Time for a quickie?

Hello you beautiful people:

(Except you. Yes, you. You, the meanie who keeps sending me nasty comments.)

Here are 10 reasons why this is a good week.

1. American Idol is on tonight.
2. I can watch CSI reruns with Grissom. You CSI hardcores like me will not like the fact that Grissom and William L. Petersen who plays him, are both on leave, and replaced by the ho-hum Liev Schreiber. Yawn-o-rama.
3. I ran 8.5 kilometres yesterday. I kid you not. Thanks Tracie!
4. Women are agreeing with me on my views about our littlest of ladies. (If you just can't get enough of me, my culture column runs every second week in The Whig-Standard. This column was published yesterday. You can also read them online on the paper's website under opinion columns.)
5. There is a dinner date with the BF and some escargot in my future.
6. One daycare centre seems optimistic they'll have a spot for us in September.
7. My mom and dad are coming for a visit soon. Yes, it's OK to miss your folks even when you're 29.
8. Speaking of 29. I'm still 29. Not for long though ...
9. I discovered Loblaws sells a pretty good naan bread. It's no Curry Original but sometimes you need curry in a hurry.
10. I'm now 143.5 pounds. This is BIG news. Actually, it's SKINNY news. That's 4.5 less than when I got pregnant AND half a pound less than when I was in high school. More on this later though. Again, thanks Tracie.

There might be more(or not)

How much is your time worth?

Many summers ago, after a boy broke my heart, I went home to my parents' house to wallow, weep and wail.

One night, after having a few too many drinkie drinks with my brother, I broke down on our front stoop and cried for a good solid hour on his shoulder.

At one point, I went to lift my head off his shoulder when I realized I was glued to him. Remember the great Ghostbusters movie? Remember how the ghostbusters got slimed? Well, my poor younger bro got slimed that night. I had cried so hard, I had attached myself to him with my snot.

Gross but unfortunately true.

Not since the breakup of 2002 have I seen such goop.

Until Thursday.

I spent the entire day calling daycares for my son. He has to go to daycare next fall. I knew back in September that I should be calling around to go on the waiting lists.

Kingston is notoriously short of day care spots. Yes, I know this. And so I should have called in October. But I didn't.

I should have called November. But I didn't.

I should have called in December. But I didn't.

Now, it's January and I have to start making the calls: "Hi, stranger. I have no idea who you are, what you're like, whether you collect Treasure Trolls, spoons, celebrity autographs or dust bunnies, but I have to entrust my perfect boy with you - you, a complete stranger, but would you like to take him full time?"

OK. Really the calls go like this: "Hi. I'd like to put my son on your waiting list."

And the response is: "Sure. No problem. We have one spot and you're number 63 on our waiting list. The list is at least one to one and a half years long."

By the end of the day, after calling countless daycares, I was empty. I wasn't looking for the best daycare for my son anymore. I was looking for any daycare that might possibly have a spot open when I needed it. Again, not looking for the best. Just looking for anything possible.

I looked at him differently that night.
All night I'd look at him and try and imprint my brain with what his smile looks like; how his smile makes his eyes sparkle; how his face is always shiny now that he's goobering so much because he's teething.
I needed to capture these images like photographs because one day, just a few months from now, I won't be able to look at him for eight to 10 hours a day.


And then I broke down. Huge tears ran down my face. How on Earth, am I supposed to leave my little boy to work? The BF came into the livingroom to find me crying and quickly walked out to the kitchen to get me some Kleenex. Actually, he didn't bring me Kleenex. He brought me papertowel and proceeded to wipe my nose.

Gross but unfortunately true.

I was one big ball of goopy snot.

I cried all that night and even though I did try and watch CSI, my mind was elsewhere. I was plotting ways we can save money so I can have more money to send my boy to the best care I can find.

We don't spend a lot of material things so it's not that easy to go through our spending and find places to cut but I'm going to do it.

One: One of our favourite indulgences, Starbucks coffee, is no more. We'll buy it in a big can from Costco. Lose the flavour, safe the cash.

Two: Cellphone is going bye-bye. Ten, 15 years ago people didn't have cellphones and somehow they still managed to survive.

Three: Every dollar is going to count. For months, we've been paying $3 extra a month for a specialty TV station. That's $36 a year. That station is gonezo.

Four: Every cent counts. I now have a dish in our house. Every time I see a penny I pick it up and put it in there. When I was in Grade 7, the yard supervisor picked up pennies whenever she saw them. By the end of the year, she showed us all how she'd made $100 picking up our discarded change.

Five: I've become my parents. I now go around our house turning off the lights. Electricity is expensive, you know.

And there are more to come.

It was just a few years ago when my mother would tell me all about how one day, I'd have a child and that child would rule my life and then one day I'd have to go back to work and it would break my heart and I would do anything for more time with him.

And now, here it is 2007, and I'm giving up my Starbucks, one of my few indulgences now, so that I can find an extra dollar or two.

Don't you hate it when your parents are right?

And by the way mom: What store has papertowels on sale this week?

There might be more(or not)

Grissom would be so proud...

Well, hello y'all.
It's been a long time. A whole month, I do believe.
I sorta decided to take a few days off being the holidays and all and then those days turned into weeks and those weeks turned into a month.
Let's call it a blogging vacation. Well, much to your delight/dismay I am back. Ready to entertain you with thoughts of sheer brilliance. Brilliance I tell you.

I have a tiny tale for you today ... I have to ease into this stuff. The juicier stuff/the mega posts will come later. But this is cute.

Today, at the doctor's office just before Little Man was about to get his four-month shots, I was eavesdropping on a mother and daughter in the waiting room. (Note to you: I eavesdrop on everyone ... just an FYI. You might want to watch what you say about/around me.)

Anyway. The mom was talking to her daughter about some sort of basketball program she has before school in the mornings.

The mother was trying to figure out just how she was going to co-ordinate her three kids' schedules.

"Where is your basketball practice sweetie," she asked.

The little blonde girl took a break from browsing a children's book and looked seriously at her mother.

"It's at CSI," she said.

The mother looked puzzled.

"I'm sorry - Where is your practice?" she asked again.

"I told you. CSI," the girl said.

The mother told her daughter she had to be mistaken.

"CSI is a show, hon," she said.

"Oh yeah. I meant LCVI."

How cute is that?

And in even cuter news: I am now officially 1 3/4 pounds smaller than my pre-pregnancy weight. Take that skinny chiquitas! More bragging on that to come.

There might be more(or not)