We're Going To The Zoo, Zoo, Zoo...

How about you, you, you? You could come too, too, too...except we already went. Sorry. You could come next time, maybe.

So, 0ur city has a small zoo in the park--it's great. It's free. I especially like the free part. And, free though it is, there's some pretty neat stuff to see. There are some monkeys, an alligator, some kind of African fox, some llamas, some animals whose names I can't remember, and even a white tiger! Oh, and a raccoon. Which we told Wiggle Man was like a "maaaaww." And, if you read this post, you'll remember that "maaaaww" is Wiggle Speak for "cat."

So, maybe he'll never be a zoologist. I'm ok with that.

Of course, with all these exotic animals to see, you'd think Wiggle Man would be excited. And he was. Just not by the llamas and tigers and monkeys--oh my. No siree, Bob. My boy liked the ducks.

Admittedly, some of those ducks are a little...umm...exotic looking. Like that guy there with the red all over his face. Only at our zoo have I seen ducks like that. Certainly nothing like our white Pekins, and their friends the wild ducks that often come over for dinner. But, let me tell you--these guys were very excited when we busted out the moldy rolls. Just doin' our part to keep the zoo fowl healthy.

This is my favourite shot of the day. Wiggle Man was checking out the Canada geese (again, something he never sees running around our yard) and I took advantage of the opportunity to get creative with my camera. I actually had to take it upside-down.

I can't wait to go back--maybe when it's warmer, and the bears are awake from their winter naps. I'd write more, but the foul odour coming from the general direction of Wiggle Man is now officially more than I can take. I'm off for poopy patrol.

Friday Flashback

How far back can you remember?

This question is the source of debate in my family. I am convinced I can remember my christening. Not surprisingly, my mother disagrees.

I can remember crawling around on the floor in our kitchen. I can remember being held by our pastor. My mother contends that I only "remember" these things because I've seen pictures of them. I would agree with her, except for one thing: I don't remember these images as the pictures show them--I remember them from my perspective. I remember seeing the floor as I crawled around on it. I remember that our pastor smelled different from my parents. (You know how different homes have different smells--not necessarily bad, just different. I could write a whole post on smells. Maybe I will.)

I have other early memories tied to senses other than sight as well. For example, I can remember the taste of a finger in my mouth as said finger pushed some cake into it on my first birthday. (Again, there are pictures of this.)

Here's my theory: I tend to remember events because of the pictures. I've always looked at our family albums--even when I was very small. I think looking at these pictures at such a young age reinforced the memories I had, and helped me remember them long term.

But my earliest memory that is uncontested by family members is definitely the birth of my brother. I was 3 and a half. I remember my Dad carrying me to our neighbour's in the middle of the night. (Ok, it seemed like the middle of the night. I don't actually know what time it was , but I was three. Nine p.m. would have seemed like the middle of the night.) I remember being ecstatic that they gave me Cheerios for breakfast.

And here's everyone's favourite part: I remember my mother and brother coming home from the hospital. I remember my Granny standing at the top of the stairs calling me to come up. I remember telling them that I'd like to wait for a commercial--my favourite show The Cucumber Club was on. You can check out You Tube too see why I was so enthralled.

I don't think my brother ever forgave me for putting The Cucumber Club above his arrival.

Busy, Busy, Busy!

I'm totally blogging as a means of procrastination. And I like it!

Hubba Hubba and I need to spend today getting some of our stuff packed up. Where are we moving, you ask? Nowhere. At least, not yet. If you've been following my blog for a while, you know that we've been trying to get approval for a 2 year mission in Kenya. That is still mucked up in who-knows-what kind of political/cultural/denominational mess.

The short version of our life is that we share our house with my sister-in-law. So all of our stuff that wasn't needed in our house (kitchen appliances, dishes, furniture) is in another building that will shortly be put to better use. So we must pack.

All the work of packing without any of the excitement of a new place. Ah, well.

If you're new to my blog, and want to be praying for us--we'll take all the prayers we can get! We'd love to know where God is directing our family. If the mission field is not His plan for us right now, there is also the possibility of pastoral ministry in the U.S.

I suppose I should quit procrastinating, and get to filling boxes.

For real. Here I go.

Wordless Wednesday

Know What I Mean?

Do you ever have one of those days (or weeks, or months...years...) where nothing is going right? It seems you're being attacked from every angle. It's been one of those weeks for me. It seems that everywhere I go, someone's got something unpleasant to say to/about me. Or something I've done. Or not done.

I sat down this afternoon with some Oswald. (Chambers, that is. My Utmost For His Highest--one of my favourite devotionals. The one I come back to when I need a good kick in the seat. Like today.)

Today's devotional directed me to 2 Corinthians 12. I didn't make it through the chapter, because verse 10 stopped me in my tracks. It's the one where Paul talks about being strong in his weaknesses. My first thought was that even my weaknesses are weak. They're not the weaknesses a truly godly woman should have. Like, you know, being persecuted for Jesus or something.

Really?

My weaknesses aren't good enough? It was almost enough to make me laugh out loud.

What if, what if I could learn to lean on Jesus even in my weak weaknesses? The un-pretty ones? What if I could hand my struggles (the ones that would never make a great novel for made-for-t.v.-movie) to Him and trust that He'll be my strength?

What if?

Spring is Coming!

Since I moved south of the True North Strong and Free (TNSAF), I've been struggling with geese. They throw me off every year. That may seem like a weird thing to be confused about, but seriously. It gets me every year.



Why, you ask? Because, growing up in the TNSAF, the Canada Geese leave and go south for the winter. Here? While it's not quite the deep south, some of them hang out here for the winter. And even the ones that don't stay seem to come flying through waaaaayyyy too late.

And then, the same thing happens towards spring. The ones that decided Florida would be a better winter hang-out come flying back through on their way home to the TNSAF, but it's waaaayyyyy earlier than what I'm used to. Because they're just passing through. Our house is like the rest stop on the way, as opposed to actually being the destination.

Regardless, welcome geese. Enjoy the pit stop!

Not Me! Monday--Oscar Edition

Well, it's Monday morning again. You should head over to MckMama's for the best in Not Me! Monday fun, and a whole list of other bloggers who participate. Oh, and I really didn't watch the Oscars last night--unless you count the 20 minutes or so where I got to see Ben Stiller do his Joaquin Phoenix impression, and Hugh Jackman sing every musical known to creation. Hugh Jackman. The man could read a phone book, and I'd probably watch.

So, before I fixate on Hugh, let's move on to what I, ahem....didn't do.

I did not go snow tubing in utterly inappropriate clothing. I grew up in the True North Strong and Free, so I know a thing or two about proper gloves, and snow pants. I did not decide that I didn't feel like spending the money on the aforementioned winter gear, and try to "wing it."

I did not groan over the measurements taken this weekend to fit me for a bridesmaid's dress. I am a mature, grown woman who is ok with the fact that I am not teeny-tiny.

I did not start the morning by dumping Wiggle Man's cereal and milk all over the floor. Nope, not me. I am certainly more graceful than that.

I am not trying to reason with a toddler. Me: "Wiggle Man, just let Mommy finish her writing, then we'll go change your bum." Wiggle Man: "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa."

I am not trying to convince him to dance to "All The Single Ladies." I am not letting him listen to it simply because he turned it on and I didn't feel like arguing that he's not allowed to touch the radio. I'm much more consistent than that, so it couldn't be me.

I'm not hungry again, an hour after I ate breakfast.

I did not put Wiggle Man in his high chair with his breakfast, which I then did not put in the bathroom so I could get a shower without him a) crying for me the whole time, b) trying to open the shower curtain to see me, and/or c) destroying the house. He did not return the favour by splashing milk everywhere.

And there you have it--proof that I am, in fact, the perfect mother. I did none of these things.

My Favourite Lovey

This is our poor cat, Chloe. I know it's hard to believe there's a cat under all that fluff, but there is. What is she doing? She's hiding. From Wiggle Man. She's not doing a great job.

The reason she has to hide from him is that she is his new favourite toy. Whenever he sees her, he'll say "Maaaaaaw." Which, obviously, is Wiggle Speak for "meow." Which means "cat." You follow?

Well, Wiggle Man loves his maaaaaaw. He loves to pet her soft fur. Of course, by "pet" I mean "grab." He also enjoys stroking her tail. And by "stroking" I mean "pulling", sometimes in an attempt to lift her rear end off the floor. I've even seen him "cuddling" her. Naturally, "cuddling" means trying to pick her up, usually by her middle. This results in her mid-section being lifted, while her feet stay on the floor.

These chubby hands are the culprits. Upon looking at this picture, my mother was worried that Chloe had scratched her precious little grandson. Believe it or not, she does not scratch him. Ever. Or nip at him, or swat him. I don't know why--certainly she has no qualms about letting grown-ups know when they've gone too far. But she seems to understand that she needs to be gentle with him. Even if he's not gentle with her.

Oh, and no cats were harmed during the making of this post. If, for whatever reason, Chloe hasn't run away before Wiggle Man gets too rough, I make him stop. Fear not!

Free Today, Dishes Tomorrow

UPDATED!!

I wanted to clarify something. Since Hubba Hubba himself misunderstood my post (and he knows me best) I figured many of you might have, as well. I did not mean to imply that Hubba Hubba didn't get anything done while I was away--chasing after Wiggle Man is hard work, people! I was merely highlighting the trade-off I made: tubing yesterday, dishes today.

Incidentally, I came downstairs to find Hubba Hubba unloading the dishwasher in preparation to load the dishes in the sink. He's taken, ladies!

ORIGINAL POST:

I consider myself very lucky to have the husband I do. I want to say that off the bat. He's great. He stayed home with Wiggle Man yesterday so I could go snow tubing with my brother-in-law and sisters-in law. (I have to qualify that it's snow tubing so that my southern readers don't picture us floating down a river. Which is also fun. This just involved snow and boots.)

But nothing comes free.

That last bowl was sullied to make Muddy Buddies. If you haven't made 'em, you need to. I'd share, but we don't have any left. We ate them all on the drive up to the mountains. I might need to make more.

Not Me! Monday--The LOVE Edition

Happy Monday, friends! You should all head on over to MckMama's to check out the Not Me! Monday happiness she has going on over there. She's the queen of NM!M, and Mr. Linky can direct to you hundreds of other bloggers who participate.

This week:

*I did not write this early this week in another of my sad attempts to be the first on Mr. Linky's list. I do not happen to know that the best I've done is somewhere in the 60s. I do not hope every week to be #1.

*I did not make a mental list of all the yummy treats I'll be making this week because one of my dearest friends is coming to visit. This list does not include a massive amount of chocolatey things.

*I did not seriously consider taking a picture of the gorgeous flowers my "big" Valentine got me, because they're so beautiful I want to brag about them. I did not also want a picture of the chocolates my "little" valentine got me.

*I did not have to stifle laughter as I sat in the other room listening to Hubba Hubba: "Wiggle Man, take this present to Mommy. Here, Wiggle Man. Wiggle Man--take this to Mommy! NO, WIGGLE MAN! TAKE THESE TO MOMMY! WIGGLE! MOMMY!" Apparently, Wiggle Man thought that the gift bag containing my lovely chocolates was for him. How much he has to learn.

*I did not have dinner Saturday night at 10 pm, because that was the only reservation we could get at our favourite restaurant.

*Here's the pictures I did not take:

Be The Envy Of All Your Friends

Yesterday we took a family field trip. Hubba Hubba, The Wiggle Man and I all piled into the car and drove off to our local aquarium. We'd taken Wiggle Man there last year when he was much smaller. He seemed to really like it even at that age, so we thought he'd love it now.



We were right.



He had a blast looking at all the animals, quacking at the ducks in one of the exhibits, and splashing water. Only in the places it was allowed, of course. There were tanks where you could touch different aquatic animals, which I thought was cool. Wiggle Man thought the water was cool--the starfish, stingrays, sharks, etc...not so much. One swam up to his hand, and scared the poor kid, I think. Hubba Hubba and I were amused, however.



Here's what surprised me the most. In a building filled with strollers, ours attracted quite a lot of attention.

I've cropped Wiggle Man out of the picture...at least, his head. You can see his belly and feet if you really want to look. Of course, this is a picture from last year, so his belly and feet are much bigger.

I have, however, left in the really pertinent part of the stroller--the steering wheel. Two different children came running up to the stroller to play with the steering wheel. Each time they saw it, which happened to be twice each...so our stroller got attacked a total of four times. (See how good at math I am?)

So, if you'd like your little guy or gal to be the envy of at least 2 children at the aquarium, I highly recommend our stroller. Plus, it's got a place to plug in your mp3 player, so maybe you could be the envy of a few moms, too.

(Almost) Wordless Wednesday

Ah...Spring Training is just around the corner! Can the Phillies do it again? Will my Jays be a Cinderella team? Only time will tell...

Not Me! Monday

Well, technically it's Sunday night, but I thought I'd get a jump on things. You won't see this until Monday morning, anyway. I highly recommend you head to MckMama's blog to check out her awesome Not Me! Monday, as well as a list of other bloggers who are not confessing their shortcomings to us all.

So, this week...

*I am not totally cranky while typing this. I have not been cranky all day. This has nothing to do with the fact that I had to try FOUR DIFFERENT shopping carts at a store that shall remain nameless in order to find one that worked. Of course, even Number Four had a strong tendency to veer off to the right. So strong, in fact, that by the time I left the store, my arms were sore from trying to steer the stupid thing straight. FOUR CARTS, people.

*As I said, I'm not cranky about this.

*I did not wear a maternity skirt at some point during this week. I will not share with you when I did not wear such a thing, because I'll likely not wear it again, and some of you saw me wear it. I want to not wear it again. It's so stinkin' comfortable.

*I am not craving the whoopie pie I bought this weekend at the farmer's market.

*I did not do laundry this week for the sole purpose of smelling my new detergent.

*I do not play Super Mario Brothers on Hubba Hubba's Nintendo thingy more than he does. It does not relax me.

*I am not seriously considering whether or not I have time for the whoopie pie before I have to head out.

*I do not have a love hate relationship with socks. Love, in that they keep my feet warm. Hate, in that I hate wearing them and find them grossly uncomfortable. Bare feet is not one huge reason I look forward to summer.

*The socks are not something else that's making me cranky.

*I'm not ending this post to go ask Hubba Hubba when we have to leave. The timing of which has nothing to do with the aforementioned whoopie pie.

Who Do They Design These For?

So, last night Hubba Hubba and I went to the movies. I know, ladies--isn't he wonderful? He knew I needed a night out, so he arranged for someone to watch the Wiggle Man, and off we went. Slumdog Millionaire, by the way, is a great movie.

Here's my question--who is in charge of designing the bathroom stalls in movie theaters? Or restaurants, or malls, or any public place for that matter. Why is it so hard to get into these things, shut the door, and remove a coat? Am I the only one here? Is there some coat-removing etiquette I'm unaware of? And once you finally do manage to get your...umm...business done, you have to do the whole thing in reverse! Why do the doors on three quarters of these things open to the inside????? There's precious little space in there to begin with.

This drives me nuts. EVERY TIME.

On the plus side, this bathroom had one of those fabulous hand dryers that actually dries hands. You know the ones? The air comes out at such a high speed that the flesh on your hand spreads out under the stream of air. I LOVE these things. I want one at home. Just to play with.

Not Me! Monday

If you want some seriously good Not Me! Monday reading, head on over to MckMama's for the very best in non-confession, plus a huge list of other blogs participating in the fun. As for me, here goes:



This week:



*I did not just realise that I have leftover party invitations sitting on the desk. They are not from Wiggle Man's birthday. In September.



*I do not enjoy using sentence. Fragments.



*I am not a little bit worried this won't be interesting because I haven't been adding to it all week like I usually do, and am instead coming up with all this on the fly. This is not because I can't seem to remember anything anymore.



*I am not interrupting this to go change a very wet and very smelly child.



*That did not take longer than I thought it would. That's not because the aforementioned child managed to get my pants wet as he sat on my lap. Before I realised he was wet, of course.



*I am not ridiculously hungry. After what I ate last night, I shouldn't need to eat again until at least Wednesday.



*I do not occasionally think up things I would do if I were fabulously wealthy. Those things do not include hiring someone who will put moisturiser on that one spot I can't reach between my shoulders and, of course, laser hair removal. Ah, to never shave my legs again.



*I do not think it's cute to dress Wiggle Man in clothes that are too big. He does not remind me of being in high school when all the boys wore pants that were 4 sizes too big.



*I am not cutting this short to go eat breakfast.