On Being Discovered....

So it's happened; I've been discovered.  Twice.  It's no big deal (insert arrogant snort here).  

The first discovery happened when I went to my post-operative appointment to check on my gum grafting surgery.  It was my first experience with implants and I'm extremely satisfied.  Surprisingly, the actual grafting procedure itself wasn't THAT bad.  This procedure also confirmed the end of a long battle with dental phobia.  It's only taken 4 years, intense sessions with some laughing gas,  and 12 dental procedures.  This time I didn't even sweat as I sat in the examination chair, which is a real feat for me.  Anyway - the procedure was totally no big deal as evidenced by the discussion being thrown back and forth above my wide open maw.  The banter was light and lively - mostly centered around funny things like what was Bing Crosby's real name, what does TMZ stand for, etc.  Part of me was relieved to think about something other than the slicing and dicing of my gums, but the other part of me was like "maybe you guys should focus - my gums are flapping in the wind here."  All in all though, it was as pleasant as gum grafting can be. 

So I walk into my post-op appointment and my periodontist takes one glimpse in my pearly whites and puffy reds and exclaims, "Tell me we took 'before' pictures!  YOU LOOK AMAZING!"  I know he was talking specifically about my gums and not my overall carriage, but I'm choosing to think that he meant the whole package.  I was very gracious and accepted my high praise for my ridiculously quickly healing gums. 

"Really, I want you to be in my commercial."  Finally - my big break.  Stay tuned.   

My second discovery was last Wednesday morning.  I got out of the shower and walked into my room, quickly closing the door behind me.  I should preface that I'm at my parent's house, staying in my childhood room to welcome my little brother back into the civilized world after serving a 2 year mission in Tempe Arizona.  So I usher my towel-wrapped self into my childhood bedroom, with wide-open blinds.  Also, let me preface that though I'm not an exhibitionist, I have been known to keep my blinds open because there aren't any houses at an angle or position to see inside my bedroom.  But to maintain some modesty, I kneel down, below the line-of-sight of the window sills.  As I sit down to go through my suitcase, my towel slips down past my nether-regions.  

"Oh well, no one can see me."  

This thought ran through my mind at the very moment I turned to the window and looked right into the face with a strange man standing on the roof of my parent's house, facing my room while cleaning the gutters.  You can imagine my shock as I realize that I'm naked, wet, in my childhood room (that threw in a whole new element psychologically) looking at some guy in a winter hat on a cell phone.  Seems like a great time to make a call.  I throw my body to the ground with a little yelp, trying to plaster my wet self to the ground behind my bed.  I was really without options and just started laughing.  I tried to open my suitcase with my toes and with some real difficulty get dressed, which is extremely difficult without showing any body parts at the window.  

Replaying the whole scenario in my mind, I go down stairs, fully dressed mind you, to talk to my mom, who is thrilled because her gutter-cleaner guy just gave her a rockin' discount on her gutters.  

Needless to say, it's been a really busy time lately planning my TV debut highlighting my ridiculously fast healing gums and unveiling my discount procuring booty.  

I really hope nothing ends up on YouTube. 

Resolutions

Forgive me Blogiverse, for I have neglected thee.

I have to say December has been magical, but not without a casualty - my sleep. I think it's partly because of the pending pandemonium of producing a pretty great time for those I love, and partly because I have been having blogging topics floating in my mind and have no time in which to get these ideas down. It's ridiculous and embarrassing, but it's the truth. And I'm starting to resent you, your royal Bloginess. So here I am, Blogiland, way past my bed time. I promise to fill you in on my brain fodder (for the only reader that probably still checks this blog after a very sparse blogging month - thanks mom) if you'll just let me sleep. It's all I ask. It's really the least you could do, ingrate (I'm talking to the Blogosphere here and not my mom).

So here we go:

Today it snowed. And in Portland that means that people completely lose their minds and become seasonally insane. I'm not judging, because I might too be one to succumb to this seasonal insanity, but I know enough to exercise all methods of prevention, and stay out of my car and off of the roads. I know that I have very little cold weather driving experience (which happens when you grow up in the Palm Springs of Canada) and I know we're all better off with me off the road rather than involuntarily using my car as a weapon. Plus walking in the snow is fun. So, after dinner we got all the gear on (which was surprisingly adequate and even mostly water-proof with the exception of footwear) and went for an old fashioned snow walk to our local market/bakery place a few blocks away. Because what's the use of walking anywhere without the promise of a salted caramel brownie?

As soon as we step out into the weather, I remember that during "Arctic Blast 2008" we learned that Little Man hates the weather. We would stand him up in it, only for him to lift his pudgy arms to me and hunker down in the sling waiting for the cold stuff to magically disappear. He has no tolerance for anything remotely inconvenient weather-wise. He cries when the sun is too bright, he whimpers when the wind is remotely brisk, he balks with an open mouth when it rains. This from the kid that will randomly head butt anything at head-butting height and giggle about it. He's a true study of contrasts. He's a weather wimp. That might sound unfeeling and harsh coming from his mother, but better from me than in middle school in a taunting circle of 8th graders. Don't say I never equipped my kids of the real world.

So our walk was mostly him begging to be held, then begging to be put down and not moving a muscle for a couple minutes, and begging to be held again. Which was most disappointing to me because I have had a secret dream of strapping him to a baby-leash and harnessing it to a sled and just letting him run me to the bakery for the aforementioned brownie. This might also sound unfeeling and a little bit bizarre, but I come from a very decent and good place here. He has energy to burn and Mama needs a brownie. Win/Win. Better yet, it's zero emissions. We could even call it "going green."

You're welcome.

But with this weather wimpyness I have to explore other avenues, while continuing to avoid Social Services. So stay tuned.

There. You happy, your Highness (I'm talking to the BlogHead here)? I blogged. I trust you will let me go to sleep and dream of brownies and snow storms.

Good night.

Arctic Blast 2008 - The beginnings of the end of my toddler sleigh dreams.

Merry Christmas and Happy Deductible!!

Isn't this time of year amazing? Not only because of the sentiment of the season and the "good will towards all wo/men," or the great tv specials or tear inducing commercials (State Farm why do you do that to me!?), but the rush and bustle of getting entirely ready for the big show is stressful, yet adrenalizing (imagine my disappointment when I realized that I didn't make up that word adrenalizing. A serious let-down because I love making up words, and I REALLY love taking credit for them).

But this time of year also has another level of activity and planning because I feel like this is the time of year for optimizing my health insurance and taking care of all the little nagging health items that quietly fester on my psyche. As you may not know, I worked in medical billing industry for several years before finding my calling in legal assisting (kidding) and know my way around an explanation of benefits pretty well (and for any of you wondering: medical billing is as glamorous as it sounds, I have the insurance knowledge and 10-key finger muscles to prove it). And as the calendar year winds down, I'm always in a mad rush to get those last items (wisdom tooth extractions, pregnancies, etc.) done before the calendar year ends so I can use up all my available benefits and so that my up-coming year's benefits can be dedicated to new problems and not old ones. I know I probably sound maniacal, but it's just how I am now. Medical billing did this to me. The irony here is that I am Canadian and was raised in a universal health care system where you didn't usually WANT to go into early labor so that your baby could be paid for under your previously met out-of-pocket max that had already cleaned out your bank account (FYI: babies with January birthday cost their parents lots of money. Case in point: Little Man, Jan. 10th. Took 17 months after driving him off the lot before that baby was officially ours and not owned by the hospital. Some days though I wondered what would happen if I was late a payment and what kind of repo-person they would send for him. I told you, I'm maniacal). Not to get political, but I am Canadian and turned out just fine under universal health care. I think.

So on top of decorating, crafting (I don't love the term crafting because it makes me feel like a granny crocheting an afghan, and not a young, mature 30-something crocheting a THROW BLANKET worthy of a pottery barn catalogue cover. But my legal counsel and I have been so busy we haven't had a chance to make up a word that suits me better, so we'll just stick to "crafting"), baking, cooking, wrapping, Santa-ing, and delivering - I'm also dentisting*, annual examing, and benefit crunching my way through December. Nothing better than the smell of freshly decorated sugar cookies and topical Novocain to get me in the holiday spirit.

So, if I seem a little absent in the blogging world this month, I am. But for very worthy reasons. Because the gifts won't buy themselves. The cookies won't bake themselves. These gums won't graft themselves. Wish me luck!!

*Pending legal counsel, the word "dentisting" is my property and I would appreciate a little credit if you chose to use this chawsome** word. A check for $1,000 per use will probably cover it.

**Same with "chawsome."

Grateful for Second Chances. And Thirds. And Fourths.

Remember when I challenged myself to blog every day? What crazy pills was I taking? How do people blog every day? It's beyond me. So here's the down and dirty gratitude list of the missed days:

- Thankful for scoring free Portland Trailblazer tickets (through a client of The Man) and watching them stomp all over the muddied carcases of the Chicago Bulls. It was a doosy of a game and I loved every minute of it. From the babysitter, to the expensive but close parking, to the FREE tickets (did I mention they were free?) I had the best time. Later, The Man apologized for not being more chatty during the game. I hadn't noticed. I was drinking in the bigger than life arena, the skill of the ridiculously gigantic players, the Dr. Pepper in my cup holder.... I was on cloud 120 (that was the ridiculous score of the Blazers achieved during the game). It was totally awesome.

- Thankful for friends. I have the best friends. And they are good to me. Really. I'm totally undeserving.

- Thankful for the little Man's new favorite phrase - "Poopoo in the tub mama" because (this is really the only really good thing to come from this new fascination, because frankly, I get really annoyed every time he says or does it) it will be good blackmail when he's engaged to some fantastic girl, and we're looking through photo albums and reminiscing about old stories, and I say, "Remember Little Man when you used to poop in the tub? And you talked about it incessantly? And you wouldn't stop talking or doing it for like a couple months? Remember that?" And he'll feel uncomfortable and she'll be speechless and I'll be laughing. That's the ray of sunshine here.

And finally,

- Thankful for The Man coming home early today to start the Thanksgiving festivities. We are so lucky. Even when we're unlucky, we're lucky.

Have a great Thanksgiving everyone!

Poopoo in the tub!! Good one!!

Gratitude Day 4: My Grandpa's Pipes

My Grandpa was quite a character. The only man I knew that owned more silk jackets and white leather shoes than I own diapers. For the record, I own lots of diapers. He always wore his hats at a jaunty tilt and had a joke, sometimes with a four-letter word in the punch-line, at the tip of his tongue. He was so fun to be around and made everyone around him feel happy. He was the kind of Grandpa that hid candy bars around his den, and would take us to McDonalds whenever he was in charge. He bought blue soda in bulk (hand it to the Canadian grocery stores) and when he couldn't remember your name he called you "Gorgeous" if you are a girl and "Handsome" if you were a boy. No one corrected him when he forgot their name. He drove a little red and white scooter around town as a retired senior citizen and loved to strike terror in the hearts of neighborhood wildlife and house pets. Otherwise a non-aggressive guy, he did love to shoot crows. From his balcony. In his underwear. I miss him.

For the record, I stole this picture from my cousin Carly's Blog - thanks Carly!

He had a career in radio and his voice could melt butter. He and my Grandma performed together (he sang and she accompanied him on the piano) and performed at many venues, especially retirement homes, weddings, funerals and church functions. They made a CD a while back, and I love to listen to it during the holidays. It reminds me where I came from and helps me remember him. In his underwear. Shooting crows. I miss him.

He passed away two years ago. The funeral was lovely and unforgettable. At the end we played a recording that he had prepared for his funeral long before he was even sick. At first I thought that perhaps singing at your own funeral would be strange and I wondered if people would think it slightly gauche. True to form, the beginning of the recording was my grandpa saying, "If you're listening to this, I'm gone now. And whether I'm going to heaven or hell, I'm sure I'll see many of you there" which preceded a beautiful version of the old gospel anthem "Going Home." The idea that we were departing from a beloved grandpa and had his own voice soothing and comforting us while celebrating his life, was very therapeutic and moving.

Fast forward to today: Sundays are usually chaotic around here. We attend Sunday afternoon church and my kids usually have quiet times/naps during that time. By the time the sun sets, my children resemble manic depressive rabid monkeys on uppers. Tonight, between time-outs and food fights I turned on my grandpa's CD and just sat. The Red Baron came and sat on my lap, and the Little Man soon followed. His soothing voice, repeating the songs that I loved as a rabid monkey, spoke to my children somehow, and they both calmed down. It was only a moment, but I know they heard him and something tells me they recognized his voice. Maybe he and the Little Man high-fived while passing in heaven (Grandpa died 2 months before the Little Man was born). I hope the Little Man got some good jokes out of him while there too. Something to make me secretly laugh, but publicly send him to time-out. Because I'm sure the jokes are inappropriate for even monkeys.

So today, I'm grateful for my Grandpa's pipes.

* I'm trying to figure out how to upload my very favorite song onto this blog. If anyone knows how to do that, please tell me and I will forever be indebted to you.

Gratitude Day 3: Surprises

Since being "stuck in the mud" I've decided that I need to work harder at making my life a little more spontaneous and magical. But I've decided that the organic surprises (aka ones you don't fabricate yourself) that pop up naturally are the best way of un-sticking oneself. Today's organic surprises:

1) Finding out The Red Baron is way tougher than she looks when it comes to weather. Went for a walk today with her, and she wanted to go further and further in the pouring rain, with inadequate gear (thanks to her ill-prepared parents). A very pleasant surprise for this Northwest family.

AND

2) My husband is a machine when it comes to basement organization. A huge surprise.

It's just funny that right when you feel like you know someone really well (my child and husband), you find these hidden talents. Just kind of keeps me on my ill-maintained, unpolished toes.

In other news, the Little Man is getting more and more in the thick of incivility and toddlerhood and I'm starting to feel like I can't take him anywhere. But in the spirit of this gratitude post, I'm grateful that he's really cute.

I should really be a propaganda spinner.

Gratitude Day 2: Babies

Today I'm grateful for babies. Other people's babies. Ok, ok, and my own.

Today I watched my friend's gorgeous little girls, which was so much fun. The older daughter played with my kids, which kept them all occupied and I got to hold the infant. Which was so fun. It's been a while (approximately 22 months give or take) since I could just sit and stare at a baby, and I forgot how fascinating that is. It's somehow very soothing like watching a fish tank at the dentist's office.

And I remembered: it's so much fun to hold other people's babies. I've become so consumed with my own babies, I really haven't held other people's babies in what seems like forever. Usually it's the last thing I even think of. But lately I've found myself gravitating to them. The promise of that baby smell, without the responsibility of producing that baby smell (my babies naturally smelled more like rotten milk or last week's diaper bucket), has been slightly magnetic. And I thought, "I should baby-sit more often for this friend of mine, this is so much fun." I need to also mention here that this particular baby is the smiliest, most mellow baby ever. Even her cry is cute and her puckered lower lip to show distress is the most delightful thing you've ever seen. It's like she's some kind of tron-baby.

And it made me miss this stage of my own kids. They were beautiful babies, if I do say so myself. And I realized that part of this gratitude theme is to appreciate what I have now. Today. And today I have two very opinionated toddlers that would launch into hysterics to know that I still refer to them as my babies. The Little Man's eye-brows would disappear over the crest of this forehead and the Red Baron would actually turn red, and it would be all over for me. So today I am grateful for holding other people's babies and for having held my own. They really were quite something.

The Red Baron with her first traces of red. 1 mo.

The Little-ist Man of them all. 1 week