American Idol 2010 ~ Top 24

Disclaimer: I am not American Idol’s target audience; I can’t recall any of the AI winners (except Kelly Clarkson and maybe not-Adam Lambert, I don’t listen to any graduates of the American Idol competition (okay, maybe some Kelly Clarkson but only post-hissy), and I wouldn’t call in to vote even if I could. So I’m not sure why I feel compelled to offer my commentary on this week’s AI, but I do, and I did, so here it is.

So, what did you think of American Idol’s Top 24? In this corner, the boys: I’m partial to Tyler Grady, maybe not the best vocals but I just love his energy and his wicked awesome moves. I knew he was going to be Top 24 when I saw his audition. And while I agree with the old adage, that neck tattoos are indicative of a person’s ability to make rational decisions, I just love Andrew Garcia’s vibe too.

I’m really conflicted about “Big Mike”. On the one hand, he’s about the only person I would allow to sing “I’m Yours” whose name is not Jason Mraz. But my inner momma bear calls bullshit on not being present at your first child’s birth. Even as I try to reason with said inner voice, momma bear is ready to take him down. Also, I naturally distrust people with muscles bigger than my head. I'm not even going to talk about the douchey hat.

Dear Todrick: Please take out those creepy-ass contact lenses and leave them in the 2000s (and that’s a grace period, because they really went out in the 90s). There’s something wanky about him, too. No likey. But thank you for *not* singing “Man in the Mirror”. Love, me.

Casey James = a messy Ace Young. (also, apparently a porn star. Google Image search it yourself.) Long blonde hair isn’t usually my thing, but come on: he’s yummy. But please don’t sing Bubbly. Ever again. Actually, I’m going to recommend that for everyone, everywhere in the world. Stop singing it. Seriously!

Since the rest of the boys are a blur of Efron hair and gangly arms to me, I’m going to predict that one of them will capture tweenaged America’s hearts and win the entire thing.

Over here, we’ve got the girls: So, I really want to make this a world where we don’t talk about people’s appearances…but how can we not talk about Crystal Bowersox’s teeth. Girl, please slap on some Whitestrips and ease up on the coffee, cigs, or whatever’s causing that mess…cause it’s really distracting. But please don’t get a shiny makeover, because I dig the laid-back thing.

Can we talk about the Tori vs. Hailey thing? I loved the bit they showed where Tori was giving that tired piece of shit Katy Perry song the ska treatment. And I’m pretty sure that way back when Ellen said “she could get annoying”, she was definitely talking about Hailey, because as adorable as she may be, she did. Real quick.

Granted, I missed the last hour of the Tuesday show, but there were two chicks that I had NEVER seen before Wednesday’s show. I suppose they did not have a story that was exciting enough to share, but they even showcased Lilly’s sandwich artist career. How boring do you have to be to not get even 60 seconds of camera time, when they re-hash the same shizz over and over again and even feature Mary Powers for like, an entire episode. (“You’re punk rock!” ~ Avril “No. She’s not.”~ Punk Rock)

And we’re back to the all-boy/all-girl format. Looking forward to the cringe-worthy all-boy numbers. Let the cheese roll!

Gratitude

Been meaning to be more aware of the wonderful things in life for a long time now. Committing to capturing it on a regular basis, I'm hoping, will lead me to seek out the good things in every moment.

I haven't been quite feeling myself lately, and it has caught up with me a little. I have many things to be thankful for today, most especially a better outlook after a long talk with a good friend.

But an honourable mention definitely goes to the fact that my white t-shirt came completely clean after the coffee mishap. I actually whooped with joy when I pulled it out of the washing machine! Holla, generic oxygen cleaner!

Facebook....DRAAMAAAAAAH!

True this article from CNN.com on the most annoying facebookers.

I have a FB friend (a "lurker"?) who "has no time for Facebook", yet is consistently up-to-date on my life via FB updates. I was somewhat creeped out at first, but seeing as that I *am* a daily FB user and truthfully, use it to organize my life (especially over the past few months as events, contacts and emails sync up through my BB which syncs up my Google calendar, yippee), I put it all out there. So I can't complain when someone sympathizes that I still don't have a fridge. It just surprises me. And somewhat irritates me. I thought they had no time for FB? But my life *is* innately fascinating, so I can't hate on their fixation with my status updates.

Deeper into the TMI...no group is more TMI than new moms. While of course you'd share a child's fever, worrisome illness symptoms, or potty successes (no details, please!), I don't really need to know about the contents of poop or the colour and composition of nasal discharge. I try to show the kids the respect of not mentioning their blueberry bums or constant crotch grabbing. (whoops.) Stuff on the internet can be permanent. And so many of my FB friends are guilty of this: naked baby/toddler/child pics! That shit is adorable, but there are creeps, oh so many creeps...

I also have a friend (maybe not much longer though?) who posts a monthly ("is not pregnant :(" ) post, along with lots of comments on my own child-related posts & pictures that just make me feel guilty ("I would trade sleep for a baby ANYTIME!") I'm all for wearing your heart on your sleeve but ... sigh.

I've also hid a few of the peeps whose status updates are a little over-the-top happy. Usually accompanied by excessive exclamation points. Maybe I'm just a cynic but when I read some of them, it makes me think: who are you trying to convince? ("had a great day with my hubby!!!! he is the best and such a wonderful life partner!!!! i am truly the luckiest person on the planet!!!!!") I'm all for shout-outs of love and respect and appreciating what we have, but some of you belong over at STFU, Marrieds.

On the other hand, those who are passive aggressively hashing it out via status update need some counselling. ("is cleaning up AGAIN while HE sits on the couch watching FOOTBALL.") Okay, that may have been an imaginary status update from my head. But if I add an "LOL!" or a "Men!! :)" it's not bitchy. Right?

Lastly, my favourite TMIs are the somewhere-out-there way back peeps I was barely friends with, at some point accepted their FB requests, who seem to still be rocking some *major* drama. My profile's restricted to those I barely know, because some of them are apparently batshit crazy, and to answer B's question of "why even be FB friends?", I present the following *actual* updates (censoring courtesy of me) so fun, especially coupled with the staggering amount of grammatically sketchy comments:

"why do i put myself through this? why cant i just accept that some people will continully disappoint me? U KNOW WHO U ARE" (too many of this ilk to list, from about 3 of my FB friends)

"from the pits of despair i rise up and say f**** you to all you HATERS!! oh not i, i will survive cos as long as i know how to love i know i will survive" (powerful.)

"finally HE IS GETTING A DIVORCE!!" (he didn't.)

Vancouver Sun Run (1:11)

I've always felt that I take up too much room, just in general. I'm always the one to apologize when elbow bump, or to move out of the way on a crowded sidewalk. Being pregnant for half of the last five years gave me a brief reprieve (after all, it's not *me* in the way it's MY BABY!), but as I've struggled to lose the weight it's been a challenge for me to own my personal space. I'm glad just to be here. (Can you see around me? OK.)

So crowds have never really been my scene. Which is why I was not planning to actually run the Sun Run when I signed up for the training. I see the cover of the Sun every year and I get nauseated. But I got swept along in the excitement and camaraderie plus you know I can't stand to be left out of *anything*. On our training runs I didn't have any major difficulties running 40 minutes straight, just shuffling along one foot in front of the other. So I figured I may actually see something through to completion, something that doesn't happen very often lately (or really, ever in my life).

Starting off was probably the worst part. Downtown during the day has become somewhat unrecognizable to me, so I felt a little lost and claustrophobic as we moved along like cattle waiting to begin. I felt a little hemmed in by the big crowd. My girls started off at a pace that was too fast for me so I hung back and they were immediately swallowed up by the crowd. About 10 minutes in I decided to discard a layer and it proved more complicated than I thought, weaving around headphones and outer vest...I slowed to dead stop and had trouble regaining any momentum.

Running through two protestor demonstrations brought me some negative energy and I had a hard time finding my stride and pace. I seriously considered quitting at that mark, feeling that I had already failed being so far behind...but then I thought about how long it would take me to walk 6K and I got my run on. About a km later I saw an orange shirt that was actually FC, and a perfect pace song came on - and I felt connected again, and could run on the steady slow beat of the song. I tried to focus on keeping my heart rate in the 170s so that I wouldn't have to walk.

So the last of the run was good until someone jumped over a barricade and nearly went face-first into the pavement in front of me. I instinctively recoiled and pulled something in my neck. In the final stretch I didn't see any of the km markers, so it wasn't until I crossed the finish line that I realized that we were done. I swam along with the crowds until I realized I had no idea where anyone was, which resulted in a number of confused texts and phone calls between me and my girls.

I was still disappointed in myself for what I considered failing. Not that my time was slow or that I walked so much, but more that I didn't get the runner's high or the excitement and energy. I kind of felt like an imposter. I hate running, but I thought somehow I would fall under the magical spell of the love of running, or that I really would "feed off the energy of the crowd". Mostly I just felt in the way of the real runners.

So I'm not sure if I'll ever feel like a "real" runner, or if I'll ever do another 10k, but the 736 calories I burned is enough motivation to keep me going. Along with my super-supportive friends, of course. Without them I would have quit around week 5 and never seen that finish line that I didn't even see!

Marshall hates it!

Took the boys swimming last night. Benson can now fully put his head underwater sans goggles.  Marshall was so not into it.  He loves to splash in the bath but the pool...not dealing.   Not a toothy grin to be found all night, even in the face of other babies and "hi baby!"s. 

the simple kinda life....

Pineapple = baby crack

Marshall will eat an entire can of pineapple tidbits. Not so much on fresh pineapple, though.

Who needs a plastic bucket?

If only I'd had these on hand:

http://www.morningchicness.com/

that plastic bucket

Remember when you were growing up and you had the designated "barf bowl"? In our house it was a burgundy plastic mixing bowl. It came out when you had that icky feeling and needed to lay on the couch. Just the sight of it made me want to hurl.

Unfortunately it was the only bowl in the house big enough to contain the product of our super duper hot air popcorn popper, so that was the bowl's dual use. Gross maybe, but not a lot of actual barf ended up in the designated bowl, in our defense. However...popcorn still = barf, in my mind.

So when faced with 3 boys with stomach flu in the house, I had to make a decision about what bowl to designate "barf only". The metal mixing bowls seemed to be a good choice, but they're not quite deep enough (if you've seen me with martini glass you get the idea).

I sacrificed our Madagascar 2 promotional movie bucket for the cause. And when the imminent danger of projectile vomiting ceased, Alex and the gang ended up in the recycling bin. Unfortunately the original contents of the promotional bucket was movie theatre popcorn...the circle of life?!

me = my mom / benson = ???

me: "I'm not your slave, you know"
B: "Yes, you are!" (in a "duh" voice). Duh.

Teething. Ouch.

Then comes the baby ogre?

Every night, B and I have a little chat about things. He usually likes to talk about his family and friends, so it reminds me a little of the going to bed routine I had as a child ("and bless mommy, and daddy, and teacher, etc").

I completely adore the randomness of the people who come up in Benson's night-time shout-outs. Last night:

B: "I love my family. You, and Marshall, and Daddo. And girl Alex."
Me: "Girl Alex is your friend, but not your family...unless you want to marry Girl Alex?"
B: "No. I marry Daddo."

So, I almost said, "Oh, you have to marry a girl." But I don't really believe that. So then I almost said, "You have to marry someone your own age." But I don't really believe that. "You have to marry someone your own size?" Nope. And...come to think of it, you don't have to marry someone to be in their family! I decided to try to explain the concept of marriage/family a l'il bit more:

Me: "See, I married Daddo and we became a family. I am Daddo's wife."
B: "Oh you are a wife princess?"
Me: "Oh yes." (yeah, I know, not really - but it had SUCH a nice ring to it. Even though I'm sort of anti-princess, especially this time of year.)
B: "And you are a ogre?"
Me: "Yeah, I guess you're right."
B: "You are a princess ogre wife?"
Me: "I think you have it covered."
B: "I like Daddo to be my wife now."

Oh yes, we're all straightened out now. Thanks, Shrek.

6 months...and it's just the beginning.

As I await the news of baby K...I'm going over my entire experience with Marshall's delivery in my mind as I imagine H going through it, from the sleepless night beforehand to the heightened awareness and brightness of the baby's BIRTHDAY!

And I think it either feels like yesterday, or a lifetime ago. In reality it's been 6 months. Marshall is an amazing 6 months old. No longer a newborn (at 21 lbs, check these biceps!)...it's all gone by too fast, much like the rest of life. But it feels like he has always been here.

Once you have one child, you realize how much your life changes, so you think you know how having another child will feel. I had no idea how much another baby would change our dynamic. It's fantastic. And just like the Grinch, my heart grew at least 3 sizes bigger.

Watching Benson learn how to be a big brother, and the absolute adoration for him in Marshall's eyes, is possibly the best thing ever. I think that's why baby K means so much to me, because I can't wait for the Ks to have this experience, too.

You betcha!! Wait...WHAT?!!

The last week or so, Benson's been responding to everything with a "You betcha!", which I thought was sort of cute and I assumed it was something he picked up from one of the preschool teachers (although I can imagine neither of them actually saying it, now that I think about it)...but I just caught up on my PVR and Saturday Night Live with Tina Fey doing Sarah Palin...so I'm left wondering...how did Benson pick up a Palin-ism?!!

Nose vs. Potty Beans

Benson LOVES his potty beans. When I remember to offer them up, he'll pee on demand! Occasionally, he'll go on his own and then come ask for some. But we're nowhere near "trained". Well maybe I'm trained, to change his diaper or throw out pooped-in underwear (sorry, Earth).

Since he only gets 2 PB's for pee, he likes to hold and cherish the beans, smell them, lick them, watch how they turn his hands different colours. Tonight, we were having a dance partay in the kitchen as we were cleaning up... Benson shook his thang a little too hard and went straight down on his NOSE.

He was so busy clutching the PBs that he did not reach out to block the blow. As the screams and hugs and blood gushed, the PBs remained safe in hand. The face...not so safe. The button nose was looking more like a swollen marshmellow. I made an executive decision to haul him to CC.

Shout out to Dr. Frankel, who said he didn't think it was broken, but if it shows up crooked after the swelling goes down, it'll be "Benson's First X-Ray". He didn't offer us any Botox. In related news, I grated off the tip of my pinkie tonight. That's why I stick with pre-shredded cheese, yo.

Potty Beans

So most of my excuses for not potty-training Benson are up. I know, I should just be locking his naked arse up in the house for a week with Saran Wrap covering all upholstery, but I'm straight-up lazy and so have only been randomly using PT tricks. Lately, I've been having him in undies while at home; praising the successes (oh-so-random) and ignoring the accidents.

I had aimed to have him trained by now fo sho, but he's happy to sit in pee-filled pull-ups and before I know it, another month has flown by. Now it seems B's among the last of the diaper-wearing ilk and I realize that yeah, IT'S TIME.

Decided to go the "potty beans" route (a.k.a. Skittles, previously used as "good boy beans", "be quiet beans", and "sleeping beans"). It's been a while since any "beans" have been used in our place, mainly because I would randomly pull that trick out of the bag and offer up "clean-up beans", only to realize that someone else has rewarded themselves with said beans and the only beans left in the house were coffee beans.

So I brought home some potty beans today and shook them in front of B, asking him to go put on underwear and maybe later, he could have potty beans.

I have never seen a child move so fast. In the bathroom, pants down, diaper ripped off, and peeing on command, and demanding potty beans. 8 minutes later, the same routine. I was worried he was going to be dehydrating himself at this point. (Also worried I would run out of Skittles. You don't get much for 99 cents no more).

And an hour later, he peed on the floor downstairs, in his bathing suit, and on Marshall's carpet. 1 step forward, 2 steps back. Sigh. I'll be playing "find the smell" for a while, yet.

The Big Day

Benson started pre-school this month. Here he is on his very first day. The preschool offers a gradual entry system so I'd just like to congratulate myself for actually remembering the ever-changing times for the first two weeks! So far I haven't been able to get him to say too much about the school activities, I'm hoping he learns to open up a bit more. The last few months he's been offering up "nothing" as a stock answer to everything, teenager-style. Sigh.

Slug Vs. Rhino

Today we went out to the Mountainview Conservatory...awesome! It's like the zoo, minus the guilt. We saw zebras, giraffes, rhino thisclose! Aside from the torrential downpour, it was great. When we got out to check out the rhino, Benson became fascinated with a slug (of course). I tried so hard to get him to check out the rhino just a few feet away! But he was stuck on the slug.

Me: "Benson! Look at the rhino! Right there! He looks like a dinosaur!"
B: "Mommy, there's a slug!"
Tourguide: "There are lots of slugs around here, buddy."
B: "WHERE?!"

And later, during the recap, when I ask Benson what he saw today, he reported the slug sighting. He also asked to be a slug for Hallowe'en. I have him downgraded to spider, because I think I may be more likely to find a spider costume than a slug?!

Anyway, I guess these little outings had best be exciting for the grownups as well, since the slug was the high point for Benson - we could probably find them a lot closer than way out in Langley amid the wild animals.

King-size bed for the KINGS...

I thought even the King-sized bed would be too small with all the Robbins smushed in...but it's great!

Marshall is weighing in at 16lbs, 2.5 oz at just 3 months old. At this rate he's going to outweigh Benson by age 1!

Almost there

"I get dressed, Mummy!"