Nothing But Respect, Grandma, Nothing But Respect.

I did a little bit of grocery shopping this morning. I had 2 kids with me and a full cart (thanks to the car seat) and could barely see where I was going. We were approaching the check out lines, and since there were only two open, we headed toward the shorter of the two. A little white haired old lady was slowly, gingerly making her way with her cart, alongside us. I began my turn toward checkout #7, and suddenly, out of nowhere, Little Old Lady sped up, darted to the inside lane, passed us, and cruised right into checkout #7 where she then slowly, gingerly unloaded her few groceries onto the conveyer. I hid my face behind the car seat and burst out laughing, and then not loud enough for her to hear said "Well played, Grandma."

Had it been anyone else, any other demographic, I would have been bent out of shape and may have even let that person know what I thought about them butting in. Instead I waited with a huge smile on my face because honestly? I was impressed. Get back to me in about 45-50 years, I'm stealing her move.

Pin Worthy?

I am a little behind, as usual, but I have finally gotten on Pinterest.com. Overall, I am loving it, as it allows me to remember and keep all the awesome things I find online all in one place. No more million bookmarks, or spending hours trying to find that-one-thing-I-found-on-that-one-website.

Some of the things I have pinned on my boards are things that are tried and true that I love, other things are just cool finds that I hope to have/make/try at some point. To this end, I have decided I will hold regular Pinterest experiments here on my blog. I will take pictures and report on the outcome of whatever I'm trying out. This will include recipes, hairstyling techniques, household or cleaning tricks or shortcuts, or heaven help me even a craft or two, pretty much anything I find that looks awesome.

This is prompted by some hairstyling tutorials I have found online that I absolutely know will not turn out on me the way they are portrayed. Mostly due to my lack of skill, but also because I swear some people post how-to's or things online that they know an average joe can't do, just to mess with us.

So here's to hopefully some successes (Pin Worthy!) and lots of failures, because goodness knows the failures will make for a much more interesting and entertaining read.

In the meantime, here's my Pinterest page. If you aren't on there yet, but want to be, send me an email and I'll send you an invite. If I know you. And I know for a fact that you aren't nuts. There have to be minimum requirements.

I Don't Get It: High Heels

We all know it, so I'm just going to say it. I'm short. I don't like it, but there it is.

High heeled shoes should be my greatest love, but I hate them. What sadist came up with this torturous bit of brilliance, anyway? They are uncomfortable. They hurt my feet, mess up my posture, the taller ones have to be at least a little bit dangerous, and let's face it, they're one of fashion's more dishonest items (Spanx or padded bras I think win that category). "No really, I'm this tall, and my calves always have this impressive muscular looking indentation..."

For me, I feel a little self conscious in heels, like everyone must be looking at me the way they do a guy in a bad toupe or driving a souped up I'm-trying-to-compensate-for-something sports car- "Look at the short girl trying to look tall." with a half pity-filled, half sneering head tilt. I don't need that grief, even if I'm only imagining it.

I haven't ever really needed heels. I only ever had one boyfriend who was tall enough that I had to stand on a step to be anywhere near his face, otherwise, I've never had moments where I haven't worn heels but wished I had.

I'm far too practical I think, as I think about things like getting mugged, or Noah running into the road- I need the ability to run. I cannot run in high heels. I cannot balance babies and diaper bags when I wear heels. My impressionable teen years were spent playing soccer (cleats), riding horses (equestrian boots) and babysitting (socks). Not a stiletto in sight.

Why haven't women as a whole realized that the guys are running around pain free, using their entire foot to propel themselves around, while we stand there in heels? Or we gingerly follow behind, aerating the grass as we go. Don't you think visitors from another planet would take one look at us and assume we were all being punished for something?

I can appreciate a nice dress shoe, on occasion, with a little boost in the back for creating a bit of a feminine line, a slightly dance-y walk. But wear anything too tall, and you know if the balls of your feet could talk, they'd be screaming for mercy. Or swearing.

And winter?! Crossing an icy parking lot in high heels could easily qualify as an extreme sport. I swear I can actually hear the low voices of commentators critiquing my technique or lack thereof as I exit church some freezing Sundays. "She's going to have to stay focused and stick that curb landing after such a disappointing bumper grab by the minivan earlier..."

I may be in the minority on this one. But tall girls don't need to be taller, short girls aren't fooling anyone. I'd like to adopt an all flip flops or boots policy for myself, but in the meantime, just know that any time I'm wearing heels, you can totally steal my purse and I won't be able to do a dang thing about it.

Mum Speak 101

1. "Give me a break." means nothing. Nobody can and nobody will.
2. "I'm so tired." means I want to tidy non-stop, break up fights, and make a lovely dinner which most of you will complain about having to eat.
3. "Come here." means stay right where you are and pretend you didn't hear me.
4. "Put away your clean laundry." means take it into your room complaining mightily the whole way, and then toss it around the room so that none of the floor is visible.
5. "I need to get out." means, when it's convenient for everyone else, and not at all for me, I'd like to explore the grocery store thoroughly, all alone, at an ungodly hour and call that time for myself.
6. "No more candy." means quick, run to the pantry, grab what you can reach, cram it in your mouth wrappers and all, and I'll be happy to clean up the vomit in your bed in an hour or so.
7. "Be quiet, the baby is sleeping." means scream, yell, throw things, ride every possible wheeled toy across the wood floor, chase your siblings, and feel free to walk right in to baby's room for no reason at all.
8. "I don't want to watch this." means I want to watch one of the other shows that I can't stand, just not this one.
9. "Go clean your face." means sit right there and use that perfectly clean shirt you're wearing to wipe up dinner and your runny nose all in one convenient swipe.
10. "I love you." means I love you. And we'll do it again tomorrow.

I Only Have One Minute Left In My Brain

When I am grumpy or otherwise struggling with my day, there is something that usually helps. Kid History.

Some brothers had the brilliant idea to have their own children recount stories they had been told about their Dads' or Uncles' childhoods, then the Dads and Uncles (and a couple of friends) re-enact the stories just how the kids tell them. I can watch these videos in this series over and over again.

I bring it up now, because I have recently introduced my kids to them, and now I'm hearing some of my favourite lines and hilarious moments being repeated by them. Here's the first one. Watch all six. You will laugh. FACT! Faaaaa-c-t.

My Blog Could Beat Up Your Facebook Page

Facebook has messed up the blogging world. Before everybody got on Facebook, I could read so many friends' and strangers' blogs and get to know what was going on in their lives or minds or families in some detail. It was actual reading, of something that took some effort to write, at times with some humour, or heartfelt sentiment, or insight that a few scant sentences could never hold. I loved that. I still love that in the blogs of those who take the time to write or update.

But Facebook stole people away to a place where you could feel like you were interacting and reading and writing without any actual investment of time or energy. You can get on there, scroll through some posts, "Like" some statuses or comments, or if you're feeling bold, write an entire comment, and walk away feeling like you've done your bit to connect with people for the day. There, you can craft a sentence that is funny/informative/clever/sad and if enough people "Like" it, you think to yourself, "My work here is done." and then busy yourself with more important matters like choosing a new background for your blog that you no longer write on.

Isn't Facebook kind of gossipy and even a little Peeping Tom-ish at its worst? A lot of people know your tiny bits of business, and, mind you, these are mostly people who wouldn't strain themselves clicking that link over to your blog. Rumours have the potential to blow up into mammoth fire-breathing creatures before anybody thinks to question the veracity of what one of your many degrees of "Friend" has written.

About those friends... I have to wonder about that word being used to describe so many people that couldn't even say a simple congratulations when I had a baby, or haven't commented on or liked anything I have written on Facebook ever. The category should read "People I Know" or "People I Met and We Mutually Figured the Other Wasn't Insane, So...". Because you know what? My Friends? Most of them read my Blog. Yes, this archaic thing. And as many of them who have blogs and write on them? I read. Even if a friend announces something on Facebook, I will look forward much more to reading their blog post about that very announcement.

Those blogs of virtual strangers that I read? We aren't "friends" on Facebook. We could be. I mean I'm not opposed to it, because I read the blogs of people with whom I feel a kinship or connection, people who, if we lived in the same place, would likely become friends.

Facebook isn't terrible. I'm guilty of partaking in the drive-thru socialising extravaganza on there just as much as the next guy. I have met some great people through Facebook (but even with them, I'd rather read their blogs). I reluctantly admit Facebook does serve some good purposes.

But...

Blogging is best. It is more interesting. I believe it is closer to the essence of the person, and I love that. Facebook is the energy drink and blogging is the long cup of (herbal?) tea on a comfy couch.

Though, for those days I'm in a hurry, I wouldn't mind a "Like" button at the bottom of a really great post.