The Further Adventures of Bitty

"That one's nasty."

Hmm . . . I thought I was the only one that had noticed.

Little Bitty was up to her old tricks at playgroup Wednesday. And to be fair, I should point out that she took a break from mean-spirited attacks last Friday. She just played, which was refreshing to see.

But we are who we are and the Little Bitty I know and love was back to work Wednesday. Oh, and if you're not familiar with Bitty, you can learn a bit about her here.

Anyhoo, I was sitting on the reading carpet with Sontoo. We were looking over the fire truck book. A little guy, probably about two and change, walked by pushing one of those Flintstone cars that the kids love.

Bitty came out of nowhere. She ran up, pulled the kid's hands off the car, pushed him down and continued on her way pushing the car. I watched as she pushed the thing into a far corner and then, true to form, just left it there.

As I've said before, Bitty doesn't want the toy. She just wants to take it away from someone else. That's how she rolls.

So as her victim lay face down on the floor, wondering what had just happened, his mother swooped in. We exchanged glances, as I had witnessed the crime and she knew it.

I still don't know what to do in these situations. To some extent, you want the kids to sort these things out. And, generally, unless someone's bleeding profusely, I don't interfere with other people's kids. The parents of the kids can handle that.

If Bitty had done the same to Sontoo, I would have become involved.

"That one's nasty," the mother said to me as she picked her boy up off the floor.

"Yeah, I know," I said. "I'm familiar with her work."

A conversation followed regarding playgroup, parental responsibility and the possibility of an exorcism at next week's playgroup. Seems I'm not the only one that has observed Bitty's wanton disregard for the rules of fair play.

Anyhoo, a little while later, I'm sitting there with two other moms. Bitty walks by pushing a little stroller and fixing me with an icy stare. I shuddered a little and wondered if she read my last blog entry regarding her behaviour.

"That one's nasty," said one of the moms.

"Which one?" the other mom asked.

Subtle nods in Bitty's direction.

"She takes toys just to deprive other children of them," the mom said.

"Oohhh, I'll have to keep an eye on her."

Again, nice to know I'm not the only one who's watching.

Anyway, it's Friday. Playgroup day once again. Neomom's off this weekend. Yay! Canada plays Slovakia tonight at the Olympics, yay! And, with any luck, Sunday night we'll play for the gold medal. Yay!

But right now, I've got to get up, get dressed and get ready for playgroup. Must repack the diaper bag with a fresh change-table cloth, snacks, drinks, holy water and a crucifix. You can't be too careful.

Have a great weekend.

"We don't like the black guys . . ."

"We don't like the black guys, right daddy?"

Yeah, I know what you're thinking. I was thinking the same thing when that sentence popped out of Sonwun's mouth yesterday. Somehow, somewhere, that phrase is going to come back to haunt me.

I'm not sure when and where, but I know it will. Could be in line at the grocery store checkout, could be at playgroup, could be at preschool, could be at the library, could be at the swimming pool. But it's gonna come back and bite me in the ass.

But it's not my fault. I was only trying to inspire a little national pride. And, even as I wrote that last line, I realized I'd better get explaining things before I dig myself a giant old hole.

We're talking Olympics here. I've been trying to get Sonwun involved, watching, understanding the games, nations, Canadian pride. But on Tuesday night our Canadian pride took a major hit at the hands of the U.S. hockey team.

(For the record, we outplayed them, outshot them, but ran into a smokin' hot goaltender. We should have won. But, bottom line, regardless, is that we lost. Ugh.)

Anyway, Sonwun identifies the teams by colour. We, Canada, are the white guys, the good guys, the ones to cheer for. Sonwun has assigned the title "the black guys" to Team U.S.A., based on the dark colour of their jerseys. And they are the bad guys.

And thus, when the U.S. went up against the Swiss yesterday, Sonwun took a look at the two teams on the ice— the Swiss in white and the U.S. in dark blue— and checked with me before cheering.

"We don't like the black guys, right daddy?"

"Um, right buddy. But we call them Team U.S.A. We are Team Canada. And those guys in white there are Team Switzerland."

"The white guys?"

"The guys with the white shirts, yes."

"But we don't like the black guys. They're bad."

"Well, they're not bad, they're just on the other team; Team U.S.A."

I still have some work to do here before I allow Sonwun out in public again.

When I'm writing, I have the time to explain the situation. I'm not sure I'd have the opportunity to explain it to someone in line at the grocery store before accusations and fists started flying.

Anyhoo, we didn't have to worry about this in the Canada-Russia game. And, by the way, WAHOOOOO! Nothing brings out the beast in a Canadian hockey team like a game against Russia. Here's hoping the momentum can carry our boys on through to the gold.

But I digress.

Today is preschool day and I'm a little worried the topic of the Olympics may come up and Sonwun will feel the need to share his new-found wisdom.

I must de-program him this morning. Teach him, among other things, the difference between dark blue and black and the difference between the phrases "the guy in the black shirt" and "the black guy."

The nice thing here, I suppose, is that he doesn't understand why it would make a difference. He doesn't understand racism. Why would he? These things are taught, they are not inherent.

Maybe I'll just put the de-programming on hold. Children have no trouble with children of other races. To them, it just doesn't matter, doesn't really even register. Children are children. People are people and the only difference, to Sonwun anyway, is the colour of their jersey in a game.

It's a good way of looking at things. Who needs de-programming? The kids or the adults?

Happy Thursday! And GO CANADA!

Grrrrrr!

The people who lived in this house before us must have been younger than me.

Why else would you install giant mirror doors on the closet in the breezeway? They have got to go.

First thing in the morning, I don't need to see me. I am doing my damndest to live under the illusion that I'm still young, vibrant and all that good stuff. Mirrors, especially double-door, floor-to-ceiling mirrors, have a negative impact on that illusion at 5 a.m.

Okay, that's thought #1 for the morning.

Thought #2:

Batman just isn't good enough any more.

As I sit here this morning, I am listening to Sonwun do his best to sing along with the Spiderman theme song. "Spiderman, Spiderman, does whatever a spider can . . ."

He loves his superheroes and has a constant thirst on for the next Justice League DVD rental from Blockbuster.

And while I remain Superman, Neomom remains Batgirl and Sontoo is still Robin, Sonwun has upgraded. He is no longer merely Batman. He is now Batman Flash.

In the Justice League videos, Flash is the touted as the fastest man in the universe, which apparently has struck a chord with my eldest. Thus the change in nomenclature.

Thought #3:

I hate discipline. I think I've mentioned this before. And I think I've mentioned that I recognize it is a necessary part of raising responsible, respectful boys. But I still hate it.

Yesterday, Batman Flash was wandering around the house with his little space rocket launcher. It was part of a Hotwheels set. When attached to the track, it launches its little rocket when the cars go by. No major velocity here, but it shoots something and that is highly attractive to a four-year-old superhero.

So Batman Flash (he insist upon being called that) wanders through the kitchen as I'm cooking supper (ribs, mashed potatoes, corn) and he's got that look in his eye. I'm Superman, so I know the look.

It's the look that says, "I need to find something fun to shoot with my rocket launcher."

As he is headed in the direction of Sontoo, I take a moment to head off discipline. I offer the warning, a little reminder, a directive.

"Sonwun, do NOT shoot your brother with that thing."

He acknowledges the advice and I go back to my cooking.

But he does not break pace. He continues into the dining room in the direction of Sontoo. So I put down the potato masher and follow quietly.

And, again, without breaking pace, he walks up and shoots his brother in the head.

As I said, it's a very, very low velocity device. Sontoo barely notices the hit. But that's not the point is it? The point is his gross and blatant disregard for Superman's warning, advice, law. Honestly, that level of disregard for my edict took me by surprise.

"SONWUN," I yell.

He spins around and drops to the floor like he's been hit with a taser. He's caught and he knows it.

And, well, to make a long story short, immediate corrective measures were administered.

I hate discipline. But I just can't have him believing that my directives are an option or that it's okay to shoot his brother with rockets. As he gets bigger, his rockets will get bigger as will their destructive potential.

And it's these things that I think about. It's these things that turn my hair grey. It's these things that make me despise the giant mirrors at 5 a.m.

Rambling

Okay, mission accomplished.

I managed to find low and no-carb snacks on yesterday's shopping trip. If you're wondering what the hell I'm talking about, see yesterday's post.

So, winner #1 is almonds. Three net grams of carbs per quarter bag. And by net grams, I mean grams of carbs minus grams of fibre. That's how it works. Don't ask me why. Almonds are tasty, salty and they do a pretty decent job of filling me up and killing the hunger pangs. Downside is that they're expensive. Stupid expensive.

Winner 2 is radishes. I read that 10 medium size radishes is equal to one carb. Great. I love radishes, they're a vegetable and I can eat them all day.

Number 3 is pepperoni. Again, tasty. And I get one carb for each stick. They're pretty big sticks.

Number 4 is pumpkin seeds. Three grams of carbs minus three grams of fibre. Not a big fan of them though. I like pumpkin seeds fresh out of the oven, crisp, a little burned even. The pre-packaged ones are a little soggy, a little on the soft side. Hmm, maybe I'll throw them in the oven before consumption.

Anyway, enough of that crap.

Survivor. I'm not buying whatever was going on last night with Boston Rob. It just didn't add up.

If he passed out and fell over (as the creative camera work suggested), why was his hat sitting neatly over his eyes as if he were sleeping? When people pass out, they tend to fall forward, not backward. Why was he on his back? While the Australia chick told the camera she "saw everything," she did not elaborate on anything. Why not. They usually tell all.

Probst didn't look like he was buying it either. He looked like a guy who'd been roped into playing along.

Oh, and medical, of course, found nothing wrong. So his explanation of "the flu" doesn't fly. With the flu he'd at least have had an elevated temperature.

Something stinks here and I'll guess we'll just have to watch to find out what this little game was all about.

I have to wonder, with the professional poker career not exactly taking off, maybe ol' Rob is using this Survivor season as an audition for an acting career. If so, more lessons needed. It just didn't ring true.

And . . . enough of that crap.

Playgroup day today and . . . it's Friday and Neomom has the weekend "off." Which means hours of homework.

So have a great day and a great weekend!

No-carb Fun!

Aw fuck!

I know, I know, but it's how I feel.

I'm on day 3 of a no-carb diet and I'm not loving it.

Have I mentioned that I was diagnosed with Type 2 diabetes about three years ago? Well, I was. And in those three years I have been monitoring my blood, trying to eat "a little better" and doing my best to keep it under control.

For those of you not familiar with this little problem, here is a short primer.

First, Type 2 is not insulin dependent. My pancreas is apparently not producing the insulin my body needs to convert blood sugar into energy. It's producing some, but not enough to keep up. Therefore, the glucose in my blood tends to build up if I let it. I try to control this problem with oral medication. Not needles full of straight insulin. Some day I may have to go to needles, if my pancreas craps out entirely, but I'm hoping it's a long way off.

Second, sugar is not my enemy. It is one of my enemies in the army that is carbohydrates. Your body turns carbs into sugar. So a bowl of Kraft Dinner, for example, is worse than a chocolate bar for me.

Stress is my enemy. The flu and bugs like it are my enemy. These things have a major impact on blood-glucose levels.

And recently, I've had a fair bit of them all. (To say nothing of Valentine treats. My bad.) I've been losing the fight.

And so, my best weapon right now is the no-carb diet. I've got to get things back in line. Call it a cleansing.

But one of my biggest problems with this disease, and the "standard" methods for control, is that I am not a "typical" Type 2. To be blunt, I'm not overweight. Never have been. I've been about the same weight and body type since high school more than 25 years ago. If anything, I'm underweight.

And it seems most (99 per cent) books, recipes and advice is geared for those that not only need to control blood sugar, but those that also need to lose weight. I think if I followed most of the advice I've heard and read, I'd disappear.

Anyhoo, the ol' no-carb diet. Breakfast is three eggs and some bacon. No toast, no potato. Yeah, I know, too much cholesterol. Rob Peter to pay Paul? Time will tell.

Lunch has been a salad with chicken chunks and supper has been a salad with steak chunks. They do the job for a while, but I'm usually hungry a little while after meals.

Bah, I'm boring myself here. And I have the disease. If you don't, this must be very boring.

Bottom line is that today I'm pissed off. I have to shop for two entities in my house— myself and everyone else. I'm preparing six meals a day instead of three. And yeah, I know, I could combine things, but I'm feeding a picky 4-year-old, a picky two-year-old (yeah, Sontoo is getting a little more finicky) and a wife that, when on night-shift, has her own list of agreeable food.

And now I'm stressing myself out just thinking about today's shopping trip. So I'm gonna stop. I have to research no-carb snacks to get me through between meals.

Happy Thursday. Survivor night! Yay.

Evil Bitty

As a parent, I hate to admit it. But there are some toddlers in this world who really piss me off.

And no, I'm not talking about my own. I'm talking about little Bitty at playgroup. And I hate to admit that she pisses me off because, well, she's just a toddler.

Bitty is about three years old, maybe two and change. But she's got a nasty little streak in her that rears its ugly head just about every time out.

Bitty, by the way, is short for Bitch In Training-t-y.

Like most little toddlers, she has a deceptively angelic face. Sweet kid, you think, when you first see her. But then you start watching. And you see that behind those angelic little eyes, there lurks a less-than-angelic mind. And it seems to always be thinking, "How can I make life miserable for my peers?"

This little bugger pissed me off for the first time a few weeks ago. Sontoo was happily doing what he does best at playgroup. He had gathered three Matchbox cars and was pushing them around, carrying them around and finding places to drive them around.

Well, Bitty saw this and decided she needed to get involved. And she didn't want just one of the cars. She wanted all of them. And she didn't want to play with them, she just wanted to take them, run away and hide them . . . for no other reason than to deprive Sontoo of his fun.

She grabbed those cars, one by one, and then tried to run. But she dropped one. Now you might think, well, she still got two of them. It will still make Sontoo unhappy. But no. Bitty stopped short, turned around and ran back to collect the one she'd dropped, and then dashed off again. Two-thirds miserable is not good enough. She was looking for a complete morale-crushing victory and would not be denied.

And I've watched her before. I know she has no interest in playing with cars. Her only interest, it seems, is depriving other toddlers of the things that they enjoy.

At our most recent playgroup outing, I was keeping a closer eye on Bitty. This kind of evil intrigues me.

The toy chest at playgroup includes a dozen or so little Flintstone-style cars. The kids get in and move around using their feet. And last time out, I spotted Bitty sitting in one that is designed to look like a police car. Interesting choice. I watched. She wasn't driving around like the other children. She was just sitting there, studying her environment, seeking an opportunity, plotting. And then she saw it. Another toddler started to walk behind the car. I could see her little wheels turning, her mind calculating the precise moment to push backward with all her little might, and run over the other kid.

Well, she didn't actually run him over, but she did knock him down. Mission accomplished, exit vehicle, head for the hills.

About half an hour later, I spotted her again. This time she was at the slide. Was she sliding? Hell no. That's not what she's about. She was sitting at the top of the slide, just sitting, while two kids were lined up on the ladder awaiting their turn to slide.

I know, you're thinking, Bitty Mission Accomplished. No one slides today. But no. Merely depriving the other children of the chance to slide was not the goal here. She sat, she waited and she waited some more.

And when the child behind her, about 18 months old I'm guessing, finally struggled to the top of the ladder (not an easy feat for this barely-a-toddler), Bitty leaned back as fast and violently as she could, attempting to knock the other little girl down the ladder.

And this, my friends, is the challenge at playgroup. You want to step in and get involved, explain to this nasty little child what is acceptable and what is not. But you know mommy's hanging around in here somewhere. Watching? I don't know, but I hope not. If she's watching, why isn't she swooping in, laying down a little tough love? My guess is she's not watching. She's chatting it up with her friends and has no idea that her little angel has progressed from simple theft to aggravated assault.

Nevertheless, I did get involved on that one. If only to catch the other little girl so that she didn't begin a domino effect on the slide stairs and on those waiting in line at the bottom of the stairs. I suggested to Bitty that she head on down the slide as other were waiting their turn.

I got a blank look in return. Behind the hollow, evil eyes, I could almost read her little mind.

"Aren't you the guy with the kid who likes cars? Maybe I'll just go see how he's doing . . ."

I actually got a chill.

Anyhoo, it's Wednesday. Playgroup day again. We'll be there and I'll be watching my back, watching Sontoo's back and trying to figure out who spawned this evil.

Have a great day.

Go Canada Go!

Not sure if it was the two-day-old taco salad, or a stomach flu relapse, but last night was not a good one for me.

I'll leave it at that.

This morning, coffee in hand, I'm feeling better. And I'm ready for another day of Olympic fun. Much to the dismay of Sonwun and Sontoo, the TV has been tuned to the Olympic channel pretty much all day since Friday night. Good-bye Dora, good-bye Diego.

It's one of the joys of being the stay-at-home parent. I get to watch it all. And yes, I've seen each of Canada's medal victories so far. Great stuff. Go team go!

All three of my favourite moments, thus far, have been at events where Canada has medalled. Big surprise, yes?

In the women's moguls, where Canadian Jenn Heil took silver, I enjoyed watching American Shannon Bahrke. For those of you that didn't watch this event, there are three giant pillows that the top three skiers sit in. As better scores come in, those three are bumped down and, eventually, off the big pillows.

It can't be easy to sit there, waiting for the big bump. But Bahrke's enthusiasm for the new winners felt real. She started in the top spot and with each bump, she enthusiastically congratulated the new top dog. And when a team mate fell during her run, she met her at the bottom of the hill with a giant hug. Great to see.

Others on the big pillows congratulated new winners, but for most of them it looked more like a formality than a heart-felt expression of camaraderie.

Bahrke ultimately took bronze, by the way.

In speed skating, I loved watching Kristina Groves. Again, the enthusiasm she showed, the little dance when she won, the little dance on the podium . . . the unbridled joy was just fantastic to see. She grabbed bronze in the 3000m event. I just loved watching her.

And finally, Canada's golden boy, Alex Bilodeau, who brought home the top prize last night in the men's moguls. An awesome display, made better by his older brother Frederic. I won't get into the entire story there, but it was cool. (You can read more about it here.) Alex's brother has cerebral palsy and, according to the gold medallist, Frederic has inspired him and taught him many life lessons that contributed to the drive to win. Really cool to watch Frederic celebrate his little brother's victory!

Anyhoo, as for the MTV, etalk additions to CTV's coverage of the games, I'm tolerating the extra crap. It has not been as offensive as it was the first morning.

I still don't care about who's dating who and I have yet to see an MTV bit that I actually find funny or amusing or even mildly entertaining. But at least it's not as offensive as the opening night recap.

I'll leave it at that for now.

Go CANADA!

CTV Olympic Morning Coverage Failure

Wow. Mixed feelings about CTV's Olympic coverage thus far.

On the one hand, I enjoy the Canada AM crew. Always have. Bev, Seamus, Jeff and Marcie come across as friendly, fun, cohesive and very Canadian.

But they've added to the coverage crew, as I expect is necessary. And some of these folks leave a lot to be desired. A whole lot.

This morning I was watching a segment entitled Freeze Frame, or something. It came across as unfriendly, unfun, divisive and very unCanadian. These two twits, apparently MTV personalities, sitting in front of the CTV fireplace, took cheap shots at those involved or attending the opening ceremonies from the "Royal Box" occupants to the dancers who welcomed the world's athletes.

But most notably, and most annoyingly, they used a telestrator (sp?) to circle the face of Wayne Gretzky's six-year-old daughter and then comment on the amount of makeup she was wearing.

Where the hell do you people get off? Was everyone having too much fun? Was it just too friendly and, well, nice? What the hell possesses you to go after a six-year-old on national television. You're sick, you're stupid and you're just not funny.

Here's hoping that little segment gets cancelled before these two morons get any more air time.

And I'd be happy to see them scrap the etalk "reporter" that I saw this morning in the main broadcast. I'm tuning in to watch the Olympics, not to hear who Sara McLaughlin is dating, or was seen with or breaking up with or whatever. Don't give a shit. If I want to watch trashy celebrity gossip, I'll tune in to etalk. Don't mix it in with my Olympic coverage, thank you very fucking much.

Yeah, I'm a little irritated this morning. I have been looking forward to watching the Olympics and this kind of crap really annoys me. I want to see the games, hear about the Canadian athletes and other athletic success stories from around the world.

Save the celebrity gossip and mean-spirited attacks on six-year-olds for MTV and etalk. That way I don't have to watch it. I don't give a shit where you put them, just get them out of the main coverage of the Olympics.

Thanks.

Caveat Emptor

Okay, I've cooled off a bit, but I'm still frustrated.

It's gonna be a long day today. It will likely officially begin at 6:45 a.m. when I will have to feed the boys breakfast. It's usually at 8 a.m.

But we need to dress 'em up and pack 'em into the van to drive mommy to work for 7:30 a.m. and then to the airport for 8 a.m. Why, you ask?

Well, we're a one-car family and will be so for up to three weeks. And that, friends, is why I'm frustrated.

The fun began Monday, when Neomom went out to start our 2008 Ford Ranger for work. It kinda started, but it sounded like a wounded dog with asthma. Not good. So I phoned the Ford dealer in Thompson to book an appointment. First available was yesterday. So be it.

Yesterday morning, truck was towed to dealership (I'll try to keep this short, but no promises). And here, Ford Canada gets one star. The roadside assistance plan worked. I call the 1-800 number and a tow truck was here within half an hour. No charge. One star.

So, a few hours later a get a confusing call from the dealership. According to the caller, they had not diagnosed the problem and they would have to pull the engine out of the truck to do so. This confused me. I tried to ask some questions, but didn't get any good answers. Bottom line, she said, was that the engine had to be pulled before they could give me any news.

And, she said, it would require a large block of time. The first large block of time available, she added, was on February 25th— two weeks away.

Aw shit! I mean, when you buy a new vehicle, you sort of expect worry-free driving for a few years. This Ranger has about 13,000 km on it. We haven't even had it for two years. Yeah, I know, shit happens.

Anyway, this still didn't make sense to me. How could they not know, or at the very least, not have some idea what was wrong? So, after dropping Sonwun off at preschool (with his fruit plate for the Valentine's party) I headed over to the dealership to ask a few more questions, including "Can I get a loaner while all of this is going on?"

This time I met service manager Glenn. Nice guy. He took the time to explain to me what they knew at this point and what they didn't know. And basically, they think a cam has come loose in the engine. This would explain why three of the six cylinders were misfiring. It's unusual to say the least, but based on what they're hearing and seeing, that's the best estimate at this time. Fair enough. Why couldn't the first caller explain that?

It will take a big chunk of time to start tearing down the engine and, if necessary, to pull it out to fully assess the damage, which is why they've booked that time two weeks from now. Glenn explained that if there are cancellations and such, it would be moved up. Again, fair enough. It is what it is.

As for a loaner, um, no. This dealership doesn't do that. Well, to be fair, they don't do that unless you purchased an Extended Service Plan when you bought your truck. I didn't. Mostly because I didn't think I'd need an "Extended" anything for at least the first three years. I don't know, you hear bumper-to-bumper warranty for the first three years or 60,000k and, well, you think you've got nothing to worry about. Live and learn.

So, I figured I'd give Ford Canada a call when I got home. I mean, I live in Thompson, Manitoba where a 4X4 is standard equipment. There is only one Ford dealership and again, to be fair, they're pretty busy. Which is why I have to wait 2 weeks for my full diagnosis and then, possibly, another week for parts (or a whole new engine) and then whatever time it takes to put it all back together.

This has to qualify for extenuating circumstances and Ford Canada would probably fall all over themselves apologizing for the inconvenience this defective product is causing me and authorize a loaner of some kind. They would go the extra mile to stand behind their product.

Um, no.

After about 10 minutes on the phone, being put on hold 3 times, I got my answer. Sorry about your luck chump, but we're not providing a loaner. We'll honour the warranty, but you're shit out of luck for the 3 weeks it may take to solve this problem. You should have purchased the extended service plan.

It was almost humourous when the customer service representative suggested that maybe I try another Ford dealership in the area that had a loaner program. After explaining that the next nearest dealership is about 800KM away, well, nothing changed. Sorry about your luck chump, but we're not providing a loaner.

Sooo, what lessons have I learned? I don't know. Ask stupid questions when you buy a vehicle? Questions such as: "If this fine vehicle craps out in a big way during the first two years of ownership, and it's gonna take three weeks for you to repair it, can I get a loaner?"

Why, oh why, didn't I think to ask that question. My bad. Caveat emptor.

Canadian Idol

Well, good morning.

Thought I'd try something just a little different today. Wanted to see how well video would upload from my Photo Booth program.

And so . . . I give you daddy and Sontoo's rendition of Twinkle, Twinkle. I'm no singer, so don't hold it against me. I just thought it was kinda cute. If it works, Enjoy!

A Note from Preschool

I am bringing fruit. Or so I've been told.

Last week when I went to pick up Sonwun from preschool, one of the teachers walked up and handed me a note. I was a little worried about opening it, as the previous week, a teacher came and told me Sonwun had earned his first "time out" at preschool. Proud moment.

So I opened the note:

"It is your turn to provide a snack for our upcoming party. Please be sure to read all labels and prepare food carefully as we have a number of children with severe allergies. Thank you in advance for your contribution. Each class has 20 children. You are asked to bring (and then hand-written) fruit."

Okay, he hasn't been expelled. Good.

After reading the note, I had a couple of quick questions. First one being, when is the party? Second: What are we celebrating? Superbowl? Louis Riel Day? (Don't get me started). Ground Hog Day? Our Fourth Freakin' Month of Winter? WinterFest in Thompson? A birthday? The really dumb kid got his driver's licence?

I was told the party is Thursday, but I forgot to ask what we're celebrating. But I guess with fruit, it really doesn't matter. I'm not cutting cantaloupe in the shape of a groundhog or a traitor.

I suspect, but am not sure, that they gave "daddy" fruit because it's easy. Which is fine with me. Sure, I could have baked a cake (oh, it's for Valentine's Day by the way) and it would have been great. But they gave me fruit. Kind of like when you're the only guy at the office pot luck and they ask you to bring "buns" or "chips." You're a man, you're incapable of cooking. Meh, whatever.

Anyhoo, rather than spend an afternoon cutting fruit, I'm probably just gonna pick up a fruit tray at Safeway. Maybe 2. How much fruit will 20 kids eat anyway?

I have set up my computer to send me an email on Wednesday afternoon to remind me, on Thursday morning to remind me again and an alarm will sound half an hour before preschool, to remind me one more time.

When you mess with my routine, I get confused. And with the truck out of commission, things are already a little messed up. But I think I've got it covered. I will bring fruit.

Have a great Tuesday.

A change in Routine

Monday. Hmmm.

Do you ever feel like you're only existing and not living? Just going through the motions each day, sticking to the schedule. 8 a.m. breakfast, lunch at noon, supper at 5? Lather, rinse, repeat. Lather, rinse, repeat.

Been feeling a little like that for the last week or so.

Today will be different, but not by my choosing.

The truck crapped out yesterday. So, today, the boys and I will have to take Neomom to work for 8 a.m. . . . and then pick her up 4. That means breakfast for the boys at 7 a.m.

I will also have to find a way to get the truck to the dealership and then figure out if I can trust them. That's one of the things about moving to a new town every now and again. Takes a while to figure out who's honest and who's gonna screw you. And no matter where you take your vehicle for service, you'll find three people in the following week who will cringe at the mention of the name and three others who'll say you did the right thing. Small towns are funny that way.

Must also return DVD rental Julie & Julia. Happy to return it. In spite of the hype and the fact that Meryl Streep stars, I found it pretty flat. Trying to tell two stories in an hour and a half just seems to mean you do a crappy job on both. Seriously lacking depth . . . things just seem to happen out of the blue and are resolved the same way. Don't recommend it.

Anyhoo, that's the plan for today. In spite of the problems, it's a least a variation in the routine. I'd prefer a variation that involves a plane flight to a tropical location, but you take what you can get.

Have a happy Monday and a great week.

Don't Wake Daddy

So . . . writer's block day 5. Welcome.

It's 5:15 a.m. The coffee's brewing. A mix of espresso beans and French vanilla beans have been through the burr mill. Water is currently soaking through the heavily laden filter. The black juice of the gods is on its way.

Much better.

So, yesterday I took a beating at the hands of Sonwun. He won four out of five games of Don't Wake Daddy. It's a board game. And, hopefully, a subliminal message for the future.

For SAHDs and SAHMs with kids in the 3-5 year age group, I recommend this game. It involves colour recognition, number-recognition, counting and a spring-loaded "daddy" in bed.

The premise is that the kids must make it from their beds to the refrigerator for a snack without waking daddy. Along the way are obstacles, such as squawking parrots, screaming kitties, a television set and other noise-making, potential daddy-waking stumbling blocks. (These things don't actually make noise, by the way, they are just spots on the board.)

16 cards are dealt at the beginning of the game, each representing one of the obstacles. When you land on an obstacle, and have the matching card, no big deal. But if you don't, you must push the alarm clock button a number of times matching the spot on the board. After X number of clicks on the alarm clock, spring-loaded "daddy" wakes up and his sleeping cap goes flying. Sonwun loves that.

Anyway, good game if you've got kids in the right age group. I also like Candy Land for the same colour-recognition, and counting reasons.

Oh, and neither one requires batteries. Super bonus!

And, as much as Sonwun loves to play Wii tennis or Mario Kart, he is always up for a board game. Right or wrong, I'd rather see him playing board games. Don't know why, but I'd guess it's because, having grown up in the video-games-are-the-devil era, I was a little brainwashed.

Everything in moderation, right?

Anyhoo, it's Friday. Garbage day. Playgroup day. Neomom's last shift for this cycle.

I'm actually looking forward to Playgroup more and more these days. I'm getting to know the moms, they seem to have accepted my hairy, unshaven presence and will even engage in conversation when we're not chasing our toddlers.

I also need to return my books to the library, our Batman videos to Blockbuster and pick up a few things at the grocery store.

Happy Friday all. Enjoy the weekend!

Blocked Again

Well, Happy Thursday.

-32C here this morning in the Great White North. That's -26F for my friends in the south.

I'm a little troubled this morning. For a couple of reasons. First off, I've missed posting for the last day or two. I sit down in the morning with my big cup of coffee and find myself blocked. Nothing to write about.

I know there is always something to write about, but I just can't find it or the inspiration to make it work. I've started a blog post each day, but it sits on my computer screen all day and I just can't finish. Hmph.

And second, I am sleeping better and I don't know why. What's more, I don't know why it bothers me. I should be thrilled, right?

But I have to question it. As I must question everything.

Nothing has changed in my life. I'm not getting any more exercise, any more time out of the house. Stress levels have not been altered . . . why am I sleeping so much better?

And, as I sit here right now, at 6:38 a.m., I am once again blocked.

Fight it.

Talked this morning on skype to an old high school friend. He was at the airport in the Cayman Islands, heading for Alberta for a family wedding. He wouldn't tell me the temperature there. I am grateful.

Steve was one of my best friends from about Grade 8 through Grade 12. He's now got a 17-year-old daughter and a 14-year-old son. Time flies.

The first time I got drunk it was at Steve's house with our other buddies, Chris and Doug. We'd purchased, and I forget exactly how, as we were all underage, a bottle of Peppermint Schnapps. The other three had a shot or two and decided they didn't like it. I finished the bottle and, a short time later, had a worship session at the porcelain altar.

But, as is so often the case, we all drifted apart after high school. I've never met Steve's kids, or Chris's or Doug's for that matter. Nor have they met mine. Steve is the only one I've been in touch with, sporadically, over the years. Never face-to-face, just over the Internet on facebook or skype, or msn messenger.

As far as I know, Doug is the only one who stayed in the Niagara area. Chris moved out to BC and Steve, as I mentioned, is in the Caymans.

See? This is what I mean by writer's block. I'm babbling on about irrelevant crap with no purpose, no real humour, no point. When I have a decent post, something to write about, it usually will start with an interesting, or catchy, opening line. At the end of my writing, I usually look back to the opening line and try to tie it to the closing line. That's decent writing, that's entertaining.

This is not. Sorry.

It's cold, I'm in Thompson, I have writer's block.

Happy Thursday.

Boom!

So I'm sitting at the computer yesterday morning. Sonwun clomps down the stairs and wanders into the kitchen. The following conversation ensues:

Him: Dad, can I see something blow up?

Me: I don't think so.

Him: Why?

Me: Why do you want to see something blow up.

Him: Because maybe it will be cool. Maybe I would want to see it again blow up. I'm a boy and I think stuff is cool.

No point really, just a slice of my life. Every now and again, he'll come up with stuff that just makes me shake my head. This was one of those things.

Anyhoo, yesterday was kind of a slow, quiet one. Got in a run on the treadmill. Well, a good brisk walk anyway. It had been more than a week and I figured running would probably hurt. But I made it more than two miles and read four or five chapters of James Patterson's Big Bad Wolf while doing it. All good.

As I mentioned yesterday, last night kicked off Thompson's WinterFest. No, we did not go out in the -30 weather to warm up by the bonfire, suck back a few hot chocolates or see the fireworks.

Turns out, though, that Sonwun and I got a front-row seat for the fireworks while sitting on the couch. The living room window faces the direction of the rec centre, so we stayed warm and still got to ooh and ahh to our hearts' content. Sonwun really enjoyed the show.

So I guess he got what he requested earlier in the day. He got to see something blow up again and again. He is a boy, after all, and thinks that stuff is cool.

Monday

Well, it's Monday.

Neomom starts evening shifts this week, my least favourite.

Starting the week on a bit of a down cycle. Not sure why. Maybe it has something to do with the weather, the Wolf Moon, who knows?

Maybe it has something to do with the fact that yesterday I wanted to take Sonwun bowling here in Thompson. So I looked up the alley in the phone book, the one that, according to it's Yellow Pages ad, is "Open Seven Days a Week." Sunday is apparently the eighth day of the week up here. They weren't open.

Finding shit to do up here, on days when Neomom's off and on days when Neomom isn't swamped with homework, is not easy. And even when it seems like plans are coming together . . .

Take tonight for example. Thompsonites (Thompsonians?) are kicking off WinterFest 2010. It starts tonight with the big kick-off - fireworks, a bonfire, hot chocolate and so forth.

Problem 1: Neomom's working.

Problem 2: It's still going to be -30C (-22F) before wind-chill and I am not taking the kids over to the rec centre to stand around outside in THAT, hot chocolate or not.

Anyhoo, maybe there is some other stuff later on in the month. WinterFest apparently goes on throughout the month. It even includes a "Kids Concert Series" at the Letkemann Theatre, wherever the hell that is. The series apparently runs on Saturdays and includes acts such as Heather Bishop, Bubblemann, Dave and Louie Ventriloquism and Buff Handel.

Never heard of any of them. But, if the planets align at some point this month, we may just check one out.

Apparently there are other events associated with the month-long festival, but locating a complete schedule is difficult. I just spent half an hour trying on the net, but have had no luck. There was some reference to dog-sled races but, again, no schedule, time or place.

So, for today, we're probably house-bound yet again.

Hope your Monday's looking better.