Saturday, December 19, 2009
"Mirror, Mirror..."
Silas would like you all to know that if you ever run out of people to flirt with, you can always flirt with yourself...
Friday, December 18, 2009
The Olympics are coming!
Have I ever mentioned that I LOOOOOOVE the Olympics.
I Love them.
In less than two months Vancouver will be host to them, and I am so jacked. I wish I were going. If we were really loaded I would go in person, but since that is not the case, I will just glue myself to my TV for 2 weeks.
Last time the Olympics were in Canada I was 4 1/2 years old... so I don't remember them... I did have this pin though and wore it proudly on my neon pink backpack all the way through elementary school:
and I think my cousins Chelsea and Kyle had these:
Anyway... Yes, I love the Olympics. I remember as a kid standing on my bed singing O'Canada under my breath as I accepted the gold medal for luge/skiing/bobsled/etc. from my teddy bears... under my breath of course so my Mom and Brother wouldn't hear me. I would dream of how when I grew up I was going to be amazing and rule the world at my chosen sport.
Yes... I Caryn Siler, was going to be great, I was going to represent my country in my white yoke and silver tassels! I was going to be one of these:
...but then all of a sudden when I turned 15 and the athletes started being younger than I was, I realized I had taken too long choosing my specialty.
I Love them.
In less than two months Vancouver will be host to them, and I am so jacked. I wish I were going. If we were really loaded I would go in person, but since that is not the case, I will just glue myself to my TV for 2 weeks.
Last time the Olympics were in Canada I was 4 1/2 years old... so I don't remember them... I did have this pin though and wore it proudly on my neon pink backpack all the way through elementary school:
and I think my cousins Chelsea and Kyle had these:
Anyway... Yes, I love the Olympics. I remember as a kid standing on my bed singing O'Canada under my breath as I accepted the gold medal for luge/skiing/bobsled/etc. from my teddy bears... under my breath of course so my Mom and Brother wouldn't hear me. I would dream of how when I grew up I was going to be amazing and rule the world at my chosen sport.
Yes... I Caryn Siler, was going to be great, I was going to represent my country in my white yoke and silver tassels! I was going to be one of these:
...but then all of a sudden when I turned 15 and the athletes started being younger than I was, I realized I had taken too long choosing my specialty.
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Monday, December 14, 2009
Really? Like, REALLY?
Hi folks, Dan here.
This is Silas' guilt toy:
Here's why he got a reward today:
I don't post on the blog very much, but today unexpectedly became a bit of a milestone for us, and Caryn's still a little 'caught up in the emotion' of the whole thing. So, buckle up, because I'm long winded...
Our lives have a funny way of stumbling into some of the big changes. If you want some more examples, ask Caryn about how I proposed to her. Or how we found the house we love and will never move away from until Silas has to move us because we're too old. Sometimes it feels like bumbling along, but we like to think of it more like some sort of cosmic pinball game that has some more profound meaning that will make sense some day.
Like maybe at Silas' wedding. Because we WILL tell this story at his wedding.
So, as of tonight, Silas starts sleeping in a big boy bed!
...and the reason for that is because we no longer own a crib!
If you had told us at the beginning of Silas' nap today that this was the day he was going to graduate to a big boy bed, we would have
3+7
+++.27.1147lfc (Silas says hi)
...where was I? We would have looked at you like you'd spent too much time shovelling in the -35 weather we've been having.
But then, it's not every day that Silas wakes up from his nap with a panicked shriek, either. Or with his leg stuck in the crib rail.
So stuck, in fact, that Mommy couldn't wiggle or push it out. But she did try. She tried till he was in pain, and flailing about, stuck up to his thigh between the bars of his crib!
At this point, Caryn realizes that his leg is stuck like a wedding ring on a fat finger, and despite repeated watchings of Apollo 13, her physics skills are not coming back to her under duress.
After two trips to the garage and a floor full of emptied toolboxes, and a failed trip to the neighbours, who work all day, Caryn seriously considers whether she could ninja kick the crib rail apart without dismembering her child.
I should mention at this point that I've been sitting at Tony Romas all this time, enjoying delectable ribs, talking about raising children and preparing commercial buildings for flooring. Caryn hasn't called me, because I told her I had a "lunch appointment". By the time she's desperate enough to get out the phone, Silas has been stuck for about 15 minutes and is delirious with panic and pain. If his leg isn't broken or his hip dislocated, it's just a matter of time before one of his flagellations does it! So, time is of the essence, and if Caryn couldn't find one of my saws (except the chainsaw, but even in a panic, Caryn had the economic foresight to prevent years of therapy), then why would I be able to? And we DEFINITELY couldn't wait 10 minutes for me to get home, 5 minutes for me to look for a saw and not find one, and then ANOTHER 10 minutes waiting for more help.
So, what do you do? If you're going to wait 10 minutes for SOMEONE, it may as well be someone you know for sure, unequivocally, will be able to solve the problem. So she calls the Fire Department, asking if someone with a saw could come over to the house and free the boy. Because, when you're in a pinch, who else do you know who for sure drives around with a sawzall in their vehicle? Rather then sending ONE person, they re-route her call to 911, who dispatches an ambulance AND a fire truck.
So Silas, now surrounded by a stressed but exasperated mom and 6 EMS personnel, endures another 10 minutes of vaseline and snake bites before someone pulls the plug on the extraction attempts and whips out the power tool.
Here's the carnage:
In proper EMS protocol, Silas is wrapped in a tarp(!) and held up by two EMS people while a third chops the crib rail out underneath his leg. Then Silas, mom, the tarp, and a couple effects collected by the EMS are on their way out the door and to Emerg.
So, by the time I get there, I peek around the corner to see Silas, cheeks shiny from tear tracks, look up at me and giggle. "Daddy! Guess what?! I got to ride in an AMBULANCE! And they cut my pants off! hee hee!"
little stinker**.
(**edited version)
So, you know, if we had had one of those moments where you heard a thump and realized that your kid was too big for his crib, we might have made the transition a little later and more gradually. But a couple nights of abbreviated sleep now is better than routinely having your eyes snap open in the middle of the night with your heart pounding, thinking that maybe, just maybe, we might have to go through this whole thing again. So Silas, next time you want to see a fire truck, there's a stand of trees across the street. Go find some matches!
And if anyone wants to buy me a sawzall for Christmas, be my guest! We'll keep it in the linen closet.
This is Silas' guilt toy:
Here's why he got a reward today:
I don't post on the blog very much, but today unexpectedly became a bit of a milestone for us, and Caryn's still a little 'caught up in the emotion' of the whole thing. So, buckle up, because I'm long winded...
Our lives have a funny way of stumbling into some of the big changes. If you want some more examples, ask Caryn about how I proposed to her. Or how we found the house we love and will never move away from until Silas has to move us because we're too old. Sometimes it feels like bumbling along, but we like to think of it more like some sort of cosmic pinball game that has some more profound meaning that will make sense some day.
Like maybe at Silas' wedding. Because we WILL tell this story at his wedding.
So, as of tonight, Silas starts sleeping in a big boy bed!
...and the reason for that is because we no longer own a crib!
If you had told us at the beginning of Silas' nap today that this was the day he was going to graduate to a big boy bed, we would have
3+7
+++.27.1147lfc (Silas says hi)
...where was I? We would have looked at you like you'd spent too much time shovelling in the -35 weather we've been having.
But then, it's not every day that Silas wakes up from his nap with a panicked shriek, either. Or with his leg stuck in the crib rail.
So stuck, in fact, that Mommy couldn't wiggle or push it out. But she did try. She tried till he was in pain, and flailing about, stuck up to his thigh between the bars of his crib!
At this point, Caryn realizes that his leg is stuck like a wedding ring on a fat finger, and despite repeated watchings of Apollo 13, her physics skills are not coming back to her under duress.
After two trips to the garage and a floor full of emptied toolboxes, and a failed trip to the neighbours, who work all day, Caryn seriously considers whether she could ninja kick the crib rail apart without dismembering her child.
I should mention at this point that I've been sitting at Tony Romas all this time, enjoying delectable ribs, talking about raising children and preparing commercial buildings for flooring. Caryn hasn't called me, because I told her I had a "lunch appointment". By the time she's desperate enough to get out the phone, Silas has been stuck for about 15 minutes and is delirious with panic and pain. If his leg isn't broken or his hip dislocated, it's just a matter of time before one of his flagellations does it! So, time is of the essence, and if Caryn couldn't find one of my saws (except the chainsaw, but even in a panic, Caryn had the economic foresight to prevent years of therapy), then why would I be able to? And we DEFINITELY couldn't wait 10 minutes for me to get home, 5 minutes for me to look for a saw and not find one, and then ANOTHER 10 minutes waiting for more help.
So, what do you do? If you're going to wait 10 minutes for SOMEONE, it may as well be someone you know for sure, unequivocally, will be able to solve the problem. So she calls the Fire Department, asking if someone with a saw could come over to the house and free the boy. Because, when you're in a pinch, who else do you know who for sure drives around with a sawzall in their vehicle? Rather then sending ONE person, they re-route her call to 911, who dispatches an ambulance AND a fire truck.
So Silas, now surrounded by a stressed but exasperated mom and 6 EMS personnel, endures another 10 minutes of vaseline and snake bites before someone pulls the plug on the extraction attempts and whips out the power tool.
Here's the carnage:
In proper EMS protocol, Silas is wrapped in a tarp(!) and held up by two EMS people while a third chops the crib rail out underneath his leg. Then Silas, mom, the tarp, and a couple effects collected by the EMS are on their way out the door and to Emerg.
So, by the time I get there, I peek around the corner to see Silas, cheeks shiny from tear tracks, look up at me and giggle. "Daddy! Guess what?! I got to ride in an AMBULANCE! And they cut my pants off! hee hee!"
little stinker**.
(**edited version)
So, you know, if we had had one of those moments where you heard a thump and realized that your kid was too big for his crib, we might have made the transition a little later and more gradually. But a couple nights of abbreviated sleep now is better than routinely having your eyes snap open in the middle of the night with your heart pounding, thinking that maybe, just maybe, we might have to go through this whole thing again. So Silas, next time you want to see a fire truck, there's a stand of trees across the street. Go find some matches!
And if anyone wants to buy me a sawzall for Christmas, be my guest! We'll keep it in the linen closet.
Friday, December 11, 2009
Monday, December 7, 2009
I need to re-evaluate my relationship with Tim Hortons.
Today, after a particularly bad night of sleep (I think my thyroid is on the fritz again or something) I decided that a trip to Tim Hortons was in order as I was desperately needing some caffeine. And this desire would not be quenched by the made-at-home caffeine experience, but only the Tim Hortons-in-the-seasonal-Christmas-cup-XLarge-XHot-Xtra-commercialized caffeine experience.
So off Sy and I went. I got my "Tims" and headed for home. As I was driving down Highway 2 (going about 95kms/hour) I came up behind a semi that was going about 80km/hour so I slowed down behind it. As I was shoulder checking to see if I could get into the left lane to pass him, a massive snow build-up came off the top of his load and planted itself on my windshield. And this wasn't the little blustery drift of snow that clears in 2 seconds, but no... A SNOW DRIFT. ON. MY. WINDSHIELD. (Oh yeah, Did I mention that I was going 80 clicks?) So panic sets in as I quickly reach for the wipers only to realize that I am holding my wonderful-beautiful-Tim Hortons-in-the-seasonal-Christmas-cup-XLarge-XHot-Xtra-commercialized caffeine experience in my left hand with no where to put it.
Now...
any NORMAL person wouldn't have hesitated ditching the coffee on the floor and doing the responsible, good driver thing, by wiping the windshield clear, and steering their vehicle out of harms way while coffee poured all over the floor.
THAT IS WHAT I SHOULD HAVE DONE.
I mean, the thought process should be quite simple: Timmies = $1.64. Car Accident Damage = $10,000 + injuries!
But somewhere in my flawed little caffeine-loving brain I had a millisecond of "I CANT DROP MY TIMMIES!!!!"
...now don't worry, the story has a happy ending. The Mama-Bear-I-want-to-live-and-protect-my-life-and-the-life-of-my-small-child-sleeping-in-the-backseat-of-the-car half of my brain kicked in and trumped the caffeine loving half, and I dumped coffee all over the car, myself (ouch), the steering wheel, etc. (seriously it was everywhere... I swear there is 4 litres of coffee in one of those little cups!) and used both hands to drive myself into the shoulder and engage my wipers (which struggled for WAY TOO LONG TO attempt to get the "drift" off the windshield) and Silas and I were safe.
After the whole incident I had to laugh at the millisecond (okay I admit, it may have been a full second...like I said, I REALLY NEEDED THAT COFFEE) that I hesitated to do the right thing just for a cup of Jo! REDICULOUS!
Sigh.
Scary.
So to soothe my rattled nerves I went and got a new coffee...
...and put it in the cup-holder for the ride home.
So off Sy and I went. I got my "Tims" and headed for home. As I was driving down Highway 2 (going about 95kms/hour) I came up behind a semi that was going about 80km/hour so I slowed down behind it. As I was shoulder checking to see if I could get into the left lane to pass him, a massive snow build-up came off the top of his load and planted itself on my windshield. And this wasn't the little blustery drift of snow that clears in 2 seconds, but no... A SNOW DRIFT. ON. MY. WINDSHIELD. (Oh yeah, Did I mention that I was going 80 clicks?) So panic sets in as I quickly reach for the wipers only to realize that I am holding my wonderful-beautiful-Tim Hortons-in-the-seasonal-Christmas-cup-XLarge-XHot-Xtra-commercialized caffeine experience in my left hand with no where to put it.
Now...
any NORMAL person wouldn't have hesitated ditching the coffee on the floor and doing the responsible, good driver thing, by wiping the windshield clear, and steering their vehicle out of harms way while coffee poured all over the floor.
THAT IS WHAT I SHOULD HAVE DONE.
I mean, the thought process should be quite simple: Timmies = $1.64. Car Accident Damage = $10,000 + injuries!
But somewhere in my flawed little caffeine-loving brain I had a millisecond of "I CANT DROP MY TIMMIES!!!!"
...now don't worry, the story has a happy ending. The Mama-Bear-I-want-to-live-and-protect-my-life-and-the-life-of-my-small-child-sleeping-in-the-backseat-of-the-car half of my brain kicked in and trumped the caffeine loving half, and I dumped coffee all over the car, myself (ouch), the steering wheel, etc. (seriously it was everywhere... I swear there is 4 litres of coffee in one of those little cups!) and used both hands to drive myself into the shoulder and engage my wipers (which struggled for WAY TOO LONG TO attempt to get the "drift" off the windshield) and Silas and I were safe.
After the whole incident I had to laugh at the millisecond (okay I admit, it may have been a full second...like I said, I REALLY NEEDED THAT COFFEE) that I hesitated to do the right thing just for a cup of Jo! REDICULOUS!
Sigh.
Scary.
So to soothe my rattled nerves I went and got a new coffee...
...and put it in the cup-holder for the ride home.
Saturday, December 5, 2009
Remember a few weeks ago when I asked for some nice white fluffy snow?
Well apparenlty the sky was listening...
Oopsies.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
