day to day

And then she was locked away for the rest of her pregnancy

So I was all up in the blog talking about all these projects I had on the go, and then I just vanished from the face of the internet. I know.

Here’s a summary of  April, which surprisingly has actually not resulted in being locked away in a nice white room with padded walls. So far.

– my ultrasound shows that my due date will likely be moved from Aug 2 to Aug 12. I say ‘likely’ b/c they forgot to send the u/s to my midwife so that was based on my memory of what the u/s said, but it will be confirmed next month at my appointment. I wasn’t really counting on not being pregnant on the 12th, anyways. My babies get comfy. I guess I was sort of counting on not being pregnant on say, the 20th, and there’s no guarantee of that anymore. But we’re going to not think about that for the moment.

– My friend and I patched and primed my walls. Then painted. But I accidentally bought (poorly labelled) oil based primer. So that meant re-priming those spots and repainting. Benjamin Moore Aura paint. Yeah, ouch.

– while running to buy more paint, I rear-ended someone. Just one of those things. We exchanged info, then I called my hubby and bawled like a baby, and he came and made sure I was okay and drove me home. Nobody was hurt, and baby is fine too. We’re out a $200 deductible and Chris is a little bummed that I managed to just barely not quite write off the van, which is not his fav vehicle.

-our $150 ikea set is just destroyed. Olivia has been slowly pegging off the chairs by tipping them and they just can’t take it and have been slowly shattering. Our table wound up lame quite a while back but is now completely 3-legged. Things are a little desperate. And we want something made back when things were made to be nearly indestructible. I found the perfect set on kijiji for a GREAT price, but lost it due to an internet error. So very, very disappointing. But since we’re at a point where we are literally desperate, we have to settle for ‘nearly indestructible +  do not hate’ which is a really sucky standard to go with, but we had been counting on the table set lasting us til after our kitchen renos, so we aren’t really prepared right now. Frustrating.

-my sewing machine is trying to die on me. I will not let it. If it dies I will throw it off the roof, though. I promise. *shakes fist*

All in all, I’ve had a frustrating couple of weeks but I took out my frustration on bursts of decluttering and reorganizing. I may have thrown out some things that would horrify you. Like a perfectly good apothecary jar, because someone broke the lid on the matching one and I was pretty upset because instead of saying something about breaking it, which would have bummed me out but I would have shrugged it off, the lid was put back on and turned around so the large missing piece wasn’t noticeable and nothing was said. The (clear) jar was holding Nicole’s dental floss picks, and she could have cut herself pretty badly the next time she went to grab one because someone else chose to try hide their mistake.

(no, not my brother. Apparently he has run across a few people that read my blog in university etc, and has PERSONALLY thanked me for sharing the covered-himself-in-glitter-and-declared-himself-a-vampire story with the internets. But I’m pretty sure he’s secretly pleased with himself.)

Anyway, clearly I’m not always sunshine and rainbow and brown paper packages tied up with strings all the time. April has not been my favourite so far!

You know what is my favourite? My crazed offspring! Let’s marvel at my unedited photos from my point-and-shoot camera. No pretties for you, my friends.
I wanted to take a picture of Olivia yesterday at supper because I thought she looked hilarious standing there in her puffy tutu, stuffing her face with sausage. And for some reason, whenever she noticed the camera, she cranked her head at a ridiculous angle.


and again


Why yes, she is quite the filthy little hooligan, isn’t she? (please admire our trimless door. We’re still WIP up in here. Besides, trim is for fancy people, and my table has three legs. But isn’t the grey paint nice?)


My girls are kind of ridiculous together. We have a new crib that’s much shorter, and Nicole considers it her duty, nay, privilege, nay, RIGHT to take Olivia out of her bed in the morning. Olivia could haul herself out of the crib no problem, but chooses not to. We are all very grateful to her for her self-inflicted imprisonment. Which is kind of a lie b/c everyone lines up to haul Olivia out of her bed after a nap because 98% of the time, she is full of sunshine and you just became her favourite person. The other 2% of the time you kind of throw a bottle at her and run away, if you’re smart.


Awww, muffin. Doesn’t she just look precious and sweet in this next picture? You’d never guess her favourite game is to whack uncle AJ in the face and cackle like the wicked witch of the west.


Let’s make up for my crabby whinefest earlier with Crazy Kid Stories.

So, I had a case of Minute Maid orange juice boxes at the top of the stairs, after dragging it inside from a Costco trip I was hoping maybe Chris could take it down. The next morning, Olivia quietly sat there and opened no less than three boxes (apparently the seal is not that hard to conquer on those things) and spilled/drank a bunch. Eventually she was overcome with … Shame? Pride? One of those, probably the latter, and brought me a box to show me what she’d been up to. Awesome. Thankyou for rubbing that in.

And as for Nicole, she was calling me in the middle of the night; at bedtime she had been offered one of two blankets, and in the middle of the night she apparently changed her mind. I gave her a remarkably calm chat about wants vs needs; that is, what is and is not considered worth calling mommy for in the middle of the night, and how to decide if she really needed my help or if she should go back to sleep and worry about it in the morning. After pondering that terrific-mom-moment speech for a moment, she asked, “Can you get Papa then, so he can get it for me?” No.

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