The Morning After...

Last night I tweeted about the extent of my 16 hour day.

Twitter / Home: "naomijesson busyday park, McD's, gymnastics, park, coffee, McJournal, laundry, dinner, kisses, school, group work, run 4.3 mi, milk run, blog, tweet&fb"

I quietly signed off but really that wasn't the end of the day.

During my 20 minutes-to-Midnight grocery shop at Shopper's Drug Mart, I lucked out and bought more than the milk I was going for.

When Shopper's has a sale, they have a SALE! I can't believe how cheap I got the kids Kashi crackers, and the Triscuit Thin Crisps, less than 50% off, SERIOUSLY. All while racking up a bunch of Optimum points, the reason for my ginormous wallet I lug around, cards baby, cards.

While winding down from our little 4.3 miler, I was on the laptop catching up on the cyber-world and I had proceeded to eat some Lay's Salt n' Vinegar potato chips that somehow snuck in with my other finds, I mean 2 for $5.00, how can I say NO.

One blog post later and I realized, OhMyGod I ate the WHOLE BAG.

I mean a WHOLE bag, all 235g, you can bet I am not putting that in my Lose It app.

All my runs, eating so healthy and light all week, and then I blow it on cyber-eating. I guiltily crumpled up the empty bag, when I heard the Man stamping down the stairs, wondering if I was EVER going to bed.

I went to bed.

The next morning was fine, got ready, went downstairs, and then I noticed the remnants of S&V chip crumbs and bits on the floor around the island. It wasn't a dream, it had happened and there was evidence that it happened.

I imagined that this was like how an addict felt the morning after they fell off the wagon, after they had been clean for awhile.

I am going to I.C.E. (Intense Cycling Endurance) tonight.

ICE ICE Baby!

Just for penance I hope Sharon KICKS my ASS.

Shoo Fly Shoo

I HATE flys.

Is it because its a hotter summer than normal that we have more FLYS?!?

But why is it October and they are still hanging around me!?

I feel like it all started to annoy me in Fredericton, everywhere I went, the flys followed. Even McMom Ali, commented that they were following me. Flys in the Snotty Fox, I mean Snooty Fox, I always seem to say that one wrong, I guess I have more of an affiliation with Snot than Snoot. Flys at the farm, understandable, but flys at the bar, OK they are no pre-wrestler Mickey Rourke barflys, just the many eye-d grouse ones. There were even flys on the BUS following me through our tour-du-force of potatoes of Fredericton.

When Mickey was still remotely HAWT.


GAH! There is even a fly on my laptop NOW!

Flys at home. I CAN'T STAND IT! I mean really, why wont they go away, we even had an infestation of fruit flys with the appearance of a fruit platter that was brought for the Man's birthday. That was soon remedied.

But these black flys, these flys are making me CRAZY!

We are using our trusted fly swatter killer. Sorry to all you PETA people but they have invaded my home and now they are fair game. You don't just swat em you electrocute em, and remember, this is NOT a toy. It should also say that is does Amuse children when adults use it FRANTICALLY.


Flies are disgusting. They like POOP and they like to land on everything, especially FOOD that the Man will leave out or food that the kids are grazing on.

The worst experience was the cloth diapers, they were obviously forgotten about in the Wet Bag, so we had a pre-infestation of larva mixed with baby flies, that will definitely turn you off using cloth. Rule one of cloth diapering, cloth is not meant for the once a week load, especially in hot summer months, daily, dammit, daily.

I even hate the movie The Fly, never seen it, because really, do I really want to see a giant one on the screen!?

Do you remember the song, Flys in the Buttermilk, Shoo Fly Shoo??!!??

More like,
DIE FLY DIE!

Oh and yes I know the plural of fly is flies, but I don't think I should properly pluralize an annoying pest.

Hockey, should have guessed that it would be hockey

It's been almost 3 months since my Dad died and I feel like I have been handling it pretty well, I mean considering that he was becoming just a shell of who he was, and even at the end he was fading in and out of reality and his drugged up state.

I work in the same building as the hospice that my Dad was at. He was on the 2nd floor and I am on the 4th floor in Rehabilitation.

I was concerned about working my first day back in the same building after his death, but really it was fine. I just avoided the 2nd floor. Then I went for coffee with the Unit Clerk, she was wonderful during my Dad's stay and I knew her from her stint as the Rehab Unit Clerk. I went in the hospice and I was fine. It felt uncomfortable, but yet I wasn't breaking down or anything.

Then the other Friday, I was waiting for the elevator, and one of the food services girls recognized me and said Hello. She gave me a big hug, and asked how my Mom was doing. I went into the same well rehearsed answers, fine under the circumstances, and that I thought she was strong considering.

Then she started in, saying how with the hockey season starting, how she really missed talking with my Dad, how she used to bug him when the Canucks lost, how she reminded him of game day, as with his medications he would forget, and how much she was going to miss him, miss him NOW.

One thing I could always strike up a conversation with my Dad about, was hockey. I remember him always joking that Sopel tripped on him hair, and was probably smoking too much dope, because of course, if the guy had long hair, he must've been on drugs.

Even writing this I am getting a little emotional, it's true. Life goes on and so does the NHL, but with one less avid fan routing on our Canucks. I remember really wanting the Canucks to win because my Dad would joke, I guess I will never get to see them win the Stanley Cup. I guess he won't on earth.

But if they do ever win the Cup during my lifetime, he's the first one I am going to think about.

Damn, I guess I should have known it would have been hockey that would remind me of you Dad.

Movie what Movie?

I LOVE movies. It's great to see the latest chick flick with the girls, or a date night with the Man, seeing something current makes me feel like I am with it just a little, seeing a movie out means that I am seeing the whole movie, and some little monkey isn't asking me to watch them poop and wipe, or in need of something from the fridge.

All I have to worry about is myself, if I should pee BEFORE or not.

Yes, yes, these are all great reasons, but the biggest reason I always LOVE about going out to a movie, is the POPCORN.

Popcorn is GOOD, but putting M&M peanuts in it, is BETTER, and of course tons of butter is a must. I once had to request that they fill'er up, I mean c'mon 16 yr. old movie employee, there's enough wasted popcorn on the ground, can you not fill it to the top, it's POPCORN.

Unfortunately, my friends always give me grief. When they first see my creation, they all just ask me, Did you just put M&M's in your popcorn?? Yes, yes I did and I have been doing it since I was a teenager.

At first, it was done so as not to have the M&M's spill, I still have not figured out how to open them without tearing the middle seam, and then Voila, it tasted BRILLIANT and the move was archived in my Movie Popcorn eating history.

Now I get, i'm not sharing with you, you put the M&M's in your popcorn, WEIRDO!

Good because I don't want to share with you either, I want my POPCORN all to MYSELF. The Man used to be that way, all thinking it was odd, but salty n' sweet in not a new combination, and he too was soon turned.

Try it, I am sure that some of you will like it.

I have seen the Vegas Ghetto

Sometimes we realize the gravity of our actions, not usually at the moment, but definitely later, and how if things just unfolded slightly different, the effect that it would have on our little Monkey World.

It's our last night in Vegas, and we were celebrating the 14 year wedding anniversary of my Man's work partner. After many Cabana cocktails, it was decided that a vow renewal would be appropriate, I knew that we wouldn't have the Star Wars themed one that was proposed, but definitely thought it would be fun to celebrate a classic Vegas Wedding.
Our Cabana, the wives in the forefront, the next door cabana occupied by 10 20something guys, that guy or maybe it was another one, asked us for our cups. I think he just wanted to check out us Cougars, to see if we were on the prowl.

After more shopping at Planet Hollywood's Miracle Mile, and a brilliant dinner at the Italian restaurant, we decided to hit the strip and find a chapel in old Las Vegas.

Dilemma #1: There is a maximum of 5 people per cab, even if it is a minivan, its' the law. There is 6 of us. Our cabbie actually admitted he believed this was in place because then us, fares/customers, would have to take two cabs. How many people do you know travel in odd numbers? We hit the cab stop at Paris and persuaded the doorman to find us a limo so we could all travel together. Sweating like pigs, you know it is the first day of Fall, and realizing that this was perhaps not going to happen, we split up into two cabs.


Oh we were LUCKY, in our LUCKY cab.

Dilemma #2: You just KNOW we are going to lose each other, Follow that Cab, just doesn't work in Vegas as it would work, well ANYWHERE else. We had no address, as we had no idea which chapel to go to, where the chapels were, and the traffic was ridiculous because of all the construction for City Centre is underway day in and day out.

With the advice of the cabbie, not ours, we headed down the Las Vegas Blvd towards Freemont.

Dilemma #3: We had to stop, our cabbie was too good and got us past the Stratosphere in no time flat. We stopped at the 7 Eleven, after getting a phone call that a chapel had been found. Our cabbie suggested we wait for our friends in the car, he wasn't going to charge us, but we had passed our friends and had to backtrack, the easiest would be to walk back. So out we got, and Voila, we were in the Ghetto or at least the armpit of the Las Vegas Blvd.

Upon exiting the cab, we were sized up by a grown man on a bike, I don't like to assume anything but working in Gastown keeps your senses sharp, sharp to realize that a couple, carrying shopping bags, in a tourist town, late at night, with no one around, are the perfect victims, for oh you know, MUGGINGS. I have seen it happen, they bike past you, grab your purse or bags, push you down whilest they bike away, and there is NO WAY you are going to run and catch up with them, oh unless your Donovan Bailey.


Classy Vegas Hotel sign, neon lights out, missing letters or they just can't spell.


Umm, YES, I can say YUCKA to this place.


See Vegas can be cheap, $26. bucks a night.

Then we decided to head to the Stratosphere, where cabs are, perhaps our friends, or at least other tourists and people. Lucky for us, we had a couple who was definitely wigging out, stop in front of us. We slowed our pace when we realized that they were asking local looking people for cash, and we were probably going to get some flack if we said NO, you know shopping bags and all, hey once you have crack you can't really go back.

We made it to the hotel, where cabs and people were, and I had a sigh of relief. Even the Man seemed to relax a bit, and we saw our posse across the street. Turns out the chapels they went to were closed.

Basically, it didn't happen and we took pictures in a gazebo, me being the official wedding photographer.


We hopped in a cab and took the back route, where the Gentlemen's Clubs and Sex shops are two blocks long and bigger than Costco, back to our hotel.


We arrived ALIVE!

I just kept thinking if something ever happened to one or both of us, and someone didn't return home, our little monkees would be traumatized forever.

Another Hoover not the Dam

My Man is obsessive about the floors, what is with the men and floors?!

I think he just might divorce me and marry the steam cleaner, the MAN probably gets more satisfaction from it than me! OK maybe not.

My complaint, my complaint is that he does it at the most inconvenient moments. Like when we are going to be having people over, and well it takes so much longer to dry on a cold day, or we need to be going somewhere in an hour, but where's the Man.

There he is steam cleaning the damn carpets!

I swear I am just waiting for the corners to start peeling up, I mean have you heard of MOLD Monkey? Excessive amounts of water, not properly drying up, MOLD.

I just wish he would channel that energy into something like the bathroom, where the pee on the floor is DEFINITELY not from me!

Hey at least I am not emasculating like the script wife of Jack Nicholson in ABOUT SCHMIDT. There is no one here berating the Man to sit down to pee or even the boy for that matter.

Flying, Vegas, Food, Boobs and Mental Meltdowns

I do not travel, why bother, when the whole world seems to come to your city to visit?! ---Naomi Tanaka circa 1992(now Jesson)

I am like the most under travelled person amongst my friends, well until the MQC project came about. Now I like to believe I am more of a seasoned National flyer. I love flying, I love window seats-thanks Miss Z, I love looking at the landscapes, Rocky Mountain Range, the Prairies, it makes me feel like when I was a kid and went to the PNE and in that old building they had that topographical map with a moving bridge on it. Yes, I am that OLD.

Flying leaves me in awe and I am like a child discovering new things. I really, really, really like feeling childlike because it makes me think anything is possible. OK throw up now or do that vomit in your mouth thing, sentimental moment over NOW.

And now we are flying to Viva Las Vegas for a conference for the Man's business. The only other time we went somewhere together without children, then just one child, was in 2006, and it was this conference. We were on the plane, my first ever trip on a plane, and I burst out into tears! NOT because I was scared but because I realized that if we both died on the plane, or in Vegas, we didn't have a will or even life insurance, our baby, Jackson would be HOOPED.

3 years later we have a will and life insurance, aren't we so ADULT now. It just feels so morbid to talk about it, but it's the right thing to do. The will isn't official, just a simple will kit, but the hardest thing to do was appoint guardians. I can't even mention who we appointed, as it might turn ugly in the family, you wouldn't realize the feedback you get from people when you tell them who you want to look after your children, like its a popularity contest or something, as if ANYBODY would be any better than the actual PARENTS.

Hey if anyone is going to screw up these children it better be me or my Man.

Personally I would rather go somewhere HOT, but I'll go to Vegas, I'll go anywhere for FREE! Unfortunately Vegas was not the Vegas I had imagined, less Swingers more Broadway.



Last time we felt ripped off, we both had never gone, and we felt obligated to plan to do things together with the Man's work partners, and their wives. I really don't know them that well, and well we don't exactly hang out, on top of it, they are related to each other. Chris's one partner is the brother to the other partner's wife, confused yet?

Anyway, as the guys went to play golf minus my Man, not a golf enthusiast, we decided to go check out our hotel, New York New York, and the strip. The wives decided to lay around by the pool.

We checked out the roller coaster, it looked so unbelievable, but decided that we should ask the others if they want to go. Then we were offered cheap tickets to Cirque du Soleil show, we didn't know if the others would want to go, so we declined until we could talk to them. We thought it would be great to go up to the top of the Eiffel tower, but decided to wait and talk to the others. WE didn't end of doing any of these things and felt really disappointed about it.

We noticed the time, decided to head back as we were already late for our meeting time, and realized that even though it feels like the hotels are close together, it's really just the illusion that the LARGE and in CHARGE Vegas billboards and hotel signs create, DAMN you David Copperfield!



Once back we soon realized that we were skipping the boat tour of Lake Mead and Hoover Dam, as the boys did more drinking than golfing, and they were in dire need of some rest or at least a small hiatus from alcohol, but they were definitely not having any part of a boat ride.

So we decided to have dinner together. Yeah, I thought, perhaps we can get to know each other. Oh they got to know me alright.

I had just finished weening Jackson off the Boob, Breast for all you shy folks. And I don't care what anyone else says, you DON'T LOSE WEIGHT breastfeeding, unless you are a celebrity who has a trainer, a chef, and a surgeon who performs liposuction during your C-section. The hungriest time in my life is when I was breastfeeding the kids. I would be woken up in the middle of the night, by my stomach growling. My new staple was peanut butter on stoned wheat thins, and an apple, and glass of milk. There was no way that I would be downsizing the diet in Vegas, not the city known for their BUFFETS.


I mentally was still in breastfeed mode, I mean I still wore easy boob accessible clothing like this tank, check out that cleavage!
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We hadn't eaten since 9am, we skipped lunch, and didn't have anything to eat, because we were going on this boat for a fancy dinner at 3pm. Skipped the boat, meet up in the casino at 5:30pm, they show up at 6pm. Drink and gamble for an hour, decide to walk the strip. WE did not have a reservation anywhere, all the good restaurants were full, we continued to walk and drink, I started drinking Caesars for the celery. WE walked, they stopped to do shots, we walked through the hotels for the restaurants, all full, we stopped looked around more and drank more, we walked more, then we arrived at Caesar's Palace.

I walked into the Gap and started to cry, I was dying, DYING of hunger, I couldn't drink anymore, I just couldn't. Then I started to get all super emotional, missing the boy, and tears started welling up in my eyes. Then the others started to slowly notice, and walk away from me, as the Man approached and asked me what was wrong.

I had been saying I was hungry all along, I said I WAS HUNGRY, I totally blurted it out during the tears and self pity sobs.

Quickly they found a restaurant, The Cheesecake Factory, and we proceeded to wait another hour.

It was exactly 10pm, 13 HOURS since food passed these lips, minus the Caesar celery. I ordered way too much, as CF has huge portions, and ate only 1/2 of it. We may not have see the Hoover Dam, but there was some HOOVERing of my own going on.

Then I was normal, well reasonably, I will never ever be classified as NORMAL, I mean, really, its me and all.

Then the wives commented, so you were HUNGRY? I nodded realizing that they were quite scared of the Mental Meltdown Naomi, and stated, well I only had breakfast 13 hours ago.

One wife also commented, that's when we both ate last, thinking they must've had a HONKING breakfast to not be hungry.

What did you eat? I asked, Oh we both split a bagel.

Going Going Gone just wish it was the Snaggle Tooth

I am NOTORIOUS, notorious for losing things, my keys, my wallet, and now my passport. Yes, you heard that correctly, my very important item needed for travel to Vegas next Sunday. Last place I had it was boarding my flight to Fredericton from Montreal. I know, I know, you don't need a passport to travel within Canada but I hate having to remove my driver's licence from its nice secure viewing window in my wallet.

And then there is the issue of my purse, it's a hobo bag that is just one big, open, vast space, with one zippered pocket. I have already had issues with the magnetic sides, demagnetizing credit cards, bank cards, hotel room cards, and such. I had plans to go purse shopping in Vegas, maybe succumb to the fabulousness of Coach, ya right! I just can't see its popularity surviving, even though I have been lectured on the lasting quality and style. SERIOUSLY? You think that those C's all over are gonna stand the test of time in 10 years? I almost think its too late to buy one, because really, do I need a $300 something dollar bag, or would I like to send the kids to gymnastics?



Then there is my lost n' found history. I had a great relationship with my landlord, because I was always calling him up at 3am to let me into the building, I worked at the Blarneystone as head serving wench, hence the 3am. Either I would lose my keys or leave them at work. I once broke the key in the lock, and then a sign promptly stated that, Please do not open front door using the key, Pull the handle, Naomi this means you.

I once drove away from a grocery store, while leaving my wallet on the side of the truck's pickup bed. We drove back when we realized, but it wasn't there. Luckily, a good Samaritan found it and called us that night, luckily, this is when we were living in North Vancouver, not you lose it in Surrey, its forever gone in Surrey.

Passport Photos, the bane of my existence. It is required by Passport Canada that you cannot have a lot of things, two things that get me, and keep me coming back for more are:

•There must be no reflection or glare on the face or glasses.
Interpretation: wear lots of powder because I am shiny skinned sister.

•Applicant must show a neutral facial expression (no smiling, mouth closed) and look straight at the camera.
Interpretation: this is where my unfortunate problem comes into play.

I have this thing, I lovingly call it the Snaggle Tooth Syndrome. My teeth are not straight. We could blame it on my incessant thumb-sucking as a child, or my under bite, or extremely small palate, or the crappy orthodontist that put braces on me twice, and made me wear both types of headgear, and a mouthpiece that looked like I was ready to box in the ring. In pictures, my teeth look great from a distance, up close, not so good. I have this thing, where if you catch me in mid-smile, my lip seems to catch on my tooth, my Loving Snaggle Tooth!


Here are some pics of it in action.

I couldn't crop out Jackson, as he was so adorable in the tux.


The reason I need shots straight on, you can detect the bucktoothness of it slightly here. I am probably the only one who prays that their front teeth get knocked out surfing, so I could get me some of those darn veneers.

The rest are lovingly DELETED from existence.

A miracle happened this weekend. The new dentist we went to told me that I would be a perfect candidate for invisalign, I haven't been the perfect candidate for anything, so I was overjoyed!

I gave him my ortho-sob-story, stuff in my mouth since I was four, my Dad having to turn a key every night to expand the apparatus in my upper palate, numerous molds that breathing thru my nose and not gagging is my specialty (get you mind out of the gutter Kathy), braces twice, full head and neck gear, and a retainer/mould that could double as a mouth guard in boxing.

I seriously said, please don't lie to me, he assured me it would work in 12 months and that I would have to commit to wearing a retainer every night, forever.

As long as I FOREVER never had the Snaggle Tooth, I am so in.

The consult is next week, let's hope it's cheaper than a Toyota Yaris!

Drinking... like I was back in the day

I NEVER drink, well not never, more like occassionaly at bar-b-que's to dull the sound of children screaming at the top of their lungs, a two drink max.

I learned all too quickly at my man's Christmas party, free booze, that having a hangover is a definite guarantee that those kids are going to wake up early, your going to be sick, and they are going to have one of those uncooperative days, where they just scream, like when your driving and can't stop, or they just Don't Wanny like Easty would say, all day long.

I never get drunk, anymore, well, maybe sometimes.

Sometimes when you have the opportunity, no kids the next morning and you really don't have to drive, and well you go overboard.

I seem to like to go overboard when I have a 5 1/2 hour flight home.

I was in Fredericton, with the McMom's entourage and well, the Grey Goose and tonics were, buy one shot, get the second one free, and we were done for the week. No getting up early to travel 2 hours to a the potato capital of the Canada and give interviews to the camera guys, who I torture with my ineptitude in front of the camera. I am sure they just want to smack me upside the head for apologizing for the tremedous amount of retakes as I can barely get out, It's our first day, and we are in Fredericton and on our way to the McCain potato facility. I could however recite most of Paul Revere from the Beastie Boys with the help our cameraman, luckily the new guy did not record it so it won't be shown anywhere except in my memory.

***It was a great experience, and you guys can visit the site mcdonaldsmoms.ca or urbanmoms.ca soon to see our adventures, videos, journals, and blogposts soon to come.***

As all the responsible Moms went to bed, and our young entourage retired, I was numb enough to well, stay up even later. Honestly, I never adjust to the time difference and being that I am a nightowl and don't go to sleep until midnight, my time, going to bed at 3am, seemed reasonable all week.

Except I wasn't drinking doubles until tonight.

I found myself outside talking to some local, yokel, Fredericton boys who just turned 21. One was showing his buddy and anyone who wanted to see, his so-called girlfriend in her red lingerie and some topless shots.


Notice the uncomfortable body language, uncertain look on our cameraman Adam.

He showed me, BIG mistake.

I started off all like, wow is that your girlfriend, and he was well kindof just some chick I am seeing. Then I slowly lured him into my lair, of interest and questioning. Before you know it I was asking him if he had a sister, or a girl cousin, or a girl that was just a close friend. No to all. I asked him if she would mind if you showed her pictures, he said probably, then I got all in his face and LECTURED HIM, like a Baptist priest on Sunday.

He ran screaming from me, not really, just left saying he thought I hated him. I must say that his friend didn't completely look like he disagreed with me, as he proceeded to tell us his room number and that they had booze.

Seriously girls, think twice, its so easy to forward pics onto anyone, especially the internet. Don't do it, just don't do it girls.

I had one of those moments, where I felt real good, then I thought, Damn, he was totally a wanna be gangster, all listening to his Eminem, for all I now he could've totally GAK'D me!

***To murder someone execution style, specifically in the back of the head or neck by gun or dagger. Used in a sentence: Foo' went straight up mad dog... He started reachin' fo my Big Mac so I gak'd the boy right there. What? he thought I would'nt gak a mofo? I ain't nobody's McBitch.. So I said "Hold these foo' and took out ma chrome an' put some gak in dat dome" Sheet, Not like I had no choice 'bout it"...***




I could see the headline, On a recent trip McMom Surrey-Vancouver was found shot, suspect stated she lectured me so much that I had to Gak her, to get her to shutup.

Disclaimer: I told the guy, Chase, I would take a picture of his licence so I could warn all the other girls out there about him.


The night ended with a bike ride in the lobby, all I am saying is that it wasn't me.

TMZ would never hire me.

I am reminded I am going to Montreal Trudeau airport, as I am surrounded by French speaking people. I am bad, I try to eavesdrop, but my Gr.12 French did not include this accent, damn you accent you’re ruining my fun.

Why does Oui sound like Whey?

I love people watching, perhaps because usually I am the one being watched as I wrestle with two uncooperative children in public. I got all high school, and snickered at this lady who had these tights on, that probably first made a showing in the early 1980's. Bedazzled tights with some high boots, Smashing Sister.

Another thing I am tentative about is the Montreal Trudeau airport, gosh where do I go when I am there? Connecting flights scare me, as I have never done it, I always expect that Meet the Parents experience with the lost luggage combined with me being lost in the airport frantically searching for the gate that I can't read or find.

I was totally Stress Festing about Montreal when I got a smile...

A smile from this TALL handsome looking guy with a curly mop of dark hair carrying his blond son up and down the aisles to calm him. I don't know about you, but my favourite scene in the Hangover with Bradley Cooper, is when he is at the reception sitting down with the guys, and his son has fallen asleep on him. I seriously know I am old now, because that is so HAWT! To me there is nothing more hotter than a man taking care of his children. That means some Mom is probably hands free, or at least has only one child, and we all now that is something to be cherished at a function.


Is that not HOT? Is that not SEXY?

Then I realized that this sexy, stylish man looks extremely familiar.

OhMyGod, it's Justin Trudeau and his son, Xavier. I look around to see if anyone else is having this realization, but NO. Everybody is all into getting settled on the plane and doing their thing and being all polite Canadians and not making a big deal out of it, DON'T they REALIZE who this is?!?

Mission Impossible: So I keep planning, planning my attack of how to get a picture, and be all casual-like. This is like Canadian Royalty, I am totally stalking him, his wife, his daughter Ella-Grace, and the two nannies that they have with them. They had two seats in 1st class and a row in good old economy. They keep going back and forth, down the aisles, then right next to me, but every time I want to raise my phone, I get that uncomfortable feeling, and lower my phone. I kept thinking of scenarios, like my Mom would love a picture of you, or my Mom loves you and would kill me if I didn't get a picture of you, but really I just wanted a photo for myself.

I gave up, in the 4 1/2 hour flight, I had about a million opportunities, but I chickened out. I rationalized that when someone famous has their children with them, they may not want to have their picture taken, an infringement on their privacy. Hey, it's not like they are Brad and Angelina or anything, right?!

Then as I departed off the plane, and recognized the Trudeau nannies setting up the stroller, I thought maybe I could get a photo of them walking in the airport, sort of in the background of one of my pics, totally DISCREET right?!

Nah, forget it. I started getting my Montreal connecting stress happening and started looking for my gate.

Then he, yes, Justin was pushing the stroller and walking RIGHT behind me. This is it! This is it! I can just stop and then quickly get a photo of him, or even ask him for one.

I stopped. He walked right by pushing his stroller, stating he was going to the elevator, and then he was gone. If I only had the kids, I would be taking that elevator too.

C'est la vie!

Sadly they were both as good-looking and happy as this picture shows. If I had more guts I would've had my own pic to share with you. This is just one I found off the net.

C'est la vie!





I guess TMZ would never hire me.

I see Skyscrapers.

I am sitting in the YVR, in the new-to-me lounge overlooking the gates, waiting, and waiting, not for my plane, for the damn WIFI to work. Yes, I AGREE, just connect me, damn you YVR.



This morning I went through the McD’s drive thru to get my breakfast fix. Contrary to what most think, I do not eat McDonald's ALL DAY, ALL THE TIME while on my McMoms trips. Yes, I went all haughty totty and went through drive thru in the Town Car with my driver Sid, but really, I just wanted my breakfast burritos and to show my McDonald's Grandma Mabel my ride, unfortunately she was off today.

I found this app for my iPhone for Air Canada. That actually lets me check in with my phone, I still went to the Kiosk, which is a fairly new thing that I now feel confident in calling regular, but I was tentative about the iPhone check in and boarding pass bit.



I DID IT! In Jesson childlike terminology, turns out even for a Technical Tentative like myself to check in via email and iPhone was VIRTUALLY painless! Woo Hoo! Funny at work they call me the more internet savvy person, really I am not so confidant, shhh don’t tell them.

I was relieved today that my bag was only 19.1 kilos because 3 people in front of me were overweight. Cripees, what would I do? I again over packed but seriously what would I do if I was over! I let out a little HOORAY when I was under, it under appreciated. C’mon people I am the funniest person I know! SMILE or just even smirk a little. I was having an allergic sneezing fit, only after I checked in my bag that contained my antihistamines, so I dashed to the restroom to grab some paper for the nose, and found this.



OKAY, so someone else has phobia about public restrooms but this was an eco-friends paper disaster, it was like a skyscraper of toliet paper! And really, don’t you want to clean up your mess for someone else, or did you think it may perhaps clog the toilet.

Seriously!

Seriously?

I'm ALIVE!

One of the worst things about being sick when your single is that you have no one to take care of you, well except maybe your good friends, or your Mom might come by, if you are seeing someone, you just can't call up the guy because even if he was the empathetic kind, there was no way you wanted him seeing you all makeup-less, feverish, vomiting, smelling like, well poop.

I mean you want to keep the mystery ALIVE!



I would actually save my BUSINESS, you know the BIG JOB business, for work or run out to the nearest public washroom because there was no way that I wanted my man to know that my POOP STINKS like everybody else's! And trust me, I detest public washrooms, hence I never lived with any guy until the Man.



Flash forward to 13 years later, where my man has seen a baby head crowning and the Doctor tearing back the Vag to bring his 1st born into the world, and where the second child came Sunroof (C-section) and had already researched that he DID NOT want to look behind the curtain, but was still traumatized by the violent tugging, pulling, and blood he did witness.

I think back to the Nurse in the Triage of Maternity telling me,
No need to be SHY or MODEST here anymore!

I never thought that this would now apply to the rest of my life.

Now I am begging for him to see my in the terrible state of sickness to get my meager dose of sympathy, but for some reason it just doesn't hold as much merit as it did in the early years. I mean I was basically sitting on the toilet and vomiting in our jacuzzi tub, better use more than Tang* to clean that, quite the dance act as the movement of your body being being contorted & forced into opposite directions would put any SYTYCDC contestant to shame.

Where is he when I need him, at least to fend off the kids as they curiously, and questioningly asked me, Mom what's wrong? Mom I'm hungry! Mom! Mom! Mommy Mommy are you, are you sick? I tell you, I'm raising geniuses here.

Oh he was there, he came back the night before, he was just fixing the DVR. Priorities! Priorities I tell ya! I am just not sure of the man's order of priorities. To his defence he did run out and get me meds, after he fixed the DVR. Immodium, Gravol, and Advil, oh my! With a side car of Gingerale & some Gatorade for good measure.


Drugs! There's nothing like em. Everything was just fine, until 4 in the morning.

Mommy Mom MOMMMMMY I wet my myself! I woke up from my drug-induced stupor to a sobbing 4 yr. old boy. I stumbled to the bathroom with him and turned on the light.

OH he wet himself alright, he also proceeded to poop himself silly. As I was gagging along with the hubby, I thought, wow thank you universe! He hadn't crawled into our bed and then pooped himself there. The Man took him into the shower and I went to survey the runny poop damage in his room. Everywhere from the bed railings to the pillow and most definitely the covers. I was delirious, but I stripped everything and totally weak, lacking any energy I dutifully tried my best to clean it up. After a shower, a quick change for everyone, as poop seemed to appear on us everywhere, I stumbled back into bed.

I thought about that cigarette ad- You've come a long way Baby!

Just like these ads, I look back and think how silly I was back in the day.


Notice in my ineptitude, I had to film with my camera instead of download it, it just wouldn't work.

*Tang is supposed to work wonders on your jacuzzi tub jets, still have yet to try it, although the baseball caps on the top shelf of the dishwasher works wonders*

Fashion-Easty!

Who is this little Fashionista?

I remember NEVER wanting to wear pink, as I wanted to be a boy, like my Big Brother, and play hockey. I remember that we didn't have a girl's hockey league, so my Mom and Dad had mentioned ringette. My brother stated that ringette wasn't REAL hockey, so of course I wouldn't dare sign up. I lasted halfway through one ballet class, where I proceeded to cry and leave in the middle of it.

As a teenager I played basketball with fierceness, known for my elbows when battling for the ball. I liked Depeche Mode, and hung out at Shakers, Luvafair, and the Odyssey downtown. I was a cross between Mod and Punk. I liked to wear black so much that it looked like I was a permanent member of a funeral procession, I even had the black preacher hat. I had a running account with I.C.E. Mist by Joico and would turn to Aqua Net hairspray in a pinch, it worked well with my krimping iron. I would NEVER wear pink.

My little girl likes all things girly, dresses, the colour pink, and shiny shoes, she's only 2. She will have a Sissy Hissy if you don't dress her in what she prefers. Easty says cheese whenever a camera is around, and her favourite possession is her pink 'Baby' blanket, with accompanying doll of the day.

And recently she enjoyed pretend make-uping, which Grandma got her started on.


I admit to letting my hair designer cut her locks. She enjoyed every minute of it, check out that smile.


When we heard the Doctor announce, It's a Girl! I was surprised, testosterone runs rampant in both our families. My Dad was the second of eight boys, and my Man is the oldest of his three brothers.



I may have been surprised that she was a girl but I am thrilled and love my little girly girl. Maybe Easton might want to play hockey, if she does I bet she will opt for the pink Easton hockey skates instead of the black.