The following is a list of things I was told I would enjoy or better understand ‘when I grew up’:

1) Peas

2) Ground beef

3) Raw tomatoes

4) Make-up

5) White wine

I am 31 years old and I understand/enjoy precisely none of these things. Peas are just gross. They are, so don’t bother arguing with me. Ground beef has always and will always look like brains. And people who eat raw tomatoes just for the hell of it, and not because someone snuck them into their sandwich, are weird.

Make-up is my second biggest growing-up and getting it disappointment. I was told by numerous babysitters that with practice, I would figure out make-up. False. Buying lipstick is one of the more stressful shopping experiences I undertake, followed closely by eyeshadow and bathing suits. Lipstick always looks weird on me, no matter what colour I choose. Why does it look awesome on everyone else? And lipgloss makes my mouth look like I kissed a slimy fish. Sigh. All I want is for my mouth to look natural-but-slightly-pouty-and-come-hithery-without-looking-like-I-try-too-hard. Is that so much to ask?

But my biggest growing-up and getting it disappointment is white wine. Specifically chardonnay. I had my first glass of chardonnay when I was 12 and hated it. I tried again when I was 14. Nope, still icky. At that time I was told that wine was an acquired taste. “You’ll like it when you’re older,” I was told. So I waited. I waited through university, when I sipped Guinness and oaky reds, I waited through grad school, when I discovered the glory that is the Mojito. I waited and I waited. And last night I had a glass of chardonnay as part of my job and guess what? It sucked. I even tried it oaked AND unoaked. Admittedly, the unoaked was tolerable. But it still tasted close to the exact same thing I sipped back when I was 12. Ick.

So we can conclude the following. Either I’m a) not grown up (totally possible, age is just a number after all), or b) never going to like chardonnay.

I suspect the answer is b).

(Scene: Ezmy is making frosting for her tequila cupcakes. And maybe sipping the tequila…what?! Someone has to make sure it’s not spoiled! Anyway, A. is, unsurprisingly, taking this opportunity to play Skyrim)

A.: “OHMIGOD THAT WAS SO BADASS! I can’t even…I can’t…that was just so BADASS!”

Ezmy: “What did you do?”

A.: *highlights place where dragon used to be* “I killed it…and, and it fell off…and it fell. It was INCREDIBLE!”

Ezmy: “…”

A.: “And nobody seems to give a shit.” *gestures towards television* “Nobody seems to give anything even resembling a shit.”

(A. glares disapprovingly at the other characters on the screen for a few moments)

A.: *talks to game* “Look at you, sashaying around like there’s nothing going on. That was BADASS!”

(Ezmy resumes frosting mixing and tequila testing)

Frightening? Frighteningly awesome you mean!

This picture was taken in 1999. I think (hope) that the costumes mean it was Hallowe’en. If I remember correctly, we had decided that all boys were stupid, and rather than go to the bar and waste money trying to pick up stupid, we should party in Sexy AB’s room and get trashed playing ‘Roxanne’. It was a fairly successful evening – not many people dressed like this would be able to say the same thing.

Darling MF and Sexy AB are arriving in O-town on Saturday and staying for one glorious night filled with Tequila Cupcakes, wine, and picky food. I dare say a game of ‘I never’ might break out, just for old time’s sake.

I’m stupid excited.

(Scene: Ezmy and Budsie are in the kitchen, making breakfast.)

Ezmy: “So Budsie. What would you like for breakfast today?”

Budsie: “Os!!”

Ezmy: “Os?”

Budsie “A beebees!”

Ezmy: “And blueberries? Ok then.”

Budsie: *beams*

(Ezmy places 5 Os, a handful of blueberries and a cup of milk on the table while she gets to work making the real breakfast)

Budsie: “Dada?” *points to front door*

Ezmy: “Daddy’s at work. But he’ll be home soon. Toast?”

Budsie: “Toe!! A ja!”

Ezmy: “Yep, toast with jam and peanut butter. And coffee, but just for Mummy.”

Budsie: “MumMum caca.”

Ezmy: “Yep, Mummy’s coffee.” *sits at table, placing tasty pb&j down for herself and her little dude*

Budsie: *lifts milk cup* “Chi!”

Ezmy: *lifts coffee cup* “Cheers, dude.”

(Best. Day job. Ever.)

Wowza that was a busy week. I have new conversations and happenings and shoes to chat about, but sadly that can’t happen right now. A. is heading off to a poker night tonight though, so if all goes well with bed time a new post will coming your way this evening.

Happy Saturday!

Just in case you didn’t catch this last night, I’m still looking for sources for an article on stay-at-home parenting. I’ve had a few emails (YAY!) but would love to get more. If you want to vent your frustrations, now’s the time! Email me at ezmywrites@gmail.com.

In other news, have you ever seen a more sunshiney Saturday breakfast?:

I didn’t think so. Thanks Aunt Sue! Budsie loved his special star-shaped pancakes!

I’m currently working on an article about stay-at-home parenting and I need some sources. Specifically, I want to know why you did/did not choose to stay home, how you feel about being at home/at an away job most days, how you feel on those crap days, and whether or not you consider yourself a feminist. While this should go without saying, stay-at-home dads are also free to send me your thoughts.

Any and all thoughts are great. You can post them here, or email me at ezmywrites@gmail.com. Thanks for your help!

The following things are crossing my mind as I try (and fail) to fall asleep:

1) Why on earth aren’t there any pictures on the walls in our bedroom?? When I was living in dorms and shitty apartments, the pictures were up before the furniture (read: milk crates) was arranged. Pictures, particularly of the Brad Pitt/Kate Moss variety were a way of demonstrating how awesome I was. Or insecure. I can’t remember. Anyway, I have no pictures up in my room. I think it’s a commitment issue thing. I can commit to a husband, sure, but putting pictures up? Whoa, what if I change my mind and leave a hole in the wall?

2) *staring at closet* I never wear that flowery skirt and I should. I’m going to wear it tomorrow. I’m also going to get rid of that maroon dress. It looks like poop on me. I do not wish to look like poop so I pass it over everyday. I keep it because it was a good deal and did, at one point, fit me. No longer.

3) A.’s Pilsbury Doughboy pajama pants make me smile. I’m going to steal them.

4) *comes back to the closet* You know, I have no idea what is in that bag on the top shelf of my closet. No idea whatsoever. Could be baby clothes or wool or a collection of 16th century quills. I should really investigate that *considers standing, remembers she hates getting out of bed once already in*. Ah well, a mystery for another day.

5) My man is the cutest sleeper ever. I dare you to prove otherwise.

6) I’m totally going to eat oatmeal for breakfast tomorrow. It’s going to be awesome and healthy and fulfilling.

7) Or I might make pancakes.

8) Oooh pancakes with blackberry syrup and coffee.

9) I could go for coffee right now.

10) Ohmigodgotosleepezmy! Sigh.

Setting: A. and Ezmy are getting ready for bed. A. is in bed, because somehow he always manages to get ready first. Ezmy is contemplating which pajamas she should wear, pink with blue cats or blue with white snowmen…

A.: “What are those things casting shadows on our ceiling?”

Ezmy: *looks up* “Dust. Those things are dust.” *curses because her attention has now been drawn to yet another thing that needs to be cleaned in this house that never seems to be clean*

A.: “Huh, I thought they might be aliens.”

Ezmy: “…”

A.: “You know, alien spores that are dormant but that one night drop down from the ceiling, crawl into our ears and change us into different people.”

Ezmy: “…!”

Note: Ezmy is terrified of things going in her ears. TERRIFIED. Once, when Ezmy was 8 years old, a horrid babysitter told her that earwigs crawl into peoples’ ears and eat their brains. And Ezmy knew this girl was lying (sort of) but somehow the thought stuck and developed into a ridiculous complex the depth of which would require years of intense psychological therapy to get rid of. A. knows this….jackass.

A.: “What? Oh right….well, maybe they change us into better versions of us!”

Ezmy: *pokes A. in ribs* “Oh. My. GOD! How the hell am I supposed to sleep tonight? What is wrong with you!?” *pokes A. repeatedly in the ribs to emphasize point*

At this point, not wishing to be poked in the ribs any longer, A. grabs both of Ezmy’s wrists in attempt to successfully rendering her defenceless. Ezmy valiantly overcomes  ultimately has to give up.

Ezmy: “I’m torn here. On the one hand, I wouldn’t want to be with you if it was that easy to break free. On the other hand, I hate that I can’t break free.”

A.: “You know what you need? Quantum cake.”

Ezmy: “Quantum cake?”

A.: “Yes, because then the cake could exist in two states and you could eat one of the cakes….” *grins*

Ezmy: “…and still have the other. Hardy har har.”

A.: “What the fuck? It’s just a bear! I have a sword with fire!”

click click clicky click

A.: “I’m going to turn into a werewolf and kill it.”

Ezmy: “I thought you were a werewolf.”

A.: “Yes, but I have to turn into a werewolf.”

Ezmy: “Oh. So why don’t you do that all the time?”

A.: *sigh* It’s a pain in the butt, turning into a werewolf. You have to turn back and ugh.”

(long pause)

A.: “Seriously, there is the corpse of a dragon that I JUST SLAYED lying in the road behind me. But this fucking bear keeps killing me.”

Ezmy: *chuckles*

A.: “It’s not funny!”

Ezmy: “I beg to differ.”

(long pause)

A.: “Look at this. Look!” *highlights dragon corpse* “Dragon corpse. Blood dragon corpse, no less.”

Ezmy: Uh huh.

clicky click click click clicky

A.: “Oh good another fucking bear. Maybe those two can fight.”

click clicky click

A.: “Oh, oh!! Kill the goat, not me. GOAT!”

click click clicky CLICK CLICKY CLICK

A.: “Oh you have got to be kidding me…how the fuck are there so many bears here? Seriously, who ever heard of a place being thick with bears? *adopts high voice* ‘Oh I can barely see the landscape for all the bears’. Seriously! And what the fuck is a ‘Snow Bear’? That’s what they’re called. Snow Bears. And they are impossible to kill. They should be called ‘Impossible To Kill Bears’.”

Ezmy: “BAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”