Little Live Pets review + giveaway
The following is a sponsored conversation with Little Live Pets.
An exciting package came in the mail recently, and it wasn’t something I’d forgotten I’d ordered online (which is usually the case).
The kids were lucky enough to review (a.k.a. get enlisted to play with awesome new toys!) the Little Live Pets Sweet Talkin’ Pets Single Pack and the Little Live Pets Sweet Talkin’ Pets Basket Pack.
C nabbed the bird (duck? bird? we can’t agree) and D was thrilled to get the puppy dog, so it worked out well. I told them the basket and accessories (little food dish, little chew toy) were for sharing.
Well, they were in L-U-V, as Stacey McGill would say. Because these aren’t just little velvety toys that chirp and bark. THEY REPEAT ANYTHING YOU SAY in the most adorable little chipmunk voice.
D got the hang of it immediately and, well, let’s just say there were poop jokes coming out of the mouth of that sweet little dog.
C took longer to get the hang of holding down the button to record, and then she tried to get her bird (which she named Keira, naturally) to repeat 25-second monologues that sounded suspiciously like she memorized them from a YouTube channel about unboxing toys. (“I hope you wiked dis. Fanks for watching!”)
And now for a story …
I took the puppy upstairs that night after the kids were in bed and recorded a message so that D would find it when he woke up. “Good morning, Baby,” I said into the microphone. “Mommy says you can have the iPad after six.”
(That’s our rule. He has a clock in his room. It was necessary.)
I pressed the button to hear the message and it was perfect (hilariously squeaky) so I left the dog sitting on top of the iPad, which sits on my dresser all night so D doesn’t wake up at 3 a.m. and nab it secretly.
I got in bed and started to read when the pup barked a minute later. I ignored it, figuring he’d stop in a sec. A few minutes later, he started barking what sounded like the tune of the alphabet. Again, I waited. Then he started repeating my message! Then a pause, then more barking. Apparently these little guys chatter away for a while before they put themselves to sleep. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
(Pupster eventually went to sleep and so I did, without having to get out of bed and shut him off. D listened to the message in the morning and was kind of astonished that the pup said something he hadn’t recorded. It was darn cute.)
Also … I may or may not have stolen the bird and dog at different times to send hilarious high-pitched messages to Darling Husband (“Heather wants a snaaaaaack!” “Your wife is the best!”).
Sidebar: I’m actually quite freaked out by real birds. I get anxious in the pet store when the kids drag me in to see the animals. The birds are very pretty, of course, but they’re also screechy and claw-y and their beaks are terrifyingly sharp.
When I was a kid, the Penhorn Mall pet store had a huge parrot (?) that was uncaged and I was always afraid it was going to lunge at me. You don’t see that any more in pet stores. Probably because someone really was attacked!)
This post is getting off track, so let’s get to the good part: GIVEAWAY TIME!
Want to win a Little Live Pets Sweet Talkin’ Pets Basket Pack (about $34.99 in stores)?
Leave a comment or tag me on Instagram/Twitter (@HFXHeather) telling me about an animal that freaks you out!
(Open to Canadian residents only, which is kind of awesome because that never happens)
Dating your child
I called March Break “March Broken” — only somewhat jokingly — because I felt like I was constantly disappointing someone.
Freed from the burdens of Primary and preschool, forced to colour at home instead of in a group setting, our kids were primed for adventure. I didn’t sign them up for the half-day rec camps like I’d originally planned, and that was probably a mistake. I thought I wanted a week where we didn’t have to rush out of the door just after 7 a.m., but caring for them 24-7 while also self-employed left me cranky and drained.
It was the dates, you see! They wanted dates! Solo dates with me and only me, and not their sibling (or their father, for that matter).
When you have more than one child, there is an extreme amount of pressure to spend solo time with each of them. This is especially complicated when you and your spouse work mostly opposite hours. Sure, you’re not paying for childcare, but one of you is always “on duty” with both kids.
It doesn’t leave a lot of time for the one-on-one connections you read so much about in those guilt-inducing parenting books. (OK, who am I kidding? Online articles. The last parenting book I read was What To Expect When You’re Expecting.)
And so I dated. I went on so many dates over the 10 days of March Break (which was supposed to be nine — damn snow day) that I felt like my profile must have been posted on Plenty of Fish …
Continue reading in my weekly parenting column, The Mom Scene …
Sew a removable cushion cover
My friend Michele recently bought a cute bench for her back door. It was the perfect size and finish, but she was startled by the fabric cover for the cushion: spotless white.
Did I mention she has a three-year-old, a nine-month-old and a dog … and this bench was going to be placed inches from the baby’s highchair? Yikes.
I told Michele it would be no problem to sew a cover, so she brought me the cushion and a metre of modern brown, green and aqua chevron print from Atlantic Fabrics.
She picked outdoor fabric because it’s so kid-friendly (a.k.a. stain-friendly) and you can often just wipe off the surface. She also brought a zipper, I noticed, sucking in my breath sharply.
I don’t have a good track record with zippers. I’ve sewn them (badly) into my daughter’s clothing and they never turn out exactly right. In my mind, I’d figured I’d put snaps on her cushion cover or maybe sew something pocket-style? But here was this long brown zipper that perfectly matched the fabric.
I had to give it a try …
Continue reading in my weekly DIY column, My Handmade Home …
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Happy Hysterectoversary
March 11 marked a year since I went into the hospital for a quickie day procedure (this, if you’re really curious).
A year since I fell asleep chatting with a friendly nurse and woke up, hours later, in horrible pain and mumbling “I didn’t think it would hurt this badly.”
A year since I weakly joked that it felt like I’d been cut open and the nurse looked at me strangely and rushed to get the doctor.
He’d given me a hysterectomy, he explained in his usual brusque manner. I don’t want to get graphic but stuff went down, I was cut open (a third C-section, essentially), Michael was called into a little room (where he waited, terrified) and the doctor made him decide if I should get a hysterectomy immediately or, like, be sewn back up, recover, and then repeat the whole she-bang once I gave my permission.
(He went for the former, obvi, because he knew I’d be vicious if I woke up and had been cut open for pretttttty much nothing.)
(It was totally the right decision, even if I did tease him about just doing it so he didn’t have to go through with his planned vasectomy.)
A year since I was suddenly unable to work for a while. A year since I was trapped upstairs in my bedroom, giving up control over my kids and our day-to-day lives. A year since I wrote my Huffington Post piece about the whole experience.
A year since I slipped deeper and deeper into a bad place.
Since I learned things about myself.
Since I learned how to climb out of the cold water and onto the shore, with the help of a little orange pill.
A lot of good things have happened in the last year, too.
I’m almost finished writing a novel. I’ve been killing the work-at-home mom thing (except when I’m failing at it?). I’m throwing myself into the best DIY projects we’ve done yet — as well as as “just for fun” projects that make me happy. I’m keeping up with the kids (not the Kardashians) as they continue to change and morph into these awesome little mini-people. Michael and I celebrated seven years of marriage and a zillion (15) years together.
Oh, and THIS HAPPENED ALSO …
How amazing is this photo???
I have Roo to thank for it. She sent it to me while I was still recovering in the hospital because she knew I’d love MY OWN PERSONALIZED PHOTO of John and Sherry Petersik more than any greeting card slash flower delivery slash singing telegram in the entire WORLD.
(I didn’t share the photo until today because, at the time, Young House Love was on a hiatus and John and Sherry weren’t sure they were ever returning to the blogosphere. The internet was going crazy trying to post recent photos of them to determine what had happened + what they were doing and I didn’t want my sweet get-well pic to end up on GOMI.)
It doesn’t feel like a full year has gone by, and yet I can barely remember what it’s like to buy tampons because haaaaaaaaaaa, no periods anymore! (I like to remind my friends of this, smugly, when they’re complaining about cramps.)
If it wasn’t for this totally-not-planned hysterectomy, I might never have reached the tipping point I needed to get medication for my depression and anxiety. I might never have been comfortable writing + sharing on social media about living with depression and anxiety. I might never have gotten tattoos or taken career risks or generally gotten much more honest with myself (and with others).
So here’s to you, busted-up uterus and all your problems!
I guess I kind of owe you one.
KonMari for kids
How do you get a three-year-old to tell you which of their picture books sparks joy? Is a five-year-old capable of deciding if they feel happy in one particular shirt over another?
Those are a few of the questions that are not answered in Marie Kondo’s best-selling book, The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up. Yes, that crazy book that’s making everyone fold their socks gently instead of balling them up.
The book is full of sometimes-zany advice targeted toward adults living alone — or living with a spouse who is equally willing to KonMari right along with them. So what’s an organizing-obsessed parent of little ones to do?
Here’s how I modified Marie Kondo’s famous tidying-up methods in order to apply them to our kids’ belongings:
Clothing
There’s a very firm order to Marie Kondo’s categories, and she insists clothing must be first. I started in our son’s room because he has far fewer items. I dumped out all of his drawers as well as everything in the closet, as instructed.
Since kids outgrow clothing at a speed that adults (hopefully) do not, it was easy to toss the slightly-too-small stuff in the donation bag. There were also some items I just didn’t like any more. It’s amazing how much stuff you don’t even realize is taking up space until you take everything out of a dresser.
This was much harder in our daughter’s room because she has three times the clothing and it’s five trillion times cuter …
Continue reading in my weekly parenting column, The Mom Scene …
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Heather's Handmade Life 