Pooches and Pussy Cozies

Mother Nature doesn't play fair but you can make the most of your postpartum hair loss.

Satan Sent Me Spam (or My DVD Player Just Hates Me

Satan's work or Dora the Explorer's?

You're Not In The Boom Boom Room Anymore

Has your bedroom lost its sexy since baby moved in? You're not alone.

I Nominate Myself For The Worst Mommy Blogger Ever

Not your typical mommy blogger.

My Doctor Made Me More Depressed

Talking about depression is difficult, especially when you're talking to idiots.

December 31, 2011

Nuggets (Not The Chicken Variety) And Maid-Less Living

Nugget means different things to different people. Mention nuggets to Naked Girl and she thinks of chicken and eagerly points out the nearest Golden Arches. Pet owners think of dog poo and check their pockets for plastic bags. To an old boss of mine, nuggets were chunks of wisdom, valuable takeaways from workshops or conferences to be shared with coworkers who weren't able to attend. Although wisdom may not be the main ingredient in my nuggets, you get a value pack of ten with a side of sarcasm.

Naked Mommy's Nuggets 
  1. As long as there is a toddler in your house, there will be poo on a wall, somewhere in your home. Even when Naked Girl stopped having poo mishaps, her grubby friends put poo on the wall. I kid you not, it's happened three times this year and every time I blamed the stink on Naked Daddy thinking he'd left dirty diapers on the floor. 
  2. Baby is boss. It was a rude awakening, but Naked Baby is a merciful ruler.  
  3. Regression is a four letter word. Regression is not a short-term, temporary thing; it continues to rear its ugly head several months after a new baby is born.
  4. Your kid's not toilet trained until she wants to be and even then, she'll pee or shit herself at will to get attention. See Point 2 for explanation. For the record though, I am proud to say that Naked Girl was completely (day and night!) toilet trained by 25 months. We've only had a handful of on-purpos-idents since the summer.
  5. It doesn't matter how much you spend on your kids' birthday parties, but how much fun the kids have. 
  6. It is possible to get carpal tunnel from wiping high chairs, booster seats, tables and floors. There are two alternate remedies: i) maid service or ii) slovenly, maid-less living. We have opted for the inexpensive second option. I think it sounds sophisticated and chic, don't you? When guests come over, don't tidy up, simply excuse the mess away with a "Welcome to Maid-less Living! Keeping middle-class moms out of the insane asylum and poorhouse one chore-free day at a time."
  7. Sleep deprivation can only be cured with sleep but Valium, yoga, Baileys, and coffee (though not in that order) can help you achieve a sleeping state or close to it.
  8. At the end of each day, ask your kids what their favorite part of the day was. You will be amazed at the answers you get. (One of my best bxtches told me about this and I love it so much I stole it!) Yesterday, Naked Girl told me her favorite part of the day was making spaghetti with Daddy. I thought for sure she would have said going to the playground.
  9. In order to maintain a healthy and happy relationship, we need to choose our battles. Threaten to leave and stay in a hotel if your husband makes you dry your face on dirty ass towels, but turn a blind eye to jackets thrown on the floor.
  10. All those cliches about looking into your baby's eyes for the first time are entirely true. There is nothing more amazing and scary than realizing you are deeply, madly and unconditionally in love with a tiny human you've just met. Although Naked Girl didn't feel the same way when we brought Naked Baby home this February, of late she plays very well with her sister. Seeing my girls play and laugh fills my heart with joy.
On that note, have a Joyful New Year, Nudists! What nuggets will you take from 2011?

December 21, 2011

Have Yourself An Awkward Little Christmas

We all have awkward moments (or days or phases), but when you're a "precocious" child, you have them in epic quantities. With Christmas barreling down upon us, I've been re-living some of my awkward Christmas moments with the fondness one usually reserves for three-legged dogs and special kids.

When I was in Grade One, true to form, my parents were late getting me to the Christmas concert (I blame my sister for being a difficult 13-month old). In her haste, and meaning to be encouraging, my mom's parting words at the stage door were, "We'll be at the back, so sing really loud, ok?" There are no words a spotlight princess loves more! Instead of getting to enjoy the whole class singing We Wish You A Merry Christmas, the audience got treated to The Karen Show. I proudly drowned everyone out, bowed with a flourish at the end, and shouted, "Could you hear me, Mommy?" I would now like to formally apologize to my entire first grade class for ruining their Christmas videos. I am really, really sorry, but when I'm famous, you can sell the video to a major television network, I won't sue you, and you'll be rich like me. Except that's probably not going to ever happen, so let's just leave it at I'm sorry. I'm kind of sorry to my parents too, but not as much since they encouraged the behaviour in the first place.

Around the same time, and for many years after, when singing Walking In A Winter Wonderland, I sang it like this:

"Later on, we'll PERSPIRE, as we sit by the fire."

It makes more sense to perspire than conspire by the fire, doesn't it? To conspire sounds sinister and anti-Christmasy! Since my family was so amused by my rendition, no one corrected me until I was in my early teens. Of course, it wasn't a relative that corrected me then, but a girl in choir who thought I was being funny. Fortunately it was her, a fellow oft-awkward lass, and not one of the mean girls who would have mocked me mercilessly until they found a fresh victim. I shudder to think of the deodorant jokes I would have had to endure at that tender age.

There are so many more wacky and wonderful stories I could share, but baking and hungry children await. Plus, I want to keep it light... no need to mention holiday blowouts.

Do you dare to share an awkward Christmas moment?

December 17, 2011

WTF Is OK In My House

I've been trying to stop with the potty mouth - at least around the kids - and finally, celebrated a small victory. Today, instead of dropping the F bomb when she didn't get her way, Naked Girl asked Naked Daddy, "WTF?!" I love it, we're keeping it, and if daycare/preschool staff complain, I'll tell them it's not my fault other people's kids know what the 'F' stands for.

It's kind of impressive language for 30 months, no? So much more sophisticated than the F-word in my opinion. What do your kids say instead of f#$%?

December 15, 2011

People Suck and I Stink (Bah, Humbug!)

Christmas is a time for being with loved ones, thinking of dear ones we can't celebrate the holidays with, savoring seasonal treats, being inconsiderate douches, and giving and receiving boatloads of crap. Oh, did I lose you? Come on, you know what I'm talking about! So many people use the holiday as an excuse to be assholes and completely shirk their responsibilities as friends/coworkers/family members:
  1. Thanks for the Christmas card. I didn't forget about you. (written on a card I received halfway through January)
  2. I lied when I told you I got you a Christmas present so you would get me an obligatory gift, but I'll get you back next year. (not her exact words, but my bitch worker did this!)
  3. Haven't I called you Aunt Martha before? Well I guess I wouldn't call you that to your face! No, of course I'm not re-gifting that piece of crap my Aunt Martha re-gifted to me. (happened to a friend)
Knowing the joy that snail mail brings me, I send Christmas cards every year to The Chosen Ones, my relatives and close friends. Although I keep in touch with most of them electronically, with the occasional phone call for good measure, the Christmas card tradition is something I enjoy and plan to continue even if half of The Chosen Ones are douches and don't reciprocate. I get that writing cards is time-consuming work and that a lot of cards are bloody expensive, and the stamps get expensive when you're sending cards to a lot of people, but people can't even send e-cards? They're free, you can personalize them with photos, and if you're really fricken lazy, you can send everyone the same message. I know I've made newsletters some years to cut down on card-writing time, but it's still effort, yo, so where the f@#$'s my Christmas card? I used to get really mad, but this year I've just shortened the mailing list and told myself people suck. I'm almost over it... I think.

Then there are the lame, no-thought-put-into-them-whatsoever obligatory gifts. The very nature of them is disgusting - you didn't really want to give the person something, but they've given you something or are getting you something, so now you have to venture out to the mall two days before Christmas like a crazy person, wielding plastic (because you're broke) and body armor to protect yourself from the Living Dead, the Zombie Shoppers. As if the last-minute shopping weren't bad enough, you have to endure receiving crap in return, even if you picked something wonderful. I have a stockpile of the nastiest, smelliest shit from Bath & Body Works, or some other equally craptastic store, that some lazy losers gave me "because it's Christmas" and they couldn't think of anything better. Why are bath products the worst gift? Let me think... I don't take baths, I cannot use scented products, and smelly bubble bath just masks body odor. Just get me some Aveda body wash and we'll both be happy. I'll actually use it and you won't have to smell me. Because that's what you're really saying when you give cheap bath products: You stink.

I think crappy gift-giving began with the Three Wise Men. Gold is an amazing present that requires no explanation, but what the hell do you do with frankincense and myrrh? That stinky stuff from a tree's got lame-o man gift written all over it. Granted it was the time before malls, but all Stupid and Stupider could do was scrape some shit off a tree for the SON OF GOD? I'm not even religious, but that's pathetic; Jesus deserved the B.C. equivalent to a PlayStation at least. In order to help children everywhere understand the meaning of the word 'wise', the Three Wise Men should be renamed The One Wise Man and The Two Douches. I'm gonna tell the Pope. Is rewriting the Bible in his jurisdiction?

So the moral of the story is that people suck and I stink. At least I don't suck things that stink. (Sorry... crossed the line but I'm so on the naughty list already, I don't care.)

What ticks you off about Christmas?

P.S. The smelly bath stuff will be craftily re-gifted to people that suck, so don't forget my Christmas card next year, bitches!

December 13, 2011

The Kitty Cat Ninja

Naked Girl's on fire today. 

Here's the conversation we just had:

Naked Girl: You're not an inja, Mommy, and Daddy isn't an inja. You're just wearing a mask, you're not an inja! 

Me: Are you a ninja?

Naked Girl: No, I'm not an inja. I don't like ninjas. Ninjas are bad. Ninjas are scary.

Me: But if Mommy's a ninja and Daddy's a ninja, you must be a ninja too. 

Naked Girl: No, you're not ninjas! Stop saying that! That's f#$%y (oh yes, she said the F word but made it sound cute with a 'y' on the end).

Me: Well, if you're not our little ninja, what are you then? 

Naked Girl: I'm a kitty cat. You're stupid.

Source: catspictures.net

December 10, 2011

Nap Napping, Doggy Kisses, and the Fart Force


I accidentally sat on M's potty seat and elicited a loud, "No! You can't sit on my potty seat. My bum is little, Mommy's bum is big." 

"That man is brown, not black, Mommy. Can you see that? Look at his face!" Fortunately, she said this about a man in a picture, not a person!

"I don't want to go to sleep. I want to see blue sky. I don't like dark sky at nighttime. I want to stay up and see blue sky, Daddy." Clever! Is that not the best excuse to skip naptime?

"Do you want doggy kisses?" She'll then lick your face all over whether you say yes or no! Last night I caught her and Emi licking each other's tongues. EEWWW!

While sitting on the toilet, Naked Kid announced, "I'm farting the poo poo out, Mommy." and made a huge fart.

How did your kid(s) make you laugh this week?

December 9, 2011

I Miss My Snugglebug

Me and Naked Girl, November 2009
Two years ago, I could hardly put Naked Girl down or she'd cry and now she's go go go all the time. It's like she's channeled Mr. Gadget: "Go go gadget legs! Go go gadget mouth! Go go gadget hands!" I love that she's happy and healthy and full of energy, but sometimes I miss my Snugglebug. If I keep her up late, she's drowsy and cuddly at storytime and doesn't roll around kicking me in the head... hmm.. sounds so nice... think I'll have to make a date with her tonight.

When do you get snuggle time with your kids?

December 8, 2011

You're Awesome! Now, Shake My Hand.

When I started blogging eight months ago, I had no idea I would find so many sisters from another mister. Whether they're doling out wisdom, recipes, gut-busting laughs, giveaway prizes (I actually won one!) or unexpected kudos, my sisters never fail to amaze me. Recently, I was fortunate to receive the following award from three wonderful bloggers: Moments of ExhilerationLife, Love, and Baby ~ And other catastrophes, and Our Journey Through This Lovely Life.

The Badge!
The Tell Me About Yourself Award requires the recipient to:
  • Thank the person who gave the award.
  • List 7 things that people may not know about you.
  • Pass the award to 15 other bloggers and notify them. (You should give the award to someone who hasn't already received it but in my case, I was tardy in posting my 15, so no one knew I'd already been given the award.)
  • Post the badge on your blog.
Seven Things You Didn't Know About Me (And Maybe Didn't Want To Know)

  1. My husband and I eloped. It was exactly what we wanted and the setting, Chesterman Beach, couldn't have been more lovely. We went on a three week road trip before and after our wedding that included Vancouver Island, Hornby Island, Gabriola Island and the Okanagan. We camped most of the time and did some mountain biking, but enjoyed a few luxurious nights at the Wick and a few nights at a charming B&B in the Okanagan. The only thing that stressed me out slightly was my wedding dress in the car amongst the camping stuff. I was worried it would smell like campfire smoke, then realized it wouldn't matter because it was just me and K (and the officiant, elopement coordinator and photographer). 
  2. I used to want five kids. That was back in highschool when I babysat. Everything changed when I had my own and realized how much work kids are when you have them 24/7.
  3. I was a passive-aggressive non-confrontational teenager. For example, in eighth grade, when my locker buddy stole my favorite hoody and gym clothes then kept stealing my lunch (it happened daily for a period of three weeks), rather than ask her to stop or tell on her, I did the following:
    • unwrapped my peanut butter sandwich
    • made an announcement to ensure I had an audience
    • opened said sandwich and used it to wipe the floor by the garbage can (I scored the jackpot with a dead fly)
    • reassembled the sandwich, rewrapped it, and put it on my shelf in the locker
    • sat across the hall with my friends and waited for my locker buddy
    • watched my locker buddy eat my sandwich
    • asked my locker buddy if she enjoyed my lunch
    • told my locker buddy the sandwich was actually a science experiment to see if flies would hatch from the dead fly
    • laughed hysterically (with about 20 others) while my locker buddy tried to make herself puke.
  4. I taught English in Japan for two years. The weirdest class I ever taught was a private lesson in which an older businessman brought a Stephen King novel with all the dirty parts highlighted. He asked me to explain things like "cum her brains out." 
  5. I hate baby showers. I tell my pregnant friends to have baby showers because you can get so much loot, but hate going to them and always find excuses not to go. 
  6. I can't drive standard. Actually, I can't drive an automatic either... well, I can, but I'm not the best driver. I was so impatient to get my license that I went and took the test one month after I got my learner's permit. The result? With a few kilometers to go and 44 demerits (45 demerits is a fail), I sped through a red light which is an automatic fail but the grader just told me to slow down because he didn't want to fail me. The only reasonable explanation is that it was summer, I was wearing a tank top and short skirt, and flirted shamelessly the whole time.  
  7. I'm left-handed so I not only write with my left hand, but eat with my left hand too. This said, I wipe my ass with my right hand and take great (but guilty) pleasure in shaking hands.
My 15  11 Sisters From Another Mister
(Do you know how long it takes to pick 15 blogs and comment on all of them? I am only one woman and am a woman that needs sleep! I know there are many other blogs worthy of awards and will give out the Versatile Blogger Award soon. It's another one that demands you pick 15.)
  1. A Mad Girls Lovesong
  2. Feeding Five
  3. A Little Lucidity
  4. AdamAlexMommy
  5. Tattie Weasle
  6. Just Another Tired Mommy
  7. The Adventures of Not Supermom
  8. Short Fat Dictator
  9. It's A Vol!
  10. GetRealMama
  11. Ginger Doodles
You're awesome, ladies! Now, shake my hand.

Source: Fotolia/Microsoft Office

December 7, 2011

Losers, Overachievers, Sluts, and Ethnic Moms

Over the years, I've observed that groups of people can usually be broken down into three subgroups:
  1. In school, you have the popular kids, the losers, and everyone in between. I don't think I was a loser, but being a band geek (I played the piano and clarinet) and honour roll student definitely kept me out of the cool club.
  2. At University, there are the overachievers, middle of the road "C's get degrees" kids, and the drifters who don't know what they're doing there other than getting drunk and laid all the time. Although I didn't have a 4.0 (A) average, I consider myself a part of the first group as I managed an A- average working 30-45 hours per week. My degree took almost six years to complete as I changed my major four times (Biology, Kinesiology, Business, Geography), but I don't regret it. I now know a little about a whole bunch of subjects!
  3. When I taught English in Japan, my colleagues were either running away from something (bad job, bad relationship), running towards something (wanting to learn Japanese language and culture), or just there to screw Japanese girls (sluts). I was there for the cultural experience but looking back, I think I needed a break from my controlling boyfriend too.
  4. Upon my return to Canada, I joined a local hiking group and quickly noticed that the members were new to town, newly single, or had no hiking friends. I fit into all three groups (my boyfriend of 4.5 years broke up with me by text message one month before I was to come home), so could happily relate to most of the people I met. When I became a volunteer coordinator, K signed up for a backpacking trip I led and we connected instantly. At the time I was seeing someone else, so we shared nothing more than some lively conversation, but two years later, when I was single, we started seeing each other. Within a few months, we were living together; a little more than a year later, we were married; 10 months later, M was born; and 20 months later, Em was born. Everything just clicked because we shared common interests (hiking, cycling, kayaking, backpacking, travelling) and had complementary personality traits. It's been a wonderful 4 years (3 married) together and I look forward to many more!
  5. When M came along, I knew my life would never be the same, but wasn't ready for the isolation mommyhood brings. I arranged playdates, brought baby in the stroller downtown to show off to my coworkers, and signed up for weekly free classes at the library. Friends recommended I join a playgroup, but when I asked around, no one had in fact joined one. One day, after storytime, I stayed for the library's "Meet Other Moms" session. A whole bunch of moms, babies and toddlers came into the room and promptly settled into various corners of the room. There were the following groups:
    • The Older Moms: This over-40 crowd seemed interested only in meeting with other moms their age and discussing how expensive their in-vitro was. No offense to any older moms out there; this is just what I experienced at my local library. I would have been happy to talk with them, but they went to the other side of the room and left me with...
    • The Ethnic Moms and Young Moms: This group consisted of me (half Japanese), three Chinese moms (one who I am now good friends with), an East Indian mom, and two Caucasian moms in their early 20s. I wasn't surprised that the visible minorities would gravitate towards each other, but was surprised that the young mamas felt more comfortable with us. Maybe they saw us as kindred spirits, fellow marginalized members of society? In any case, we got along well. We talked about our kids' sleeping, eating, what kind of work we did before having babies, and classes we were taking with the kids.
    • Everyone Else: Four 30ish white moms made up this group. They talked about the same stuff as the ethnic moms and young moms (random Naked Mommy trivia: I have crazy selective hearing, I can track conversations across a crowded room if I want to.), but in their own corner. I secretly called them the skinhead snobs, but apparently they knew each other and weren't interested in meeting new people. Why they didn't just have a playdate at someone's house is beyond me.
Em likes losers.
I haven't forgotten about types of mommies; that is to be a post on its own as it deviates from the three groups rule. 

Were you a cool kid in school? What kind of student were you? If you'd been at my library's mom's group, would you have sat with me?

December 4, 2011

D Is For Double Standard (alternate title: W Is For Watersports)

Em is the only person in the world who can pee on me, puke on me, drool on me, sneeze food on me, and leak poop from her diaper on me without invoking the inner demons and triggering an outpouring of all the cuss words in my vocabulary (you don't know R-rated language until you've gotten me riled up). Don't get me wrong, it's not that I like watersports (Warning: really gross content and photos. I did not know until now that this word existed.) or having any other types of another's bodily fluids on me; it's because she's a baby and doing these things involuntarily that she gets away with it. That's reality, the end.

My mother, on the other hand, says gushingly, "It's different when it's your child!" as if you're supposed to like your kid's piss or not mind the smell of its shit. Um, no. I still hate it but I don't hate my baby. I deal with the grossness as best as I can because I don't want my baby to stew in her own messes, get used to being filthy and smelly, grow up to be the stinky kid at school that no one likes, and then become a social misfit.

Source: helloquizzy.com

Plus, I love cuddling with Em and it's so much better when she has that clean, sweet baby smell! The cleanup / wardrobe change is totally worth the temporary sensory overload. However, if someone else's bundle of shit joy had a leaky diaper, I'd be handing that smelly bundle to its parents for damage control.

Where do you draw the line at disgustingness and call for help?

December 1, 2011

The Dynamic Chain Of Command

To anyone who knows me and my husband, it's clear that I wear the pants in the relationship. This does not mean that my husband is a meek, subservient man, however; it just goes to show how incredibly smart he is. Unlike many men, he knows when to let me vent and chooses his battles carefully. We then, (I like to think) have a reasonable discussion about how I can get my way. If the discussion wasn't reasonable, we later have a good laugh about how vehement I was and how red my face got while firing obscenities across the room. It isn't easy wearing the proverbial pants.

The Pants had a good run
The dynamic changed when we had kids. Constantly at the mercy of M and Em's needs, wants and whims, we had less patience with each other. With little sleep and even less free time, things that didn't piss me off before made me positively irate. The biggest offenders: leaving stuff all over the house, not using a garbage can, and leaving dirty towels on the rack. The more I nagged, the less K listened, and the kids followed suit. I lost clout and started resorting to threats and bribes like "those" moms you see in Walmart shouting, "Smarten up or I'll give you something to cry about!".

Our biggest beef these days is M's bedtime; K lets her stay up way too late. Since nothing seems to work, I've put sex on the table (I wish we could have it on the table... or anywhere, really): if M's up past my dictated bedtime, K doesn't get any nooky. This cheap tactic works for a few days at a time so I thought I still had one leg in the pants, but the truth came out last night around the dinner table (NM: Me, K: Hubby, M: 29 month old daughter, Em: 9 month old daughter):

M: <raised voice> No, Daddy, I don't wanna eat that. I want a yogurt drink! 
K: Just try a little bit, M, it's good. Mommy made it!
M: <yelling> No, I don't wanna eat that. I'm not hungry. 
K: Are you sure you don't want to try a bite? 
M: <yelling> No!
K: <goes to the fridge to get M a yogurt drink> Do you want an apple, M?
M: <yelling> No, I want a yogurt drink! Are you getting yogurt drink, Daddy? I want it!
NM: M, can you ask nicely? We don't talk like that. Please use your manners.
M: <speaking super fast> PleaseDaddycanIhaveyogurtdrink?
K: Ok, here you go.
M: <drinking>
NM: What do you say to Daddy?
M: Thank you!
NM: That's better. <to K> Don't let her talk to you like that, Honey. It's so rude. We're not raising her to be a little brat. If she screams like that, you need to give her a time out. She's not the boss, right?
K: <smiles and nods>
NM: <jokingly> Who's the boss? Are you the boss, M?
M:  No, Em's the boss.
Em: <laughing>
NM: What?! If she's the boss, who am I?
<long silence>
NM: <resignedly> I'm The Bitch. <looking at K> Who are you?
K: The Peon
NM: What about M?
K: I don't know.
NM: If Em's the CEO, M must be the CFO because she tells people to f$%k off all the time.
K: That sounds right.

And there you have the story of how I lost the pants. I should have seen it coming... after all, Em had a plan all along.

Who's the boss in your house?


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