Things that matter, version 2015

I have been waiting a long time for today, and I knew I would end up writing a blog post about how it made me feel, but I didn’t expect the feelings I got, and I still feel like it’s worth sharing.

We are house hunting right now, and I am continually telling Hubby to not get his hopes up until we have a signed offer and a loan (and based on the offer, I don’t consider the loan a given, even though our financial advisor is confident- as a side note, I feel really freaking grown up having a financial advisor).

It would seem though that I don’t take my own advice even when I know the reality.

Nearly two years ago we first started looking for a house, we found one, or more truthfully we found a theory of one. It was to be built, 18 months later, they changed their minds. So we are back at square one. It was also roughly two years ago when I found out my boss added himself to the international bone marrow donor list.

It surprised me, I knew what bone marrow was, but I also “knew” it was incredibly invasive to donate. His generosity overwhelmed me, and when I asked him why he did it, his answer surprised me too, “just think how the world would be different if everyone, or no one was on the list”.

It got me thinking, and that day I decided the next time the association came to our offices, I would go and talk to the doctor and get the facts. As luck would have it, it took nearly two years for them to come back and in between, I changed offices and just happened to share my office with the woman who organizes the whole thing for our company.

I quickly got my answers, weighed it in my head and waited to add myself to that list. As the day leading up to the interview came, I grew more and more excited, I mean, this is shit that really matters, in a big way, and it felt great to be a part of it.

As luck would have, Squishy was sick today, so I didn’t go to work, but yet, I dragged that poor feverish girl with me because I couldn’t miss this opportunity.

The interview lasted 5 minutes, my stupid ass messed up gene prohibits me from being added to the list. I knew this was a possibility, but it was like I forgot. It hit me like a brick wall. I left the office a little stunned. Outside I ran into one of the coolest ladies of all time and couldn’t hold back my tears, she hugged me and her concern was touching, but I felt empty and weird and sad, and so freaking frustrated.

I have now gone through my stages of grief and I have decided that just because I can’t contribute the way I want, doesn’t mean I can’t contribute. I can help others understand what it means, what it’s for, and how they can contribute.

So here goes, find out more:

In Canada:

In the US:

In France:


I feel blessed

I spent a disproportionate amount of time cleaning up vomit this afternoon. This was all the more unpleasant because I had spent most of the night emptying the contents of my own stomach, and then some. I was feverish and aching pretty much all day and I had virtually no energy to stand. That said, Hubby and I had a number of things to do today that could not be avoided. He very kindly did everything without complaint, but it did mean I was alone with one or more of my kids for parts of the day.

They were exceptionally well behaved, for the most part, but things started to go downhill when the littler one started complaining of a stomach ache. Since the bigger one had been home sick from school, and I had been very clearly hit with the same thing, this really didn’t come as a surprise.

What did surprise us was the quantity a tiny three year old stomach can hold and the uncontrolled fashion in which my daughter just threw up all over the floors, couch, bed, and walls in some instances.

After which she would start wrestling with her brother or running around like a perfectly healthy crazy kid. This bounce back lulled Hubby into a false sense of security, and gave her a large cup of apple juice when she asked for it. Sure enough he ended up cleaning that up too.

So, why with so much vomit do we feel blessed? Because my daughter is three, and part of the reason she vomited so uncontrollably is because this is the first time since infancy she has had a stomach illness. This kid learned what vomiting was today, and quite honestly she must have been a little weirded out by the whole concept. I mean seriously, just imagine something like that happening for the very first time in your memory, that’s messed up.

As an aside, iron stomach Hubby felt some mild discomfort for two days earlier this week, but was not completely taken down, and after the kind way he took care of me today, I will write on paper (computer, whatever) that perhaps he does have a stronger immune system than I have, perhaps.

And that is not all, loud little neighbour is turning 22 today, we heard him and a number of other people earlier, and now at 22:10, the walls are not shaking, the music is not blaring, there are no juvenile drunkards screaming on the balcony. And honestly, if you can’t appreciate that, what can you appreciate.

Living with a three year old again

After one year, one month, two weeks and one day, I am living with a three year old again. I am also starting to remember what living with a three year old was like the first time around and what motivated me to start venting on the internet nearly two years ago.

Three year olds love random, useless controversy

While sitting in the car going who knows where, a police car drove by us. The 3 year old said (This isn’t verbatim, because it is translated, but it gives the gist of it), “Oh look, a police car, it says pinponpinponpinpon.”

The five year old replied, “No it doesn’t, it says weeooweeoooweeooweeoo”

The three year old disagreed and the two of them had a very heated argument that lasted quite awhile and consisted of mostly very annoying and very loud noises.

While the five year old is going through an I-always-need-to-be-right phase, the three year old is just stirring the pot to piss off her brother and get him all worked up.

Three year olds are stubborn

We came back from Canada on Saturday; the travel and trip were without incident, but naturally the jet lag is less than stellar. We are coping better than usual, but are still insanely tired. The kids have been having frequent crying fits and mild melt downs. Last night the three year old wanted grape juice at dinner, I wanted her to have water. She cried, she screamed, she tried to convince me to change my mind (apparently 30 year olds…okay fine 35 year olds are stubborn too). Finally I asked her if she wanted to go lie in her bed; it wasn’t a threat or punishment, she just really likes to go to bed. Thrice during our trip in Canada she put herself to bed because she was tired. She accepted my offer to go to bed, and promptly fell asleep.

This morning she woke up in great spirits with a great big huge grin across her face. She walked right up to me and said, “I’m drinky, can I have some grape juice please?” (that was verbatim, the kid loves to speak English now after two weeks with the anglophones – especially the super cute anglos who say drinky).

Three year olds mix up language in the greatest ways

The three year olds favourite expression right now is “I love you flat out” (translated), basically, she loves me as fast as she can. Which is pretty fricking cute.

When we got to my dads house, I pulled out a bin of My Little Ponies, which are the shit right now in our house. The three year old rummaged through the bin, ignoring the ponies and pulled out two Barbies from the bottom. She then spent the remainder of our trip in Canada carrying them around everywhere with her calling them her “bandits”.

Three year olds are awesome

The three year old is full of life and energy, she already knows how to charm the wits out of any adult, and she is so much fun. She speaks, with excellent sentences filled with French and English. She expresses herself strongly and is not afraid to show her emotions with all the energy with which she feels them.

She is bright and curious, adores her big brother and is very into cuddling.

She also sleeps through the night (score), she can feed herself and only like 30% ends up all over her face and in her lap. She can dress herself and only gets stuck in her clothes like half the time. She can entertain herself for extended periods of time (score score score) and can sit to watch an entire movie (extra score when on an airplane).

All in all, I’m not afraid of the next year of living with this three year old and I can’t wait to see what she will be in 365 days.