Kirstin’s blog

I don’t pretend to have anything interesting to say…

At least I get a free trip… May 30, 2008

Filed under: Uncategorized — kirstyliz @ 12:21 pm

Guilt trip that is. Why oh why do we procreate if not to ensure that every moment of every day of the rest of our long, tormented lives are packed full to the brim of shiny hot molten guilt? It’s miserable. We have these babies and we love them So. Goddamned. Much. and they bring us so much joy but along with the joy there’s a disclaimer; the fine print that nobody notices until AFTER the birth has already taken place: JOY TO THE WORLD YOUR CHILD HAS COME*

* Joy to be accompanied by lifelong grand-piano-full of guilt that you will carry around on your back crippling you more and more with every step. Enjoy.

When Jules was teeny tiny I felt guilty because “omg I put him down for a few minutes and he just sat there and stared at that wall and was soooo understimulated and is probably going to be a violent social misfit a la Charles Manson baaah” and then he got bigger and I started to expect more from myself (domestically speaking) and I started to get into “omg I left him alone while I ran downstairs to switch the laundry and he pulled himself up against the couch and fell back and bumped his head and probably has brain damage and will put his shoes on the wrong feet until the day he dies baaah” and then began The Era Of The Obsessive House Moving (story: bought a café in the city, moved in temporarily with relatives while we looked for a house, realized we couldn’t really afford to get back into the real estate market in the t-dot quite yet, decided to rent and save up some money. Endofstory) so one minute he’s living in his own house in the burbs, the next he’s living with nana, the next in a little apartment and then in the next year or so we’ll move AGAIN into a house (that I vow to stay in until they carry me out in a straight jacket… you sooo thought I was going to say “pine box” didn’t you? huh? didn’t you? but I have key insights into my own mind and don’t think I’ll make it that far before they lock me up) and anyway I’m plagued daily by the fact that Jules has been bumped from house to house and “omg are we f*cking him up from all the moving and he’ll have detachment commitment Oedipal abandonment Freudian sociopathic issues from now until eternity baaah”. AND more recently when I was at home with him (until I started working in this godforsaken place 2 mnths ago) (oops! Pay day. I love you new job. Pay me please!) I was always “omg is he watching too much tv we should totally go outside oops I just lost him in that snowbank did he eat the yellow snow are his toes going black and falling off from frostbite maybe we should go back inside is he watching too much tv baaah” AND NOW I’m at work and he’s at home with John. They have a great time together and they get to do all this male bonding BUT I know he misses me and tonight I have deigned to make plans to go out straight from work and NOT be home to eat dinner & put Jules to bed for the first time since I went back to work (what were you thinking? A social engagement? For no good reason than because you wanted to? You’re the worst mother ev-ah!) and then Sunday morning I’ve agreed to do some volunteer work so I won’t be around (tsk tsk tsk. Soooo selfish) and next week I’m having dinner with friends one night and AGAIN won’t be home for dinner/bed (*gasp* one social engagement was one thing but two? TWO? Can someone please get me the number for child services?) and next Friday is John’s and my 5th wedding anniversary so I’ve arranged for him to go to my mom’s for the evening and stay OVERNIGHT and that is a huge, huge thing for me, Internet. I’ve only spent one night away from him since birth – that’s one night in 2-1/2 years. So tally it up and that’s two evenings, a morning and an overnight and it’s just bad timing that all these things have fallen within a one-week-span and I feel like I already never get to see Jules cuz I’m here at work and “omg I’m the one thing that’s been constant through all the moving and snowbanks and head-bumping and wall-staring and now I’m going out for dinner and what if he thinks I don’t love him anymore and while running upstairs when I get home to hug him and reassure him that ‘mama loves ya babeee’ I slip on a dinky car and fall against the gas stove and eff up some gas leaky pilot lighty mechanism and we all die in a blazing inferno baaah”

Crazy much? You’re starting to understand the whole ‘straight-jacket’ thing now, yes?


Thank You For The Music May 29, 2008

Filed under: Uncategorized — kirstyliz @ 9:42 am

Had ladies over last night for food, wine & So You Think You Can Dance. It would have been a hell of a time except that I spent 90% of the evening wrestling an almost-2-and-a-half-year-old into bed. That is what happens when you have a son who just looooves to hang out with the ladies and bestow upon them all his manly charms… Or a son who loves to be one of the ladies – we’re still unsure. He did come out of my closet the other day wearing a pair of heels and proclaimed, “I’M READY TO GO TO THE BALL, MOMMY!” and this morning he put his water bottle and hippo into a purse, slung it over his shoulder and said, “Let’s go to school!” and he loves pink… and wants to be a princess when he grows up. John thinks he needs more male friends because all the wee people we know are girls but I say, nope: gay burlesque. For sure. I can’t wait. I’ll totally get front row seats and all my old lady cocktails & early-bird dinners will be comp’ed. I soooo better start pumping the ABBA and teaching him some of my classic dance moves like the Roger Rabbit. That one’s a show stopper.


eek May 28, 2008

Filed under: Uncategorized — kirstyliz @ 4:30 pm

So one of the creative directors just came over and asked what the most exciting moment of my day was today and I said: “Cookies”. One word answer. Do you think that’s what he was looking for? Oy.


International Cookie Day

Filed under: Uncategorized — kirstyliz @ 2:51 pm

Whooo hooo I looooove International Cookie Day. Well, can it be classified as ‘international’?… I don’t know, maybe it’s National… or Provincial. Is it municipal? Kirstinipal? I think that last one may be it. So I went to get my Phat Starbucks Huge Cookie Lunch and when I returned? Cookies E-V-E-R-Y-W-H-E-R-E. A package of cookies on a table in the creative department (that’s where I sit cuz I’m waaay creative, yo) (actually they didn’t know where else to stick me so they put me here and no one really talks to me). And then I went to the kitchen and SHA-ZAM hot-diggity-dawg someone must have won the lottery and spent all their winnings on sweet, sweet cookies. There are two huge bags, no, SACKS of cookies, like, Santa Sacks FULL of cookies in the kitchen. Whhhaaaat. (side note: the ex-proofreader in me begs to put a question mark after ‘what’ but the gangsta in me believes that in this context it’s not meant to be so much a question as a statement. It’s an internal struggle and denotes the fact I’m a complex girl with lots of deep thoughts and layers… Wait, what?) (ha, get it? What. What?… is the word ‘what’ starting to sound funny to you? What? No, really, what?)

Soooo, speaking of my kitchen at work, John and Julian came to meet me for lunch on Monday which was the best surprise EVER and when I gave them a tour of the office John decided to leave me and marry my office kitchen instead. We actually have two kitchens: Upstairs Kitchen is the grown-up one with a glass-fronted wine fridge with a little temperature-gauge-thingie and it looks all InStyle Home; then Downstairs Kitchen (in my hood) has a flat-screen and a couch and a fridge full of beer and some kind of video-game console. I don’t know what it’s called, there’s, like, a P and maybe an X and some numbers after it, maybe a ‘box’ in there somewhere? but it has a video-game drum set and a guitar that go with it and John nearly creamed in his pants when he saw it so it must be good. I have a feeling that one of these days I’m going to go to the kitchen for a coffee and find my husband and 7 or so of his closest friends sitting around in there and that they’ll never leave. Then I’ll roll my eyes and get all “WHA-ever” and go catch a matinee of the Sex in the City movie and I’ll never leave (the theater, that is) I’ll just watch it over and over and eat popcorn and cry and remember the days when Big didn’t look so broke-down and Samantha hadn’t had quite so much work done. Custody of Julian will be divided equally between the Movie Theatre and the Downstairs Office Kitchen and Jules will develop dual personality disorder – half video-game-playing duuuude & half late-30-something fashionista with a healthy sex drive.

What the f*ck am I talking about? … What?

Oops, gotta go. Looks like someone might want me to do something. Oh… no, wait. They were just walking by me on the way to the cookies.


Working on the chain gang

Filed under: Uncategorized — kirstyliz @ 12:21 pm

Oy, I’ve had, like, work to do today and sh*t. Yesterday too. Could it be that this job is turning into a… job? Man alive I’m hard done by. Ooh, wait. It’s lunchtime. I’m going to walk to Starbucks and get a latte & a cookie (it’s either that or eat my G.I.-Diet-compatible lunch… ya, I agree. That sucks balls. Latte it is).


May 26, 2008

Filed under: Uncategorized — kirstyliz @ 1:37 pm

So I’m totally busy at work (he-hem) but thought I’d take the time out anyway to find you guys a pic of the Tipi Tales cast. Check is out y’all

Omg ghetto puppets, right? Russell (the moron referenced in my last post) is second from the left and here’s what the official Tipi Tales website has to say about him: “Russell is four and a half but looks six. He is big for his age but is a very gentle and sensitive boy.” Again, I must ask, WTF?! He’s four? He’s the same size as Great Grandma and has the voice of a moronic big-rig trucker. I’m dying. Here are some other things I’ve learned from the website. It was the “2003 Parents’ Choice Gold Award Winner” and it features award winning singers, actors, writers and directors… The only explanation for any of this is that the only award they’ve ever won is the one mentioned above and the only parents who were polled for this “Parents’ Choice Gold Award” were the parents of the very singers, actors, writers and directors who work on the show. Tipi Tales! GAK!

ell is four and a half but looks six. He is big for his age but is a very gentle and sensitive boy.


General Update & Nonsensical Ramblings

Filed under: Uncategorized — kirstyliz @ 10:49 am

Went to Riverdale Farm on Saturday and OH.MY.GOD everything’s having babies and they’re way too cute – like teeny-tiny pigs and goats and sheep (oh, sh*t, Julian told me sternly that “baby sheep are called lambs, mommy”. I keep using the wrong terminology) I would sooo recommend going if you’re in the GTA and have a love for itsy-bitsy barnyard animals. Warning: YOU MUST ACT FAST – baby-animal cuteness is a limited time offer as cuteness decreases exponentially day-by-day and soon they will simply be medium-sized animals and have poo-clumps stuck to their ass fur and then it’s just not the same.

Discovered Julian is a child genius as he read his first word this weekend. He knows all the letters and their sounds (this kid is actually, like, obsessed with the alphabet. He stirred in the night the other night and sat up and said “A-B-C” and then fell back down to sleep. He will also point at nothing and say, “look, mommy, ABC’s” and then it turns out he’s found the shape of a letter “Y” in a crack in the pavement. It’s one of those qualities I find endearing but anyone else would find creepy). Anyway, we were going to bed on Saturday night and about to read Dinosaur’s Binkit and he pointed to the word “Binkit” and said (phonetically… uhhh, this may be difficult to spell) “Buh” “Ii” “Nnn” “Kuh” “Ii” “Tuh” “BINKIT” – can you believe that? He’s sooo one foot in the Mensa door (Is there a door? Is there a Mensa building or gathering place of some sort? Or do you just belong to Mensa from the comfort of your own livingroom or Smart-Person-Library or Smoking Room? Hm, Julian’s mother? Not so much one foot in the Mensa door). Am I a little disappointed that the first word he ever read wasn’t a real word but one created by Sandra Boyton? Not really. Does it take away at all from the genius factor that he also this weekend repeatedly hit himself in the head with a shovel? Perhaps. But We’ll focus on the fact that HE READ A WORD! My kid RAWKS. Today? Dinosaur’s Binkit. Tomorrow? The collected poetry of Charles Bukowski.

Finally, for anyone who watches the Treehouse network (which is our little people programming – 24 hrs of Dora, Blue’s Clues & Little Bear. Let us all sing the praises of Treehouse: Hosannah! Exalt! Exalt!) but have you guys ever checked out Tipi Tales? What the sh*t is UP? Seriously. This is a show that John and I shield Julian from because it just seems So. Very. Wrong. But then late at night if we’ve had a couple of glasses of wine and are surfing the cable guide and notice Tipi Tales is on we sooo watch it ourselves and John mutes the TV and talks for all the characters and I laugh until I’m crying and on the verge of peeing myself. It’s this puppetty show about Native People (if the name didn’t give it away) who live in the woods and talk to animals and crap and I’m all about the concept – LOOOOVE the concept. Like, native cultures have some crazy kick-ass mythologies and lessons on respecting nature blah blah blah that would translate beautifully into a kid’s show but this? It’s these primitive puppets and I thought they were all, like, physically-challenged wood-living native people that walked with two canes but it turns out that the huge poles coming out of their arms are just the puppet-moving mechanisms. Like, sorry to tell ya folk, but Jim Henson had puppets riding BICYLCES with NO STRINGS a million years ago. There is NO excuse for this travesty of puppetry. And then on top of that one of the main characters is a kid who not only has the worst hair EVER (worse than Kelly Osbourne… and actually not all that different from Kelly Osbourne), he talks in a voice that sounds like a caricature of a moron. Like, in cartoons the character that can barely stand up cuz he’s so dumb and sounds like this: “Duuuuh… okay boss”, ya know that guy? THAT’S the voice this guy has. And last night he was wearing a belly top (that I think I may have personally donated to Goodwill in 1995) and I think he had breasts… WTF?! John made up this fantastic little song about him and his estrogen pills that was some of his best work, so hats off to you, husband, you’re jokes, but laughing at the show’s expense still doesn’t explain why? WHY? Please, internet. I beg you. Watch Tipi Tales and someone EXPLAIN IT TO ME because I do not understand why the eff this show is on the air if not to humiliate an already misunderstood culture? WHY? WWWWHHHHYYYYYYYYYYY?