Rotten Whirlwind...

Yesterday while driving to the mall to get Zed a birthday present.  Whirlwind asks," Mommy can we go to (Insert trendy coffee shop name here)?"

"No honey". I answer. Seriously. You are three. You don't need a $5 smoothie.


The she drops it.


Drops it like it's hot.


Don't you love it when I do pop culture refrences from the last decade?


Anyways...


She then says this...


"Rotten Mommy.."


And then under her three year old breath, ".... never let's me do anything....."


ROTTEN MOMMY!?  What does that even mean!  "Never let's me DO anything." What in pray tell does my three year old want to do? Eat goldfish. Watch the Disney Channel.  Race sports cars?  What the hell is she talking about?


So to make up for it. I let her ride the $1 Merry Go Round at the Mall.


Take THAT.  Rotten Mommy my ass.

Who lives here?

I hate nice days.

They make me feel guilty.  I always think, "Soon its going to be winter and we are going to be stuck in the house and I will be begging for plus 15 weather. Turn off the t.v  Fat Ass and go play with your children."

So off we go to the driveway.

THE SCENE:

Whirlwind is riding around on her Run Bike (the kind with no pedals) and not wearing her helmet.  And Baby Bot is skinning his knees while crawling around on the cement.

Suddenly, a blood curdling scream.  Whirlwind has fallen off her bike and there is blood all over her face. I run to her (4 steps) and at the same moment Baby Bot is climbing up the cement steps to the front door and looking very unsteady.

What do I do?

Console the one that is already bleeding and check the damage?

Or.

Prevent the other kid from arriving to the same result?

Hmm.... which kid do I love more?

So what do I do.....?

In perfect Kyla fashion, I do neither.

Instead I yell at the neighbour.  "Excuse me... Excuse me..... I need help!!!!!!"  Wouldn't this be the perfect time to get to know her better?  She seems really nice.  Maybe we will become best friends and bring each other casseroles. At the least, I could borrow a cup of sugar or something.

She runs over and I scoop up Whirlwind and carry her into the house while telling the neighbour that, "The Baby" is climbing the cement stairs and "could you do something about that..."

I bring the bleeder to the kitchen and start planning a trip to the dentist.

The neighbour carries the baby into our kitchen and watches me wipe down Whirlwind's face. Which is actually fine. There really wasn't that much blood. Just a bit of road rash on her chin and the blood in her mouth was from her tooth gauging her lip. No real damage at all.

I take Baby Bot from the neighbour and that is when I see the real damage.

My home. My home was the damage. Here I was thinking it was my child that was the bloody mess. Nope not the case. Not my kids face.  It was my home.  It was repulsive.  Hoarder'ish. Damn embarrassing.

Why is it that you don't notice how disgusting you live until you look at your home through someone else's eyes.  How could I have not noticed this?!

I am just lucky no one called Social Services.  Because the next day, any time anyone asked Whirlwind what happened to her face, she was quick to tell them,  "I fell off my bike and I wasn't even wearing my helmet."

Swingers......

Whirlwind is a bit of a dare devil.  She likes to ride her bike really fast, climb really high and jump off of high things.


But, she is also scared shitless of dogs. And yells at me when I wash her hair.


Anyways.....


She loves, loves, loves the baby swings at the park. Mostly, because I wind her all up and then let her fly.  She flings and flails all over. And laughs like crazy. She just loves, loves, loves it.


But, there is a rule.


I always have to remind her that,  "We can't do it when other kids are on the swings.... because not everyone's Mommy let's them swing like this."


She answered with a big smile, "But not my Mommy.. My Mommy’s Cra-zy!"

None of us have it all together.....

This is a Facebook message that I was sent last week from a friend. I've made the odd change so you feel like you are part of my posse.

You are going to love this.....

M:  Well that was a first. I'm so distracted trying to get ready for work.... that this morning in my rush to get my oldest to school, I dressed our one year old.....sans diaper. Yes, somehow I managed to get her dressed even doing up a diaper shirt, without noticing that she was commando! Needless to say, that added a car seat washing, carpet cleaning, bath, change of clothes to my morning!!!! I'll be glad when this weekend is over!

I'm such a space cadet I couldn't even figure out why she was so wet! I thought she sat in snow that the dogs brought in or something. Lol.

I friggn' LOVE this.  

And I friggn' love that she shared this, knowing full well that I have a blog!

I've been pretty "all over the place" about returning to work this week. I'm a happy, mad, sad, glad Hippo.  Possibly even a bitchy, itchy, without gitchy Hippo.  Remind me to write THAT children's book.

So I talked to M on the phone today and she reminded me of the above story and to..... "Remember, none of us really have it all together. We are just surviving. Doing our best and eating fast food every night of the week."

And she is right.

I do love me some McDonald's.

Maybe this back to work thing won't be that bad.

" Um.. your armpits look like......."

I am beautiful.


I just am. I was born that way. Ask Lady Gaga.

But, I haven't "gotten" beautiful in a long time. Zed and I went to a formal'ish affair a few weeks ago and I was a bit nervous. Spanx, pantyhouse, wedding ring. And I even took my hair out of a pony tail.

Also eyeliner. On the INSIDES of my eyes.

Yes. It was a big night for me. I even borrowed a dress. Possibly the best dress on the planet. It flatters me perfectly.  I should only wear this dress. Everyday. All day. To preschool, to the grocery store, on the teetor totter and in the sandbox.

There was only one problem. My arm pits looked like Vaginas.

I have Vagina Pits.

So, if I am out in public and you are not looking at my perfect hair, my beautiful face or my large breasts... I know what you are doing.

You are staring at my Vagina Pits.

Or my back fat.

Ugh. That is a whole new post.

I Have No Shame and Whirlwind Says...

Look to your right.


See that button there?


Click on it.


I am sick and desperate and I need to be one of the Top 25 Canadian Mom Bloggers at Circle of Mom's.


I only need 180 more votes by 3 p.m. today. He he.


Oh the ways I amuse myself.


How about a Whirlwind Says?


Today while dropping Whirlwind off at preschool she says,  I don't want you to take Baby Bot inside. Because some other Mommy might take him home."


I'm thinking...awww.... so beautiful. Isn't she the sweetest? And I should have kept my trap shut. But, I can't. My need to fill dead air.


So, I say, "Oh. And you would you miss him?"


"No." She says, " I mean, yes... No. I wouldn't."


Sigh.....


Did I mention vote for me?

I Love My Job, repeat, I Love my Job, repeat

I cried today.


Ugh. I know.


This isn't that kind of blog.


Stick with me here....


I go back to work in 10 days. The idea of leaving Baby Bot is making me sick to my stomach. I also cannot believe that I did this with Whirlwind. I mean, I practically left her with a complete stranger!


Going back to work after having Whirlwind was a real struggle for me.  I just didn`t want to.  Zed keeps reminding me that after one week I was VERY happy with my decision.  Working makes me a better Mom.  If that doesn`t make any sense to you, it never will.


So yes, all in all I like my job. Okay, I love my job. I love the company I work for. I love that I get paid to do something that I love. And I really really like my co workers.


And now some truth serum....


I love to be inappropriate.


I love to tell my co workers to ``Suck it.``


I love the free golf, hockey and concert tickets.


I love taking the station vehicle to go get McDonalds.


I love wearing my airwalks to work.


I love all the free food.


Mostly, I like putting in three, 8 minute classic rock songs in a row so I can go and poop.

Like, like it like it.

When Baby Bot was weening himself from breastfeeding, I was ecstatic. I was getting my freedom back. Considering he wouldn't take a bottle, I was unable to leave the house for more than 2 hours.


For example, one night out with some Hot Mom's, Zed called me very apologetically to hurry home because he could not get Baby Bot to stop crying.


I wasn't upset that the baby needed me. Or that Zed called.  It was nice to feel needed. I was just a little ticked off because I had to miss dessert.


So, yes, the best part of Baby Bot weening himself was freedom.


And ... getting drunk.  Not 2 glasses of wine drunk, which is pretty much all it takes. But a good bottle of wine to myself kind of drunk. I think I am a great drunk. Which really means I am an annoying, loud and arrogant drunk.


So back to whatever the hell I was talking about.....


I miss breastfeeding my little boy.  It was so beautiful. I loved looking down at his big blue eyes as he chowed down.  I loved stroking his little head. I loved those quiet moments. Just the two of us.  It almost felt like he was saying, "Thanks Momma"


A friend of mine sees it much differently. She is sure that while she feeds her daughter her daughter is thinking, "I own you."


Which is probably true.


Whirlwind hated breastfeeding. She gave up at 6 weeks. So I never knew that breastfeeding would be something that I would really enjoy.


Not enjoy ENJOY.


But....enjoy.


Which reminds me of one of my most favourite stories ever.


A good friend of mine was really scared to breast feed. Her breasts are/were a big part of her sex life. She was afraid she would like it. Like, like it like it.


But as most new mothers know, things change after that first extremely painful latch in the hospital.


Big Time.


I thought only your heels could blister and bleed.

Gwyneth is Pretentious...

Celebrity not only fascinates me but it also disgusts me.

It's such a mixed up world that I really would love to be a part of.

So much, that I have been holding off sharing my love of Chelsea Handler because I truly think we will become friends one day and I don't want her to find my blog and NOT be my friend because she thinks I am just a stalker.

It could happen.

The friend with Chels part.

I guess the stalker part could happen too.

Anyways.

I am pretty sure that Gwyneth Paltrow would NOT be my friend.  Not, that I want her to. But, I am pretty sure that she thinks I am below her.

And we are not talking height.

Watched her in this the other night.....

And that girl can act.

Every scene that she wasn't in was awful.  I mean that. Awful.

Gwynie was great. 

Is it true that Ben Affleck hates Harvey Weinstein because he "casting couched", Gwyneth?

Am I making this up?

I am sure I heard that somewhere.

Just google'd it and found tons of pages.

Well, if you read it on the internet it MUST be true.

Sticky Fingers...

There is nothing worse than doing "The Walk of Shame" I remember it well.  At the same time, you should never do "The Walk of Shame", it shouldn't even be an option. After you knock boots. You should just leave.

Stat.

Do not spend the night.  Ever.

In this case it was more of a "binge of shame".

Like a crack addict, I needed wings.

I needed them now.

I needed them fast.

So here I was sitting on the kitchen floor, fishing through take out menus, trying to find a place that will give the biggest high for my money.

I find the place I want to order from.

I make the call, I order thirty wings.

And then my dealer on the other end says, "Hi Kyla!"

My voice from the radio. The call display. The fact I order from there 2x a month.  I don't know. I was just busted.

And like a good addict I had to cover this all up. So I said, " Oh, I was hoping you wouldn't recognize me, I don't really want anyone to know that I am ordering thirty wings at nine o'clock at night..."

My dealer said, " Oh, okay......?"

What he should have said was, " Honey, you didn't get to be over 200 pounds by not eating wings at nine o'clock at night!"

I felt a little embarrassed.

I would have been more embarrassed had someone watch me attack that mess of wings. Honey Garlic Sauce in my hair, Sweet Chili Thai Sauce on my hands and under my nails and BBQ sauce on my cheeks.

And to top it all off. Diarrhea the next morning.

Best. Night. Ever.

Mommy's Got New Shoes!

I had a makeover.


And its the best one I have ever had in my entire life.


It just never works out the way you expected.  It always starts off as a good idea. The it turns embarrassing. All those shoppers walking by as you sit at the Estee Lauder counter at The Bay.


In the words of Julia Roberts, "Big Mistake. Huge."


This makeover with  Jen at Just Foolin Blog Designs was not a mistake. It was perfect.  And she wouldn't quit until I was happy. Plus she compliments me, which is great for the narcissist in me.


She said, "Looks like your blog is going to be famous someday."


Oh Jen. I am sure you say that to all the girls.


But, I'll take it.