foof and bean

GIVE IT! (Bean insisting on taking back the stick he’d...

Fri, 04 Jun 2010 08:36:51 +1000

GIVE IT! (Bean insisting on taking back the stick he’d just thrown to the dog. Dog = not impressed)

Mmmmmm

Wed, 26 May 2010 03:14:06 +1000

Made a couple of these over the long weekend. Blended mangoes, watermelon, pears, bananas, raspberries (making it a little less green, a little more brown), blueberries, and, um, spinach. Lots and lots of spinach.

Gave some to the Bean, trying to pass it off as a milkshake in a sippy cup. He drank a little and then replied “I don’t fink so” and promptly handed me the cup.

covet

Wed, 19 May 2010 23:06:41 +1000

http://www.iheartyoublog.com/ is having a giveaway. Go. Enter. Buy this dress. And then give it to me! Perfect for summer.

Q Smokehouse & Southern Barbecue

Tue, 18 May 2010 03:52:42 +1000

Not bad. Need to go a second time to render a proper verdict. The place is new, and working out some kinks, but the bbq chicken was rockin’ and the ribs were amazing. $2.50 for 1/2 cob of corn is insane, but overall the menu was decently cheap.

Next bbq stop in Hali will be Boneheads, just so we can compare. Also managed to snag a bottle of Sticky Fingers Carolina Classic barbecue sauce while in the city, so Adam will no doubt be slathering that over all future meals, be they bbq or not.

You guys...

Fri, 14 May 2010 22:55:33 +1000

I CAN TOTALLY DO THIS NOW.

Guilty pleasure combo

Fri, 14 May 2010 22:42:00 +1000

Is it a “guilty” pleasure if I don’t feel guilty about it?

We’re heading to “the city” this weekend, and while I’m excited to visit some friends I haven’t seen in months, and to get in some decent shopping, I’m secretly thrilled at the idea of spending an hour or so in a Starbucks delving into my latest Amazon purchase. We don’t often buy new books in our household since we can get ‘em on the cheap from Frenchys, and there’s no Starbucks closer than 300 km away, so my birthday gift (to me, love from myself) is a perfect accompaniment to the tall mocha with extra whip that I intend to enjoy sometime on Saturday afternoon.

Got milk? No. No, I don't.

Thu, 13 May 2010 23:04:00 +1000

We were in the valley over the weekend, and with everyone else at hockey (3 on 3 tournament run by A’s family), it fell to me to take the Bean over to the great-grandparents. He was fine, and I was doing marvelously, impressing A’s g-parents with my wit and charm and general awesomeness, when Bean raced over to me, pulled my cardigan open (only exposing my t-shirt, thankfully), and yelled “ya got MILK!” Because when you are two, and your mother is breastfeeding her new baby and she doesn’t properly explain that she has breasts, and the milk is just what comes out of them, you get all confused and think every woman has MILK. (In capital letters because it is always said loudly and with great emphasis.)

Adam’s grandmother nearly passed out from laughing.

Thankfully we had to leave to get lunch ready before he could further regale them with his knowledge of the female body, and tell them all about “baginas”.

The Bean...

Thu, 13 May 2010 22:55:00 +1000

is having trouble with pronouns. He isn’t aware of the word “my”, or really even “me”, although he uses “I” quite a bit. A lot of requests come in the form of him addressing me, requesting something for himself, but still suggesting I do it for him. “Jilly pick you up?” with arms raised, meaning he wants me to carry him to the car, or “that your truck?” meaning, “I’m pretty sure that shit belongs to me, lady”.

He is, however, getting better at informing Adam and I (and the world at large) of when he has JUST taken advantage of the fact that he’s wearing a diaper. Ahem. The potty training is not going quite as planned, since we find out not prior to, but just following the big event. Last week he was very still for a minute and then walked over to where I was reading on the couch, and informed me, in a quiet voice, “I pooped in your pants”.

Awesome.

holleewoodworld: Definitely not in Kansas anymore, bitches! But...

Thu, 13 May 2010 21:52:08 +1000

holleewoodworld:

Definitely not in Kansas anymore, bitches!

But I am DYING to know what kind of badass ruby stiletto situation she’s got going on south of her ankles.

Game seven v. Montreal tonight @ 8 (Atlantic).

Thu, 13 May 2010 03:58:16 +1000

Game seven v. Montreal tonight @ 8 (Atlantic).

Quite contrary

Tue, 11 May 2010 23:52:00 +1000

Coleridge was all about building an altar in the fields. Mary Lennox wanted a bit of earth and wound up with an entire garden. Me, I just want to put in the rest of the day lilies that dad brought back from the Island. If this evening is decent we’ll bundle up Bean and head outside for a little landscape action.

Pantelones

Tue, 11 May 2010 23:10:00 +1000

I went a little nutso last week and bought four pairs of pants.

JCrew flannel-lined chinos, perfectly paired with a worn in plaid shirt, for cool nights this summer when we’re sitting around the campfire with Bean.
Gap chinos, a nice complement to the several Breton stripe sweaters I seem to have acquired from Joe Fresh all winter.
New York & Co Black trousers, probably good for dressy work days but more fun with a beat up t-shirt and a wrist cuff. And some towering heels.
And a pair of soft charcoal Gap drawstring pants, looser than the ones pictured, so comfortable that I wore them most of the weekend.

Four pairs of pants.

$20.

Total.

Me + Frenchys = TL4EVA

moms before bros

Tue, 11 May 2010 00:12:40 +1000

I’m thirty-two. I’m a grown up. A woman capable of making her own decisions, living with her own choices, taking care of herself and managing just fine on her own. To quote my three year old niece, “I be a big girl”.

Until I get sick.

Show me four hours of vomiting and dizziness and the inability to move, and I’ll show you somebody who wants their mother.

It doesn’t matter that the woman knows how to get a reaction out of me in under four seconds. It doesn’t matter that we have different religious views. It doesn’t matter that we disagree on the fundamentals of life, such as the correct volume at which Metallica should be played. When the chips are down, and my world shrinks to the size of a porcelain bowl, I need my mom. I will call my parents, and bypass my father, whom I adore and am extremely close to, because it’s just not the same.

“Hello?”

“Need mom.”

“Hi, Jilly! Yeah, hang on, she’s right here. How are you? Did you contract that gross flu thing that’s going ar-”

“Moooooooooooooooom!”

“…’k. Just a sec.”

I actually need her a great deal more than that. She gives me advice on how to deal with two year olds. And people way older who act like two year olds. She listens patiently when I call, needing her to look up that biscuit recipe that we made with my brother that time that we came back from the beach that day on the island. And when I call back later to complain that it didn’t turn out at ALL how it was supposed to, and now Adam and the Bean are playing ground hockey with the biscuits.

She is, as any parent should be, one of my greatest critics, and one of my biggest supporters. Considering how I turned into Damien during my teen years, she loves me an awful lot. And she loves Adam. And the Bean. And although she’s not a huge fan of canines, she lies right to Jinx’s face and tells him he’s a nice doggie. (Adam and I don’t want him to get the wrong idea, though, so we chime in immediately and tell him to smarten up or he’s going in the garbage.)

She is one of the smartest, kindest, most generous people I’ve ever known. I’ve always read that little girls grow up to find mates who remind them of their fathers. This is definitely true for me – Adam’s a die-hard sports fan, articulate, well-read, intelligent and hilarious. But he’s also soft-hearted, sentimental (oh c’mon, A, you cried like a little girl when Sid scored that goal), strong-willed and fiercely loyal. Hi ma!

Thirty-two years ago, around the same time my parents decided that it would be selfish to have their own second child when there were unwanted children in the world, my birth mother made the decision to carry me to term and put me up for adoption. Win-win!

Good call, mothers. Happy mother’s day, ma.

In the bag

Wed, 05 May 2010 00:42:08 +1000

In London, my every day bag usually contained all of the following: magazines for reading on the tube or in line somewhere, paperback for the same purposes, lip gloss, small tube of suncreen, flipflops for when the four inch heels got tiresome, tube map, black scarf for a/c or cool afternoons, sunglasses for the occasional sunny burst, phone, iPod with massive headphones to discourage chatty strangers, change purse for subway tokens, pass, or change, and some other cash. On Sundays, it also held a massive copy of the Times.

The bag held a lot of the similar stuff when I moved to the East Coast, but now that I live in a more rural setting, and spend a lot of time in rinks or on playgrounds, I need an entirely different set of contents. Books for the Bean, and one for me; phone so I can text Adam if we’re running late or if the car goes into a ditch (What? It gets very snowy here); travel mug for my coffee and B’s sippy cup for juice/water combo; a variety of dried fruit; a bunch of Tonkas or monster trucks; mittens and Uggs for chilly rinks; a change purse to hold my “rink fries” money; Lady Gaga CD for car dance parties with Bean; baseball cap to cover crazy wind-swept hair that occured during the five feet between house and car. All that AND I’ve always got Bean’s backpack (i.e. diaper bag) in the car that holds a blanket, more books, change of clothes, diapers and more snacks.

I’m prepared. I’m a fricken boy scout.

Birthday reading

Tue, 04 May 2010 23:43:00 +1000

One cannot think well, love well, sleep well, if one has not dined well. — Virginia Woolf.

I can’t wait to try the scallops poached in butter.

The good old hockey game

Sat, 01 May 2010 02:47:00 +1000

We’re off to the valley this afternoon for our second weekend of the bi-annual 3-on-3 tournament that A’s folks run. This means lots of rink time for everybody, and nobody is more excited about this than Bean, who is simultaneously in love with and terrified of the zamboni.

The big boys don’t play in dino-print footsy pjs, but try telling that to this kid.

American Eagle jean jacket - $5.75. je m’appelle...

Fri, 30 Apr 2010 22:51:00 +1000

American Eagle jean jacket - $5.75.

je m’appelle “sweet friggin’ deals”.

Snack time. Bean had raisins. Foof had what seems to be the...

Thu, 29 Apr 2010 23:59:00 +1000

Snack time. Bean had raisins. Foof had what seems to be the skull of a small animal.

tick tock

Thu, 29 Apr 2010 23:45:00 +1000

(This post has nothing to do with Ke$ha.)

(…I don’t even know who Ke$ha is.)

(I definitely don’t have her songs on my favourite iPod playlist. Nope.)

So I go to run a bath last night and notice a little black spot hanging out in the back of the tub. Casually, I back away and return to the kitchen to retrieve my trusty bug killer. i.e. Adam.

“Baby, there’s a spider in the tub.”

Big sigh. Big show of pausing iTunes, directing a very pointed look at me that clearly says “Why must I always deal with these things?” (which is probably because he is as nervous about spiders as I am) and I follow him back into the bathroom, but not too close, just in case he thinks it would be funny to try to put said spider anywhere near me.

“Oh.” Stands up, hands on hips, glances at me and then grabs five handfuls of tissue. “That’s uh, that’s not a spider.” Holding what looks supsiciously like a spider out to me on the bed of tissue, he watches my face for signs of revulsion or perhaps an indication that I might run away and leave him forever. “That’s a tick.”

And then he spends twenty minutes coaxing me out of the car.

Welcome to the country. Land of bugs that will just fly off random bushes as you pass, hoping to adhere themselves to your clothing long enough to smuggle themselves into your house where they will lurk in your bathtub until an unsuspecting person comes along and they can feast on their blood.

Or, y’know, it just wanted a little soak. Either way, I am thoroughly grossed out and have told Adam in no uncertain terms that we are never going outside again ever ever ever as long as we live. Ever.

Ever.

Ew.

Ahhhh. So much better.

Sat, 24 Apr 2010 04:40:00 +1000

before

during

after

Ahhhh. So much better.