take the toys away in the waiting room) for an hour.  We watched as people who came after us got in to the room, four people to be exact.  I felt like I was being punished for being cash-less.  Finally they called us back, and Mason was given a shot glass of some wonky medicine that makes you drunk so you don't freak out when they start drilling your face.

Then we were instructed to go back to the waiting room and wait 20 minutes for the medication to kick in.  I figured I would let him play with his Transformer for a few minutes before I settled my drunken kid down.  He sat on the floor and rolled the car across the floor once and took a face plant into the ground.  I scooped him up and held him like a baby (which was hard to do with a 60 pound kid!) and he looked like he was completely drunk.  He started telling knock knock jokes and laughing hysterically as he repeated "banana" over and over again. 

The other people in the waiting room thought it was hilarious, I started to worry that I should have brought somebody with me becuase this was more serious than it sounded.  The nurse brought in a wheelchair to roll him back to the dentist chair where he was greeted by the nice dentist man.  He then freaked out when he saw a toy snake wrapped around the dentist's light.  I just held his hand as they gave him a big huge needle (have you seen the size of those things??) and then suddenly holding onto his hand gently turned into having to hold his arms down to prevent him from punching the dentist in the face.

My child who only 5 minutes earlier was laughing at his own knock knock jokes was now in a rage about being at the dentist.  He turned from comedian to that girl from The Exorcist. He was screaming I HATE YOU to the dentist, which I had never heard him say to anybody.  The one nurse that had came in to assist (there were four of us) mouthed "he said I hate you" to the other nurse.  Which also made me feel like a piece of shit mother.

As if I didn't feel bad enough that he has cavities, as if I didn't feel bad enough that I am a single mother on a single income and that I had to make arrangements to be there in the first place, now I have bitches commenting on his behaviour. He was terrified and heavily medicated, that was NOT my son.  He was confused and had four people pinning him down to a chair while someone drilled into his mouth, he's not going to be cracking jokes about bananas and have butterflies and rainbows shooting out of his ass at that point. 

And then it was over.

The dentist took probably 10 minutes to give him the tiniest filling I have ever seen in my whole entire life.  When I go to the dentist and I get a filling it takes hours, so this guy is good at what he does. The unfortunate thing is that his staff are all not very nice, but he is the nicest, most genuine dentist there is. 

I put my dopey kid back into the wheelchair.  Which he then threw a fit again because he thought he had to be in a wheelchair forever after that.  Then the dentist dropped the bombshell.  The other teeth will be fixed under general anaesthesia because Mason is just too strong for him and he feels he can't do a good enough job with him thrashing about like that.

As I had him ready to go, the receptionist (who was mean earlier) apologized and said that the drink they gave him was not covered under my benefits plan and that I have to bring in an extra $85 tomorrow.  She said she was sorry and that she knew what it was like to be a single mother so she understood what I was going through.

I always wonder how other single mothers can understand though.  My relationship with Mason's father didn't end, he died.  I don't get financial support from a spouse, he's dead.  I make all the decisions myself, I go through shit like this myself and I feel sorry for my son, by myself.  If she understood, maybe she wouldn't have been so mean in the first place.  I try so hard to do things normally, if I would have had the $800 to give them, I would have given it to them gladly and waited for the benefits cheque to come in, but the thing is I don't.

I'm just feeling sorry for myself, wondering when things, or if things, are ever going to get better.  I'm tired of having to ask people for help, whether it be financial or even just watching Mason for a night so I can go out with friends.  I'm just tired.

It's just a game of two steps forward three steps back lately and it's starting to take it's toll on me now.



and because I hate to leave things so gloomy,  I have a cute story to share:

The dental hygenist instructed me to bring Mason home and lay him on the couch so he didn't hurt himself falling or anything while on the drug.  So we were in the washroom just after the drug was given to him and he turned to me and said "Mom, you know what the tooth fairy told you? You have to let me watch kids shows on the couch".  He thought she was the tooth fairy.  I probably should have told her that, it was too cute!

Moral of this post:  Don't let your kids skip flossing!

Front Page Superstar...

Sing "On the cover of Today's Parent" to the tune of Dr. Hook's "The Cover of the Rolling Stone" and this makes complete sense!

Disclaimer: Do not watch that Dr. Hook video for the Cover of the Rolling Stone on YouTube.  Those are some of the highest dudes I have ever seen in my life.  Those dudes were even higher than Jenny in Forrest Gump in that video.

Smelly Washer WINNER!!

I am please to announce the winner of the Smelly Washer washing machine cleaner....


(this is where there would be a drumroll if the internet invented it yet. Stupid internet. Just imagine one is there though, okay?)

...........

.......

.....
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..
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.
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..
...

OKAY!

and the winner is....

ERICA!!

Erica wrote:

Facts about my parent's washing machine:

1: It is older than me. I think.
2. It has washed the clothing of a family of 7.
3. It washes super-smelly barn clothes.
4. PIG POOP goes through this washer.
5. PIG. POOP. EW. 

Erica, I am so happy you have won your very own bottle of smelly washer! Pig poop is the stinks...I know because one time I slipped it in at the Royal Winter Fair, or wait maybe that was cow poop.  Hm...I don't remember too well.  

Anyways, best of luck with your smelly washer!  I will be in contact with you to get you your prize! 

Archive Mondays: May 17, 2004

This was my birthday.  I know what you're thinking, why did this dork get so excited over a baby stroller for her birthday? You didn't see that thing, it had a STEERING WHEEL and cup holders.  Plus who doesn't want a new stroller when you have a little baby.  Don't laugh.


I used to go see male strippers for my birthday and now I get to change dirty bums and watch the care bears...I'm definately not complaining though...I love every minute of this. Mason was watching "hamtaro" this morning and laughing his ass off...I can't believe he watches TV and laughs at it...what a kid!




I got my birthday present early...it's sooo cool...a new stroller. It's a jeep cherokee, black and red...very cool! My old one looked like it was about ready for the trash. It's kind of sad to get rid of it since Mason's first car seat attaches to it but I think I'll be okay to get rid of it. I'll definately have to get another one if we ever decide to have another baby though because this jeep one doesn't hold a car seat....hmmmf I thought it would...oh well.



Brenda came over and took Mason for a walk so I could get my house to look half decent again...not happening...instead I'm catching up on e-mails and blurty...guess I should get going so it looks like I did something and she doesn't think R. and I did it while she was gone *lol* I think of the weirdest things!! I guess if I took my friend's baby for a walk so she could clean her house and came back and nothing was touched I would think the same thing!



Off to make my house look and smell better *lol*

I am a SMART mama...

I have to tell you all something.  I am in love. 

Exciting isn’t it?

Let me tell you a bit about him. 

He is fantastic (and so smart!).  We go everywhere together.  EVERYWHERE.   I can’t imagine leaving home without him.  He never leaves my hands and yes, I do bring him to the washroom with me sometimes.  He plays all the songs I like to hear, he helps me keep track of my schedule and oh boy is he good looking!

He goes to bed with me every night as we listen to my favourite songs and he is right there when I wake up each morning.  He has a camera and video camera ready at any moment which is always important.  Plus it’s like he has a built in GPS or something because with him nearby, we never get lost! He supports my Twitter addiction lovingly and helps me to keep in touch with family and friends. 

He is just absolutely perfect in every way. 

and you can get one too on a 3-year contract for $199.  He is my iPhone. 

I have never had a better match in a phone before, well except that it’s not pink, that was hard to deal with at first, but I got a nice little case and that solved that problem.  I really do take it everywhere with me, in fact so much that sometimes I look down at my hands in panic because I realize it’s not there.  When I do bring it in the washroom (to listen to music while I get ready you jerks!) I always put it far away from the toilet because I knock everything into the toilet.  Just this afternoon my contact lens case dropped into the great white bowl of disgust.  Once you drop something in there it usually is gone for good.  I mean I know it could be disinfected, but could you imagine putting toilet water contact lenses in your eye every day? Yuck!  Things always get so off topic for me when I start talking about toilets.

So when I was offered the opportunity to review Kathy Buckworth’s newest book “The BlackBerry Diaries – Adventures in Modern Motherhood”, I was really excited and of course I said yes (or perhaps I wouldn’t be writing this..). 

Having a smart phone really puts in you in an exclusive club.  A club where people who do not own smart phones just don’t understand you.  They don’t understand why you would be on your phone in the long line-up at Old Navy on $2 t-shirt day, why you would pull out such device at your child’s t-ball game or swimming lessons or why you would have your nose glued to your 3.5 inch screen at the Backyardigans stage show with your child.  The truth is, I get bored and with my iPhone I can find a way to use this what would normally be wasted time on things that are more important, such as Twitter, Facebook and Tap Tap Revenge and sometimes even replying to that long e-mail from grandma or organizing my inbox.  Things that I could easily do at home, but when the time is wasted anyway, doesn’t it just make more sense to do it on these down moments.  That is why I really enjoyed reading Kathy’s book.  She understands what it’s like to have a smart phone addiction.

The BlackBerry Diaries follows the life of Kathy Buckworth as she raises her four children (five if you count Seamus her BlackBerry).  I think it’s adorable that Kathy’s BlackBerry has a name!  I have decided my iPhone shall remain nameless as I don’t have the greatest luck when I name things.  I learned that the hard way.

She gives some great advice in this book and  has some amazing experiences and makes you laugh, a lot throughout the whole book with words like “poop balls” (we could totally be best friends Kathy!).  There were many things I could relate to in the book such as “Braxberry” which is a phantom phone vibration which makes you feel like you have a message when really you don’t.  I can also relate to: Mask-Berrying, Gasp-Berrying, Aaackberrying (unfortunately),  and Ludites.  If you don’t know what any of those mean, you really need to read the book!

I was delighted to hear that the book was all for mother’s getting into the smart phone revolution, as there have been a few times when I have felt uncomfortable pulling out my little phone and times when I have gotten “the look”.  The truth is, you can only watch your child play T-ball so many times before watching all the other players up to bat becomes somewhat unbearable.  I can totally relate to Kathy in that matter, because I have been there myself. 

The book is written in complete blog format, including tags, which kind of made it harder for me to get into at first, but ends up giving the reader a much more personal impression.  By the end of the book you really feel like you know Kathy as a friend and not just an author.  Then again, anybody who uses terms such as “poop balls” can totally be my friend!

You can buy this book from my wonderful friends at Amazon.ca who wonderfully support my addiction to DVDs and Hello Kitty decals

She would have been 80 today...

My grandma was the best grandma in the world.  I'm pretty sure she was better than yours, although I don't really know yours and I guess if your grandma was Mother Theresa or something then maybe she would have been better than mine, but I kinda doubt it. 

My grandma was beyond awesome, she was my bestest best friend in the whole wide world, and even though she was a mother figure to me, we really were best friends. We went everywhere together, even when I was a baby she took me everywhere.  Kind of funny, a 50-something year old woman with a little baby in K-Mart, I  mean sure you see that every once in a while when a grandmother takes their grandchild to the mall, but we were there every single day.  At her funeral, someone came up to me and said "Oh you're the girl from the cart!" because grandma would drive me around in the shopping cart at the mall so much. 

She just meant the world to me, I can't imagine growing up without her. 

My grandma loved shopping, yelling at Pa, throwing things down the stairs at him, making fudge that was absolutely amazing, listening to Patsy Cline and Julio Iglesias, watching the Urban Peasant (who actually died a couple years ago, so she's probably kicking back and watching his cooking show live in heaven) and Wheel of Fortune, visiting her father in the nursing home (taking me with her of course) and talking on the phone to her friend "Vi". 

I remember falling asleep on the floor at the foot of her bed, listening to her talk to "Vi" on the phone.  They talked on the phone every single day, and even though I lived with my grandmother and we were together all the time, I never remember meeting "Vi".   These phone calls went on every night, no matter what, she always talked to "Vi" at the end of each day.  I can't imagine how "Vi" dealt with missing these phone calls once grandma got too sick to make them or after she had passed on. 

My grandma was never really a healthy person.  She had diabetes and got pneumonia a lot.  She was not always the nicest person either, often telling people where to go and how to get there very often if it meant sticking up for her family or what she believed in. 

When she got really sick, I was a teenager, going through that phase of not giving a shit.  I hadn't called her in weeks, maybe even months.  It was all about me and nobody else mattered.  Until she got sick.  She was in the hospital for quite a while, and for most of that time she was non responsive.  I remember the day I was told to sit with her and hold her hand by myself and say goodbye.  Little did I know, I would be doing the exact same thing with another person I loved seven years later. 

I sat beside her bed and stared at the IV in her hand and rubbed my thumb on her hand, back and forth over and over.  I had hoped she would have awakened, but she didn't.  I don't even know if she knew it was me. 

I never got to see her again, she was gone soon after that. 

Maybe I was supposed to be in the not giving a shit stage when she died, because I couldn't imagine being in the best friend stage and losing her.  Losing her when I apparently didn't give a shit was hard enough.  The thing that really gets me is that she wasn't suposed to die.  She wasn't old enough to be a grandmother.  I didn't get to love her long enough. All the things we missed out on together wasn't fair. 

She would have adored Mason. She would have taken him to the mall in her little shopping cart every single day and I would have let her, even though she would have been 80 today, she was a fighter and she would be safe with him.  I would have trusted her with my life. 

She has been gone for 11 years now, and it still makes me angry that she can't be here to be 80.  The world really needs more people here who were as good as she was.  It makes me mad that I can't go to her house and eat fudge and sell her Avon and gossip about her neighbours (who were always crazy).  It makes me mad that Mason can't try that fudge or her pancakes.  He will never get to see her placemat that was a foot off the table because she kept all her paperwork piled underneath it.  He will never go to her house and have to figure out how to pee on her ginormous toilet because she had the tallest toilet seat in the world. 

Happy Birthday to who would have been the bestest Great-Gramma in the world.  

PS - Please excuse the bad quality of the photo...I guess Kodak printers won't scan if you don't have colour ink. 

Take your festive special and shove it...

Dear readers,
I love you so, but consider this a warning. You will be safe as soon as I see pretty little flowers blooming out of the ground, so please bear with me, but this time of year turns me into a blubbering pile of mess.  It usually begins once that first television commerical hits the airwaves. 



As soon as I see that commerical I bawl my friggin eyes out.  Nevermind the atrocious acting, it's just that holiday commericals (such as the one above), while may not even be that sad, just turn me into a blubbering fool. 

When I see these commercials I am reminded of the happy times such as the first Christmas I remember where I truly believed in Santa Claus and there was a rock with little googly eyes glued onto it in my stocking and I was certain it was made by the elves or the time I got a Nintendo for Christmas but was disappointed in the game that Santa brought me with it (Cobra Circle...I still remember tha game!) so my mom packed it all up and took it over to Canadian Tire (that was open on Christmas...WTF?) and bought me the Mario pack instead which came with Mario AND Duck Hunt.  The videos my parents used to take of us on Christmas where our dad would video tape the house all quiet and lit up beautifully only by Christmas lights at like 3am and then come and wake me up and say that Santa had come and get me all riled up, and then tell me to go back to sleep.  Of course I would never go back to sleep. I usually ended up staying up at that point playing with the toy I got to open on Christmas Eve andthen I would wake up the rest of the house at a more reasonable hour of 5:30.  The memories of mom going shopping over the border and bringing back things that we just didn't have here like Addams Family Cereal (that came with an Uncle Fester flashlight!!) and Fruit Stripes Gum.  More recently I'm reminded of the time when someone did something for me on Christmas that I will never forget, which kind of makes that commercial sting a little more.

On top of all that good stuff, I also think of the bad stuff at Christmas like being alone with no family anywhere around me for the whole holiday season, struggling financially to make sure everybody gets a gift and shopping for hours and hours, even though I know deep down that anything I can afford to get such person will only be ridiculed later.  It happens, unfortunately. I even think about the times when we were kids and we were given $100 for Christmas...and nothing else.  I'm not complaining, $100 is awesome, but when you're a kid what are you going to do with $100 on Christmas Day? Not a whole lot, unless Canadian Tire was actually open.  I think about my first Christmas as a parent, and then my second Christmas as a single parent. 

I even think about the fast approach of the new year.  I wonder what good things have happened to me in this past year, and unfortunately as of late it hasn't been anything, which is my fault because I do set goals, but I fail miserably.  Next year's goal is going to be something like, I will only wear white socks on Tuesdays or something petty like that because this whole goal of becomming a millionaire, falling in love and losing weight just isn't working out too well.  Besides, have you tried to type 2010 yet? It's horrid! I hate typing that year and as a typist who does reports, I have to look forward to typing in that year, well for a whole year and that scares me.  It hurts my pinky finger to type in that year.  2010 2010 2010 (getting some practice in now...it's not working out so well). 

Don't get me wrong, there are a lot of things I love about this season (minus the snow...), but my mind always travels back to my bank account statement, buying presents for people and people who are jerks this time of year.

It's just never a good thing for my emotions once this season starts, I try to think of the good things, but all I can think about is the things that have gone so wrong in these past few years and it makes that commercial, although really not that sad and kind of corny, seem like I'm watching puppies get thrown off the roof of a tall building. 

So you can't say that you haven't been warned.  If I'm a little more complainey, I'm sorry.  If I call you stupid or mean, I apologize.  I just get a little worked up once those commercials start rolling. 

and because I'm such a nice person, here are a few Christmas commercials to warm you up for the season of depression commercialism:


*sniff*



(okay that's not sad, that's creepy!)


(W...T...F?)


(I know you will enjoy this!)

Okay, I'm done, going to watch Survivor, with Kleenex as I know that damn Swiss Chalet commercial will come on at least four times.

Simplicity...

Today was simple.

The kind of day I have been striving for. Our routine was not changed. Everything went smoothly.

There was no rushing around to pack lunches or find shoes. A black cat didn't climb under my car forcing me to get down on my knees and shoo it out with a broom and thereby dirtying the knees of my work pants(well maybe that did happen, but let's pretend it didn't okay?). Now is all about focusing on the perfect day, not about the rushes or fixing errors all day long, because today wasn't about that. It was just another beautiful autumn day.

A day that ended with me picking up my most favourite little guy in the world from daycare and walk home leisurely with me wearing his backpack because it is too heavy for him. He didn't even whine all the way home about sore legs or beg for Smarties ice cream. Nope, that didn't happen. Today was just another day, a simple day with nothing telling us what to do or where to be.

Peaceful.

I remember a time in my life when I wanted days like this so bad. Days and days of appointments, home care nurses, PSWs, hospice care. Each one coming into our home back-to-back, opening our cupboards to get supplies as if they had lived there for years. Not being able to come and go as I please because of a 24-hour care restriction. That is the kind of thing I look back to and have to appreciate what we have.

It was just a beautiful day.

Archive Monday: March 27, 2004

I can't remember ever being this happy.  I liked this post.  My favourite...especially the "changing a poopy" part.

Mason is so great!! I don't know what I'd do without him. To be honest...at first I was a little disappointed. My life changed so quickly, I was feeling very emotional and nothing was going on...everything revolved around the baby. Now I'm just so happy he's here. Every morning I wake up and there he is smiling away at me. He is the happiest little guy and I just love seeing him smile when he first wakes up. Beats the times when he wakes up bawling his eyes out!! I love how he coos and goos at me all the time, I can be wiping his poopy but and he's there having a good ol' conversation with me about something. What? I don't know, only he knows what he's gooing about but apparently it's something good =) The other night I was changing his clothes and he laughed. It was such a beautiful thing. It's one thing hearing babies laugh, but when it's your baby...its so beautiful.



I'm so proud of him and everything he attemps. He's only 2 months old and already he's trying to copy things we say. He's getting to be such a big boy. Always bright eyed and holding his head up all by himself. I can't believe how fast they grow up!!

I'm off to go snuggle with my little guy while he sleeps...I love it :)

Let go...

It was a beautiful day today, in fact you could almost say it was a perfect day in some ways, other than the fact that it is a Sunday and that means a whole new week starts tomorrow.  If you're as lucky as me, you will get to spend it inside in front of a computer typing until you have yourself convinced you have Carpal Tunnel Syndrome. I guess I shouldn't complain, I'm lucky to have a job, and I do work with some pretty awesome people, doing a job that makes me feel pretty awesome sometimes.  So I really shouldn't complain.

It's just the whole missing out on my son growing up part everyday that is hard to get over. I feel like I spend most of my time away from him and by the time I get home it's rush to get dinner on the table, rush to get to Beavers, rush to get the laundry done so we don't have to wear our underwear inside out the next day.  It's never relaxed.  Everything is wound up and there is no release.  Kind of like playing frisbee, only you try as hard as you can to throw it but never seem to be able to let go and watch it fly. 

The times when I put a pair of pants on him that fit last week and don't fit this week.  The times when he draws pictures of me where I actually look like a person.  The times when he explains something to me and he sounds so grown up.  They all make me feel like I'm missing a step somewhere. I find myself wishing I was his teacher so I could be with him all day just to see what he does first hand. 

but sometimes you just have to let go and leave it up to him (and hope that he's not telling everybody that you made him wear his underwear inside out that day). 

Sometimes it can be hard to accept these feelings.  Sometimes you can feel helpless and depressed over everything you are missing, but it really doesn't help.

So that is why today was nice. 

The day started off in a church, which if you know me, really doesn't happen very often, unfortunately.  It's not that I don't believe in that sort of thing, it's just that it is way out of my comfort zone with the singing and the harmonizing of words and getting up and sitting down.  Not to mention those wooden seats are killer on your butt.  I went today because Mason had a Beavers event to go to, and this church is a sponsor of the Beavers so it was the right thing to do.

Mason's job was to carry the Beavers flag and set it on the altar.  I watched nervously and that went off without a hitch.  Then I watched in horror as they sat him all the way across the room from me with other kids, far from my reach.  Far from anywhere I could harshly whisper "Sit down and shut up!" if things got out of hand.  I spent the whole service watching him from the corner of my eye, and everything seemed to go well. 

Until the reverend asked the kids questions.   Of course my child was the loudest, jumping up and raising his hands shouting "pick me! pick me!".  The good thing about being across the room was pretending that I didn't know this wild child.  His answers were all wrong, but they did get some good laughs from the 80 year olds around them. 

The rest of the 2.5 hour service (yes you read that correctly....2.5 hours!!) I relaxed a little more, playing the "I don't know whose kid that is" card ever so awesomely if I must say so myself.  Until the service was over and I had to reunite with him, where everybody saw that the big mouth belonged to me.  I had to claim him, but I really didn't care because I realize he was just being himself, something that everybody should probably do more often.  I mean sure, he could have refined his approach a little, but he is five years old, so it's something we can still work on.  I was proud to be his mom at that point - until he shouted out at the cookies and juice table "MAN, THAT WAS BORING!".

After doing some grocery shopping and chores around the house (you know, the evil stuff that takes away our fun time), we went to the park to play some "Skrisbee" (as Mason calls it).  We have this big giant orange frisbee that is a lot of fun, and luckily is made out of soft material so it doesn't break your face when it hits you. 

He is serious about his frisbee.

Unfortunately neither Mason nor I are any good at frisbee so we spent the whole time getting frisbees to the face and throwing it as far as we could - only in the opposite direction of the person we were throwing it too.  We both were really really bad at it.  When you think about it, frisbee shouldn't be hard, you throw it - game over, but no! We couldn't even throw it in a straight line. 

It got so ridiculous that we just started laughing even before the frisbee even left our hands.  This kind of laugh wasn't a dainty giggle either, this was crazy person laugh - manic laugh if you will.  Hyperventilation laughing until you almost cry laughing. 

And it was what we needed.

At that point it didn't matter who was watching or who thought we were crazy, it was just us, laughing like a couple of crazy hyenas. 

Being ourselves.

Letting go.

PS - ...and because I'm such an awesome blogger I even took videos of our frisbee game!

(My favourite part is: "I have a stomach ache")


(I laugh like Krusty the clown) boo :(

He has immunity!

I took Mason to get his H1N1 shot tonight, which was a real treat let me tell ya!  I know some of you are against it, and that's fine.  My belief is to do what is right for your own situation.  In our case, Mason did not qualify by age, however he does have asthma so that put him in the high risk category which made him eligible.I didn't just wake up this morning and think today and think I would do it, this was a major decision for me. There were tons of pros and cons, and scary ones at that.  It was a terrifying decision. 

I was afraid of what could happen if he didn't get the shot.

I was afraid of what could happen if he did get the shot. 

It was almost like on those bomb movies when they have to choose which wire to cut, the red or the black, WHICH ONE? Okay maybe not really like that, but I've always wanted to use that in a blog post.  Sort of. 

In my personal opinion, the thing to do in this situation is to do what is best for your situation.  In my case, Mason has asthma and we already had one scare (which was not only terrifying in itself, but also ended up costing me over $200 for missing work and $15 for a parking ticket at the hospital).  Mason goes to school, daycare, Beavers and on Wednesday mornings he does arts and crafts with seniors, so all the situations that he could be exposed to the virus plus the situations where he could expose someone who is more vulnerable really helped me decide. 

Even with all of that, it was not an easy decision. 

I've heard bad things.

Lots of bad things. 

So I did my research, which is the greatest (and sometimes scariest) tool we have as parents. We have google with links to sites, some of which may have facts that are not so true so you really have to be careful with your sources.  We also have things like the London Health Unit's Twitter (@MLHealthUnit) which has been doing an absolutely amazing job with keeping people in touch with information about things like wait times at clinics, clinic hours, eligibility, status of vaccines etc. 


You're going to hear things. 


From people you love and trust and it's hard when you don't agree with them and what they are saying. So I can't stress enough that you should really evaluate your situation.


Maybe your child stays home all day with you, has no underlying medical conditions and doesn't eat or make moustaches with other people's chewed gum from under the table at McDonalds.  Maybe you don't allow visitors into your home or visit others who you may expose to the virus, then great, by all means stay home in your bubble and stay vaccine-free. 


and I don't mean that to sound like it's harsh or I'm looking down on your personal decision, because I'm not, but if I was in that situation I would have no cons, I would have had an easier decision to make. 



The clinic itself was great.  I anticipated waiting for a lot longer, but because I follow the health unit on Twitter I learned the wait was only 20 minutes.  We filled out the forms.  I am not eligible, although one could argue that I do work in a medical clinic, I do not see patients regularly so I am going to wait for my turn along with everybody else. 

What took the longest was holding down my screaming 60 pound child (this was another con on my list).  I struggled for a good 5 minutes with him trying to get him still, he's just so strong.  When I saw the Health Unit worker in the black coming over I knew it was game over for him.  So he got his shot, and he screamed and yelled and jumped.  He refused a sticker, and then he wanted a sticker, and then he hated the sticker. 


Then the lady with black stubby teeth said something about people staring at her kid (Who was no word of a lie sliding across the cement floor on his stomach - WTF?) and saying that people should be staring at my kid instead because he was freaking out a few minutes earlier when he got his shot. 


I think her rotten teeth seeped into her brain because I really didn't have a problem with her psycho child sliding on the cement floor, apparently others did though.  I guess she just thought I looked the weakest and she could pick a fight with me, but I saw an old lady with a walker next to me, if she really wanted to fight someone.... (I would have picked her). 

But it was over in no time at all, psycho stubby teeth aside, it was all-in-all a pretty tolerable experience.  Until we got outside and the car was covered in snow (WTF Mother Nature??)


So I guess what I'm trying to say is, you know your family situation best, unless your kid eats/makes moustaches out of other people's chewed gum under the table at McDonalds, then maybe you don't want to know them in public.

You're Welcome...

Mason ended up with a huge bag of candy this year.  Bless his little soul, the boy treats his treates as if each wonderous morsel was worth a million dollars, or a million Hello Kittys, whichever is more valuable to you. 

See! Look how heavy his bag was getting!

This makes it very hard for people *ahem* me to steal candy from his precious stash.  He guards it very similarly to that of the Wicked Witch in the Wizard of Oz who had those creepy flying monkeys.  Only instead of flying monkeys he uses the whiny voice.  The whiny voice that makes mothers cringe and run for a strawberry wine cooler (juuuust kidding, *ahem* sort of). 

The whiny voice is much more effective against mothers than a creepy flying monkey, so the kid is smart in that way.  Plus you don't have to feed a whiny voice monkey food or dodge flying poop balls tossed at your head by a whiny voice. 

Stealing candy was so much easier when he was a baby.  He rarely fought back, it was precious. 

My little skunk!

Stealing candy now has become more of an art.  An art that includes mind tricks, reasoning, bribery and good old prying each finger that grasps on to that Twix bar (hehe....umm that didn't happen - kind of).  From what I have learned from our five years of trick or treating (omg five!!) is that this doesn't get any easier.  In fact, next year I will probably have to set up some device that includes a fishing rod, some double-sided tape and a high-powered magnet to get some delicious chocolate.  Either that or I will just have to trick or treat myself.  I'm getting too old for this stuff!

This year it was a crisis.  So I sat down with my Hello Kitty notebook and devised an evil plan to swindle chocolate from my child (which sounds a whole lot worse than it actually is, he doesn't need it!).  When the little lightbulb above my head flickered I came up with the brilliant evil plan to have an excuse for each candy bar as to why he shouldn't eat it (ala Oatmeal Crisp style!) and now I am sharing it with all of you.

Coffee Crisp - This has coffee in it. Coffee is only for grown-ups because it makes you stop growing and stains your teeth. 

Aero - Mason, this chocolate has gone bad.  See all the bubbles, that's not good for you

Oh Henry - Oh Henry? More like Oh huge spider because that's what I see just over there .  Once he turns his head to look, you should then hide the chocolate.  Eating the chocolate bar at this crucial point is not an option becuase he will totally be able to tell once he realizes the spider thing was a decoy and you will not have the time to enjoy the sweetness that is Oh Henry.

Mars - This has nougat in it.  I don't even know what nougat is or where it comes from, but since the chocolate bar is called Mars I can only assume it is an alien dessert.  If you eat it, there is a chance you could turn into an alien.

Kit Kat - The red wrapper means it's spicy (if all else fails, the spicy trick always works).

Skittles - You can't eat these!  They could all bunch up and get stuck in your throat and make you choke! (okay maybe I sort of think this one is true)

Reese's Pieces - Do you know what the pieces in Reese's Pieces are?  I'm going to let you in on a secret, parents made these so that kids would eat their veggies.  Yep you heard me right, the pieces are in fact little pieces of brussel sprouts, onions and broccoli.  Besides ET ate these and he was an alien (see Mars)

Baby Ruth - Mine! I called it!  (I had to revert back to toddler rules to get this one).  I had never tried a Baby Ruth before (oh how deprived we are in Canada when it comes to chocolate bars!) so I just had to have it.

The Overly Helpful....

This post is dedicated to my sister who asked to me write a blog post. I'm that easy people, you ask and I will dedicate a post to you.

Today I ran into a few "characters" who seemed overly helpful to me. It was really quite a strange day because usually I rant and rave about those not-so-helpfuls.

The first case of the overly helpfuls came in the form of an old lady in a PT Cruiser. I had just pulled into the daycare/retirement home parking lot, when I noticed this older lady stomping towards my car. She looked angry. Her arms were stiff at her side and I swore they were clenched into fists.

I wondered what I had done to piss her off. Did I cut her off while driving? No. Did I give her the finger? No. Did I yell out the window that she was not hot? No. I couldn't think of anything I had done to make this woman angry. As she got closer, I sighed and shook my head. I shakily raised my now clenched fists and thought to myself, well if she wants to throw down a fisticus right here in the old people/daycare parking lot then I have a Mike and a Tyson right here waiting to punch on her old face. My kid was in the back seat, oh well he could join in and bite her ankle or something.

I stepped out of the car and faced my angry guest, and I could have swore I heard that song from that old Western movie. The old lady flailed her old arms and went on and on about me not having brake lights or something to that extent. I was too busy trying not to laugh at that Western song that was playing over and over in my head.

Then I realized, OhmygodIdon'thavebrakelights???? She must've seen I was insane and turned and left, stomping away. I dropped the kid off at the daycare and drove my death-mobile to the mechanic. The whole time worrying about my vacant brake lights. Then wouldn't ya know it, all of a sudden a police man was driving behind me. I was convinced that I was about to be pulled over, but he soon got tired of me driving right on 50 and sped around me. I had no brake lights, how did he not pull me over???

I pulled into the mechanic where we soon realized that I did in fact have brake lights, the only one that was burn out was the little bar one at the top. The overly helpful lady was WRONG. So because of her "helpfulness" I was a half an hour late for work. If she had said it was the bar one at the top that was out, I would have waited until the end of the day, but no...she decided to be all Frantic Fran on my head and made me panic about my stupid brake lights.

Fast forward to the end of my work day. For some reason at 4:15 I filled up a giant glass of water. Not remembering that I was leaving in 15 minutes anyway, I laughed like a Hillbilly for 10 minutes and dared my office mate to bet that I couldn't drink the whole big glass in 5 minutes. She reluctantly agreed and I drank that entire glass down and laughed like a hillbilly all the way out of the office. In fact, I think I still laughed like that until I got to Mason's daycare. I even laughed while we were at the Goodwill looking for skate laces (Mason's class is going skating tomorrow and the lace on his skates was broken).

Who would have known that the Goodwill doesn't carry skate laces? (duh) As we were searching through people's old underwear and mountains of Tupperware and velvet paintings of creepy clowns, the feeling of urinary urgency hit me...badly. The bathroom in the Goodwill is not one I would ever like to use. Ever. That is where the hobos go to do their dookies and drugs, trust me, I've seen them go in there and one time when I really had to go I saw the paraphernalia they left behind so I speak from experience, yo!

I had to go pee - badly, but it was holdable. I grimaced as I remembered myself laughing like a hillbilly over that glass of water.  We still needed skate laces though, so I thought it was a good idea to run over to the sports store to get the laces and then go home to pee.

We got to the sports store, Mason's door didn't shut properly in the car which left the light on, but I didn't care because I had to go pee so badly at this point, I just wanted to get in and out of the store.  We ran over to the laces and were greeted by a gigantic wall of laces.  I have never seen anything like it in my entire life.  Skate laces, hundreds upon hundreds of pairs of laces.  Different sizes, colours, textures, waxed and not waxed.  Incredible.  I picked up the cheapest pair I could find and we went to leave the wall of laces.

Just as I turned around I was greeted by overly helpful person #2.

OH: "Did you find what you were looking for"
Me: "Yep. I think so *waving box of laces*"
OH: "Oh, what size are the skates you are buying them for?"
Me: "Ummm...I think 13"

Overly helpful man then goes to his little skate lace chart where he looks up the proper lace size, the whole time I'm crossing my legs, wondering if physically holding my crotch will keep me from urinating myself. 

OH: "Well you're gonna want to get a 72, and they come in waxed or not waxed.  I really recommend the waxed because they are easier to tie.  That's a nice colour you picked out there.  What kind of skates does the boy have? Do you need to buy any protectors"

Me: Well....um....I....gotta....go....

OH: Did you know we do skate sharpening for $5, well unless you want the other angle sharpened then it's $7 but unless he's playing professional you could just do the $5 sharpen or you could join or club and it will be $3...

Me: No thank you

OH: It's a really good deal, you see they sharpen the blade so it's on an angle so it helps for the professionals and to skate faster, I'm not sure he would need all that though for his level.

Me: No he's okay. 

OH: If you need anything I will be over here

At that point I was rushing to the cash register to pay for the first box of laces that I had picked up.  I came pretty close to pissing my pants in that store today.  I probably could have used their bathroom in the store, but it looked like one of those bathrooms where the employees go to masturbate when the store is not busy  (which it wasn't) so I didn't want to interrupt anybody in there. 

Tomorrow, I promise, I will go back to complaining about people who are lazy ingrates who pick their noses in their car and eat it while cutting me off or driving right up my ass.  Promise.

Product Review: Smelly Washer + giveaway (CLOSED)

Do you ever forget your laundry in the washing machine?  For me this sort of happens a lot all the time!  I put the clothes in and completely forget about them.  On my way to bed, I will remember about them, but since the washer is all the way downstairs and I'm tired, I vow to dry them when I wake up the next morning. 

Then the next morning comes along, and I'm rushing around (as I usually do) to get myself and the kid out the door with our lunches, backpack, car keys and pants on and of course I forget about that poor laundry.  I think about said laundry all day long. 

Then I get home, and it's dinner time and said laundry still sits while I finish up dinner until I go to put the next load in the machine, shocked that a smelly load of forgotten laundry is already invading my nose.  When this happens, I start the cycle all over again, but sometimes that smell just never goes away.  Especially in towels. 

It's shameful to admit, but I never really noticed this until my mom came to visit one time and said my towels smelled like mildew.  I used a whole Downy ball of fabric softener and two caps full of detergent, I didn't think she would notice, but she did.  I figure my nose was immune to the mildewy smell all this time. 

A couple months ago the vicious mildew cycle happened to me.  I had just rushed down when I remembered the load was in there from the previous evening (I don't know about you, but when I realize what I have done I always run down there as if running is going to save the load from the mildew).  I came back upstairs and checked my e-mail and there was an e-mail with the subject line reading SMELLY WASHER. 

I looked over my shoulder, my heart started beating faster.  Maybe my neighbours could smell it from their house? Maybe it was my mom? Maybe it was a stalker?  How did they know? It blew my mind!  The e-mail was from the wonderful people of Smelly Washer asking me to give their product a try.  How did they know?

I eagerly accepted their offer because 1) I am a fool when it comes to laundry 2) I needed help to save my smelly towels from going to the smelly dumpster 3) because I truly do have a smelly washer!

The package arrived and I was tearing into that padded envelope, eager to get the stink out of my towels before my mother came for another visit.

Now I will let my friend Mike from Smelly Washer explain a bit about the product:



My first battle was to clean the washer. From reading the blog at smellywasher.com, I learned that the most probable cause of my smelly washer was mildew which apparently can be caused by overuse of detergent, liquid fabric softener and even by washing only with cold water (all of which I am guilty of!)

The directions were very straight forward.  Just add one capful (why does that remind me of Jessica Simpson when I type that? Nevermind, this is not the time to get crazy ideas...), allow to agitate for 2 minutes at the hottest setting and let it work its magic overnight.  Complete the cycle in the morning.  You may want to repeat these steps, but after my first try I was pretty confident my stinky washer problem was improved.

My next step was to battle the towels.  The same towels that have brought shame to my family (well sort of, not really, but they did really stink!).  I followed the simple directions for towels (which was very similar to that of the washer cleaner), and rather than coming out smelling like dirty feet, the towels smelled like the detergent (aka - good!).  I have started adding a capful to my towel loads, just because I feel this powder is magical and by doing so it will help to keep the mildew away. 

Then after the fun of reviewing the product was over, I made the bottle into a king.  Just because I thought it should look like a king.  It started with just a crown, and then moved on to a robe and a sceptre and he needed a little smiley face - then voila!  I do this with all my products I like.  Well not really, I just thought it made the bottle more pretty.

Why I ♥ Smelly Washer:

-All Natural, no dyes or fragrances
-Very easy to use!
-Inexpensive (each bottle contains up to 24 treatments)
-Smellywasher.com has an amazing blog they update frequently with washing machine tips.

How you can  ♥ Smelly Washer:

You can love Smelly Washer too!  You can purchase one bottle for $16.99, but wait!  *said in my best telemarketing voice* enter the promo code evilflu and you will receive 10% off your purchase! Order now!

How you can ♥ Smelly Washer for free!
The lovely people at Smelly Washer have given me a bottle to give to one of my awesome readers! I was going to make you take a picture of your smelly underwear and post them in my comments, but then I thought that might be a little gross, so because I am so nice, all you have to do to enter is Tell me about your washing machine!  Did you name it? Is it gross? Did it ever break? Does it smell? Does it not even belong to you? Have you ever washed a chapstick (I did) or a pet? Tell me all! Because I'm in a pretty good mood, I will even let you earn extra entries by tweeting about this contest or blogging about it, heck you can even put up a billboard and send me a pic if you want.  Please be sure to leave a way for me to contact you in your comment, especially if you do not have a blog or a web site to put in.


A winner will be chosen randomly on November 16, 2009