If you're happy and you know it don't pet his dink.

Before Molly was born Sam and i rescued a half pit/jack russell. I can't even speculate on the biological weirdness of that, or why the hell anyone thought it would be a good idea to mix those two terriers but the result is pure greatness.

When we rescued him he had a very tough Harley Davidson collar on, and he was named Dodge and we were told he was a "very tough dog." But you could see in his eyes the heart of an elephant and the soul of a squirrel. Kevin would defend us to the death if need be, but he is not a very tough dog at all, and we like him that way.

We saved Kevin at the time because our Jack Rusell was in need of a friend, and we were in need of some home security. So it seemed obvious to me, being that he was hired as a bodyguard, that he should henceforth be named "Kevin Costner." For those of you who don't get the reference, you are much too young to read this, you lucky bastard.

Sam was instantly against this decision, stating that there was no way in hell he was going to be seen yelling "Kevin Costner!" at the dog park...nevermind that he named his dog Lub-A-Tub, apparently Kevin was the coolness line he was drawing. Weeks went by with him not coming up with a suitable name change, and with me saying things like "Kevin Costner ate my fucking COUCH today," or "Kevin Costner peed all over the floor" and eventually the humour of it all wore him down.

So today I am working away on some soul-sucking design work while Molly entertains her Grandma, who is visiting from Ontario. Kevin has become Molly's dog through and through, not by his choice in the slightest. But like most other things Molly sets her mind to, she wore him down until he just gave in. Redheads possess magical powers of stubbornness and manipulation.

There is one thing you would not know about my family unless you stayed long term enough with us that we somehow forgot you were there. Or unless I blabbered it all over the internet. But it helps the story, so I will tell you; we are singers. Not good singers, not talented in any way, but we do not let that stop us from singing pretty constantly about the random shit that is happening in our household. So Molly was born into a family that sings about what they are cooking, putting on shoes, cleaning and hating it, where are my fucking keys, has anyone seen my wallet etc etc. So she pretty much embraced this weirdly way of life to its fullest extent, and has quickly become good at rhyming, changing songs to suit her needs, and unlike the rest of us she possesses a very good little voice. One out of three is not bad!

My favourite adaptation when she was little was
Twinkle twinkle little star,
how I wonder what you are.
Up above the world so high,
Like a bathroom for the sky.

So back to today I am working away and listening to Molly teaching Grandma how to sing "If you're happy and you know it." and coming up with her own awesome and bossy verses.

It started innocently enough with "If you're happy and you know it move your head," and as she ordered her grandma around the room doing new things to prove said happiness it eventually moved to Kevin. Poor Kevin. Being Molly's best friend does not come without a price, she is affectionate to the point of scary, her love can be scary as shit sometimes, and she has had to learn a lesson or two in dog etiquette in her day.

Well if Grandma didn't know dog etiquette before she certainly does now. "If you're happy and you know it pet the Kevin" then a moment of silence where I can only assume grandma is petting Kevin, and here's where it gets all serious and rulesy; "but if you're happy and you know it don't pet his dink!" was abruptly followed by Grandma nearly falling to the floor laughing.

There's something wrong with my vagina!

Rightio, where were we? Once in a while Sam and I have been subject to Molly's newest and weirdest affectations. Like the whole week that she took on a fully Bostonian accent. She would yell things like "Ma!" and drop all her R's and generally just sound as though she had been taken over by an old Bostonian poltergeist. She was also a little more saucy that week.

We never found out where she learned to speak Bostonian, but great things came from it. For example the time I was trying to have a rare adult conversation - by which I only mean without a child, not a particularly racy one - with my friend Jo and I could not stop laughing. Finally I had to explain that Molly had decided that she was not going to nap today, and instead of snuggling down with her cute teddy bear like most people's cherubs do, she was going to lay in her bed and yell at the top of her lungs, many many times; "Mah! Thehs soooooommmthing wrong with mah vaginaaaaaa!!!" so that surely the neighbours must also agree that I need to take my child to a doctor and fast, because her Bostonian vagina must be on fire! The best part of the fallback from this phase is that Jo and I ended up making each other oddly similar Christmas decorations adorned with a redhead yelling "there's something wrong with my vagina!" Bet your Christmas ornaments aren't that funny. If they are, please share.

A few weeks ago she started calling her little Tinkerbell suitcase "my leetle friend" and pretty menacingly reciting "Say hello to my leetle friend" to everyone while displaying her suitcase proudly. She also took up wiping out displays of toys in her room just after saying that creepy sentence in her new Italian accent. So where the hell did my three year old learn SCARFACE?? We don't really watch a lot of TV so Italian week and the Scarface reference is a puzzle we haven't solved just yet. Which brings me to Japanese week.

This week Molly started doing what in my opinion seemed like a decent impression of speaking fluent Japanese. I would ask her what she wanted for breakfast and she would answer sushi, and then she would happily eat her rice cereal while reciting what I could only guess was a three year old's version of Haiku. But the icing on the Japanese cake came when she got home from daycare and started staring intently in my eyes while saying "Arigatooooo" and seemingly trying to hypnotize me. So "Arigato" I replied, things got a bit more intense. "Mom! Arigato!"  "okay honey, Arigato!" this is when she looked like she might karate kick my ass across the kitchen floor, she stomped out of the room yelling "Arigato is Japanese for thank you. So you say you're Welcome' dammit!"

First Japanese lesson, over.

Let's get this shit started!!

So I figure with my first post I am going to cover all my bases. This blog is about me and my daughter, and how I thought that popping out a human would turn me into Martha Stewart and I would instantly start knowing how to work with glitter, and stop swearing and sounding like a complete asshole. Apparently there is no magical mom switch, you are still the exact same tactless asshole you were before kids, and now you just have a tiny human to teach and mold and then unleash on the unsuspecting world.

Picture if you will a human raised by wolves, but the wolves are rednecks too. This will give you a much foreshortened version of me, and make this whole "I can't believe she just said that," thing make sense a lot faster. This blog contains mature content, written by a less mature narrator.

Read if you want to. If you find me offensive, think I am a terrible influence on my child, and generally can't believe the shit that comes out of my mouth, either stop reading and look elsewhere for your wholesome family entertainment, or write a blog about how people like me are ruining the fabric of society. it sounds really boring, but give 'er shit.

I was pushed into writing a blog because I have already been sharing Molly stories with the world of facebook, and they make people laugh. Life since 9.9.9 for me has been a whole lot funnier. I went to the hospital to deliver a baby and instead came home with a sarcastic, witty, far too intelligent fucking unicorn of a human being. She will take over the world one day, so I am guessing this will make her "I dominate you, find out how I did it." autobiography even more colorful and awesomely awesome.

Lucy D