I am Big Brother's Little Brother

Okay, I have to talk about one more addiction before we move on. Have you ever wondered what your computer is telling people about you? What happens each time you click on a new site on the Internet?

A month ago, I added an "analytics" element to my blog. Basically, I was trying to find out how many people drop by to read in a day, a week, a month. I'm not proud, I'll admit it, it's an ego thing. But it was also a wake-up call for me.

I did not realize how much information I transmit when I visit a website. I'm no techno-wizard. This counter system was easy to install and is easy to use. And the volume of information it collects shocked me and I've become somewhat addicted to watching it and trying to figure out what it all means.

In the month that I've been keeping track, I've had 351 visitors to my site. Each visitor, on average, has read 1.95 pages for a total of 684 pageviews. And each viewer has spent an average of 2 minutes and 16 seconds reading. Cool, eh? But wait, there's more.

I've had 279 visitors from Canada, 58 from the U.S., nine from Brazil (I really don't get that one!), one from Greece, one from Oxford in Great Britain and four from a country the analyzer could not identify. Not sure what that means. I'm still analyzing the analysis.

Oh yes, in Canada, I've had visitors from 15 different cities (and I can see each city on a map provided). In the U.S., from 20 different states, with New York leading the way, followed by South Carolina, Pennsylvania, California, Illinois, Minnesota and, yesterday, one from Anchorage Alaska. Yes, I can see which cities in those states have visitors to my site.

I can tell you that 52.1 per cent of you, my readers, use Mac computers and 45.3 per cent use Windows-based systems. (The other 2.56 per cent is from that guy from that country that my analyzer can't put its finger on.)

Okay, and here's where it really surprised me. The vast majority of my readers' computers have a screen resolution of 1440X900, followed closely by those with computer screen resolutions of 1024X768, and on down the line to one reader with a screen resolution of 1920X1200.

Man in Black: Truly, you have a dizzying intellect.

Vizzini: Wait til I get going! Now, where was I?

A little quote from the Princess Bride. Couldn't resist.

Now where was I?

As for the browsers you're all using, Safari leads the league with 182, followed by Internet Explorer with 125, Firefox with 34 and Chrome with 1.

Spooky, isn't it?

And sometimes it's funny. I can view the "key words" that people googled to find my blog. Well, I suppose a lot of the time they weren't looking for my blog, they were looking for something else.

For example, yesterday, someone googled "what's the first impression of wife to impress husband most?" And my blog was the fifth hit on that search. I'm guessing I'm not what she was looking for. Much like all of those that searched "trophy husband" and found me. Hehehehe.

Other searches of note?

"wgt.com"

"crazy swim parents"

"they disconnect my star choice subscription can I get service through another dish"

"wife control issues"

You know, now that I see what key words, or tags, can do, I'm am sorely tempted to include "sex" and "porn," and a few others like that in my keyword section, just to see what happens to my traffic levels. Be an interesting study, yes?

And finally, I can see that 86.5 per cent of you need to clean your desks, 27 per cent prefer boxers over briefs, 12.4 per cent believe Caddyshack was the greatest movie of all time and 97 per cent of you did not get a complete breakfast including all five food groups.

Okay, I made those last few up.

But remember people, your computer is talking about you. The Internet is not only a place for information and entertainment, it is a massive marketing tool that is working overtime to collect information about you and your surfing habits. Not to make you paranoid or anything, just to let you know. As I said, my analyzer was free and easy to install. There are those out there that cost a lot more and collect a lot more information, each time you click that mouse.

Sleep well.

Addictions

Well good morning!

Sorry I've been away for a while, but it's been a busy few days.

As most of you regular readers know, the wife came home for a three-day break from her studies in Ottawa. She has since returned and I am, once again, alone with the boys. It was wonderful to have her home and terrible to see her leave again. But we will get by.

Enough about that.

I've picked up two addictions recently. I think they're related but I'll leave that to the psychoanalysts and, well, those of you who read this.

The first is Deadliest Catch, a documentary style show about king crab fishing in the Bering Sea. In a nutshell, these guys go out for a very short fishing season (less than a week), literally risking their lives doing a very dangerous job with the hope of a big payoff.

I've been trying to figure out what I love about this show. And I'm pretty sure this is where the psychoanalyst comes in. I love it because it's about some of the things I feel I'm missing in my life right now. A small crew of men, buddies, guys who must depend on one another for their lives and livelihood, working toward a common goal, missing sleep, sharing stress and working their butts off.

With next to no friends in this new town, and a job that involves diaper changes, Lego assembly and playdough with kids under 5, I miss that kind of thing. I think that's why I went and helped my new next door neighbour roof his house. Didn't know him from Adam, but he looked like he needed a hand, there was physical labour involved and we were 10 feet off the ground. Not quite crab fishing, but as close as I could get for now.

The other element, of course, is the gambling. These fishermen can spend the entire sleepless season pulling up nothing, with no payoff. I honestly get excited for them when they bring in a full pot of King Crab. A successful fishing season can net each deckhand upwards of $50,000. Not bad for a week's work, bearing in mind, of course, that, statistically, one or two of them will end up dead each fishing season. Big risk, big reward.

I think if I was about 20 years younger, with no wife and no kids, this is something I would have loved to try.

Anyway, if any of you are interested, there's a Deadliest Catch marathon on this Sunday on the Discovery channel beginning at 7 a.m. and running all day. Check it out.

As for my other addiction, it's the Mafia Wars game on Facebook. Hate to admit that, but I love the game. As expected, it's about building an empire, based on crime of course. It's about making as much money as possible, building businesses and wiping out the competition.

Unfortunately, my "family" is still pretty small, so the bigger families are robbing me blind right now, but I own a deli, a bar, two rental properties, an Italian restaurant, an apartment complex, a Valu-Mart, a marina and an office building. Plans are underway for a 5-Star Hotel, but I need another $8 million.

So these are my escapes. My addictions. And right now I need them. I am doing my best to get Sonwun and Sontoo some outside activity, but it's proving more difficult than I imagined. Preschool is full, swimming lessons are full and I went to the Thompson Public Library yesterday, a Tuesday, at 11 a.m., and it was closed. The bars and liquor stores are open every day, all day, but the library is not. I fear for this city's collective intelligence.

Anyway, mommy's home in 24 days, nine hours and six minutes. Can't wait!

Today's The Day

Well folks, mommy's home in five hours and 50 minutes.

I have a lot of work to do in that time, so today's entry will be short and sweet.

We only have two days together before she heads back to Ottawa to complete her training. So we plan to make the most of it.

For a preview of our plans, click here.

Warning, not for the faint of heart.

Enjoy.

Dyson and the Dusties

"To infinity and beyond!"

Friggin' Toy Story. Now that I've hidden the Sears' Christmas Wish Book, I hear the above from Sonwun more than I'd like. It is usually preceding a loud thump as he leaps from a couch, chair, picnic table, porch or bed in an attempt to fly.

And like Buzz Lightyear, the best he can hope for is to fall, with style. If not, it's: "To infinity and beyond" . . . thump . . . "waaahhhhhaahhhhhh . . . Daddeeeeeee!"

I think if I ever get asked for a movie idea by the good folks at Pixar, I'm going to suggest a primary character that cleans his room, with style and a catch phrase. If the kid's got to imitate what he sees in his movies, why not something useful.

Why not Dyson and the Dust Rhinos? We've got cross promotion with that nice Swedish guy and his cyclonic vacuum and we've got a couple of fun-loving, yet misguided rhinoceroses (rhinoceri?) who insist on making a mess. (They could be voiced by Rosie O'Donnell and Kirstie Alley!)

Our young hero, Dyson, will be trapped in his room every morning after the nocturnally active rhinos take advantage of the clothes and toys left strewn about the floor, devouring some of the mess to create a Megamess (trademark pending).

To escape his room, Dyson will have to enlist the help of his friends, Mr. Clean and Penelope Pledge (who has a lovely lemon scent that drives Dyson wild) to restore cleanliness in his world. Oh, the product placement, the merchandising dollars are just dancing here! McDonald's will be giving away little vacuum cleaners with every happy meal.

In the end, when young Dyson learns to pick up after himself, Megamesses (trademark pending) are no longer a problem and the Dust Rhinos are starving. And that's when a cute little Dust Bunny (obviously played by the charming and vivacious Valerie Bertenelli), saves the Rhinos and turns them from their evil ways by teaching them to eat more sensibly with the help of her bunny friend Jenny Craig. More merchandising, more product placement, more money!

But a catch phrase is what we really need here. Something that will inspire preschoolers world-wide to clean their rooms, every day.

Yippee kay yay mothermessers, ala Bruce Willis in Die Hard?

Do ya feel messy today? Well do ya, punk! (While holding a Dyson Animal over a Dust Rhino's head)

Hasta la vista, dusty?

We're gonna need a bigger mop! (Jaws)

I crap bigger than you. (City Slickers . . . okay, maybe not appropriate)

I love the smell of windex in the morning!

Brushes? We don't need no stinking brushes?

Well, it's a work in progress. Let me know if you come up with a catchphrase that will both inspire kids to clean their rooms, and make me gobs of cash. Both are important.

In the meantime, I am working with Sonwun by encouraging him to pick up two items and put them away each time before he leaves his room. It's a start and, by the time my movie comes out in four or five years, most of the stuff should be off the floor.

For now, I am sensing, with my nose, that Sontoo is in need of assistance. Seems he's decorated his diaper with his take on Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Doodie calls.

Mommy's home in one day, three hours and 37 minutes!

Preschool Reject

I guess it's part of being the new kid in town. Don't know anyone, and no one knows me.

I think that is part of the reason I can't get Sonwun into preschool, just yet.

Two weeks ago, I called the Kiddies Northern Preschool here in Thompson. Got no answer several times, so I left a message expressing my interest in having Sonwun attend. And then I waited. And waited. And waited.

Yesterday, four hours after preschool started, I finally got the call. Sorry, no room left.

Now I could be wrong, but experience has taught me that returning children will get the first shot at openings. Makes sense, right? Then, friends get a shot at what's left and, after that, friends of friends. If anything's still available, we'll take a look at the newbies.

Unfortunately, we don't fit into that web just yet. We've been put on a waiting list and we will wait.

In the meantime, however, we will sign up again for more swimming lessons. Sonwun needs to complete his Sea Turtle training and then it's on to Salamander. Swimming lessons offer many of the same benefits as preschool, but just not to the same extent. He will continue to learn to get along with others, listen to a teacher, participate in a group effort, share and, well, swim.

The pool is currently closed for the annual cleaning and will re-open in about a week. This will help us get through the second month-long phase of mommy's training in Ottawa.

I've also been told there's a Mommy and Me group meeting somewhere in town and, based on past experience with them (see "Craft Time" on Feb. 19 and Bad Daddy on Sept. 2), I'm not exactly excited by the prospect. But again, it's good for the boys and I will survive.

There is also skating coming up as well as a tiny tots curling deal. I think we'll stay busy this winter, in spite of the preschool rejection.

Again, wish me luck. The next few days are major housecleaning days as mommy's home in two days, two hours and eight minutes. Can't wait!

Not Yet!

"Howwy Cow! Daddy, you have to see something."

Thanks to the bastards at Sears, I have heard this phrase now about 38 times in the last hour. And, with 107 days until Christmas, I'm going to be hearing it for a long time to come.

I was picking up my mail-order jeans this morning at the Sears outlet in Thompson when the "friendly and helpful" clerk handed Sonwun the annual Christmas Wish book. She told him it was full of toys and to check it out. Bitch.

When we got home, and after I explained that there weren't actually toys in the book, only pictures of toys, Sonwun settled in and has not put it down for an hour and a half. And every 30 seconds, "Howwy Cow! Daddy, you have to see something."

You know, I'm generally annoyed when retailers rush the Christmas season. You know, start putting out commercials and store displays before November, say, 30th. But it's September 8. Get serious. I haven't even contemplated Halloween, or Thanksgiving and you're already filling my kid's head with Christmas commercialism? Bite me. 'Tis not yet the season to be greedy.

After adding a Hot Wheels computer, a Cars computer, a bean bag chair, a train set, a car set, a Mega Bloks jet kit, a Lego construction site and a toy box (always the pragmatist) to his list of Christmas "needs," Sonwun brought me the "Granting Wishes Decoder." On it is the Sears web address where one is supposed to go and, using the decoder, find out if he or she has won a $10,000 Christmas shopping spree. Ugh. September 8. Seriously.

Did these Christmas Greed Guides always come out this early? I haven't really had to deal with a child who could actually appreciate them before. Or is this just another reaction to the "global economic crisis" and the fear among the heads of the major corporations that they won't be taking home seven-figure bonuses this year?

Well, whatever the case, I'm not playing. It's 23 minutes to nap time and, when Sonwun curls up under his Cars blankets, the Coveting Catalogue is going away for at least two and a half months. I realize the television commercials will start long before that time is up, but we do what we can.

In the meantime, Howwy Cow! I have to go see something!

Bad Weekend

Crap, what a weekend.

I'm seriously questioning my daddy skills following two near disasters yesterday. The first scared most of the crap out of me and the second got everything that was left over.

Let's start with Sonwun. Sonwun likes mints, the Scotch mints, spearmint to be specific. Each ride in the van begins with the question, "Daddy, may I please have a mint."

Yes, we have worked on his pleases and thank-yous and we are quite proud of it.

But I digress.

He's been enjoying the mints for more than a year and we have become quite confident in his ability to enjoy them without choking. Well, yesterday he requested and received his mint and we were on our way to the store when I heard a gurgle-cry-moan from the back of the minivan. I looked around and there were tears flowing down his face and he was half crying, clearly having trouble. I yelled at him to speak, wanting to know he wasn't choking, and at the same time I was trying to look for a place to pull over. Speak, speak, speak!!

In the three or four seconds that it took me to pull off the road, I was going over anti-choking measures I'd learned when he was a year old. At that time, he was choking on some food at lunch. I called 911 that day and, by the time I was able to reach someone ("all of our operators are currently busy, please stay on the line . . ." Seriously) I had turned him upside down and thumped him on the back. Technically, it was the wrong thing to do, but it turned out right. The food was dislodged and I stopped shaking about 8 hours later.

Immediately following that episode, I looked up choking and learned that, even at that age, I should have Heimliched him. I read up on the procedures, determined that if it ever happened again, I'd be ready.

SPEAK!!

Fortunately, yesterday, the Heimlich wasn't needed. He started speaking and crying and everything turned out fine. But it was about 10 seconds of pure terror for both of us.

And then it was Sontoo's turn. I was in the middle of cooking supper. Sonwun was watching Finding Nemo. Sontoo was upstairs exploring. The bathroom door was closed, so I knew he couldn't get into trouble. All of the other rooms have been toddler-proofed.

So I stepped outside for a minute and was sitting on the back steps when, off in the distance I heard a crash, a loud crash, and I heard a baby starting to cry. I wondered what was going on over in those apartments a block or two away. I didn't want to listen, so I went back inside and closed the door. But the sound didn't go away. In fact, it was louder.

I rushed upstairs to find Sontoo standing beside an overturned dresser. Thank goodness he wasn't under said dresser. But he was standing in a sea of broken glass. A glass jar that we'd been using as a piggy bank, an antique clock with a glass face, several little porcelain statues - all smashed and littering the carpet.

I scooped him up and started inventory. I was sure I was going to find blood somewhere, or at the very least a nasty bruise. But, miraculously, he was fine; not a scratch. I still don't know how he managed to pull the dresser over, but until I figure it out, that room will be off limits as well.

In spite of the fact that it all turned out well, I spent a rather sleepless night, getting up at 2 and 3 to check on Sontoo, thinking I might have missed something, expecting to find a bruise that took time to develop. I checked on him in his crib and then went downstairs to listen to him breathe through the baby monitor. It was a long night.

But this morning, everyone seems fine. I'm very tired and very leery about letting either one out of my sight. All part of being a daddy, I guess. Still, I can't wait 'til mommy gets home so that we can share the paranoia and the panic of parenthood together.

Four days, four hours, 28 minutes to go.

Rejected

Well, I apparently don't qualify as an RCMP spouse.

At least according to the Facebook Group, Spouses of the RCMP.

No big deal really, but I have to wonder why. I mean, according to the intro page to the "closed" group, it is for "all of you out there who have uprooted their lives to follow your husbands and wives as they pursue their careers with the RCMP. The nights and weekends spent without your partner, the missed holidays, the new jobs/homes, leaving your family and friends behind... Can you relate?!?"

Um, yes, I can relate. I am intimately acquainted with all of the above. My wife is currently away in Ottawa for two months taking some advanced training. I think that covers the "nights and weekends spent without your partner" clause.

Missed holiday? Um, yes again. Without going into too much detail, there have been a few. Several Christmas mornings waiting for night shift to end . . . turkey dinner invites where I was to meet up with the wife, who was on shift at the time.

New jobs/homes - see the blog entries for the last couple of months.

Leaving your family and friends behind?

Yeah, I think I qualify. However, I am also thinking that my penis is getting in the way. I just don't have any other explanation for my rejection. Mostly because one has not been provided. It was about a month ago that I applied for membership. It took a few days, but I get a note from the "administrator" Christina Marie. She asked me to tell them a little bit about myself and my connection with the RCMP. I did so, outlining recent postings, my stint as an RCMP clerk and so forth.

I have waited a month now for acceptance and I must accept the fact that it's not coming. But I would have been nice if they at least sent me a note telling my why I've been excluded.

"Dear Mike,

Clearly, you qualify for acceptance into our little group, as it is advertised. But I'm afraid there is a problem. You pee standing up and the rest of us don't. The consensus is that you would add nothing to the discussions on child birth, clothes shopping and menstrual irregularities. And, quite frankly, we don't want to hear your views on beer, football and small engine repair. We realize we should probably change the information on Facebook to reflect this reality, but we don't want to appear sexist.

Thank you for your interest, but we are not interested in you.

The Real (Female) Spouses of the RCMP."

That would just make me feel so much better. A little honesty goes a long way.

I wanted to send a note to Christina Marie this morning, asking what was happening with my application. But the link to her message box has been severed. When I click on her picture (which is one of those non-pictures, by the way), nothing happens. I can't get in touch. Not only have I been rejected, I've apparently been forbidden from attempting to find out why.

Well, I'm a shit-disturber from way back, and I just can't resist this one. So today, I will send in a second application for membership. I am sorely tempted to find a picture of a female for my profile, change my name to Michelle and see how it goes. But I won't. I will be myself, a man, a stay-at-home dad and a proud RCMP spouse. If that's not good enough, well, screw 'em. I'll let you know how it turns out.

In the meantime, it's shopping day! Woohoo. It's also laundry day and I just can't wait to play with my new washing machine, which was delivered yesterday at supper time. Livin' the dream baby!

Seven days, five hours and 43 minutes until Mommy comes home!

Almost fell for it . . .

You almost got me. I almost left my brain in park and bought one of your fancy machines. After all, I need a delayed start of up to 20 hours. I need a steam-treat option. I need a self-cleaning detergent dispenser. I need the water level to adjust automatically according to load.

Bullshit.

All I need is a machine to wash my clothes.

Yes, our washing machine finally bit the big one. It's been dying now for about three months and, during that time, the wife and I have been checking out replacement options. And, of course, we've been looking at those colourful, sexy, $1,500 to $2,000 front-loading models. (I can't believe I just called a washing machine sexy. Time to get out of the house and shoot something, drink beer and play sports. My man card is in danger of revocation.)

But they really look nice, don't they. Gone is that awful white or beige metal. It's been replaced by colours like "twilight, truffle and chai." And, in defence of my man card, I'm not even sure which of those colours is which. I think the blue one is kinda cool though.

They've got digital read-outs, so you can sit in the basement, watch the machine and know exactly what it's up to, where the water level is, how warm the water is and the current price of shares in Apple and Chrysler. It's got six temperature options, six speed selections and 12 washing programs. And they just wouldn't be complete without the matching $250 drawer/stand to sit on. They will look sooooo nice in the corner of the dark, dingy basement.

Okay, step back and reactivate the brain. Do I really need any of this crap? No. I need a washing machine. I need three temperatures - warm, cold, hot. I need one or two washing programs (regular stuff, delicate stuff) and I need the damn thing to work. That, my friends, is all.

I am perfectly capable of setting the water level manually. I'm not sure why anyone would need a 20-hour delayed start. When I'm doing laundry, I want it done now. Not tomorrow. And I wouldn't begin to know what to do with the steam-treat option.

And, for the price of two of the drawer/stand units, I can have all of that.

With these things in my now-clear mind, I headed out to Sears this morning, found a perfectly good, top-loading washer and bought it. I saved about $1,200 over what I would have spent on the sexy front-loader, and it will be delivered this afternoon. The guy even told me he'd help pull the old washer out of the basement and help me load it into my truck for the trip to the dump.

So in case you're reading this honey, the good news is we have a new washing machine. The bad news is that it doesn't have a 20-hour delayed start. See you in eight days, one hour and one minute.

Oh, and P.S.

I'm not sure why the Bad Daddy post ended up in September, 2009. It's an older entry from my time in Gimli. And, for whatever reason, it moved itself to September.

Bad Daddy

I just don't get it. And maybe that makes me a bad daddy, I don't know.

I don't mean to rag on playgroup, but I just can't help myself. I don't understand anything beyond the basic concept that kids need a chance to play together. That's why I take the boys. End of story. Oh, sorry, not quite end of story. I also take them so that they can paint with their fingers and I don't have to bath the kids, the walls, the table, the dog and the cat— just the kids.

I don't take them so that someone else can read a story to them. I do that at home.

I don't take them for "Snack Time." Again, they do that at home.

I don't take them so that I can sit, drink really bad coffee and ignore them while they run rampant. They don't get that anywhere.

And I don't take them because "This Month is Reading Month." So freakin' what? Why, oh why, do we need a theme each month? The average age of the kids is a little under three. They don't give a rodent's behind that February is Reading Month. It doesn't change the routine at Playgroup. Same schedule, same kids, same songs, same stories, same toys, whether it's Reading Month, Alphabet Month, Vowel Month, Correct Punctuation Month, or Daddy needs a Stiff Drink to get Through This Month!

But again, I digress.

Today was Valentine's Playgroup. So, today's Craft Time involved decorating a little paper bag for Valentines. And again, I don't get it. Remember, these kids are between 0 and 4. They have no concept of Valentine's Day. To the vast majority, that is not what Playgroup is about. It's about (anyone?) . . . playing.

In any case, not wanting to be a bad Mommy, I sat down with Sonwun, the elder, and we attempted to decorate a paper bag. Now, to Sonwun, Craft Time is about spreading as much glue as possible, on as many things as possible. It's about cutting paper in no particular shape or design, cause scissors are fun. It's about rubbing markers in random places. And it's about finding out how many stickers are in the box and how many we can use at once. So today we did it all on a brown paper bag.

Three to five minutes later, after the kids lost interest and headed off to find toys, the Mommies were busy writing the Valentines and completing the paper bags. And again, I ask why? Why, why why? The kids giving the cards don't care. The kids receiving the cards don't know where they came from and they don't care either. Why do it?

Now, the "Keener Moms" brought Valentines from home. Us bad Mommies (most of us) were given Dollar Store Valentines to fill out so that they could be placed in the other kids' paper bags. The peer pressure was palpable. But I had Sontoo in one hand and was trying to keep Sonwun out of trouble with the other. I did not have the time, or the inclination, to fill out cards on his behalf. I refused to bow to peer pressure - a better lesson for my kids than how to be phony on the holidays. (Or, if you prefer my conspiracy theory mind at work: a better lesson than beginning the Hallmark brainwashing that will compel them for the rest of their lives to purchase impersonal cards, written by others, to express their personal thoughts on birthdays and holidays. PICK UP THE PHONE PEOPLE!!)

But back to Playgroup.

If we must do something for Valentine's Day, (and apparently we must) why not make a card for Daddy (or Mommy in my case). You know, construction paper, heart stickers and maybe an ink pad or something so that the kids can "sign" it with a handprint. Mommy would absolutely love it. The kids would be able to give it to mommy and understand why. Okay, if we're being honest, maybe Daddies wouldn't appreciate it quite as much as Mommies. But at least the kids would have some idea of what they're doing and why. (And Hallmark would be deprived of another lifelong customer). And if a handmade card doesn't cut it, maybe Mommy could bring a bottle of Daddy's favourite Scotch to Playgroup and let the kids decorate that with hearts and pawprints. I know he'd appreciate it.

Buckle Up

So Iggy's blustering (again? still?) and we may be headed for another national election. How annoying. More rhetoric, more accusations, more short memories, more lies, more of the same old crap.

According to news reports this morning, Liberal leader Michael Ignatieff floated the election idea (presumably to test the waters) at a convention in Sudbury. One report said Ignatieff has accused the Conservative government of failing on all four benchmarks set out by the Liberals last June for continued support.

First of all, I don't care about Liberal benchmarks. I didn't ask them to set any, I don't necessarily agree with them and the Liberals have an equally dismal record on all of them - jobs, health care, restoration of public finances, et cetera, et cetera. What's more, the Liberals had a much better shot at dealing with all of the above when they were governing, in the majority, without a global economic meltdown to deal with.

In short, shut the fuck up Iggy. Go back to the U.S. and your safe little academic world. Stick with theory and leave the practical governing to those with the experience.

Former Ontario Premier (and current Liberal leader wannabe) Bob Rae was on Canada AM this morning firing rhetoric in all directions. It was actually kind of funny to see this guy labelling the Conservative government "incompetent."

Actually, he's got a fair bit of credibility here. The man knows what an incompetent government looks like, as he was sitting at the top of Ontario's most incompetent governments in the '80s. That province is still recovering from Rae's days as leader of the Ontario NDP.

As for Jack Layton and the NDP, they really don't even deserve a mention. Just irrelevant.

I'll say one thing for Iggy though. He was smart enough to wait until the "global economic crisis" apparently bottomed out before announcing his intention to take over.

It's SO much easier to sit back and criticize in the midst of the storm. You certainly don't want to take the helm in uncertain seas. Better just to sit back and set stupid benchmarks for the captain, ("um, captain, while you're dealing with this hurricane, we would appreciate it if you could ensure no one gets seasick, or wet") while at the same time doing your best to panic the passengers by threatening a mutiny with the other deckhands.

And now, with the storm slowly clearing and the seas calming, it's a good time to want to take control. Problem is, we've seen the Liberals at the helm in calm weather and the ship just kept going in circles, leaking fuel while the captain and his friends sat at the captain's table dining liberally on pork.

So buckle up folks. Iggy wants the wheel. Layton and Duceppe want to dine at the captain's table and we, once again, are just along for the ride.

War

You know, I want the boys to play together. I want them to wrestle together, play games together, build stuff together . . . but I find myself constantly saying things like, "Sonwun, you can't step on your brother's head."

Call me a cock-eyed optimist, but I thought that kind of thing was understood. Clearly, it is not.

What most often follows is Sonwun's go-to move designed to impress his parents. He will hug his brother and be sure to announce his action. And when he's in a calm mood, it's cool. When he's all wired up, however, it's more of a choke-hold than a hug. Again, he's missing the social cue that when someone's eyes are bugging out, it's not a hug, it's assault. But that's all part of being boys, all part of being brothers.

Boys tease, annoy and taunt things, boys tease, annoy and taunt their brothers.

So, speaking of the boys, I almost got them their first wasp stings yesterday. We've got a mid-size nest growing under the eaves of the garage, on the lawn side. When we're outside, I'm pretty careful about keeping the boys away from it. But yesterday I forgot.

I was mowing the lawn. Sonwun was playing the sandbox and Sontoo was exploring the yard. The dog was chewing a stick and kept dropping it in front of the mower, hoping I would pick it up and throw it. I didn't want to play her game, so I just moved the stick to an area I had already mowed. The dog, believing this to be a low-key substitute for the fetch game, kept picking it up and bringing it back.

I became annoyed. I picked up the stick and looked for somewhere to toss it, where she couldn't reach it. I didn't think it out very well, and tossed the stick up on to the corner of the garage roof, where I could reach it later, when I was done with the lawn.

I turned back to the mower and, two seconds later, found myself under attack by two wasps. I swatted away at them and looked toward the nest. It seems I pissed off the whole clan with my little stick toss and they were all coming out to register a complaint.

I grabbed Sonwun from the sandbox, tucked him under one arm like a football, grabbed Sontoo with the other hand and made a dash for the door. Good news is we all made it, sting-free.

So, today I picked up a big ol' can of wasp killer and tonight I'm declaring war. I'm not proud, it will be a sneak attack while they sleep. Yes, I pissed them off, but they attacked first and they attacked from behind. Cowards.

Anyway, I really have no choice but to attack. Sonwun now knows where the nest is and he is somewhat intrigued. And, boys being boys, I know that eventually he will want to toss something at the nest, just to see what happens. He can't help it; boys tease, annoy and taunt things. And these things, will not be as kind and forgiving as Sontoo.

So wish me luck.

Mommy's home in 10 day, one hour and 44 minutes.