The Quest for the "F" Word

This week, the boys discovered the existence of the “F” word and are quite anxious to find out what it is. They know it’s a bad, bad word. What they don’t know is that not only have they already heard it but they have even said it themselves on a few occasions. They have been BEGGING me to tell them what it is, and their logic is quite sound really. Ethan said, “How can I know not to say it if I don’t know what it even is?” Well, true enough, but there is something stopping me from saying it out loud at them while standing in the kitchen at snack time if I haven’t even dropped anything on my toe. So at random intervals throughout the day, one or the other of them will run up to me and say, “Mummy, is it Foolish?” (Ethan) or “Mummy, is it Farty Fart Fart?” (Jack). I think we have just about gone through every F word in the dictionary so far. One of these days they’re just going to realize, oh yeah, it’s what Mummy says when Jack makes us really late again or what Daddy says when he discovers the day’s worth of dishes in the sink.

When Jack said it, it wasn’t too long ago. We were working through a worksheet on planets and he was having trouble with it. Mike came upstairs and said “How’s it going Jack?” to which he replied, “Daddy, this is so f***ing hard!” I think we both turned purple and my head might have exploded a teeny bit trying not to react to THAT one.

Update: Ethan came to me after I got home from work and said that he knew what the "F" word is, and then he said THE WORD. It sounded just about fifteen shades of wrong coming out of a six-year-old's mouth, let me tell you. I asked him how he figured it out, and he replied that it was the word Daddy said today when the lady crossed the road not on the crosswalk. So thankfully I can blame Mike for that educational lesson. Then Ethan said it again at the dinner table, then Jack said it too, and Mike and I just about exploded and told them they would get kicked out of school FOREVER if they said it again. I think they are scared enough at the moment that they won't say it again for a LONG time. I hope.

Me and the girls went climbing last night. It was a lot of fun - I'll post a picture or two here once I have a look at them. If I determine if my ass looks really huge you won't see them here! The drawback to a good bout of physical activity is that I am now typing this using a pencil between my teeth a la My Left Foot since my hands and forearms have become weak little useless claws. Jack asked me to open a water bottle for him and I was unable to twist off the cap. Sad, sad, sad. But I made it to the top of the hard wall so it's all good. Maybe I will regain hand functionality tomorrow...

Aside: Can anybody tell me why, when I put on eye makeup, my mouth needs to open in an expression somewhere between Edvard Munch’s The Scream and what you look like when you sing the “WAH” part of Marilyn Manson’s Beautiful People? (And who knew I was so multi-dimensional that I can throw a 19th century expressionism reference in there right next to creepy – but strangely catchy – alternative metal?)

Later peeps.

Truer Words Were Never Spoken

My friend Susanna and I went for lunch yesterday on a patio overlooking the golf course on a beautiful 20 degree day. It was sunny and hot; our first hint of heat since September! I even got burned! And I was even excited about that! My whole day was spent with a smile! And I was singing at the top of my lungs in the car! It was quite fantastic.

Jack joined us, and was a perfect little gentleman the whole time. In the car on the way home, he pipes up with this gem:

"I'm never getting married!"

We ask him why not, and he replies:

"Because I DON'T want to have kids!"

Again, why not?

"Because sometimes, kids just DON'T listen, and that is fer-us-ter-ating!"

Susanna can't help it and busts out laughing. I tell Jack that it certainly is frustrating when our kids don't listen, but even still, we are happy to have our kids. Still, his reasoning is sound and truer words were never spoken. Little smartass.

Yes I am a Diva

I have just returned from my 8 km Diva on the Run Race, the first in a series of three races that I am doing this year in the hope of finishing the last race (10 km) in 48 minutes. Here are my race stats:

Temperature: 4 degrees Celsius

Weather: Sunny, clear blue sky and stunning views across the water

Race course: Flat and fast, gravel and chip trail along the waterfront of Jericho Beach, Spanish Banks and Locarno Beach

Details: Run for women only; field of 217 Divas

Crowd support: My mum and dad, and a bouncy, excited super-cheerleader Jack

(now for the crappy part)
Finishing time: 49:36 chip time; placing 106/217 overall and 11/29 in my age group


So how does this happen? Race conditions can only be decribed as ideal; I have no injuries or physical issues at the moment; perfect pre-race breakfast of toast and honey and a banana (and perfect post-race meal of cold pizza and Coke).

Yet.

49 freaking minutes for 8 km! Sigh. I was getting SO frustrated with every step, overthinking it as I checked my watch yet again and KNOWING that I was so far behind my desired finish time of 45 minutes. I killed the last kilometer, going awesome fast, because I was so damn mad at the previous 7. But the whole race was a gigantic mental battle with my mind saying destructive things like "You can just walk. No one will know." and "Take a break. Who cares?" and "Your legs are heavy." I really needed the angel on the other shoulder saying positive things, but the only one who showed up this morning was the freaking race devil.

My dad took a couple of pictures. I'm going to go wallow in my misery and try a little harder on my next run. And if any of you want to volunteer to be my shoulder angel for the next race, I'm all for it.

I'm on the far right

I am officially a Diva.

Sexy Hoover

We got so many awesome gifts for our wedding (almost ten years ago) that we still use all the time. Half of them still feel like new, to be honest! The vacuum, on the other hand, has seen better days. That could imply that it has seen more use than some of our other gifts but sadly that is not the case. However, in its time it has probably sucked up more than a box worth of Cheerios so that has to count for something...
I picked myself up a beautiful new canister Hoover last weekend. Byebye to my upright and Hellooo Hoover, you sexy beast! After setting it up I hoovered the whole house (including the stairs which I always avoided with the upright) and I loved it! OK, not loved it so I will be vacuuming every day or anything. Ridiculous. But it is decent and POWERFUL. I was actually sore the next day from holding the thing back!
However. I have a sneaky feeling that the Hoover is alive. Everytime I turn my back on it, I'm pretty sure it moves. When I was vacuuming the dining room, I propped it up while it was still on, and went to move a chair out of the way. A split second later, Hoover nudged me in the back of the leg. I jumped and screamed a little (or a lot, I'm just saying) and tripped backwards over the thing. So it may be hazardous to my health and just a little bit possessed but this Hoover is mine all mine. But like the apron I inherited from Grandmother Hardy says: "Don't expect miracles". That is all.

Cinco de Jacko

Since I became lazy after my February posting blitz, our little Jack turned 5. Wait a moment for the shock to sink in... actually I've been waiting 11 days since his birthday and I am still shocked. FIVE! Seriously, now. It is surreal now, when someone asks how old my kids are. I say 5 and 6, and then I pass out a little because when did I get so OLD to have kids who are NO LONGER LITTLE? (And on a related note, my hair better hurry up and GROW so I can donate it before I am completely grey.)
So Jack turned five, and I am in the midst of writing his birthday letter that I will eventually post up here. But a quick word about his big day: fantabulous! We got him a fish for his birthday, fulfilling his most desperate birthday wish, and he just loved it. The fish has gone through a million names since: Fishy, Bluey, Wemily, Mike, and my favourite derivative from the boy who loves to change the first letter of names (my name is Bummy): Dike. Thankfully Dike has not stuck but Wemily might have.
His Lego party went very well with 17 little lego maniacs in attendance. Thankfully for us it was only two hours long! They had a really good time and we had a relaxing weekend afterward building a LOT of Lego.
Oh, and Happy St. Paddy's Day to all my kinfolk who share some Irish blood! Enjoy a green beer or two and look out for the leprechauns!

Another Cop-out Post

I know it's been forever since I posted (forgive me Father, and all that...) but here is a little something I stumbled across while procrastinating on my own post, that will be up in a couple of days. Here is one of those fun time-wasters: My band and the album I would produce.

1 - Go to "wikipedia." Hit “random”
or click http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Special:Random
The first random wikipedia article you get is the name of your band.
Gone Fishin’

2 - Go to "Random quotations"
or click http://www.quotationspage.com/random.php3
The last four or five words of the very last quote of the page is the title of your first album.
Part of Daily Life

3 - Go to flickr and click on “explore the last seven days”
or click http://www.flickr.com/explore/interesting/7days
Third picture, no matter what it is, will be your album cover.

February in Photos Day 28

Briana and Rob brought Liam and Kieran over this weekend. The boys all had a great time playing, and one of the highlights of Saturday was a trip to Science World and the Lego exhibit that is currently there. Here are E&J staring at one of the gigantic creations.So that wraps up February in Photos! Hope you've enjoyed the ride. I'll be back to my sporadic (weekly?) posting schedule from now on!