Purging the Cell

Doesn't that title sound twisted? Microscopic cellular puke?

Yeah, sorry to disappoint.

Apparently I have talent for losing digital photos--an odd habit for a self-proclaimed digital packrat... or at least, it is until I explain how I lose these bad boys...

I take them, with complete intention of using them somehow, and then promptly forget I've taken said photos...

99% of my cell phone photos fall under these categories:

1. Forgot my real camera for a classic photo opportunity... ie: field trips, visits with Santa, etc. Yes, I sometimes fail as a mom... actually, since I'm convinced failing is part and parcel of being a mom, I suppose I win there, too. (Justification: she is my super power.)

2. Comparison shopping. Take photos of prospective bargain at one store in order to compare it to similar (if not identical) item at another store, including comparing to online stores' items.

3. As my memory and a facilitator for laziness. If I've encountered something that I know I won't remember the name (and will possibly need said name) in order to relate the story to Mr Lannis or friends, I'll take a photo. I've taken pics of lists and requirements in order to not have to carry/copy paperwork. Also in relation to shopping: great for remembering specific details of bundled items or selection a store has. Definitely good for when Mr Lannis sends me to pick up something I know nothing about (take photo, show him, have him decide if return visit for purchase is necessary). Ultimately anything that will end up disqualifying my faulty memory from responsibility.

4. Ease of sharing. It's far easier to use our home WiFi network to share a quick cell phone shot on Facebook than it is to unplug the actual camera's memory card, upload photos to iPhoto, then in turn to Facebook. I've also been know to send the odd photo in a text message, but thanks to my lack of data plan this will cause my cell phone carrier to yell at me. Every. Time.

5. Random shenanigans... self-explanatory, yes?


So. Basically I'm in the market for a new phone. Nothing fancy. That I've downloaded my current cell's photos to the laptop actually speaks volumes about my commitment to an upgrade.

This post? Yeah. It's a showcase of the complete random that has accumulated. No reason other than how can I not share this gold?!

Yes, I'm lying in a vat of Lego. Dreams do come true. Note: my kid is not surprised.

Santa's elves have safety standards.

That's a giant bear sitting on my kid.

Still makes me laugh.

Yes, that's a plush homemade dill pickle. Watch out, it'll bite you.

This was a Christmas present of pure awesome. Jello brains!

Spotted in my town. I sleep more easily.

And lastly... I couldn't resist:

When the mice are away...

[Note: This post was originally published on The Mrs on July 21, 2012.]

Not gonna lie... sometimes I miss being kid-less.

Like, when grandparents take them for three days and one of my favouritest people in the world comes over and we put on our drunky pants and like true grownups decide to spend time reassembling Lego figures—because what else do real adults do sans kidlets?!

And then one of the Lego figures decides to take a swim.

That’s fun, folks.

Who knew the Sea King liked mojitos?

Lego Steampunk: Boogernaughts

Want to know what I learned this morning? The super cool new Steampunk Lego is unavailable in Canada.

Yes.

I'll let you take a moment to read that again and mourn with me.

To be more specific, the Master Builder Academy designs that are carried in the US online Lego Shop aren't carried in the Canadian sister shop.

So that means I need to spin things so that this is not on the kidlets' Christmas wish list.

Which is unfortunate, because Miss Emilie Bush's awesome books have somehow resurfaced from the quagmire that is our kids' bookshelf, handily reminding the kidlets of the über-cool existence of all things Steampunk. (It's shocking they forgot, really.)

Specifically Steamduck himself, natch.

And thankfully we've got the old school Lego Technic pieces from my youth, so the boys definitely have gears enough to keep themselves busy, but... it's not the same.

What the hell, Lego?! I mean, I can understand why you might not ship to say, Angola, what with it being an undeveloped country and all, but why not Canada?

Boogernuggets to you, Lego! Boogernuggets, I say!

...

Or boogernaughts, I suppose, if we're talking Steampunk... heh.

Bee-utiful

All my package squishing er, hard work has paid off...

Yes, we managed to get the bee girl I uh, the boys wanted, before Lego Minifigure Series 10 disappeared.

Which is great, but now I've had a look at Series 11... and it would seem the collecting will never end...

A lady robot, a scarecrow, a rollerskating diner waitress, AND a gingerbread man?!

(His mug reads, "Dunk Me." ::snort::)

Be still my Lego-loving heart...

Minifigure Madness

It's happened.

Yep.

I am now THAT person...

You know, that one in the store who stands at the display of Lego Minifigures, frantically squishing the 3" bags with her fingers while staring off into space, attempting to discern which tiny collectable person is hidden inside...

Yep.

 

Because dammit, I wanted the chicken man in Series 9, and I'll be damned if the bee girl of Series 10 gets away, too!

Loopholes...

The kidlets dumped their Lego bins on the weekend. All over the toy area. It's a literal carpet of Lego.

I wish I was kidding...

Yes, that's my front door on the upper right. So yes, this is what you'd see when you walk in the door. Lovely...

Then they attempted to invade the living room with their play.

Hold up, Cowboys!

I told them that if they didn't have enough room to play in their own area, they'd need to tidy up.

It got quiet.

Astoundingly quiet.

Then I learned why...

Lego Lannis Family

I love my kids.

A few days ago I had a surprise... my seven-and-a-half year-old rendered his family in Lego minifigures.

Not sure what I enjoy more... that he's depicted his little brother with a jerky expression, that Mr Lannis is bald with scruff, or that I'm holding a wineglass... Ha!

Of course, this led to the Lego Lannis family going into the remote control car, and overhearing a crash, and:

R [7.5 y/o]: Aw, yeah, that was awesome! Mom flew out!

L [6 y/o]: Yeah, she's dead.

R: No, she isn't... [pause] Okay... maybe a little.


Aw, kids... 

On FIRE!

A short post today, brought to you by my nutty seven-year-old, Lego, and Alicia Keys...

That's a Lego skeleton. With a Lego flame for a head. You're welcome.

He flagged me down yesterday to show me this, and sang, "This girl is on fi-ire!"

Awesome.

Quiet

My house... is quiet.

Like, not right now—okay, yes right now—but, like, 95% of the time.

I’m not talking about the boys—they’re kids. Kids make noise. I’m talking about background noise.

Growing up, our radio was on in the kitchen, perpetually. I learned to read on a bus, my nose in Nancy Drews while I bounced my way to school and back. I know the TV wasn’t always on, but it was on far more than ours is now.

(And yes, we only have one in our household. Gasp!)

Truth is: I like the quiet.

Our oldest, who’s seven, has remarked more than once that he loves being home because it’s peaceful.

Now, he’s a kid who had blocked Eustachian tubes and couldn’t hear well for years before we figured it out. Ambient noise was a culture shock for him, to say the least.

It’s nice to have the quiet. Occasionally our radio is on. Since being on an airplane, the boys enjoy wearing earbuds when using the Leapster or Tag Reader... they appreciate the quiet, too.

Our TV is off mostly. There are strings of days where nobody bothers to turn it on. Truth.

We don’t have cable, but we have plenty of kids’ TV shows on DVD, and lots of movies for them to watch—which they do on Friday nights (movie night) or on weekends if it’s raining. It’s on nightly after the boys go to bed when Mr Lannis is on day shift—we watch a couple episodes of whatever we’re into at the moment before retiring for the night, but if he’s on afternoon shift, I don’t bother turning it on. Evenings are spent costuming while listening to podcasts on iTunes, or reading... that’s pretty much it.

Yes, it’s quiet. Yes, it can take some getting used to. I think my daycare charges are still shell shocked that the house can be so silent while they play—and they do play, loudly, four kids together. And that’s great. I have no issue with the cacophony of childhood—it’s the incessant buzz of background noise and what it does to the brain that bugs me.

It’s draining.

Other things are draining, too. The obnoxious commercials of radio and TV stations. The sensation of planning your days based on what’s scheduled on TV.

 To be lacking all that? It’s very freeing... and relaxing. Easier to focus.

Like right now, as I write this at 5:19pm on a Saturday afternoon, the only background noise is of Mr Lannis and the boys talking while they dig through the Lego bins and build elaborate creations. That’s it. No radio. No TV. Nothing yakking at us.

Peaceful.

Oh, I stand corrected...

The five year old is complaining that Mr Lannis is swishing through the Lego bins too loudly...

(Heh.)

It Never Fails...

So I posted an ad on Kijiji...



Wooden toddler table and chairs; free to good home. Well-loved (read: marked up), but plenty of play left in them. My boys have outgrown them. Come and get it.

And then this happens:

They haven’t sat at this table in months. Actually, aside from using the various parts of this setup for forts, I doubt anyone’s even thought about using this table and chairs for their proper function in years.

No exaggeration.

But see, I move it upstairs to ready it for pickup, and, well...

Everything’s better with Lego. Truth.