Back when I was pregnant and ridiculously naive, I thought that I would be able to find one stroller that would fit all of my needs. A stroller is a stroller is a stroller, right?

Oh no sir.

Some strollers have tiny wheels and some have enormous wheels and some have wheels in between. Some strollers come with UV and rain covers and some don’t. Some strollers fold flat, some weigh 200 pounds, and some have 7000 different brakes. Some are for running, some are for walking, and some are for travelling. Some strollers hold trillions of babies. Some strollers face back and front. Some appear to face sideways. Some strollers can hold teensy babies and big babies, and some can only handle the middle-sized tots. Some strollers have teeny tiny baskets that I can only assume are meant for teeny tiny diaper pouches or cell phones, and some (the best ones) have enormous baskets that can fit an entire week’s worth of groceries. Some strollers aren’t actually strollers – they’re called ‘travel systems’.

Gah!

I ended up going with a First Wheels City Elite stroller in raging red or rocking red or some such colour. It’s comfy looking, has a decent-sized basket and, most importantly, it has kick ass tires that handle snow and ice pretty well. Oh and it was on sale. And Budsie seems to like it. But I’ve been developing a pretty serious hatred towards this stroller for one simple reason: I can’t carry it up stairs. Which isn’t really the stroller’s fault. I’m the one who had the giganto baby and I’m the one who purchased a home that has stone stairs leading up to the front door. The stroller comes apart into two pieces and folds up pretty flat but none of this matters when you don’t have a car and do have a baby who is supposed to go where exactly when I fold this thing. Sigh.

So I need a new stroller. Well, technically I need two new strollers. I’d like a jogging stroller – you know, one of those fancy numbers with the enormous bicycle tires and long handle. And I’d like an umbrella stroller that I can recline, stop and fold using just one hand, for everyday use and for air travel. If only there was some sort of stroller coversion kit that could turn one stroller into any kind of stroller you needed that day. Because the thing is, I can’t afford two strollers. I can only afford one and that’s only if we sell the one I have right now. And the only way I’m going to sell the one I have right now is if I a) rid the stroller of the layers of salt dust and cheese bits that it’s covered in and b) the person buying said stroller doesn’t mind the fact that the seat bar has been chewed up all to hell.

So that’s today’s resolution: make stroller presentable so that someone will want to buy the stroller, thereby allowing me to buy another stroller. An umbrella one – the jogger will have to wait.

Update on previous resolutions: the laundry is done! Yes. Until tomorrow. Stupid diapers.

Another fun title.

Yep, today is laundry day. Well, playdate with Capital Mom and then laundry day. I’m most excited about this playdate – it’ll be great for Budsie to have another pal to chum around with and The Boy looks like he will rock Budsie’s socks. Although to be fair, all kids rock Budsie’s socks right now. If they walk, all the better.

So the resolution for April 13 is to not let laundry pile up like this ever again. I think I have seven loads to get through, including diapers. UGH! I should have just popped a load in while my mum was here, but nooooo I had to just sit around on my ass the whole time and watch the laundry turn into a full grown laundry monster in my linen cupboard, a monster that started migrating into the bedroom some time over the weekend. Every scrap of clothing of mine and the kid’s, every sheet, every towel, and a scattering of A.’s clothes are in this pile. And don’t get me started about the diapers. Stupid water shut off. Stupid taking a week to recover from last week. Sigh.

Update of previous resolutions: I got halfway through the tax pile. But in my defense, the English language debates were on and I totally forgot about that. Thought Layton made a good show of it, although the ‘remember back when we were pals’ theme was kind of ridiculous. Iggy needs to reeelax. And Duceppe needs to leave the Bloc and become a Liberal or NDP-er or something so I can be ok with how amusing I find him. And Harper is a douchebag. But you already knew that.

I’m the kind of person who enjoys paperwork. I mean, I don’t enjoy what paperwork usually means; that is, I don’t enjoy filling out nonsense forms in duplicate or triplicate in order to get some relief from, say, my student loan payments. I don’t enjoy that. But I do enjoy the process of filling out paperwork, generally speaking. I like writing my name and address in block letters on things and I like double checking to make sure I’ve filled in the correct boxes. It’s a particular kind of simple task that pleases me. I’m an odd duck.

This love of paperwork does not transfer to online form filling, however. I find online form filling tedious. I glean no satisfaction from typing my name and address and suchlike into blank spaces. The difference, you see, is that with a pen, I’m forced to be neat and precise. Which I like. With a keyboard, meh.

So when it comes to doing my taxes, I loath and detest submitting online. I refuse to do it. It takes all the fun out of tax time for me. And tax time is stupidly fun for me. I like getting all of our T4s and receipts together, sorting them into the necessary piles, tearing the tax forms from the perforated tax package, making sure to get neat lines on the forms that will be my good copy. I like filling in draft versions of our taxes and double checking them for mistakes. I like hunting down the required information that is buried in one of our forms. I love love love filling in all of the little numbers and doing the tax math. Love it.

Clearly, I need help.

However, while I love tax time, I always forget about tax time. Especially when there is a lot going on, like baby and house and sick and blah. So I always wait until the last week to get to it, which is a problem for someone who likes to do it the long, hard copy way instead of the much shorter and much less fun online way. But not this year! Today’s resolution: finish our taxes and mail them tomorrow. Totally doable, even with a Mr. T. playdate this afternoon (for which I’m making scones for the second time. So we’ll see how that goes…real cream this time, methinks).

Update on previous resolutions: Car seat = purchased! Success. Also, my email is working again so yesterday I sent out a bunch of cold emails to people who might require my awesome services. The stuff children from the closet under the stairs are sitting in the hallway, ready to be bundled up and sent away to the Salvation Army. Oh and I am currently trying out a new outfit with little success – I found an old pair of knee high plaid socks which I think could work with something, just not the sweater dress I have on at present. I’m determined to give these knee socks a fighting chance. Perhaps with a grey wool skirt? Or perhaps they’ll become gloves…

The phrase which appropriately sums up my last week: Are you KIDDING me!?

April 3 saw Budsie get the stomach flu. Except that we didn’t know it was the stomach flu. He had no fever and seemed quite jolly between vomits so we thought it was something he ate. April 4 was recovery day but I still managed to get in resolutions and whatnot. April 5 started off fine and you’ll notice that I posted a delightful little resolution that day too. But around 8pm, April 5 started to suck. Bigtime.

I have never enjoyed stomach flu. I don’t suspect anyone enjoys it. But the addition of a screaming baby, who had decided that April 5 was also going to be the start date for some crazy no sleeping phase, makes stomach flu just plain unbearable. God. Hours spent curled up in the fetal position on the floor of the bathroom while Budsie wailed and yelled and refused all comfort from A. or from his vomit-drenched mother. Awesome.

April 6 is a fog. I spent the entire day marinating in my own filth on the couch while A. looked after Budsie and the house. Then, sometime around 8 or 9pm, I was trying to get Budsie to sleep with me on the couch and I suddenly smelled gas. And not gas of the baby variety. I called out to A. who said he could smell it too. This is a bad sign as A. can’t smell anything. Eek! So out Budsie and I go into the cold night air. A. grabs Zoe and we run over to the neighbours. Chaos ensues – where is the gas leak coming from? Where is the number for Enbridge? Gah. Eventually the Enbridge dude shows up and says that yes, there is a gas leak so the gas goes off and by extension, so does the hot water. My mind drifts to the piles of vomit laundry sitting in our bedroom, the dirty diapers stinking up our laundry room and my awesome smelly self. Oh and my mother is coming to stay with us the next day. GAH!

April 7. A. has to go back to work. I am shaky and smelly and gross but somehow still able to make coffee and look after the baby. I get Budsie down for a nap and decide that since I can’t do laundry, I might as well call my sister for a rant. While on the phone, a familiar stinky smell drifts through the hallway. A smell of litter box. Except that our litter box is downstairs. Fuck. I rush out to the living room to find a steaming pile of poo on one cushion and a puddle of cat pee on another.

At this point, I hate everyone.

I yell at the cat. I yell at the pile of vomit laundry. I yell at the hot water tank. I yell at the gas pipe. I tell Budsie, who is now awake and staring at me, that only Mummy is allowed to use those words.

Eventually, of course, everything calmed down. Someone showed up to fix the gas leak and we had hot water again. LG showed up with surprise lattes which fix everything. Mum arrived that evening and the house was in a relative state of calm. But I decided to step away from the computer for a few days and just eat and drink wine and chill with the family. No resolutions except to remember to laugh when you want to cry.

Fresh start today though. Resolution for April 11: research and purchase a new car seat. Any tips and words of advice are welcome here. There are so many bloody carseats on the market these days, I don’t even know where to begin.

Because we all know that most freelance writers make so much money, they hardly know what to do with it. I mean the number of freelance writers I know who are millionaires…it’s just staggering. So many yachts, so little time.

Ha.

Still, even though I know that this occupation will likely never make me enough money to survive on without A.’s assistance, I would like to be busier. With paying gigs. I write heaps of free stuff, which I love to do because these free gigs are super fun. But I need to eat and pay bills and other such pesky things and for this, I need to be paid. So today’s resolution: get creative about finding new clients.

I have a number of directions I can take this resolution. I could start cold emailing local businesses, non-governmental organizations, etc. to see if they need a writer/editor/proofreader. I do know some people who have had success doing this. I could send out the small pile of spec articles I’m sitting on at present and see where that gets me. I could keep plugging away at online job offers and remind those I’ve already applied for about just how awesome I am.

I could do all of these things…if only I had EMAIL!

Effing Gmail. You know, I left Hotmail because I was tired of having email issues. Well, that and I thought that I could probably do with a more professional sounding email account (‘leo_angel10’ doesn’t have the same ring to it that it did back when I was 18). And for the most part, I haven’t been disappointed. I get so little junk mail now, it’s unbelievable. And I can email ginormous files with no problem.

But I need to be able to get into my email and for some reason, Gmail is not letting me do this today. Not my personal or work account. Why? No idea. I’d like to email them to find out but…well, you get the idea. Sigh.

A little while ago, I posted a picture of my fireplace and you might have noticed that my Christmas tree was still up. We kept it up, see, because it was home to the toys that Budsie got for Christmas and since we hadn’t finished his room yet, we had nowhere to put said toys. Yes, we probably could have just put them in a pile in the living room and not kept the tree up, but the tree made the toy pile look nicer, in my humble opinion. And it’s not like I left the decorations on the tree – that would have been ridiculous. No, I totally took those down *cough, cough, infebruary, cough*.

Anyway, A. is finishing off Budsie’s room and my mum is coming to visit this week. Both events struck me as signs that it was time to take the tree down. So that was yesterday’s resolution: say a final goodbye to Christmas. With Budsie watching curiously, I dismantled the tree and brought the pieces downstairs where the tree’s box was waiting. I put the tree in the box and then went to put the box in the cupboard under our stairs.

Enter today’s resolution: clean out cupboard under our stairs. Yikes! I am 100% convinced that stuff in storage multiples by itself. Sexually active storage stuff, that’s what we have. Because there is just NO WAY that we had that much crap when we first moved into this place one year ago. I don’t even recognize some of it. Which means that some of it is obviously the offspring of our stuff. Stuff children. Well, they can’t stay in our closet because the dang tree needs to go in there. Watch out, stuff children, here comes Ezmy and she’s got a big bag marked ‘donation’ in her hands…

As a struggling freelance writer/editor/proofreader, I find it oh so tempting to accept whatever someone is willing to pay me because, well, I need the money. My little family needs the money. And really, what does it matter right? Ten bucks is ten bucks, even if it is ten bucks earned for plugging some crap product on my blog or writing a 300 word article on how to put together a bookshelf. Content writing is a big business and why shouldn’t Ezmy have a part of that pie, however small the crumb might be? Right?

Wrong.

April 2’s resolution: remember what I’m worth.

I am an intelligent person and a decent writer. I’m a fantastic editor and proofreader (except when it comes to my own work, which I seem to care less about). And I need to remember that I’m worth more than $5/hour or $1/page. And that it is totally acceptable for me to refuse jobs that pay in the equivalent of buttons or peanuts (unless you are a good friend who would like to exchange writing/proofing/editing for awesome buttons or fresh roasted peanuts).

I was fantastically successful with this resolution today. Yaya me! Now to maintain this momentum…

HA! No. That was my lame attempt at an April Fool’s joke. It’ll be awhile before we do that again. I have a sort of ‘been there, got the T-shirt’ feeling towards pregnancy at present.

But given that it’s the first of the month, how about a review of the resolutions thus far?

“Good idea, Ezmy.”

Why thank you.

Resolution successes include:

*Finishing the wedding thank yous.  Ok, so they aren’t mailed out but they are almost mailed out. I have to put pictures in them and A. has to complete some of his family ones. But that’s still better than nothing. I give it til the end of next week.

*Stay in touch: I’ve emailed my brother a few times and text messaged photos of Budsie. Oh and I sent a couple of real letters, one to SZ and one to CW, so yayaya! Next real letter recipients? DS, NW, AB, and MF methinks (now I wonder if you know who you are…)

*Hunt down EI jerks: Well, I haven’t done that exactly. But I have insisted on going in front of a panel of reviewers to have my case reviewed again. I will prevail!

*Keep a plant alive: Edmund is still alive! And he doesn’t look too depressed.

*Sell wedding dress: Ok, it’s not sold but it is posted on Kijiji and PreOwnedWeddingDresses.com. Woot!

*Have totally awesome Thursdays: yesterday’s photo session = awesome success. Next week? No idea but I suspect beverages will be consumed.

Not so successful:

*Getting the damn CD out of this computer: Frankly, I’m just scared to try. Might be a better idea to bring it in somewhere…

*Tackle junk piles: So I managed to get the one in front of the fireplace sorted out but two more junk piles replaced it, one on my desk and one in my cupboard. How? Are they procreating? Sigh. Also, someone made my purse a mess again. And my diaper bag. Not me, but someone. Double sigh.

*Mascara eyes: I have no idea what my problem is here.