Just bodies

The superhero photo challenge this week over at
shuttersisters is "just bodies" and when I saw that there was one picture in particular that I thought of immediately - Daddy and son walking on the beach.



The only downside with this shot is that it was taken with a film camera, so I have just scanned it - the quality isn't as great, but you get the idea.

My brother got married recently, and I caught this shot of the maid of honour - she had spent the good part of a very long day on her feet, and decided that she'd give her feet a rest for a bit...

Love Thursday

How could not not just fall in love with a face like this one? This wee guy is in training to be an assistance dog and just as cute as a button. My kids just adored him, and I was thankful that I didn't have to pick up any poop.

Sisterhood of the not-so-differing-pants.

With all the crap going on in the world today and me having to spend a fair chunk of my time chasing three little kiddos around, you'd think that an article in one of the major Vancouver papers about jeans wouldn't make me bat an eyelid. But it did. For the first time in a long time I actually got to sit down yesterday morning and have a nice hot cup of coffee (the kids slept in). And I read the article about the "Sisterhood of the Differing Pants".

This article was about finding jeans to suit "most body types". They had selected three "real women" as models to show how various jeans would look on different sizes and shapes. Great idea. Except for the fact that all of the women shown were tiny. And when I say "tiny" I mean size wise, not one of them was a size bigger than the number of fingers I have ON ONE HAND. I can't believe I got as ticked as I did.

I am not a big girl, but I am certainly into double digits size wise (those damned childbearing hips and flabby tummy). To find a pair of jeans that make me look fab would be great. Hard to imagine though when all you saw with this particular article were women who were a size three, and yet all the jeans shown say they suit most body types. One woman said that she ranges in size from zero to four (four on a bad day). She takes her girlfriends to the mall so that she is assured that she doesn't look fat in her jeans. Comical, considering that if she turned sideways she'd disappear.

A few years ago I went shopping at a mall in a suburb of Vancouver, and when I walked in one of the salespeople asked me if I was shopping for myself. I said that I was, and she proceeded to tell me that they didn't have anything in the store that would fit someone of my size. They didn't carry anything over a size eight, and with my height (I am 5'10") everything would be too short. I wasn't offended at all, in fact I was happy that I was saved the aggravation of trying to find something that clearly wouldn't fit. I think what bothered me about the article in the paper was that they kept going on about body type and size, and yet didn't even have an example of someone who is a size eight or even a size 10, never mind a bit bigger, which I'd venture to guess would be closer to the average size of someone you'd find walking down the street.

I just needed to get that off my chest - and yeah, that is flabby too.

Out of the mouth of the second born.

"Mommy, what are those?"

(Nicholas points to the dust that he sees in the sunlight in the living room)

"Those are dust particles honey"

"Dust what's?"

"Dust particles"

"I think I am going to call them Sun Fuzzies"

You call that a vacation?

We just got back from a short road trip (well, short by Canadian standards - for all you Kiwis reading it was mammoth). We headed down to Portland, Oregon for a few days and aside from a traffic snarl on the way down (involving a crane and a few lanes of traffic) it was pretty smooth sailing. Even the border lineups were short, which is always a bonus.

Every time I go to the US I am reminded of a few things that are quite different than up here in the great white north. Rest areas in the US are awesome. There was one that we stopped at on the way home where a bunch of little old ladies had made a whole pile of baked goods to give to travellers passing through. And there was always free coffee and a semi clean place to pee (very very important). My experience here in Canada has been that you are lucky to find a porta-pottie in a "rest area" here.

Another thing is that there are cat's eyes on the roads - awesome at night and when it is raining. I have no idea why you don't see them that much here in Vancouver where it rains for a good portion of the year. And the freeway system is great too - well marked and easy to navigate.

And the people - OMG I keep forgetting what great service we always get when we are in the US. Every time we went out waitstaff went above and beyond. I guess it is partially for tips, but hell - the difference is amazing. And people just seem to be more friendly in general. I had more people hold doors open for me in a few days than I have all year at home. I have become pretty skilled at navigating through non-automatic doors with stroller and a couple of kids in tow.

On the down side - we hit alot of buffets while we were travelling and the selection of fruit was abysmal. Usually when we do travel we like to try to get a kitchenette and eat in as much as we can, but since this was a short trip it wasn't overly feasable to pay all the extra cost for a bigger hotel room. I totally understood why there was no fruit when I went to a grocery store and bought apples, oranges, blueberries, strawberries, grapes and applesauce and the bill came to $42! I didn't buy that much (the oragnes were in a large bag, I'd say there were 10 in there), and was gobsmacked when the cashier told me how much the total was. We had just had dinner for all five of us for $25!

The cost of stuff is almost the same as it is here in Canada as far as clothes go, but I did drool over a new camera that was significantly cheaper in Portland - I didn't fork over the dough though...maybe next time.

So aside from the "are we there yets" (the first one was 15 minutes into a 4 hour drive) and the "I want to go home" on the way there and the "I don't want to go home" on the way back we had a great time.

I got my "Pleasure Kit" today....

A few weeks ago I got an e-mail from a lady named Michelle at matchstick. She asked me if I wanted some FREE CHOCOLATE. Quite honestly I initially thought it was some kind of prank - I mean, HELLO, I am only the biggest chocoholic who ever lived. My morning coffee is not complete without a bite (or ten) of some sort of chocolaty goodness. I was wondering what the catch was - and on the particular day that I got the e-mail my first-born was being a holy terror - if she had asked me to exchange him for a bit of chocolate it would have been close to being a done deal.

She sent a link to an online survey - so I filled it out. And lo and behold I got a phone call and confirmation that I had been selected as one of 300 individuals across Canada who had been chosen to receive the exclusive Dove Chocolate Pleasure Kit. Cool. I was told that I'd get some chocolate, and have to share it with friends.

A couple of weeks went by - nothing came in the mail. Then another phone call telling me that the chocolates were on their way. And sure enough they came yesterday. The box the chocolate came in weighed SEVEN POUNDS. Now that was unexpected. Here is all the free stuff that I got:

Chocolate - and lots of it. See those little squares at the bottom? Those each have four bite sized chocolates in them. Those are what I share with my friends. See those big bars of chocolate. Those are MINE. Unless of course you are willing to take my children for a day or two. Then I might consider sharing. There are three different flavours - dark, milk chocolate and "dusk" which is a mix of dark and milk chocolate.

The chocolate came in this nice bag below. And with the chocolate was a wine glass, a journal, and some special foot stuff.

What I didn't know about Dove chocolate was that each individually wrapped morsel of goodness is kinda like a fortune cookie - on the inside of each wrapper is a message. After I opened the first one (the message inside said "wearing a push-up bra is NOT cheating"), I had to eat a few more to see what other words of wisdom I could find....

"Ride shotgun", "Keep a promise", "jump on the bed", etc....my favourite was "eat the last one". I had only had three, told myself not to have anymore, but really, how could I not?

So the game plan is this - a couple of play dates this week, a wedding rehearsal, a wedding and two bbq's. I think I'll be spreading the chocolate love around this week - if you want some too you had better let me know quick!

Do you want your own pleasure kit? I am not sure if they are still looking for samplers, but if you are in Vancouver, Toronto of Montreal, follow this link and try your luck!

And then we ate cake.

Anyone who knows me knows that I am a chocoholic. My tastes have become more refined with age, but even so, that huge big costco sized bag of chipits has deteriorated a significant amount, and I haven't done ANY baking lately. Nothing like a mouthful (or ten) of chocolate with your morning coffee.

When Nicholas started preschool I met a woman whose son was in Nick's class. We got to chatting and it was uncanny how much we had in common. Nicholas and her son hit it off and are quite good friends. So when Nicholas was invited to E's birthday party a few months ago he was so excited to go. Ethan's mom M and I were chatting and she off-handedly mentioned that she will be making a King Kong theme cake for the party. I was impressed. But nothing prepared me for the creation that I saw - and my tastebuds went into extreme chocolate overload when I tasted the cake she made. O...M...G...

Turns out that she makes cakes - so I asked her to do one for Nicholas' birthday. I have seen some pictures of her work and she can pretty much do anything. Nicholas of course wanted Venom (for those of you who don't know he is one of the villains of Spiderman). I think poor M just about fainted when I told her that, but she rose to the occasion, and this is what she came up with.

When she came by the house to drop the cake off, she had also written me a note which described the cake in detail (the type of chocolate and the ganache she used). Venom was all fondant and totally edible. She also had a surprise - as a bonus, she did a wee carrot cake for Renee.



It was even personalized!

When we decided to have a bbq here at the house for my dad and my SIL's birthday, it was a no-brainer where we were going to get the cake. Our only problem was what to have ON the cake. I initially wanted something masculine and feminine, but after talking back and forth with M the only thing we could think of was boobs and a penis (yeah, that would have gone over well - Nicholas would be talking about that to anyone who would listen). My brother came up with the idea of a crab because they are both Cancer sign - and this is what M did for us:

She makes these cakes as a "creative release". I must find out what she does with the leftovers - or hell, I'll sign up to be a taste tester - but since she has three young boys and a hubby at home I am sure that my services won't be needed.

We've been busy....

With all the bitching I did about our crappy weather, I feel that I should probably tell you that we have had a really nice stretch of sunny days, hence the lack of posts. The kids have been having a blast playing outside (in the dirt, and in the water, back to the dirt - you get the idea). We've been catching up with friends, and now that summer is here we hope to be spending more time with people we don't see too much during the school year.

Logistically - having the kids in the backyard isn't going to be as easy as past years. Renee is just itching to get outside, and when she does, she has to be supervised. And it doesn't take long for her to go where she wants (with her cute little "drunk waddle" as we call it).

First she goes and investigates doing some art. As you can probably guess, only the bottom of the canvas gets covered.

Next she thinks about going in the sprinkler with her brothers (she usually has to carry around shoes with her when she walks outside, even when she already has some on).

Tonka trucks (or any type of "mighty machine") are her favourite. This all goes well until Nicholas finds out. Then all hell breaks loose.

It's enough to keep this tired momma on her toes - and very fun to see the discovery of so much new stuff through the eyes of a wobbly toddler.

Knee deep

THIS is what we should be doing this weekend - wading knee deep in the ocean. Alas it is not to be. Am seriously considering a move to a warmer climate. Like Alaska.

Mom hair.

I came across this the other day, and judging by the critiqe, I have "mom hair". According to the article, Angelina's hair is a big flop, so it is nice to know that when my hair looks its best, it still rates pretty low.



Now let me preface this by saying that my hair only looks like this after I have actually done something with it (rollers, dryers, etc). Most days, my "mom hair" is pulled back and hidden under a ball cap. The fact that I can't even pee in peace pretty much tells you that total time spent on my lid on a daily basis is about 10 seconds, and about a minute if Nicholas decides he wants to "help". Nicholas' form of help consists of trying to drive a bulldozer on top of my head to move my hair.

When I was younger I obsessed about my hair. Not so much the style, but the length. Everything was about the length. Then I decided to shake things up a bit and got it all cut off. And didn't get a date for years. Got called "Mr." a few times. It was not a fun time for my self-esteem. I look back now and realize that it was a bad look for me - a bad cut and a very unflattering style. I have many friends with short hair and it looks fantastic on them. A few times I have debated getting it cut off again.

I have been "seeing" the same hairdresser for almost 15 years. I LOVE her. And so does half of Vancouver it seems because she books months in advance. Way back when I was younger and single I could book an appointment for a Saturday a few months ahead of time because my Saturdays were pretty much the same - sleep in, have coffee, read the paper, sleep some more, work out, shop, eat, and go out at night. I could easily find a few hours in there to get my hair done. And it really does take about three hours to get my hair done because there is alot of it, and a fair chunk of it is GREY which means continual colouring.

Now of course with kids my weekends revolve around them. I can't remember the last time I sat down and actually read the whole paper or drank a whole cup of coffee before it went cold. There is always something going on and so booking a couple of months in advance is not an option. So when I called her this week to find out when she could get me in her first available slot at any time, she told me she was fully booked until August. So I am now biting the bullet and am going to try someone new.

I phoned another salon, and got in within a week. Tuesday is the big day. I am a bit aprehensive, but nowhere near as freaked out as my sixteen year old self would be. If my hair gets butchered, it isn't the end of the world, and hair grows. There are bigger things in life to fret over, but I am still nervous. Should be interesting!

He'll have to marry someone who is bald.

I always thought I'd put my biology degree to good use when I had kids. I took bug classes, bird classes, plant classes, and even studied some marine life. I dissected a number of animals too - and for the most part wasn't too grossed out. So it shouldn't surprise me that my boys LOVE the dirt and any kind of creepy crawly they might find while excavating the back yard.

"Look mommy - it's a WORM, isn't he HUGE?"

"Look mommy - slugs!"

"Look mommy, it's supposed to be freaking summer and I am wearing a polar fleece outside!" (Ok, I made that one up - but hell, it is raining outside, it is June 18th, and I am beginning to think that the tourism industry should brand Vancouver as a place that has the best natural sunblock on earth - and you don't have to pay a dime). I digress....

"Look mommy, a cute ladybug!"

CRABS!!! And yes, Nicholas did pick it up.

It does come as a bit of a shock to me that the most innocuous things freak Nicholas out. Like cheerios. On the floor. If he is sitting at the table, he will not get down if there is a cheerio on the floor near his chair. There have been many a day I have seriously contemplated placing a ring of cereal around his chair to keep him still for more than five seconds.

Oh, and spiders. He loves them. He picks them up and counts their legs. Remember Fred?

Fred lived in our old house. His relatives (the bigger version) live in our new house. In the bathroom downstairs where we have to bathe the kids because the main bathroom in the house is out of commission (long story that involves an toilet, a useless wax ring, and the previous owner of this place who probably wanted to save a dime and had the bathroom done on the cheap).

Nicholas got out of the tub last night, and as I was drying him off he started screaming. I thought his whole body was going to erupt into flames. But no. He had a stray strand of my hair ON HIS FOOT. If any strands of hair touch his body that aren't his, he freaks out. The spiders - those are his friends. My hair - the enemy that must be destroyed.

Summer is a few days away....

Today, once again, I broke out the winter jacket to take the kids to school. It is freaking June 17th and I am freezing my ass off. I know I have bitched and whined in the past about the rain and cold, but holy shit this is just plain stupid.

And now back to your regularly scheduled obligatory cute photo of Renee (note the clothing - she should be in shorts and a t-shirt by now).

Number two...

We were out at a park the other day and came across this sign. I instantly thought of our neighbours and how good this sign would look in their front yard. Facing their front door. Of course, they'd have to teach the dog to read it because they obviously don't give a shit where their dog does his.

What a kind gesture.

"Mommy, mommy, mommy your hands are so cold!"

I had just been marking assignments downstairs, in the part of the house that Ken referrs to as the "experiment in cryogenics", and even though it is JUNE and we should be enjoying some sun and warmpth, we on the wet coast are still basking in temperatures that have barely reached double digits in the last couple of weeks.

After a couple of hours struggling with papers (and cursing at students who so obviously didn't read the outline or the criteria for the assignment - do you know how hard those are to mark???) my hands are almost blue with cold. I have always had an issue with cold hands, but in this weather in the downstairs of the house it is made exponentially worse.

When I come upstairs to re-fuel on caffine or chip the ice of my digits, I try to find the closest warm body to try to warm up my hands. My kids are my polar opposite as far as temperature is concerned - it could be a snowstorm outside and they will be running around the house in shorts and tee-shirts while I am still wearing my thermals INSIDE. Nicholas in particular is like a little hot water bottle, so as soon as I find him, I pin him down and shove my hands up his shirt. And OMG he FREAKS OUT. Screams non-stop, and giggles all at the same time. As soon as I take my hands out, he asks for more. Weird how that works.

So last night, my darling child comes up to me and cups his hands around my face.

"I love you mommy" he says.

"I love you too sweetie"

"Are my hands cold?"

"No sweetheart, they are nice and warm"

"I warmed them up for you" he says.

"That was nice Nicholas - how did you do that?"

"I had them down my pants".

This is what you get when you send a six year old your business cards.

When we found out we were pregnant with Renee a couple of years ago, Ken and I decided that we were going to have to sell our little house and bite the bullet to get something bigger. Our original plan when we bought our cosy home when we first got married was to one day knock it down and build. It was a good location, big lot size, and within walking distance to schools and other great amenities. Once we found out Renee was on the way that plan went out the window.

Next step in the grand master plan was to find an real estate agent. I knew of one guy we had met in one of the kids music classes and the thing I really liked about him was that he knew we might be looking to sell - and all he did was give us his card, and tell us to call him. No pressure, no annoying follow-up calls, and no mention of houses when we saw him each week. I really liked that about him. So when we did find a house we thought we might like, we called him and asked him to arrange for a showing. He did, and we all clicked.

We learned that he was fairly new to the business and had a marketing background. So he worked his ass off for us when we did finally find the house we eventually bought. Once we bought our new house, we had to list ours. And again, he did a great job. We have referred him to friends and would use him again in a heartbeat.

The one thing he does is keep in touch - so each birthday, anniversary, etc, we get a card. And every single card has a couple of business cards in it. If we saved them all I am sure we would have dozens by now. Mr. Agent sent a card to Ethan last week - and when Ethan opened it he got really excited. He thought that the business cards that were inside were some form of money. Once he realized they weren't, he asked what he should do with them. I told him to do some art, and we would send it back to Mr. Agent. And so he did.

It's Junevember

"I hope you don't mind that we got Ethan a birthday present" one of our neighbours told me today. "It isn't something I'd buy my boys, but I thought he'd like it".

I wasn't too sure what to make of what she said - and for the record, I really really like this lady - we met because her son and Nicholas are in the same preschool class, and as it turns out her older boy and Ethan are the same age too. We get along great and her kids are super.

So when we got home Ethan opened the gift and it was a spiderman web-blaster. Now I know what she meant - it is strictly an outside toy, so Ethan put on his winter jacket, and ventured out into the pouring rain to make a mess of our deck. And he loved every second of it. This stuff is a pain in the ass to clean up as well, so it will be payback time when her son turns six next month.

Where does the time go?

Six years ago today Ethan was born. Hard to believe how fast time goes and how fast kids grow up.

He has been looking forward to today for awhile - he gets to pick what he wants to eat for lunch and dinner - so he picked sushi and quiche. I have made some really pathetic cupcakes for dessert tonight - thankfully his six year old palate is not too discerning at this point.

So this afternoon I took the kids to the mall in search of some good sushi (and french fries). After a good feed of raw fish and deep fried spuds we were heading over to the car when Ethan asked me if it hurt when he was born. I told him that yes, it hurt, but after it was all done it didn't hurt anymore. He then asked if I said "ouch". Um...yeah....that among some additional colourful phrases. In fact, the first thought I had when I found out I was pregnant with Nicholas was "holy crap - I have to give birth again!". When I found out I was pregnant with Renee I just about fell over in shock, and then remembered how painful the birth of the boys was. I had no way of knowing that her birth was by far the worst on the pain scale (and I thought it got easier).

Alot has changed over the past six years - and if someone told me I'd have three kids and my career pretty much on hold I would have told them they were crazy. One thing that hasn't changed though is that Ethan STILL sucks his fingers. Maybe that is something we should work on for next year.

Ready, set, Action!

Ethan has always been a pretty active kid, so this year we decided to try him in lacrosse. For those of you who aren’t familiar, you can check out the background of the game

here. I probably should have read that myself before this past weekend where I found myself asking one of the parents a few questions about the game. Too bad I picked the wrong person to ask – he looked at me like I had three heads. I openly admitted I knew nothing about the game – but ask me about hockey, rugby or even cricket and I am all good.

Lacrosse is a hell of a workout – running non-stop for the most part. Ethan loves it. He does keep asking when soccer starts again though – I think it is a bit hard to make friends when your teammates are always wearing face masks and the only way you can figure out who the kids are is by looking at their shoes. I kinda miss the soccer too (OMG did I just type that???). The parents were more laid back, and it seemed like the kids had more fun.

Lacrosse is a pretty physical game - even for the little ones. I can't even imagine how it must be when they are older. One thing I am not fond of though are the dads who scream and yell at their FIVE-YEAR OLDS during games. It is a wee bit unsettling. Of course not all the parents are like that, but there are a couple who treat the game like it is the gold medal match of Olympic hockey and their kids are earning million dollar salaries.

I really like the coach. I am not sure what happened at the beginning of the year, but apparently no one stepped up to coach, so one of the dads said he’d do it. He has openly admitted he doesn't know alot about lacrosse, but he is very good with the kids, and a couple of the dads who do know the game help him out. There is one guy in particular though to fancies himself as "coach" and he knows his stuff about lacrosse, but he has rubbed me the wrong way on more than one occasion when dealing with the kids. There is just something about this guy in particular that really annoys me. During one game he was “helping” and he picked Ethan up by the scruff of his jersey and pushed him while yelling, “run!” I was gob smacked – and my first reaction was to yell at this clown to get his greasy meat hooks off my kid. Anyone who knows Ethan knows that he is one of the most coachable kids around – does what he’s told and really pays attention. And he hustles. No need to grab, shove and yell at him. I didn’t do anything – but if he had touched Ethan one more time I was going to let him have it.

At any rate, I was at one of Ethan’s games this weekend to take pictures – it was a beautiful day, the game was outdoors (three cheers for natural light!) and Ken was at home to taking care of the other two rug-rats so I could focus on getting some good shots. I was in the players box waiting for the kids to get organized and just generally trying to figure out the best place to take pictures without getting in anyone’s way. Mr. Annoying came over to me and asked what paper I was from. I told him I was with Ethan. “What do you mean, “You’re with Ethan?”” he asked me. Funny coming from him – I’ve been at countless practices, a few games and even had the occasion to speak to him a handful of times. I told him I was Ethan’s MOM and the penny dropped. And so did his face when he realized his son wasn’t going to be in the paper (and to be honest, his son is a great player). His attitude did a complete 180, and he went back to pretending I wasn’t there. Too funny.

Little miss Diva

THIS makes a rough day worth it.

I might be old but....

Now that I am teaching (sort of) I am doing alot of marking of assignments that my online students send to me via e-mail. What shocks me is some of the e-mail addresses (changed somewhat for privacy - but you get the idea):

What's up bitch at gmail dot com
supersexydog at hotmail.com
party princess 69 at yahoo.com

I have about 50 students and I'd say about 10 have questionable e-mails....entertaining for sure, but professional - I don't know about that.

A cheering section would be nice.

A few nights ago I went out for dessert with some girlfriends that I hadn't seen in ages. We all went to high school together 20 years ago and they are the type of friends that you can go ages without talking to them, but when you do meet up it is like you just talked to them a week ago.

So here we are, the four of us on a night out without our husbands and without our children - and what do we talk about? You guessed it. Men and kids. We mostly talked about kids, and just generally supported each other in the decisions we made regarding parenting. It seems that we constantly run into people who tell us how we should be doing this or that when things are going wrong and yet when we do something right there isn't a whole lot of recognition for the hard work it took to get there.

One of my girlfriends told us about a incident that happened with her son. He had taken to peeing outside - something that I can totally relate to as my boys think that using the bathroom is a major inconveniece when building the dirt super-highway in the backyard. So when her son decided to pee in his sandbox she told him that he needs to come inside to go to the bathroom. So he did, and while he did another pee, she told him that she was just going to go upstairs to get his bath toys so he could play with them in the toilet. "EWWWW....gross" was his reaction. Then she said to him "think about what you did outside" - and the lightbulb went off. So instead of yelling at him to get inside to do his thing, she calmly made her point - and he got it. That was a great parenting moment. Wouldn't it be nice that when we had a great moment with the kids we had our own little cheering section - much like the BC Hydro ads here where they cheer every time you save energy.

Love Thursday

I came across this photo the other day, it was one that I took years ago with an old film camera. The quality isn't all that great, but honestly I don't really care as it is the expression on Ethan's face that I love as he is getting a thorough cleaning from Max.

Happy Love Thursday!

Love Thursday

Spring has sprung - finally. Here on the wet coast it has been, well.....wet. And cold. And SO NOT May-like-weather.

Last week I took the kids to a local marina, and we came across a group of baby geese. So cute and fuzzy and cute.....yes they are a pain when they get older (and you should have seen all the goose poop we had to negotiate to get this shot!), but when they are babies they are irresistible.

Happy Love Thursday!

I'm off to bed....well, maybe not.

Ever since starting my "side gig" tutoring a couple of classes online for a local college my personal down time has been significantly curtailed. I am home with the kids all day, and then at night once they are in bed I do work. When I am done work, I need to decompress - I can't go straight to bed without just relaxing first, which usually means surfing the net or watching a bit of TV.

Lately I have been surfing the net a bit more, and reading many more blogs. The latest two that I have been sucked into (and I mean that in a good way - the bloggers are so talented) are
sweet|salty and matt, liz and madeline. Almost every time I visit these two particular sites I cry. I cry for the loss they have both experienced. I can't believe how two complete strangers can have such an affect on me, but they do - and every time I think stuff sucks or I am feeling shitty I really need to remember how lucky I am. The internet has a strange way of bringing people together, and sharing people's loss and pain. You want to reach out and give hugs and try to do something, anything to make things better, to make things right. Yet they never will be. So it is now and hour after I told Ken I was heading to bed. And I am sitting in front of my monitor looking at pictures of a beautiful wee baby girl and bawling my eyes out.

His mouth will get him in trouble one day....

The kids grandfather (papa) came by today to help me out a bit so I could run some errands, sans children. Today I re-discovered what it is like to grocery shop ON MY OWN. When I go grocery shopping, I usually take all the kids with me and I have a list, AND I know where everything is. We are in and out pretty quick. Today I discovered the hidden treasures in the isles that I usually avoid at all costs. I even got to stop and sample some free food. Yeah, my life is that exciting.

When I got home, Nicholas and Papa were in deep conversation. I have no idea what they were talking about, but near the end Nicholas called my dad a "hoser". Now if you are Canadian, you know what that means, but if you aren't, here is an excerpt from Wikipedia for your reading pleasure:

Hoser is both a slang term and a stereotype, originating from and used primarily in Canada.[1]
Like the very similar term hosehead, it originally referred to farmers of the Canadian prairies, who would siphon gas from farming vehicles with a hose during the Great Depression of the 1930s. The expression has since been converted to the verb 'to hose' as in to trick, deceive, or steal - for example: "That card-shark sure hosed me." Hosed has an additional meaning of becoming drunk - for example: "Let's go out and get hosed."
The term "hoser" refers to an era in hockey before the ice resurfacing machine came into use. The losing team had to hose off the ice. The term "hoser" can then be construed to mean loser.

I haven't heard that term in years. I have no idea where he came up with it. My dad thought it was hilarious. "My grandson just called me a hoser" like it was almost cool (it isn't).

Later on in the day, the boys were playing outside. We have a great backyard, totally fenced in, so the kids can run themselves silly out there and I don't have to worry about them. I peeked out and busted Nicholas peeing on one of my plants. "Nicholas!" I yelled at him "why are you peeing outside?" And my son, in all seriousness looked at me and said "because I can". Isn't that the truth.

Look at that red hair!

This one is for Kate

This is little miss Renee and her mop of red hair. We were outside on a beautiful sunny day - still cold though - damned weather. The sun hitting her hair was just perfect.

I swear, one day she'll be sitting in the back of the classroom on St. Patty's day and when the teacher asks "Who's Irish" her hand will shoot up into the air and she'll say "me, me, ME!!!". She'll be the only half asian kid who can play the Irish card - all due to the red hair.

Love Thursday

There are a million reasons I love this picture. The hair sticking up (anyone rememeber "our gang" with alfalfa, buckwheat and spanky?). The lone "puff ball" just waiting for Nicholas to blow the little seeds everywhere. The baggy saggy pants. The fact that he was in such a rotten mood when I snapped this, but you'd never know.

Happy Love Thursday! Visit Shutter Sisters for more amazing pictures by many talented photographers.

Mommy's little "helper".

One of the hardest things to do when you have more than one child is trying to find time to spend with each of the kids. Renee sucks up alot of my time and attention because she is the baby - although she is really good at keeping herself occupied, and her brothers (for the most part) are great entertainers. In fact, right now Ethan is explaining the finer points of farting to his little sister. And she is loving it. But I digress....

Nicholas and I usually get to spend a couple of hours together on the days he doesn't have preschool. Renee naps in the morning, and Ethan is in Kindergarten, so Nicholas loves his one on one time with me. And what he likes to do best is bake. I love baking too, but I have to be careful because said baked goods must get eaten at some point, and if they are lying around, I will usually munch away mindlessly.

Yesterday we baked banana bread. This recipie is one that I have modified and tested until it tastes just like the kind Starbucks sells (a side note - banana bread sold in Starbucks in Canada is VASTLY different from it's US counterpart - my kids will not touch the US banana bread - go figure).

Every time I get ready to bake and start getting out bowls and stuff Nicholas comes running, grabs a chair and positions himself right in the middle of all the action. He is quite a good helper - and so because he is so good at helping me, he wants to be rewarded with the fruits of our labour that don't make it into the baking pan. As you can see below, he is not one to waste any batter!

Me too!!!

Poor Renee - relegated to the inside while her brothers and dad play hockey on the deck. If she is anything like her mother she'll be out there with them in no time.

Hey Ma, this one's for you....

I know you were in a bit of shock when I told you yesterday that it was SNOWING here. Well guess what? It snowed again today. It is all melted, but still - it is almost April for goodness sake. Hope you are having fun on the beach in New Zealand. I am not jealous at all (does the sarcasm shine through?).

I am sure that many people think that it snows all the time in Canada - hell, I even met some people in California that I managed to convince we lived in igloos. Really, I am not lying. But snow in late March? In Vancouver? Pure and utter crazy stuff.

Thoughts on dog poop.

The one thing that I really miss about our old house is our neighbours. We had great people living on both sides of us, they were both older, retired couples who called us "the kids" and kept watch over the house when we were away. They adored the boys (they never really got a chance to know Renee) and often bought them small trinkets when they went on vacation. In fact, both Ethan and Nicholas thought that when you went trick or treating at halloween you were supposed to get candy AND presents from everyone because our neighbours would make gift bags for them.

As much as I love our new place, we don't have the same closeness with the neighbours here. I have met a few people, but for the most part everyone keeps to themselves. We have a set of neighbours on one side of us that we were warned about when we moved in, but I took it with a grain of salt - I just thought that I would form my own opinion when we met them.

They are a young family like us, mom, dad and two kids. They were very nice to us when we moved in. We exchanged pleasantries when we saw each other. But they were odd. Couldn't quite put my finger on it, but we were told by more than one neighbour that they have done their fair share of pissing people off. And over the past few weeks, I can honestly say that I haven't been too impressed either.

This family has a large dog. We don't really see it (and I say "it" because I have no idea if it is male or female) that often, and rarely hear it bark. Barking doesn't bother me, and I love dogs. I have never seen them walk the dog, and I know that this neighbour FREAKS OUT if there is any dog doing it's business on his lawn. So here is the kicker - for the past few weeks, their dog has been crapping on our lawn. Often two or three times A DAY. For the longest time we couldn't figure out who was doing it, but we knew the dog was big - and very regular. When I have to change diapers all day the last thing I want to do is clean up crap from a dog that isn't mine.

We finally figured out it was their dog when I caught him crapping at midnight one night. I wasn't in a position to go over to the house at that time, but I thought I would deal with it in the morning. So I picked up the poop, but it in a bag and put it in their garbage can. For days both Ken and I tried to talk to them, but they weren't home or not answering the door. We took to flinging the poop on their lawn, but that didn't work either. Finally we wrote a note - basically saying that their dog was using our lawn as a toilet, and asking them to pick up his poop. There hasn't been any poop again - and there hasn't been any apology either. Weird. If I got a letter like that in my mailbox, I'd go over and talk to the neighbour, and perhaps even bring a peace offering. I have no idea where the dog is pooping now, they still let it out to roam at night and they still don't walk it. Ken did say he saw one of our other dogless neighbours picking up crap off her lawn yesterday though.

Love Thursday

I am not a girly girl. Never have been. And I thought that if I ever had a little girl I would never go crazy with the pink, the dresses and the hair stuff. For the most part I haven't, but I did find these funky hairbands at a local shop and I had to try them out. Too cute for words. I think I may be living a bit of girly girl through Renee. Happy Love Thursday!

Just another day.

I have never been a fan of Valentine's day. When I was young and geeky in high school I certainly never got a rose or chocolates or anything of the like. I didn't have a boyfriend in high school, so I always felt sorry for myself on February 14th and spent the day wondering what the hell was wrong with me. I had lots of boys who were friends, but that was because I was a gym rat and played alot of sports. They never saw me as a "girl" but rather a passable basketball player with a half decent jump shot.

I often thought "well, maybe this is the year that I get something from someone". And each year I was disappointed. When I was in university I dated a bit, but was always single on Valentine's day. It didn't bother me as much then - I had alot of single girlfriends so we all got together and gorged ourselves on chocolate and tried to convince ourselves that someone somewhere was missing out big time by not having us as girlfriends.

My first real valentine was Ken. I told him that I wasn't a big fan of Valentine's day, and that he didn't have to get me anything (ok, I did ask for a card, but that was it). A couple of days before Valentine's day he had a hair appointment (I am laughing as I type this - he now has NO HAIR) and the hairdresser asked him what he was getting me for Valentine's day. He told her that I said to only get a card, and she proceeded to tell him that I didn't mean that and that I would be pissed if he didn't get me anything. So he went out and got me a spa package. An expensive one. And what did I get him? A card. Nothing else. Just like we agreed. And I felt like crap.

Last night Ken told me that he was sorry, but he got me nothing this year. He has been so busy with work that he hasn't had a chance to go out and get a card. I was ok with that - I have been so busy at home that I didn't get him anything either. At least we are on the same page. In all honesty, I'd rather Ken come home on June 22nd or any other regular day with an armload of flowers and tell me he loves me. He doesn't need February 14th to do that.

But this year, I have really enjoyed Valentine's Day - because of the boys. Each of them worked hard on Valentine cards for their classmates, and they both came home with an armload of cards and treats from their friends - and most of them handmade. They spent about an hour on the floor going through all their cards, and talking about their friends. It was nice. It is what Valentines should be about - all the kids made and got cards. They had small parties at school. At five and three it is all so innocent and fun.

My gummy wonder.

Last night I did something I swore I would never do as a parent. I bundled up my screaming baby and put her in the car and went for a drive. At midnight. The intent was to try to get her to calm down, but if that didn't work, I was on my way to the hospital to see if they could figure out what the hell was wrong. I am sure it is her teeth - she has been teething for what seems like months, but nothing is coming through. I swear she will be walking before she even pops one tooth through.

The poor little bugger was screaming for about an hour before I decided to put her in the car. Honestly, I had no idea what to do with her. You'd think that with her being my third that I would have a bit of a clue, but after giving the tylenol with no change and her absolutely beside herself I was at a loss. So I buckled her in, started driving and within five minutes she was asleep. Mission accomplished - that is until I had to get her out of the carseat. That is why I never liked the idea of using the car - none of my kids transfer well from the car to the house, so I figured that I had better drive for awhile before the attempt to get her out of the car, up the stairs and to her room. Sure enough, as soon as I pulled in the driveway and turned off the engine she woke up. Screaming. O...M...G. Got her to bed, and she settled down - for about an hour and a bit. And then she was at it again. I KNOW as a parent this is temporary - but holy crap, I am getting too old for this. On a good day I look like hell. Today I think I scared most of Ethan's kindergarten class. Let's hope tonight is a better night - and if not, it will be a movie day for the kids tomorrow while I crash on the couch - that is if Renee will nap.....which she didn't do today. OY.

Love Thursday

There is many a time I have seen a baby and I think to myself - "You are SO CUTE I could just eat you up". Well, I guess my son thinks pretty highly of himself - he had a good go at his reflection.

Checking him out.

Today Nicholas got his "report card" for his swimming lessons. He failed. Oops, sorry, he didn't fail, he needs to "re-register in the same level". Now I would never tell him that he failed - he had fun, and he learned a few new things that his ex-competitive-swimmer-mom and ex-lifeguard-dad couldn't get through to him. For that I am thankful to the kid who was teaching him.

I call his teacher "the kid" because he is barely into his twenties. To him, I must look like a washed up suburban housewife who barely keeps it together, and on a good day, will manage to slap a coating of lip balm on before leaving the house. So when he handed Nicholas his report card for the class the first thing I did when I got home was to see if this "kid" was on Facebook. Sure enough he was. And even more astounding, his profile was open for all to see. So I had a look. Nothing on there shocked me - photos of drunken university parties (hell we all did that - thankfully digital cameras weren't around in those days for me), his background, what he took in University, yada yada yada. I am sure that he would have been shocked that an old fart like me is on facebook. It reminds me of the conversation that I overheard a few days ago of a few teens discussing facebook and what other options to use because one of the kids discovered that his mom was on facebook. He told his buddies - and there was silence, followed by "Dude - your MOM is on facebook?". Yes, we are slowly taking over the world.

Love Thursday

shutter sisters is a new blog I have found recently - and here is my contribution to "Love Thursday". One of my favourite shots of the boys after an afternoon of playing in the dirt.

Housebound.

I don't do well when I am housebound. As of today, I have not left my house for four days. Yes, four days with three kids (who have also been housebound) you get the idea. One of the main reasons that I haven't gone anywhere is the insane amount of the white crap that decended since late Saturday. By some estimations, we have received 40 centimeters (almost 16 inches) of snow. Makes driving in these parts just stupid, so I don't go anywhere. At our old house we lived on a bus route, so at least we could get out of the driveway. Up here, there are no plows on our street, so it makes for interesting navigation (translation - lots of sliding and praying) to get to the main roads. Every time I get in the car and have to tackle snow I am reminded of the time when I was 16, driving a V8 Chevy in a blizzard and learing in a hurry that "hitting the breaks" does not translate into stopping. Best physics lesson EVER.

The kids have had a blast though. As much as it is a royal pain in the ASS to get them dressed to go outside, I know that they will stay out there for hours, so it is all well worth it.






Being housebound has also forced me to get a bit creative with cooking - creative because my dumb ass didn't do the greatest job of making sure we had enough of the staples in the house. Of course who knew that we would have so much bloody snow - but I digress. When your three year old only eats about five things in the whole world, and you run out of two of them, one resorts to desperate measures. I actually baked bread and managed to convince him that the world would not come to an end if he didn't have a glass of milk - is there such a thing as white food colouring?

What the hell am I going to do when they have TWO MONTHS off?

Well, tomorrow it is back to the grind - school, music classes, soccer, swimming, skating, poking my eyes out with a sharp stick....

I have enjoyed the holidays with the kids, but I am thankful to be getting back into routine. The only one who has had anything resembling a routine in this house over the last two weeks has been Renee - she could get all her naps, eat in her high chair for all her meals and not worry about being carted here and there. Tomorrow that all changes - and I hope I am not in a world of hurt once Renee's routine gets all out of whack.

Ethan loves school and he is so excited to be going back. I am not sure if I have mentioned it before but I just ADORE his teacher. I am lucky that I get to help out in the classroom from time to time and I am just gobsmacked at how much the kids are learning. Such a change from preschool - I didn't care for his teacher at all (although Ethan liked her so that is all that really matters). I am all about fun when kids are learning, and his teacher is just amazing at ensuring the kids are having fun and learning all at the same time.

Nicholas can't wait to get back to preschool either - he just loves his teachers (different than Ethan's) and I think he is a bit sick of looking at me all day.

I have no idea what the hell I am going to do with them over the summer, I just wish they could go to school year-round (like they do in New Zealand). I guess I have a few months to figure it out...

Argh...Facebook.

I have been on facebook for awhile now, and it has been really interesting catching up with old friends that I had lost touch with. I kinda like the virtual mode of keeping in contact as I am a bit of a homebody and not the most social person on the planet.

The other day I experienced one of the downfalls of facebook - someone put a picture online of me when I was in University, and it is NOT the most flattering picture. Even if I wasn't on facebook, there is no way to stop someone from posting pictures if they want, at least this way I know they are out there. I have many friends who have yet to succumb to the facebook craze (minus Miss A - who swore up and down she would NEVER join and lo and behold she is now a facebook member), and I have seen pictures of them posted (none that are really bad, but some that are a bit unflattering). I thank the good man above that I went to University and high school at a time before digital cameras, so any photos of me need to be scanned and uploaded - hopefully a task that is too much of pain in the ass for anyone to bother with. The world would be a much better place if no-one had to look at pics of me when I had the "looks like something crawled up on your head and died" hairstyle (thanks to my husband for that comment).