Every day I peek at my stats, mostly to see if there are any funny referrals coming in (such as the one I saw last night where someone found me by Googling “massive pregnant belly exploded”; yes, sometimes it really does feel like that, I’m afraid. My sympathies to you.).

I’ve noticed for a couple of weeks that once or twice a day, someone using Telus out in Alberta comes to my website after Googling Sherry Osborne. This person then looks around 5 or 6 pages and leaves, often by heading to my sister’s site.

If you’re that person in Alberta who comes to my site daily by looking for me by name, please, I beg of you, e-mail me. I have a feeling I know who you are, and if I’m right, I would really, REALLY love to hear from you.

Apologies to everyone who is not this Albertan Telus user and thus does not care about this post. 🙂

Happy chocolate day!

Uh, I mean Happy Easter, from two giggly nuts.

I went through this with Hayley too so I knew it was coming, but I’m still unimpressed: I am drowning in postpartum hair. No matter where you look, you can find my hair. It’s all over my clothes. My brush looks like a wooly mammoth. It’s in the bathtub drain, tangled in Breanna’s hands, on my pillowcase. It falls down inside my shirt and tickles my back. I’ve found it in my pants. My vacuum cleaner has more hair than crumbs, fluff, and pet fur combined; there may even be more hair than glitter in there, and in this household that’s saying a lot. Poor Hayley is forever saying, “I found some of your hair Mommy!” when she takes a bath. My hair ties are freakish hybrids of elastic and hair. If I didn’t wear my hair pulled back at all times, all the food I cook would be inedible and gross. If I run my hands just over the top layer, I guarantee I’ll come away with at least ten loose hairs.

Oh the joy. It’s that time again, where you realize the payback for having fantastic hair throughout pregnancy is that eventually all that extra volume has to go.

This really makes me want to go get my hair cut above my shoulders again. It wouldn’t stop the hair loss, mind you, but at least it would be shorter.

It’s a shame that the process drags on. Although it would be a little shocking, it would be so much nicer if it all happened in one fell swoop. As long as it didn’t happen, say, while you’re in line at the bank, it would be so convenient. You could just be walking into the bathroom when there would be a wee breeze, followed by a thwapping sound, and there at your feet would be a pile of old hair. Then you could just sweep it all up and be done with it.

Instead, I feel like I’m trying to rival the damn cat, the two of us in a challenge to see who can shed the highest volume of hair per day. I think I’m winning. By a hair.

I think that this is the reigning champion for the funniest picture I have ever taken of the two of them together. I usually Photoshop Hayley’s eyes since she’s prone to red-eye but in this particular shot, I think the red just adds to the hilarity. It looks like she’s a sociopath about to pop Breanna’s head right off, while Breanna looks like she’s just resigned to whatever fate has in store for her.

I can’t stop laughing every time I look at it. Breanna had just fallen asleep when I saw it for the first time last night and I nearly burst an artery trying to keep my laughter inside so as to avoid waking her up. When I actually took the picture last night I didn’t realize how crazy it looked and my LCD screen didn’t really give me any idea either.

I have the weirdest children in the world, I think.

Just a small video that shows Breanna practicing pulling up to sitting and then standing.

Also, note how a) she immediately stuffs her hand in her mouth (hellllloooo neverending teething) and b) how she can’t stop looking at the camera.

No sound, just video, alas.

This story infuriates me to a point where I have trouble even finding the words. If a five-year-old boy calls 911 to get help for his collapsed mother, I don’t care if you’ve had 15 other crank calls that day, it is your duty and moral obligation to investigate it immediately. If that dispatcher had done her damn job instead of deciding he was playing games with the phone, maybe that poor little boy’s mother would still be alive. I hope the dispatcher thinks about that every single day. It upsets me to think that I could teach Hayley to call 911 for an emergency and that someone wouldn’t bother to take her seriously, possibly putting her, or our family in danger.

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Things to include in the list of “Stuff you don’t know before becoming a parent”:

In just the first half of one day you may be required to:

-pick your baby’s nose with your pinky finger
-change your milk-soaked shirt twice
-fish a full roll of toilet paper out of a pee-filled toilet after it was accidentally knocked in by a pre-schooler
-change pajamas that were a victim of a Massive Diaper Blow-Outâ„¢
-hang around the bathroom because your kid wants company while she poops
-come up with a fun Spring/Easter themed craft involving paper and pipecleaners

I need a nap.

The other day, George was catching up on my Flickr pictures. He saw this one for the first time.

Cute right? A very happy Breanna with a doll. Aww.

And you know who George said she looked like there?

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