Archive for November, 2009|Monthly archive page

Non-Poopy Food For Thought

In lieu of my own thoughts (which of late mostly revolve around the topic of cleaning up poop, both literally and figuratively), I instead offer this link to a recent speech on anticipated future trends affecting Canadian public policy-making.

Adapting Public Policy to a Changing World: A Contact Sport
Gordon Osbaldeston Lecture – Public Policy Forum
Martha C. Piper
November 19, 2009

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At Loose Ends

Wit’s end,
Rope’s end.
Candle’s burnt at both ends.
Don’t know if at road’s end –
Or bend –
Or just begun.

Regardless, I’ll fend –
As I’ve always done.

Just Don’t Tell Him It’s Hereditary

“Momma, I wanna pet Kitty.”
“No, Love, that’s not Kitty hiding on the pillow – that’s just Momma’s hair.”
“Oh.”
“Momma, you’ve got very nice hair.”
“Thanks, Love! That’s a lovely thing to say.”
“Momma, I’ve got nice hair too.”
“You certainly do.”
“And Daddy’s got nice hair – hhhhhey!”
“What, Love?”
“Daddy’s hair! It’s ruined! Daddy’s hair is ruined! Momma!”

Momma is unavailable for comment, being convulsed in laughter.

“Daddy! Daddy! Your hair is ruined! There’s something wrong with your head! There’s no hair there! There’s no hair on top of it! Your head is ruined! Daddy!”
“Thanks Bud. Thanks for pointing that out.”
“Daddy, where did your hair go? What happened to it? Did you not get any?”
“Daddy, why’s Momma laughing so hard?”
“Daddy?”

A Haiku Prayer

Blessed Be Saint Tim,
Provider of Drive-Thrus and
Hot Double-Doubles.

Broken Toilet = Broken Husband = Blogging Slowdown

Just wanted to let my few but faithful readers know (though most do already anyway) that apparently I wasn’t busy or stressed out enough, so my husband decided to have the good sense to fall down the stairs while carrying a  broken toilet – and thus, broke himself.

Lower left leg broken, both bones.
Foot on sideways.
Not good.
But, still attached.
Very good.
Surgery required.
Well, at least it’s constructive, not reconstructive.
He’ll live.
We all will.

And boy, does he EVER owe me now.

The Best Daycare Drop-off Ever

“Momma, I’m gonna fill you all up with hugs.”
“Really? You’re going to fill me up so that I have enough hugs to last me all day until  I can see you again?”
“Yup! And then you will be so happy all day!”
“Aww, thanks Love! That does make me so happy, right now!”
“Mmmmm! That’s a good hug, Momma.”
“It sure is. Mmmm!”
“OK, you can go now. I will shoo you out the door!”
“OK, love you!”
Slam.

My son, perfectly content, on one side of the door.
Me, a maelstrom of conflicting emotions on the other.

My heart may be torn, not always pointed in the same direction as my feet, but my mind reminds me that letting go will always be easier for my child than it will be for me. As it should be.

Of all the parenting mistakes I’ve made and will make – this is not one of them. This, I’ve done exactly right.

1 Toddler + 1/4 Bag of Milk + a Dozen Eggs = Biohazard

My son is not lacking in creativity, zeal or initiative.

Nor is he burdened with an over-abundance of inhibition, worry or really a solid grasp of cause and effect.

We have learned that the following phrases are no longer innocuous:

– “Momma, I wanna make breakfast now”,
– “I want scrambled eggs today!”,
– “I want to make REAL cake!”, and
– “My milk is empty”.

No, instead, these have become calls to battle, horns proclaiming the looming onslaught.

Dearest and I recently watched “Sunshine Cleaning“, a movie about a cleaning service that cleans up crime scenes, and in it, they discussed the merits of various dry substances that can be spread on various liquids to make them easier to scoop up. I never, EVER, expected to be drawing parallel references between body fluids and raw eggs, and considering the relative absorption properties of paper towels vs. flour, on my knees on a linoleum floor at quarter to seven in the morning.

No one will ever say that I haven’t lived.