Why bother?

I have known for a very long time that my kids are great at keeping themselves entertained, and hell, it isn't like they don't have enough toys to keep them busy.



So why am I so surprised to find this?

Elephant poo and an escape at the zoo.

Yes, I am really going to post the elephant poo picture that I took at the zoo last week. But first, here is the escape at the zoo....



And the look on his face realizing it was all hanging out...






















And now for the elephant...


Ready, Aim....



FIRE!

All that goes in....must come out.

On our recent trip to Seattle, Ethan had a first. It was a first that I had NOTHING to do with - I figured that I would let Ken bask in the wonder and excitement of a "first" all on his own.

We were eating at a buffet when Ethan announced, quite loudly, that he had to poo. Both Ken and I looked at each other, and I told him that this was all his as he is an expert (compared to me anyways) in the poo department. Ken got this look of "how the hell am I going to do this", and I told him that at least our son picked a great time to do the public dump, as we both were here and he didn't have to drag in Nicholas with us and contend with his facination of the toilet and throwing all things into the big white abyss.

Ethan has a ritual when he takes a shit. He has to be completely naked (including socks, shoes and shirt) and he has to be left totally alone. So Ken gets him into the toilet stall, puts down a sheet of that wonderous toilet seat tissue paper (which Ethan had never seen before and was just fascinated with it) and proceeds to strip Ethan down until he is completely nude. Ethan then hops up on the seat and tells his daddy to kindly "go away". Ken steps outside the stall and the grunting and groaning begins. Ethan then discovers the cracks in the stall door, and decides to play (very loudly) "peek-a-boo" with his dad. By this point, Ken is trying to entertain our son, hold the stall door closed, and make sure that none of the clothes that he had bunched up under his arm fell onto the floor. No wonder he looked exhaused when he came back to the table. Ethan - well he was triumphant. As he told the waiter "I do a big poo in your toilet - but not as big as the elephant".

Elephant poo photos to follow tomorrow.

The good 'ol U.S of A

We decided last week to take a holiday. I guess it wasn't so much a holiday as it was "a trip with two small kids who do not operate well out of their element" three day treck to Seattle. It was a good trip, but I came back more sleep deprived than I have been in a long time. Going to work this morning was a bit of a break, especially since both boys are quite croupy and miserable (sorry mom!).

We spent a couple of nights in a pretty nice hotel (pretty nice meaning they have cable and a fully cooked breakfast is included in the price). Poor Ethan just doesn't understand that when you turn on the tv at 3:22 pm and Dora is almost over that you just can't start it at the beginning again like you would a DVD. Oh the meltdowns. Nicholas as per usual didn't sleep well, but this time he woke up all our neighbours in addition to Ken and I. Yes, the hotel will be welcoming this crew back with open arms. NOT.

I enjoy going to the US, and every time, there are things that stick out that are different than up here. One that sticks out in my mind is [aper toilet seat covers. They are EVERYWHERE. I love it. It is amazing to me that we just don't have them up here. I guess that is why I don't crap outside my home.

The rest areas on the I-5 are awesome. Fully functional, clean toilets and free coffee. What more can a girl ask for? Up here we are lucky if you get an outhouse that gets serviced maybe once a week. Toilet paper? Yeah right.

One big hassle is that you can't buy banana bread at Starbucks. This is a big thing in this house. Mamma needs her coffee fix, so the boys always get a fresh slice of banana bread at Starbucks. I just about had to peel Nicholas off the young barista's face when she said they don't have banana bread. I thought the world was going to spin out of control. NOT FUN. I am sure that my boys were a great form of birth control for the young happy couples sharing their low fat, decaf, extra whip mochas that day.

I find that the people in the US are very friendly. We had all kinds of people go out of their way to talk to us or give us directions to where we needed to go. Everyone says "uh huh" when you say "thank you". I don't know if this is only on the west coast of the US, but "your welcome" is almost never said. It is kinda cute.

The Chinese in me.

Stuff I learned being married to an Asian guy...

1. Chinese food eaten at the "Kung Fu Buffet" is not real Chinese food. I had no idea what the real deal was until I had some of my mother-in-law's cooking. I have become such a Chinese food snob it is unreal. If a Chinese restaruant is full of white people, I steer clear. In fact, there have been many a time I have eaten out where I was the only Caucasian in the whole place. And, according to my mother-in-law, I use chopsticks better than most Chinese.

2. There are Chinese telemarketers too, and they are just as annoying as all the other telemarkers out there. Nice thing is that I don't feel the least bit rude when I hang up on them after I tell them I don't speak a word of Chinese.

3. Asian babies are born with blue asses. I kid you not. I had no idea. Both my boys have a faint blue marking on their butts that apparently fades with time (Ken's ass is not blue at all - but it sure is cute :)). After Ethan was born that is one of the first things I looked at - his cute blue ass.

4. Chinese bakeries are amazing. The pasteries are fantastic, the cakes even better.

5. Two words. RED ENVELOPE. That is what you get on special occasions and many other times throughout the year. Inside - MONEY. Gotta love it.

Preschool

Last Tuesday was Ethan's first day of preschool. He is in a parent participation preschool, so that means that while he is busy "learning through play", I am busy attending meetings, doing assigned jobs and fundraising my ass off. Who knew that preschool was so demanding?

One of our parent meetings we had last week had a guest speaker. She talked to us old folks about sex and what we should be teaching our sweet innocent three year olds. Actually, she was fantastic and laid everything out in an "age appropriate" manner. She outlined what kids should know at what ages, and I judging by that, I barely pass the five to six year old category. Who know that talking to your kid about his penis and testicles and other associated parts in a matter of fact way could be such a cheap form of entertainment? The way she did the talk was quite clever - she did it in such a way as to not make us look like complete dumbasses when it comes to sex and all things related, and yet remind us of all the stuff we should already know and pehaps don't.

I can't belive that my son is old enough to be asking about sex stuff (and he does) and I am the one that is having to come up with the answers while not laughing my ass off. Just the thought of my mother talking to me about all things sex makes me want to curl up in a corner and cover my eyes and ears (and I am sure my brothers feel the same way!). Besides, how much could she really know when she has only done it three times?

Wanna buy a house?

Friends of ours just bought a house. The kind of house that makes the little green monster in me come out. Poor Ken. Every time I hear of another house purchase by someone that isn't us I don't shut up for days. I go all mental on the real estate listings in our area hoping to find the perfect house at the perfect price (CHEAP).

Since it was our anniversary last week, my mom kindly offered to watch the little angels (yes they are total sweet adroable sprogs when I am trying to pawn them off on someone else) so we could go out and dress up in big people clothes and not worry about flying food with a shitty trajectory thrown from grubby little hands. After our nice dinner out, we had some time to kill before the movie, so Ken indulged me and we went for a drive to an area not too far from us where there are lots of new, lovely big homes built with young families in mind. Young RICH families because I know of NO young families that can afford a house that is almost $700,000. Most of these new homes were built so close together that you could read your neighbours paper in the morning over their shoulder from your kitchen while they were taking a shit next door. The only bonus of these grossly overpriced but oh-so-nice big homes was that you could mow the lawn with a pair of scissors.

blue chickens and other assorted wildlife.

We don't live too far from the big city, and yet we are surrounded by wildlife. The park near us is currently home to four bears (I haven't seen them), cyotes, racoons and more.

So this is what appeared in our backyard today when we threw some peanuts out for the local critters. Free entertainment as far as I was concerned.



Here are what Ethan calls "blue chickens". I have no idea why. I took a birdwatching course in university (nerd nerd nerd), so he sure as hell didn't get it from me. Maybe is business minded father....







Here is a squirrel...the boys love these critters.





Check out the talons on this fella....














And finally, this guy was content to watch from the sidelines.

Say Cheese!

A few days ago I had to do something I have been dreading for ages. I have to get my passport updated, and I figured while I was at it I would update Ethan's too and get one for Nicholas. Getting my passport photo done is kinda like buying a bathing suit - something I have to do, and no matter how hard I try or how long it takes, I still look like a sack of shit when it is all said and done. I knew full well what I was getting into, but what a pain in the ass. I looked like a big beefy linebacker with a really bad lid in my photo, but that was nothing compared to the ordeal we had taking the boys pictures.

The boys have to get two passports - one for Canada and one for New Zealand. As luck would have it, the rules are different for both countries, from picture sizes to who can sign off saying they know I am not a whack job and that I am in fact the mother of these two angels. The paperwork I can handle. Hell I work for the government - unfortunately that does not get me any extra favours and I still have to jump through every damned hoop they put out there for the regular folk.

The thing that gets me is all the requirements for passport photos. Many places won't do picutres of kids under three because it is such a hassle (so those places that will take the picutres charge a small fortune for the privlige). The kids can't smile in the pictures (yeah, shove a camera in either of my kids faces and see what happens - an "expressionless look" is NOT what you will get). They also have to keep their mouth closed. I actually had to hold Nicholas' mouth shut and then move my hand as the photo was taken. Of course it didn't help that we were in a photo studio with lots of wires, bright buttons and lights that little hands just couldn't avoid. I sure as hell hope that these pictures don't get rejected. Thank goodness I only have to do this once every five years. If only bathing suit shopping were that infrequent!

Is that IT???

I have said in many previous posts that my second born is a very picky eater. He knows what he likes and he will eat alot of that, but when it comes to trying new things he is absoultely hopeless (unless of course it can be found outside in a dirt pile - stuff like that gets popped into the mouth on a daily basis). I am lucky that he does like most fruits and some vegetables, and doesn't mind multigrain bread (with butter, heaven help you if you put margarine on there!).

This morning I cooked myself some eggs, and I let Nicholas sit on my lap while I was eating. Normally I don't do that, but I was chatting on the phone and I know all hell would have broken loose if I didn't let Nicholas climb up on my lap, and frankly, I didn't want to fight that battle this morning. So I did what all the parenting books tell you NOT to do, and I gave in. No sooner was he on my lap that he grabbed my fork, and before I could grab it back (because I assumed that he was going to show me where my eyes were with the sharp, pointy ends) he expertly picked up some eggs and PUT THEM IN HIS MOUTH. Nicholas hates eggs. Or so I thought. Apparently they have a whole different taste if they come off the end of a fork. So tonight we fed our little "I only eat fruits and veggies and if you put near me I will kill you" child a whole bunch of ham - and holy shit he ate it all. With a fork. NONE of it landing on the floor. Give the kid utensils and a whole new world opens up. Holy crap - I can't belive it was just that easy.

Aftermath

To be honest, I just don't feel much like posting the goings on here when I am so sick inside thinking about our neighbours to the south. I have been a part of some great discussions online and reading the odd blog from people who are close to the goings on (but obviously not in dire enough need for water, food and shelter). If you want to help out in any way, click here.

It's all about the hair baby.

Conversation last night between Ken and Ethan:


"Daddy has no hair"

"Yes Ethan, daddy has no hair"

"Where did it go?"

"It all fell out after I married your mother"

"We go buy some for you!" (Oh if it could only be that easy!)

"Gee Ethan, where can we go buy daddy some hair?"

Ethan, deep in thought.....

"hmmmmm....we go to Costco!!!"

Any on a somewhat related note, Nicky's mullet is gone. Amazing how one snip with the scrapbooking scissors (which I dug out of the depths of my storage for a class tonight) can make my baby look so growed up. Sigh.