...like people who brag because they're tall

Today was formal day for uniform so Andrew had to wear a collar and tie. Thankfully, we didn't have a repeat of sept. 17th, known as picture day. He refused the shirt and instead, wore a white polo shirt with tie and vest. I thought about getting retakes but then I decided against it because I'd like to show him his crazy polo shirt and tie picture when he's 18, most likely doing the exact same thing. "See! you were like this in kindergarten too!"
So today, he came home and said to me, "mommy, my collar feels like its invading my personal space". This kid has his boundaries well marked out. Later on in the evening he asked me to smell his finger. You don't want to know why.

Elsie has been crying every day to go to the Markham Fair. She cries in the car while sobbing, "markham fair, markham fair". Whats with her? shes has no cognition of ever going? We've stopped by to drop off their art submissions and that has thrown her. She doesn't know why she can't stay and go on the rides. "not ready, markham fair, not ready" is what she repeats through sobs.

Mondays is gymnastics for elsie and the moms that sit in the lounge are super moms. They compare rapidity of potty training, hair length and other non-essential skills in life. They actually tote the masculinity of their girls as well. Being tough, "tank-ish" and evening proclaiming their not "girlie-girls" is now the new distinguisher. So odd! They also think pre-fab halloween costumes are tacky because you should want your child to stand out in the crowd, the CROWD THAT THEY ARE FOLLOWING door to door for candy. It drives me nuts when they boast about height and weight. that reminds me, I witnessed today Andrew's first teasing for his height. A kid in his class who is taller than him took out his little finger and poked andrew repeatedly while he said, "little andrew, little andrew". Andrew made a funny face like, GRRRR while smiling. I made it back to him. Sure, I wanted to pick up the twerp by the backpack and throw him on the ground like an upside down ladybug and scream some sort of "you have insecurities kid! didn't your mom sew your freaking lion costume for you for halloween?" but I didn't because you know, that's life. I can't step in and protect him. He has to defend himself. He has to develop the skills to kick a kid in the knee cap, twist his arm behind his back and say, "say 'little andrew' one more time, knucklehead". I've seen Andrew's jedi moves. He could totally take him.

Romantic gesture

I saw this post on Facebook. I would like to write down how I would respond if Paul ever did that for me:

Hello,

I don't know who you think I am but I hate the dress you chose. Because of the two children I have birthed, my arms are flabbier and therefore will be hidden under a shawl. My thighs will not allow this dress to go past my butt so that is why I never wear it. It reminds me of the carefree life of eating carbs at every meal and not having to wonder why my stomach bellows out when I sit down. Finally, I don't have shoes!

Secondly, dinner at 7? Are you kidding me? I'm hungry at 5:30 because I've nibbled on left over Mac and cheese from lunch and ate a few goldfish crackers (that I found in the couch). 

Thirdly, don't talk to me that way. I'll be ready when I'm ready. Where are we going that it only takes 30 minutes to get there? Are we going to Richmond Hill? We aren't going to Ikea are we? I don't like surprises. It better not be some "new" restaurant, or worse, some place where we have to be wait listed. 

Even if we go out, I'll want to be home by 9:30, because of guilty for staying out late, and also because I'm on season 7 of the X-files and want to watch 3 episodes before I go to sleep. 

So as much as I appreciate the picked out dress and sentiment, no thanks. 

Love,

Me

Waiting room ramblings

Here I am again, at Radiology and Imaging, sans children. They're monitoring the lumps in my breast. I'm just looking forward to the warm room and quietness. This waiting room is full of very sickly looking people. Could it kill people to smile? Not that I'm smiling at them but the whole glazed over faces makes me weap for humanity. 

All I keep thinking about is how much my hospital parking is going to cost. 

That, and what am I making for dinner and why don't grocery stores here carry a good Pico de Galo? Would it kill them not to blend the tomatoes in fresh salsa? We are having fajitas for dinner. It's meatless Monday so we're having beef and chicken. Not a typo. 

I'm deep into season 6 of X-files. I also had a bizarre dream about Andrew Coyne last night. No more. Watching At Issue so late at night.