The Best Christmas Present EVER!

Hubby the Great, The Wee Man, and I just returned from a holiday in Jamaica. Loved, loved, loved it! Not only did we get fun in the sun at a fabulous resort, we also managed to avoid the huge dump of snow in Ottawa while we were gone – bonus!

And while my body is back in snowy Canada, I think my mind is still on a Jamaican beach (with Pina Colada in hand) because I can’t really get words down on the page. Therefore, I will let pictures do the talking.

Have passport, will travel

Beer AND Popcorn! The Liberals’ fears have come true...

New Bathing suit: $65
Week’s supply of #45 sunscreen: $30

Cost of traveling to tropical paradise where having a large badonkadonk is the feminine ideal: priceless.

Check Out My Mad Sandcastle-Building Skillz - yo!

Chillin’

It’s My Party and I’ll Cry If I Want To

I’ll admit it. I went a little overboard hosting The Wee Man’s birthday party this past weekend. I just figured that since it was a milestone, I shouldn’t half-ass it. So I bought the decorations, made the food, and invited his little buddies and their parents. Ahh, such good intentions.

Anyhow, here are some observations from a rookie’s first attempt at hosting a toddler’s birthday party:

1) Time is not on your side. No matter how fast you get the festivities rolling you cannot outrun the impending collective meltdown of toddlers overdue for a nap.

2) Don’t even try to be the hostess with the mostess. Cocktails and canapés are a thing of the past (unless someone comes up with a hors d’oeuvre made from Cheerios or people don’t mind getting their martini served in a sippy cup).

3) You will be eating off Peter Rabbit 1st Birthday paper plates until Christmas because you ordered too many.

4) You will be eating leftovers (on those paper plates) until Christmas because, despite having a toddler of your own, you have suddenly forgotten that parents have to eat in a hurry and are lucky to scarf down half a hamburger, let alone your variety of side dishes.

5) Forget buying a big cake. By the time you get around to singing “Happy Birthday” the only way parents are interested in prolonging their stay to eat cake is if it is laced with tranquilizers.

6) Warn friends who don’t have kids that every hour spent at your child’s birthday party will equal the number of years they will want to continue using birth control.

The Wee Man Turns One!

I wish I could adequately put into words all that I’m feeling today as my baby turns one. I think back to a year ago when he decided to put the scare of our lives into us by having to stay in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit for a week after he was born.

We wanted to put the celebrations on hold until we knew for sure that he was going to be okay. But by the time we got the all-clear from the doctors, we were so wrung out from the worry and uncertainty we endured watching him struggle to get better that passing out cigars and toasting ourselves with champagne seemed superfluous. At that point, all we wanted to do was to get him home.

Joy, pride and great love are just a few of the things I’m feeling right now. But if I had to pick just one emotion to sum up today it would be gratitude. Gratitude for The Wee Man being happy and healthy, gratitude for learning to cherish each day with my loved ones, and gratitude for being able to have joy, pride and great love in my life.

So after presents are opened, a first bite of cake is tasted, and The Wee Man is put to bed, Hubby the Great and I will finally open that bottle of champagne. Because, after all, we have so much to celebrate.

Are You Quite Serious?

No surprise that the Christmas season starts earlier and earlier every year. After all, Yuletide products started appearing on store shelves right after Labour Day. But do they need to start playing Christmas carols so damned early?

I entered a store today and was confronted with “Jingle Bells” playing on the sound system. November 1st. November. Bloody. First.

I suppose retailers do it to create an ambience of Christmas to get shoppers in the mood for some holiday spending. Well guess how they can get me in the mood for holiday spending? LOWER THEIR PRICES TO REFLECT THE STRONG CANADIAN DOLLAR! Because if they don’t, I will be dashing through the snow right to the U.S. to buy presents. Ho Ho Ho – Merry Christmas.

It Really IS an Honour Just to be Nominated

On the ‘Links I Like’ section of this blog, I have listed one of my absolute favourites - Suburban Turmoil. I can’t remember, exactly, how I happened upon this blog but it has turned out to be one of those I visit at least half a dozen times a day, hoping for a new entry. Lindsay, the blogger extraordinaire, makes me howl with laughter with her wit and wry observations on being a stay-at-home-mom. One day, I hope my blog grows up to be just like hers.

Last week she had an entry about bizarre kids’ names. She wanted people to write in with the most annoying name they’ve ever heard and I couldn’t resist. You see, in the apartment building we used to live in, there was a kid named – wait for it - Frobisher. While I’m sure the name is near and dear to his parents, Frobisher’s mom may as well dress him in an ascot and send him off to school for his daily beating.

Anyhow, Frobisher isn’t the only one with problems in the name department. Lindsay’s loyal readers came through with over 300 entries, ranging from unusual to cruel. She would narrow them down to the best (or, in this case, the worst) and then have her readers choose a winner.

Well, whaddya know, Frobisher made the list! And while it wasn’t chosen as the worst name (that distinction went to twins called Sharon and Notsharon), it was still an honour just to be nominated.

And to Frobisher and his parents…thank you.

(Check out an article Lindsay wrote on the surprisingly common practice of naming kids some pretty bizarre things. Frobisher starts to look pretty lame tame in comparison).

I’d Like a Hairstyle to Complement My Tiara Please

I can’t really update on my new ’do because it is still looking all salon-y. Wait until I wash it and try to style it myself before I can accurately say if I like it or if I will have to go into hiding until it grows out. But even if I don’t like it, I will probably go back to the salon just for the people-watching.

It was good entertainment, especially since there was a big society soiree taking place that very evening. Apparently, Ottawa socialites had descended on the salon en masse. At first glance I felt like I wouldn’t fit in, what with all the big hair (on both the society mavens and the poodles in their laps).

But once Leticia Moneybags and Babs Trophywife returned to their Rockcliffe mansions, I realized that the stylists could produce more than just the ‘old money look’, much to my relief.

Forget Hospital Wait Times. What About Hairdresser Wait Times?!

I had an appointment for this Saturday to get my hair coloured and hi-lighted. I’d booked it almost three months ago, during my last visit, so needless to say I kind of forgot that the appointment was going to clash with my Japanese lessons.

I called today to reschedule. I told the receptionist that I need a Saturday afternoon or weekday evening so Hubby the Great will be available to look after The Wee Man. She said that my hairdresser is “booked until Christmas”. CHRISTMAS! But I’ve got faded hi-lights and split ends now! (Much whining).

I’ve had one too many bad experiences with hairdressers in this town to want to find someone else, but what is a girl to do? My “beauty” regimen has really taken a hit since having a baby but there is only so much I’m willing to neglect – and only for so long.

Thinking this hairdresser's wait-time could be an industry-wide epidemic, I decided I had better get over the fear and book with someone else. So this Saturday afternoon I’m booked into a new salon. Should I have taken it as a clue that I didn’t have to wait until the New Year to see one of their stylists? Guess I’ll find out this weekend.