Clearly there’s something wrong with me.  With my taste buds to be more specific.

It would seem that I taste things very differently from the rest of my family.

For instance, tonight I made Pioneer Woman’s “Chicken Spaghetti” from her fab cookbook.  And what’s not to like about it?  Chicken?  Spaghetti?  A creamy cheesy sauce?  It’s all delish.  I LOVED it!

And yet, the boys didn’t.

This is the way almost every new dish I try ends up.  Which really puts me off trying new things.  And which is why we only have about 10 meals in the weekday rotation.  10 meals that we keep eating over, and over, and over again (yawn).

How can I like so many things that they don’t?  Is it my taste buds?  It can’t be theirs because there’s always 3 of them saying “no likey” and only 1 of me saying “yummy”.

I’m obviously the problem.  My tongue is broken and requires immediate replacement.  I’m saving up for a transplant.  Know any good surgeons?

Does your family like to try new things?  Which tactic should I try on mine next time – Bribery?  Violence?  Tears?

So I’m sure you’re all dying to know the conclusion to yesterday’s rambling mattress post, aren’t you.  Aren’t you?!  Awww – C’mon!  Humour me, will ya.

Did she sleep?  Did she like the new mattress?  Was it a big fail?  Come closer cyber friends, and I’ll finish the tale . . .

Bedtime approached with both apprehension and excitement.

Apprehension like “crap – what if I hate it?!  I’ll be sentenced to bad sleep for years to come!”  And for the record – The Only Girl REALLY likes and REALLY needs her solid 7-8 hours a night.  Or else there’s big trouble – particularly for her family.  And there’s very little patience – for everyone and anyone.

And excitement like “OMG!  I can’t WAIT to try out my beautiful new mattress tonight!  I think I just might have the BEST sleep ever!”

And so the countdown to bedtime began.  Tick.  Tick.  Tick.

And when the time was right, up the stairs I went.  Step.  Step.  Step.

My teeth got brushed, my face got washed, I applied copious amounts of facial moisturizer and finally, my mouth-guard was inserted (nightly teeth grinding is starting to have some dental implications for The Only Girl).

Ready.

And so I jumped in.  And I do say “jumped” because this new mattress is high with a capital “H”!  The old one was high, but this one is even more so.  In fact I think The Youngest might have to take a running jump just to get into it.  And I should probably be careful getting out of it in the morning when I’m all half asleep, or I could seriously hurt myself on the way down.

But it was good.  Sooooo good.  And my back did not hurt in the morning.  Nor did I awake in a deep saggy crevice.  In fact I was still very, very comfy.

On the “Comfy Scale” Willie only gave it a 4 out of 10.  But I’m sure that was just to piss me off.  I, on the other hand, will award the new mattress a 9 out of 10.  The only negative comment I have is the extreme height.  But I’m sure I’ll get used to that.

So – for now – I hesitantly declare the mattress selection a big fat WIN!  But watch yourself, Kingsdown Mattress people, I’ll be re-evaluating in 6 months.

And yes, as predicted, Willie did suggest a “breaking in”.  Unfortunately my bedtime preparation routine took too long and he fell asleep.  Or was it the very comfy new mattress?  I guess we’ll never truly know.

I’m working from home today.  Something I do once a week anyway, but today is special.  Why you ask?  Because today I’m expecting a delivery.  We’re getting a brand new . . . MATTRESS!

And I’m giddy about it.  Like a kid a Christmas.  Or a husband on Superbowl day.  Let me back this tale up a bit.

About four years ago we bought a new house.  A house with a REALLY big master bedroom.  Like, crazy big.  And in an effort to fill it up a bit, we figured we’d trade in our queen size bed for a king size one.  Which was probably a good idea anyway, because every now and then a child hops in with us through the night.  But with the new house expenses and all, we didn’t have much cash leftover for the new bed.  Fortunately for us, the friend of a friend had just purchased a king size mattress that had recently “fallen off the back of a truck”.  Not being one to care exactly where a good deal came from – I was all over it.

So a king size mattress we did get.  And it was good.  Very good.  For about 6 months.  But it turns out that you do in fact get what you pay for.  And I eventually had the sagging mattress to prove it.

Both Willie and I (okay, really more I) couldn’t stand it.  It was horrible.  It hurt my back AND my feelings.  So after much deliberating, we decided to chalk our “good” deal up to stupidity, and agreed to buy a new one.  Properly this time.

Now the good thing about having a husband that doesn’t really care about what he sleeps on is that;

A)  I got to pick out the mattress I wanted
B)  the picking and subsequent buying decision was completely up to me

Which made me anxious.  What if I picked another looser?  What if they delivered it and it wasn’t comfortable?  What if it’s too hard?  Too soft?  Even though the only person I was trying to please was myself.  Because as previously stated – Willie will pretty much sleep on anything.

So I went to a national, reputable mattress chain and agonizingly made my selection.  And it was a winner!  A firm yet comfortable pillow top model with a 10 year warranty.  And we slept good.  Really good.

For about 3 years.  Till I noticed it starting to sag.  In spite of all our OCD mattress rotating, this bitch was getting saggy!

So I called the national, reputable mattress chain, provided some details, and to my delight, this problem was covered by the 10 year warranty!  A no-charge mattress exchange was waiting for me!  You can’t imagine the depth of my happiness.  Although my current mattress model was no longer available, they had one that was virtually identical and wanted me come in to give it a try to ensure I would be happy with the substitution.

“Uh-Oh.  Did I really want the exact same type of mattress again?  Would I not be in the same predicament again in just a few short years?”  Worries.  Anxiety.  Concerns.

So I opted instead for a different mattress.  Quite different in fact.  Different manufacturer.  Different type of pillow top.  Different firmness.  Very different.  It even had a different price tag.  A much higher price tag – that the national, reputable mattress chain did not make me pay for.  Again – EXTREME happiness!  The kind that makes you do a little dance every time you think about it.

“Uh-Oh.  Is it really a good idea to change everything up?  Will I really be happy with this very different mattress?  What if I don’t like it?  Why were they willing to give me the better mattress for the same price?  Was there something wrong with it?  Will Willie let me pick out another one in a few months if there is?”  No.  This mattress will have to do for awhile.  A long while.  Whether I liked it or not.  Worries.  Anxiety.  Concerns.  Upset stomach.  Heart palpitations.  Gripping fear.

But it’s too late for that now.  The mattress has been decided on.  It has been ordered.  And it is being delivered later today.

Will I like it?  Will it be comfortable?  Will I be able to relax enough to sleep tonight?  Have I made a bad decision?  Will Willie use some kind of manly focus switching technique by insisting we “break it in” immediately?  Will I ever stop asking these ridiculous questions?

Stay tuned . . .

Sometimes life just hands you a blog post – like yesterday morning for example.

And sometimes life teaches you to stop and appreciate the little things – like car doors that close for example.

It was a balmy -5C (23F).  The boys and I were in our usual rush to leave the house for the school drop off/drive to work.  They hopped into the car, buckled up and closed their doors.  Except the Youngest’s wouldn’t close.  At all.  No way – no how.  WTH?!?!  Out I get to investigate.  It appears that the female part of the door closing apparatus is stuck in a “the door is already closed” position.  How that happened – I have NO idea.  It shut fine the night before when he got out of the car.

Now, I do consider myself reasonable handy.  I’m no stranger to a drill, hammer, level or screwdriver.  I can even perform basic maintenance tasks on my car if required.  In fact, when Willie and I met, I had my own toolbox of stuff that I actually used.  And if I’m being honest – I actually like doing that kind of stuff.

So I figured “I can fix this.  I’ll just use a key to reach in and flick the latch back into the “door is open” position, and away we’ll go”!

Nope.  That baby wasn’t moving.

“Perhaps I’m flicking it the wrong way” I surmised.  So around I go to The Eldest’s side of the car to check out his latch.  “Which position SHOULD it be in” I’m wondering?  “Do I flick it up or down” I’m asking myself?  I’ll just flick The Eldest’s and I’ll have all my questions answered!  I’m SO smart.  I’m SO handy.  I’m SUCH a catch.

Except after I flick The Eldest’s, it doesn’t want to flick back either.

So now we have;

a) 2 rear car doors that are stuck open
b) 2 children that are now late for school
c) a husband that is already at work and can’t help
d) a Blogger that has to get to work and is now INCREDIBLE pissed
e) one pair for frozen hands (which could really end my blogging career.  And I use the term “career” very loosely here)

So I call the Dealership.  The KIA Dealership I would like to add.

“Um – just use a screwdriver to flick the latch back” they suggest.  Having already tried to “flick”, I’m somewhat skeptical, but perhaps the key I was using just wasn’t the tool for the job.  So I go get a proper screwdriver.  Nope.  There’s no flicking to be had.  My frustration level is off the charts.  I could walk the kids to school, but how the hell am I going to navigate my 45 minute drive – on the highway no less – to work with 2 rear doors that keep flying open every time I take a corner?

“Buckle up boys!” I exclaim.  “And hold onto tightly to your doors!  We’re going for a little drive!”  And with that, we set off on the 5 minute drive to the Dealership.

And honestly, those boys couldn’t have thought I was any cooler.  Driving around town as they held their doors closed.  Yahoo-ing the entire time.  Like it was an amusement park ride.  Or their mother was a really cool stunt driver.

Anyway – the happy ending is that Kia took my car in right away and had both doors fixed in about 10 minutes.  At no charge (which is what you should do when you make really crappy cars – you make up for it with good, free service).  The boys got to school, albeit it a little late, and I made it to work unscathed.

I’ll never take doors that close for-granted again.

Let’s hope tomorrow morning goes a little better.  Shall we Kia?

Did you ever meet someone, a complete stranger, but instantly felt like you’ve met them before?

Maybe there was something about their voice, or their mannerisms.   Maybe the way their mouth moved when they spoke or their eyes.  Something.  You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but yet, it was there.  A familiarity that you just couldn’t deny.

This is how I feel about him.  About Elvis.

I’m SURE we had met before.  Likely in another life because I certainly never met him in this one.  But how can someone be SO familiar if you’ve never met them?

Did I watch too many of his movies as a kid and permanently ingrain him in my mind?  No.  I prefer to believe that we did meet in a previous life.  That we were good friends.  Possibly even Lovers.  Maybe High School Sweethearts.  But that something tragic happened that tore us from each other.  And our lives together were never completed.

Which is why he wandered through his life always searching for that perfect love again – the one that he had shared with me.  I just know it.  In fact I’m convinced of it.  And you will not be able to tell me anything different.  Sadly no amount of drugs, doughnuts or peanut butter sandwiches were ever enough to fill that void that I left behind.

Yep.  You heard it here people – The Only Girl was the love of Elvis’ life.

Shut up.  I was so.

Sorry, no post here today kids.

Why you ask???

Because I’m guest posting somewhere else today.

Where you wonder???

Only at “SPEAKING FROM THE CRIB“!

I know!  I know!  How lucky am I?!?!?

Kelly at SFTC is an awesome writer and a very funny girl.  I’ve been following her since I started blogging, so I’m thrilled to be hanging out over at her place all day.

Just for today, and only today, you probably want to be me, don’t you!  Don’t you?  Hello?  Anyone?

Okay, so just click on the link above to check out what I have to say over there.  And at the same time be sure to check out Kelly (FYI – her new Coach purse recently saved her life you know).

Here’s a clue to the topic of my guest post . . .

I know you won’t want to miss how I explain THAT!

And if you’re stopping by here from SFTC, welcome!  Leave me a comment to say “hi” or maybe “ewww – you’re gross” or perhaps even an “I’m with you Sista!”.  Something.  Anything.  Just to let me know you popped by.  I always visit everyone that leaves me a comment, and I love to discover great new blogs.  I’d love to discover you.

And now that I’m clearly a guest blog expert, please feel free to submit all inquiries and requests.  I am now official for hire.  And I’m cheap.  Really cheap.

Item #1

In spite of my complete indifference to Twitter (remember this post?) I have now signed up.  Yes, that’s right – I caved . . . but allow me to explain.  I will NOT be tweeting my day to day boring life.  No – that would be far too painful for all of us.  I have set it up to automatically tweet my blog posts because, as the awesome Surferwife explained to me, some people follow their favorite blogs in a Reader (one central place to follow all your favourite blogs at the same time without have to click all around the Internet going from site to site.  Great if you follow more than 5 sites per day), but many others follow them via Twitter.  And since I’m all about the convenience, I’m just trying to help you Twitter-ers/Twits (?) out.  You can find me at TheOnlyGirlCher.  Tweet!

Item #2

Okay people – I’m only going to say this once.

TAKE DOWN YOUR GOD DAMN OUTSIDE CHRISTMAS DECORATIONS!

It’s the end of January.  Christmas is over.  Garland and red bows are no longer acceptable.  Neither are reindeer on your front lawn or having your Christmas lights on.  I don’t care what you got going on inside your house, but the outside does concern me.

The only exemption I’m giving is to those of you who have gone through much effort to install strings of lights at great heights.  Of course these are not easy to remove and may be left in place till next year as long as they are not turned on.

Okay?  Nuff said.

Item #3

Scoman did a whole spoof on the old “What shall we do with a drunken sailor” tune the other day, but to you I ask “What shall I do with a cheeky misbehaving 6 year old?”

Honestly.  I’m at the end of my rope.  I don’t know where he gets his defiance or his cheek.  His older brother has never had either.  Which is probably why it’s so frustrating to be dealing with now.  Well, that, and the fact that he has a face like an angel that just doesn’t seem to mesh with his devil personality that pops out more and more frequently.

If you have any discipline ideas that actually work for you – PUHLEEZE – and I’m begging here – share them with me.  I’m at my wits end and am considering moving out.  If we don’t get his behaviour in check now . . . his teen years will surely kill me.

Okay.  That’s all for today.  I have a special posting surprise for tomorrow that I’m uber excited about . . . no hints.  You’ll just have to wait.

I got up yesterday  morning and got ready for work like usual.

You know – the mad dash to get myself showered, wake the boys, slap a little makeup on, wake the boys again, throw a fast yet reasonably nutritious breakfast out for them, yell at the boys to frickin get dressed already (!), blow dry my hair, find something in my painfully sad and bland closet to wear that matches and is comfortable (cause I’m at that age where comfort is now King – sigh), threaten the boys lives if they don’t hurry up, insist that “yes” they do HAVE to brush their teeth, and get their hair into a reasonable style.

And as we’re heading back downstairs for boots, coast, hats, gloves and backpacks, I notice “sheesh – it’s cold in here today”.  “Here” being our house.

But I did just come back from a week on the beach.  And we do live in Canada.  Perhaps I was just getting re-climatized?  Maybe a cold spell blew into town during the night?

So I turn the furnace up a degree or two because it was one of the days that my Mom (known affectionately as  “Gramma” to our entire neighbourhood) comes over to get the boys for lunch and after school and so I want to warm the house up for her.  Cause I’m thoughtful like that.

But when she arrives mid-morning I get a call at work . . .

Gramma:  I don’t think your furnace is working.

Me:  What?  Are you serious?

Gramma: Yeah, it’s colder in here that it is outside!

Me:  awww – crap!  I did think it was a bit chilly in there this morning.

Gramma:  Your thermostat shows that it’s only 16 degrees in here even though the furnace is set for 21.

Me:  CRAP!

So now I’m quickly thinking how I can get a repair guy there asap before we end up with an ice rink INSIDE the house.  And how much, exactly, it’s going to cost.  Because – hello! – just came back from vacation.

So off Gramma goes to investigate.  Furnace is definitely not coming on.  Breaker is fine.  Hydro is okay.  We just had the damn thing cleaned/service a few months ago.  WTH?!

Then Gramma spots the problem.

A large, hand-cuffed, stuffed monkey wearing Star Wars pajamas was hanging from the furnace on/off switch on the wall.  Who clearly had been part of the Super Heroes games the evening before.  Obviously said monkey had committed some heinous crime that required the hand-cuffing and hanging.  Which had inadvertently turned of the furnace.

Gramma released the imprisoned monkey and turn the furnace switch back on.

Problem solved.

Heat resumed.

Crisis averted.

Boys in trouble.

Today we will continue with pictures from my recent Mexican vacation.  No, not pictures of me frolicking on the beach or Willie after doing a few Tequila poppers.  No one should have to see either of those.  No, today I will be featuring interesting things I saw on our travels.

Let’s start with the reason you should always have someone help you put sunscreen on your back.  You just can’t get it all yourself.

Or the crabbiest dessert I saw all week.

I did feel very safe at our resort.  They had a 360 degree Mexican surveillance system in place at all times.  Look closer.  There.  Up on the roof . . .

Those guys really kept an eye on things.

Apparently this pattern was really popular in the swim suit industry this year.

In fact I think these girls were surprised to see that even guys were wearing it.

And here’s my favourite sign.  I always thought “never give up” was about determination, but I’m really glad to know that it’s actually about shopping.

Okay.  That’s it for the vacation pictures.  Tomorrow we will return to regular posts.  And hopefully regular bowel movements too.

Okay -  I’m back from my vacation.  I’m tanned and I’m relaxed.  And yes, my Mexican Lover satisfied me all week the way no other can.

We had a really great time.  Especially the boys who made many friends, and never sat still.  Whatever energy was sucked out of Willie and I while we lazily sprawled on our loungers was clearly transferred to them.  Water polo, beach volleyball, hide & seek, beach soccer, tennis, swimming, mini disco . . . I was exhausted just watching them.

But the vacation is officially over and both work and school resume today.  Sucks.  And if I never hear another baby screaming on an airplane, it will be too soon.

I considered posting a detailed account of our week, complete with dozens of pictures, but really, who cares.  Instead, I took a few pictures you might actually find entertaining.  You see, when Willie and I go away, we like to give other people at our resort nicknames.  Maybe they remind us of someone back home, or a celebrity, or they have a particularly distinguishing factor.

Like for instance this young guy – who we secretly called “Bad Idea” all week.

Or this lady, who was bestowed with the name “Carrot Top” – for obvious reasons.

Then there was the Mexican Taylor Lautner.

And this guy – known as “The Hunter” because we never saw his full face the entire week.  It was always hidden behind his camera which was pointed at his children.  I’m pretty sure he didn’t see any of his vacation through his own two eyes.  In this picture, The Hunter becomes The Hunted.

Next we have this guy.  We called him “Book”.  Not sure exactly what his tattoo said.  I’m thinking it’s either something very ancient and deep, or a quote from “Twilight”.

And of course “Juan Valdez”, the coffee guy (minus his donkey in this particular shot).

Then there was this couple.  We decided to call them “The Twins”.  I can’t help but wonder how much convincing it took for him to wear that outfit.  Or maybe it was her that needed the convincing.  But I do know that someone wasn’t thinking straight or had too many Tequilas.

Okay that’s it for today (oh, and my apologies to those pictured in this post – no harm intended).  My poor overflowing Reader desperately needs some attention.  Apparently I was the only one that took a vacation last week.  The rest of you just kept posting.

Tomorrow I will be featuring a few other pictures.  Hope you’ll join me.

Which of my fellow-vacationers is your fav?