untanglingknots.com: March 2008

by Karla ° Sunday, March 30, 2008

It’s no secret that I’m a huge fan of Lululemon clothes. There are very few things on this planet that I would dish out the kind of cash that they demand for their gear, but there are also very few things on this planet that flatter my lady lumps and bumps the way their clothes do. Unless you count Mark’s ability to be complimentary, but he is contractually obligated to be that way through marriage, so he doesn’t count.

So, yes, Lululemon clothes are expensive, but they really do hug and flare in all the right places to create an extremely flattering silhouette. My favourite pants, by far, are the new Surya style. A bit looser than the updated Reverse Groove straight leg pants, they have an adjustable waist for a custom fit and piping along the sides creates the illusion of elongated legs. I feel 19 feet tall when I wear them.

And if this Mansy wasn’t an April Fool’s joke, I would so buy this number for Mark in a variety of skin-hugging colours. Because seriously, what dude doesn’t need a missile-enhancing Mansy?

Labels: Lululemon, Mark

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The Fatigue

by Karla ° Friday, March 28, 2008

I has it.

Labels: Samson

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On Bikinis and Buttons

by Karla ° Tuesday, March 25, 2008

I am slightly obsessed about our upcoming trip to Vegas. And by slightly obsessed, I mean visiting the website of every hotel on the strip, and then finding menus to all of their restaurants to scope out the tastiest and most romantic fine dining available. I have also mapped out all the Quiznos and where to buy a case of beer to take to our hotel room that can be kept chilled in our bathroom sink from the free ice provided by the hotel. Because we’re classy like that.

Also on my mind is our plan to spend our mornings defogging our cloudy post Vegas night life heads by the pool and the inevitable wearing of a bathing suit that will ensue. I have this little number that I wore on my honeymoon in Jamaica. It's wickedly indecent, and clearly designed to hug and cling to pre-pregnancy, sylphlike curves. Today, it no longer looks so cute after two C-section’s and the pesky resulting WTF roll/bump thing above my scar. I’d love to be able to wear that bikini again though, and have started sharing my breakfast with Nate to cut back on the amount of food I eat in a day. Judging by the amount of bagel that he eats, I should be down ounces by the time we leave in June.

And now I must pretend that I did not hear the sound of myself baking a fresh batch of chocolate chip cookies.

La-la-la. Visions of ~~cookies~~ wearing cute bikini dancing in my head. La-la-la.

~ - ~

Just this past week, Nate has taken a sudden interest in speaking. In addition to his two word lexicon of Mum-Mum and Dada, he’s suddenly all about the ai-yai-yai’s. I believe this loosely translates as, dear god woman, brush your hair already.

He can also now say mamoon (balloon), dug (dog) and hat (hat).

The most surprising thing to come out of his mouth though, happened the other night while Mark and I were watching TV. Nate has this annoying penchant for pushing buttons. And I don’t just mean those invisible buttons that kids push to grate on their parent’s last nerve. I mean the kind of buttons found on electronic equipment that have the potential to dial long distance to Tokyo and to turn off the TV at the exact same moment something very important is about to happen on Flip That House.

So, whenever Nate gets push happy, I say, “don’t touch”. This is usually met with a coyly rebellious raising of the eyebrows, which is immediately followed with him touching the button directly next to the one I just told him not to touch. Except the other night, instead of blatant defiance when I told him not to touch the buttons on the TV , he said, clear as day, “don’t touch.”

Mark and I looked at each other in complete awe, because it did not even sound like our kid. The tone of his voice was seriously stern and grown up, and if I didn’t know better, I would have sworn he was momentarily possessed by his mother.

Labels: Nate, Vacation

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Opposites attract, apparently.

by Karla ° Monday, March 24, 2008

"So why won’t you just TRY rice milk?"

"Because I’m not drinking rice that lactates!"

And so continues the battle between the vegetarian and the carnivore.

Labels: Comic Relief, Mark

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Make It Stop

by Karla ° Wednesday, March 19, 2008

Have been busy visiting friends and living vicariously through one very adorable pregnant belly and the the nom nom, cheek-pinching cuteness of another girlfriend’s baby.

Will be back once all this baby fever has left my brain.

If I’m not back soon, like say, tomorrow, somebody please slap me, preferably hard and repeatedly, to knock some sense into me. Because I'm about as ready to be pregnant again as I am willing to flush my head in the toilet.

Labels: Pregnancy, Thinking Out Loud

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Oral Education

by Karla ° Monday, March 17, 2008

We Canadians take our oral education very seriously.

Labels: Putting the Ass Back in Class

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What Happens in Vegas

by Karla ° Friday, March 14, 2008

It was the summer 2004 and Mark and I had been trying to conceive since just after getting married in September of 2003. With each passing month that my period arrived, despite perfectly timed sex according to my very normal 28 day cycle, 16 day luteal phase, I grew increasingly despondent and withdrawn. Having a baby consumed me.

In June, we decided to go on vacation to Las Vegas. We tried to plan it around my cycle, but we went away with another couple and the dates didn’t quite work out the way I wanted them too. Our week in the City of Lights would either greet with me a baby or my big stupid period.

Even though we were on vacation, I was still temping and charting, and when I woke up on day 29 of my cycle, I fully expected my temperature to have dropped and my period to have arrived. But Lo! That was not the case. My temperature 17 days past ovulation was still up. My heart fluttered with cautious hope and anticipation.

By evening, when my period had not yet arrived, I decided to take a pregnancy test. I walked into a CVS Pharmacy on the Strip, grabbed a test and approached the cashier to pay for it. The girl behind the counter looked at the pregnancy test, gave me a sheepish look, and rang it in.

“Good luck,” she mumbled as I walked away.

I can only imagine how that whole purchase must have looked in the self proclaimed City of Sin.

I took the pregnancy test in a public washroom at the Bellagio. It was negative. And that was exactly how I would describe my attitude for the rest of our vacation.

The next morning my period arrived, compounding my misery. There we were in a city of perpetual reinvention, distilled neon history, high rollers, night clubs and non-stop mind blowing entertainment, and all I wanted to do was sulk. Not even the majestic grandeur of the Grand Canyon seemed to mend my crushed spirit.

Mark and I always swore we would go back to Vegas someday. And that day will arrive in two months when we return to the Kingdom of Surreal to spend a full week lounging by lavish pools and swaying to the rhythm of sizzling Vegas nightlife.

This time, however, we’re going to do Vegas right. There will be no sulking, no big stupid periods, and no baby-making. Just pure, mesmerizing fun with some much anticipated unadulterated sex between consenting adults.

And it is very likely that what happens in Vegas will end up on this website in a much edited PG version.

2004 Vacation to Las Vegas and the Grand Canyon
(UPDATE: Video by Mark)

Labels: Marriage, Vacation, Video

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Burying an Empire

by Karla ° Monday, March 10, 2008

Even the blizzardly wrath of Mother Nature cannot bury this coffee empire.

Labels: Thinking Out Loud

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In Need of Some Go-Go-Gadget Arms

by Karla ° Friday, March 7, 2008

A little while ago, Nicki composed and dedicated a song for my sweet baby Ava. Clinging to my memories of Ava is all I have left of her, and Nicki created something beautiful and elegant to help keep her memory alive. Excessively grateful seems like an understatement.

She offered to send me a copy of the CD and imagine my surprise when an oversized box arrived on my doorstep, clearly far too heavy to contain just a single disk. Inside that box were several beautifully wrapped gifts.

Sometimes it’s easy to forget how much of an open book my life is here in this small corner of the Internet, and I was completely floored over the amazing amount of thoughtfulness that Nicki put into finding these gifts for Nate and me. I mean, I know she said she went back and read every single post in my archives, but I assumed she meant, you know, some of them, because seriously, even I cringe at the thought of reading about the past four years of my life.

Somewhere in the dusty corners of those archives I've mentioned how much I love to run, hate to cook, and that Lindt chocolate and fruit are some of my most favourite foods ever, and then Nicki went and found gifts that define this family to a T, including, genius of all things ingenius, orange and pear flavoured Lindt chocolate. And while inhaling that chocolate, a small piece of me soared all the Heaven, where I remained until it was gone, at which point I floated back down to Planet Earth and sulked for more.

The CD with Ava’s song, Nate’s new shape-stacking train, his bib emblazoned with inspiring marathon cheers, my new, er, lack of cooking abilities book, and um, all the missing chocolate have hit a sweet spot in my heart, and I'm so humbled to have been subjected to such overwhelming kindness.

I just wish I had Go-Go-Gadget arms long enough reach out and hug her.

Labels: Friends

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Parking Assitant

by Karla ° Tuesday, March 4, 2008

For the past eight years, I have been driving a two-door car that pretty much fits in my pocket, so I am having a bit of a hard time getting used to this extended wheelbase business.

On Sunday, Mark and I had to pretty much empty out the entire contents of our garage to make room for the van. We have what is called an “oversized” garaged. It’s not quite a single car garage and not quite a double car garage. Basically, this means the perimeter walls are where we send our junk to die.

I have been busy finding a new home for all the stuff that was piled in the garage. And by new home, I mean making a furniture graveyard in the snow bank at the edge our driveway. I am happy to report that someone has come and adopted Mark’s old nightstand from when he was but a wee boy, as well as the old office chair that Mark and I rescued out of a trash bin from way back in the day when we had no money for furniture and all the money in the world for bar hoping and cigarettes.

Today, I donated three large boxes of books and two overstuffed bags of clothing to the Salvation Army. Inside those bags was every last business suit I have ever owned. I don’t need them anymore, and I might have kept them, you know, just in case this being a Stay at Home Mom thing doesn’t work out, except having two kids metamorphosed my body and nothing pre-baby fits properly anymore.

So now that we’ve freed up some space in the garage, and parked our bicycles behind the bar-we-never-use-it-should-be-a-bathroom in the basement, there is room to park the new van. The only problem now, however, is parking . The van just fits in the garage. Like, just. And since I’m having a hard time getting used to the intricacies of parking something so large, I decided to place a marker to help make sure the van is parked deep enough inside the garage that I can close the door, but far enough from the front wall that I don’t accidentally crash into it.

First, I made a noose out of dental floss. Next, I took one of Nate’s small plush toys, a pink Care Bear, and carefully positioned him at the base of my windshield. Next, I secured the noose to the garage ceiling with a thumbtack. And finally, I wrapped the noose around the neck of Nate's Care Bear and sent it on a suicide mission.

It was a quick and painless death, as far as Care Bears dying, I’m sure. And now, as soon as I ram my windshield into his pink corpse, I know I am perfectly parked.

I’m so clever it hurts.