Saturday, 31 December 2005

I've heard people say that if an alien race were to look down on people and their animals, who would they think were truely in charge? The dog on the end of the leash leading the person? Or the person walking behind after him picking up his....droppings?

Well I say, how would you feel being the one on the end of the leash naked, having to defecate out in public for all to see? I'm talking about when you're sober people! Athough I've known a person or two trying to write their names in the snow with urine....both male and female....trying to impress. Why this is a talent people think they can be proud of, I'll never understand.

This leads me to tonight....New Years Eve. Enjoy your New Years Eve and remember that if you drink, don't drive or do anything else stupid because us non-drinkers will be out walking our dogs (digital camera in hand perhaps!) and tonights stupidity may be tomorrows blog entry.

Actually, never mind my advise (except the don't drink and drive.) Go out and enjoy the night in all it's splendor, but remember, a picture is worth a thousand words!

Thursday, 29 December 2005

Well folks, it's almost that time of the year when you need to pluck the kitties from the Christmas tree and put out the "temporary canine coniferous urination device." Both live and imitation. I often wonder what goes through an animals' mind when they experience their first Christmas with a family? If they are a dog they must be feeling sheer joy at the first sight of the "gift" of an indoor tree to pee on. Cats on the other hand must just think that it's about time that someone finally clued in and managed to get a proper toy for their amusement.

Our dog gets his presents put under the tree with the family's, as many other dogs do. Let me tell you, if we tried it any other way we'd have one insulted dog! The nice thing about dogs is that price and quantity doesn't seem to matter. Any old thing will do. In fact, the stinkier the better. Makes me think that maybe we should have just gotten more puppies rather than have kids.....nah, I guess not. Some day I'm hoping the kids will be able to help out with the dishes and such. Something that I've never seen my dog do in his almost 13 years.

On to the New Year!

Wednesday, 28 December 2005

I Love Americans

To all of the Canadian Politicians (Liberal Party) who keep insulting Americans on behalf of the Canadian peoples, I want to say, you are the brainless, useless, bullying pieces of doggie doo, not the Americans!


So stop speaking on my behalf. Anyone that votes for this criminal party deserves to get billions more taken from them! It's just too bad that the rest of us have to pay out of our pocket to pad theirs. Wake up people! Don't be so stupid!!

Saturday, 24 December 2005


and happy red green holiday to the politically correct
prime minister paul martin. (hope santa brings you a back bone!)

Wednesday, 21 December 2005

Preserve Reserve

I was just commenting to a friend yesterday that I just am having a hard time getting into the Christmas spirit this year. I'm finding my regular duties are just dragging me down and I'm feeling a bit "bored" with my routine. Now before you jump on me saying I should be feeling lucky and sheer bliss at having the opportunity to be an at home mom....yes, usually I am, but as with all working people, mom's have their down weeks too! After all, you can only do housework so many different ways to try to make it more interesting!

After saying this I quickly realized the horrible mistake that had just escaped my lips! I blurted a hurried prayer out loud, "Oh please God, NO! We don't need to get sick before Christmas....forget I said that."
Because, it never fails that whenever I complain of boredom something bad happens, usually taking the form of a virus or bacterial infection for someone in the family.

No body got sick. Our fridge stopped working immediately upon my returning home. Thank God that was all .... I think.

As you can imagine, I haven't been terribly excited about the cleaning process that was definately one that needed to be done. I was however excited that since the fridge has been off for so long that all of the preserves that I have collected over the past couple of years are now "aawwww, too bad" spoiled and I have had to throw them out.

People are very generous to us and for that I am greatful (although I know I won't sound it!) but, sometimes there are preserves you like, some you can tolerate and those that you know you'll never eat once you've opened them, but don't have the heart to waste. Someone has worked hard to make that disgusting looking green stuff with black and orange dots and you'd hate to just throw it out! And I don't know what the heck a boogleberry* jelly is, but I'm sure there is someone somewhere that actually likes the stuff.

Also, because the generous person who has donated that crap often checks up on the status of your supply, you want to make sure that you always still have a little on hand to make sure they don't send you more.

You may be wondering why I just don't tell these people that we don't like the stuff? Because:

a) hurt feelings (I've tried to let people know a couple of times nicely)
b) word gets around and people stop sending the good stuff that you like!
c) I need something to complain about, right?
d) A full fridge runs more efficiently than an empty one.
e) People are very maternal/paternal about their preserves. Insult a preserve, is like insulting an offspring. It's the same thing.

f) That stuff may actually start to look appealing if there is ever a catastrophic event and we run out everything else edible.
h) There are starving children in Africa for goodness sakes, how can I waste food!

That being said, I have to say that for once, the boredom phrase worked in my favour, sort of, knock on wood, as long as somebody doesn't get sick now from eating warm cream cheese or something. My unappealing preserves are now tucked snuggly in the garbage. I won't mention the broken fridge to the donators unless they ask why there isn't any in my fridge. I'll just politely tell them what happend and say that for now, we won't be needing any more. I have extra's in my cupboard.

Anyone have any suggestions on how to get rid of those?

P.S. If you have donated a preserve and are reading this, I just want to let you know that yours was one of the good ones, not the disgusting ones. In fact I personally liked yours the best!

*name of jelly changed as to not to offend the donator. I've never heard of the kind of berry in the jelly you gave me, are you sure you didn't make that up?

Thursday, 15 December 2005

Germany or Bust

My husband just returned from a business trip to Germany. I had gone to do some work in the bedroom (actually to hide from the kids until they found me) when I sat down on the bed next to a pair of his neatly folded underwear. I looked over at the laundry basket and noticed that he had thoughtfully emptied the contents of his suitcase into it except for this sole piece of clean apparel. Underwear. My attention was drawn back to this undergarment sitting on the bed beside me. Green, relatively new....maybe a year or so old. No holes. He brought them to Germany with him.

I have never been to Germany. I've been to Toronto, Quebec City, New York City, Niagra Falls, Orlando and Ormond Beach Florida. Never Germany. I've never crossed the ocean or had the pleasure of an 8 hour flight. In fact I've only flown a couple of times. In my 40 years on this planet I, a big city girl, have only seen a small handful of places that are not actually that far away. In the one year that they have existed, my country boy husband's underwear have been to Toronto and Germany. They are world travelled undergarments. They are better travelled than me. I am jealous .... of my husbands underwear. (Let's keep the thoughts clean here people!)

Since I am the proud parent of four....yes, count 'em four lovely very young girls, it is unlikely that I will be travelling anytime soon over the "big water", as my oldest daughter called it, when they (my husband and his underwear) went to Ireland...wearing different world travelling undewear that I am also jealous of.) This being the case, the next time he travels, I think I will slip a pair of my undergarments into the suitcase so that I can say, although I've never been overseas, at least my underwear has.

[snicker! Let's see him explain those to customs!]

Tuesday, 13 December 2005

Woo Hoo!

Well. I am unofficially off of chocolate. Sort of. Chocolate pudding is still a staple in my diet. A woman needs to get her calcium after all.

God is wonderful. God is good. God is there for us when we ask him for help. He has made that clear through his word. I've learned though that I need to be specific when asking him for help with a problem. The first time I asked for stregnth to get through my chocolate addiction, I believe that he sent that help in the form of a diabetes scare. This time I hesitated before asking and finally did praying for stregnth to give up chocolate, but not through a diabetes scare, cancer or any other horrible fate. He answered my prayer. I got the stomach flu after downing a bag of chocolate balls.

When I pass by the chocolate chip jar I feel a shiver go up my spine and I break out in a cold sweat. I have chocolate balls sitting in my bedside table (don't ask why they are there and tell me I have a problem, my husband already did that!) I can't even muster up enough courage to take them out of there and throw them away now that I am better. Just thinking about them gives me indigestion.

So, my sincere thanks to the "Big Guy" for the help. I guess the moral of the story is that God will help you when you ask. I just need to remember that he's not a magic genie and will help you his way and in his time. The way that is best for me, and that will work for me, even though it may not be the way that I was hoping for! His will be done! Amen.

P.S. Thank God for toilets! 'Sploding ones or not!

Thursday, 8 December 2005

Thanks for the Memories

Thanks for the Memories ...
This came from True Blue Semi-Crunchy Mama/Writes for Chocolate ...

Please post a comment with a COMPLETELY MADE UP AND FICTIONAL MEMORY OF YOU AND ME. It can be anything you want–good or bad–BUT IT HAS TO BE FAKE. When you’re finished, post this paragraph on your blog and be surprised (or mortified) about what people DON’T ACTUALLY remember about you.

Onto the Next Attempt

I've failed once again
It's not easy you see
Giving up chocolate
In my family

It's a staple you know
Added to many a dish
How do I stop it?
With a prayer or a wish?

I'll try once again
To take it all out
None in the house
The kids will all pout

My husbands' bad too
He hangs out at the jar
Of chocolate chip morcels
They sure don't go far!

Christmas is coming
And nothing I make
Can have any chocolate
In treats that I bake

YUCK! I hate that
Sweets that are too bland
With no chocolate inside
Outside or on hand

Merry Christmas to all
Happy Hanukka too
When your eating your chocolate
Think of me sitting here....Blue.

The very end

P.S. Oh ya. I didn't beat the bus yesterday. But I did eat chocolate.

Sunday, 4 December 2005

I'm finding it hard to adjust to the chill in the air
I hate wearing a hat 'cause it flattens my hair
I'm not ready for Christmas, it should still be July
It was a sweltering summer, but the time sure did fly

A new year approaches but I'm feeling behind
I can't seem to catch up in my body or mind
I'm feeling all fuzzy and kinda blue
When I'm not chasing buses I know not what to do

Off for some chocolate for that pick me up treat
Smooth, dark and tasty, it doesn't need to be sweet
I'm feeling a little bit sick of the stuff
But my brain seems to need it, isn't life tough?!

I'm stopping myself from poisoning my whole being
Time to detox so from chocolate I'm fleeing
Where can I hide and get through the cravings
(Giving up chocolate will increase my savings!!!!!!!)

So once again, I'm giving it up
Does "Cafe Mocha" count since it comes in a cup?
So long to my friend "Starbucks" so dear
So long chocolate balls and chocolate chips too I fear

I'll try once again, and I hope this time I won't fail
Cause I feel kinda sick and a little bit frail
Please no chocolates for me....not for a while
Once I've detoxed from chocolate, I'll have reason to smile!

Friday, 2 December 2005

You be the Judge

I was putting the garbage out late last evening after a lovely evening out with a friend when I noticed the neighbourhood "crazy" person pacing the street, vehemently arguing with someone invisible to me. I realize that it is not politically correct or particularily kind to call some one nuts now a days when they are suffering from a mental illness. I'm not actually sure what the "mot du jour" is for mentally ill people today, but I feel some allowances can be made for me in this case since I suffer from a mental illness myself. Motherhood.

I stood and watched him for a while, while he stood and watched me. I started wondering if we were all that different from each other. We were both about the same age. We each could be found out wandering the streets at all hours. I, usually with a dog or child attached to me somewhere. Him, with his ever present plastic grocery bag. We both could be found talking to ourselves out in public, although I usually don't get into too many heated debates with myself such as he least not out loud.

I started to look at how he was dressed. He wears the same clothes always. He is always clean and tidy, but in the same outfit day in and day out. I am pretty much always in grubby jeans splattered with craft materials and little handprints made with whatever was on the menu from a couple of hours before. My sweatshirts and t-shirts usually have cartoon characters on them with cute little sayings. I am definately the messier of the two of us.

He can be found frequenting the street corner in front of a house that he had one time lived in. In it now resides the new tennant. There have been many since he had last lived there. I have lived in our home now for 13 years. He stands and observes the passing of cars and people on the street. Calmly. Softly speaking to himself. I can be found chasing school buses with strawberry blonde hair flying wildly out of an untidy ponytail dressed in odd combinations of clothing. (If I remember to get dressed at all!) I often can be found sporting penguin, duckie or piggy socks and sandals even though,'s winter in Canada.

I don't talk softly when outside in this wild state. I am yelling. Shouting as if my life depended on it. Chasing a dog out of the street and harrassing children about their choice of clothing and about their non-existent mittens.

I have a bad memory. I can be seen driving to school with forgotten forms, books, lunches after having chased my children onto the bus.

I don't recall ever being this way before I had children. I got married and still I seemed normal then. I took a first step on the road to responsibility and bought a dog. A really big dog. Still, I remained "normal." I had four children within 7 years. BINGO. I am no longer the normal person I once was. That's what leads me to believe that indeed motherhood is a mental illness. A wonderful one at that, but one just the same.

I'll leave you to draw your own conclusions about who is the crazier of the two of us. I've brought this insanity willingly upon myself. He didn't. 1 in 5 people suffer from some kind of mental illness. Of the ones that don't, many of them are parents. You see, I'm not worried about this because you know what? I'm in good company.

Monday, 28 November 2005

Sunday, 27 November 2005

The Sky is Falling!

While sitting at my computer, I saw an extremely short, blonde Chicken Little wannabe go screaming past me running as fast as her little legs could take her, yelling, "Ahhhhhhhh! The toilet's 'sploding, the toilet's 'sploding! Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!"

It was overflowing. I stopped it and explained to said child what had actually happend. It had just clogged and that the toilet didn't actually explode. She's decided not to take any chances though and is now using the one upstairs instead. I don't expect her to actually flush again anytime soon! Not any toilet at home or anywhere else for that matter. Toilets are dangerous things and just too darn unpredictable.

Things are so much bigger than life when you're three.

Saturday, 26 November 2005

Apples and Trees

I took my daughter to a sleepover birthday party at a good friends of hers. To say she was just excited is underestimating her mood. I helped her up to the door with all of the sleepover party paraphernalia necessary for a good time.

Her mouth was flapping the whole way up to the door and beyond. The more excited she grew the faster she spoke. She looked over at me to finish a story as she rang the door bell repeatedly. She was getting antsy waiting and was wondering what was taking them so long to answer the door. I knew something she didn't. She had missed the bell. Not once, not twice, but repeatedly in her excitement. Finally I clued her in. We both laughed pretty hard and she finally hit the target.

Her friends mother came smiling to the door and proceeded to open it for us.


My daugher tried to walk through the glass door in front of the main door. I almost peed my pants this time. I have done that very thing myself once. Walked smack into a glass window at a halloween party leaving a smudge of white face paint on the window. Hurriedly and feeling embarrased I walked away as another teen stepped forward and wiped the offending smudge off of the full legnth window adjacent to the main door of the church.

Ah yes, it is true what they say.....the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. Too bad for my kids!!!!

Thursday, 24 November 2005

Another Day, Another Entertaining Moment

Well, we made it to the bus again today with just one little glitch this time which involved me running to get something. I won't go any further into it than that.

The bus driver just stops the bus, opens the door, looks at me and shakes his head and laughs. Is that a bad sign? At least we appear to be entertaining as a family. I suppose that's a good thing. At least someone is enjoying our morning escapades. Just not so much me.

Today winter is starting. 10cm of snow predicted. This is actually a blessing when children are involved. They love the snow and want to get out early to play in it before bus time. I think that on days that they are running late I'll just yell "SNOW!!!!!!!" and they'll be out there in no time flat.

I think that God must have sent the snow to give me a bit of a break today. I wonder if he has a giggle in the mornings too watching us. I know I would if I weren't me.

Happy Thanksgiving to all of our American friends. We celebrate Thanksgiving in Canada in October for some reason. Enjoy the day and all of the blessings it brings.

Tuesday, 22 November 2005


One brand name ski jacket: $130.00
One pair of new winter boots: $50
One winter touque: $8
One new pair of mittens: $ 3.99
One pair of pristine white socks: $ 1.99

Watching your 10 year old run down the damp mucky driveway to catch the school bus with one boot half on, the other in hand, trailing her coat and knapsack behind hat and mitt free during wet snowy weather......PRICELESS!

And you thought we wouldn't make the bus today Mr. Perpetual Chocoholic. HA! In your face! I win beat the bus AGAIN!'s all you'll ever need.

Friday, 18 November 2005

Don't Eat and Drive

Chocolate Kahlua Cake

1 pkg chocolate cake
1 pkg chocolate instant pudding
¾ C Kahlua
½ C water
½ C oil
4 eggs

1 C powdered sugar
¼ C Kahlua

Mix all dry ingredients well.
Pour into greased/buttered/sprayed with oil and floured pan(s). (I use a bunt pan some of the time.)
Bake 45 minutes at 350 degrees.
Take out of oven and let sit for 20 minutes.
Turn out of pan.

Can be made ahead of time (and frozen, minus the glaze).

Thanks to Mongo for this amazing recipe.

Monday, 14 November 2005

Oh Dennis, Dennis, Dennis
What can we all say
When someone says to break a leg
We don't mean the literal way!

I hear you had a problem
With a wooden ladder
Helping out a neighbour
Makes it even sadder

You didn't deserve to fall
On your big behind
When all you tried to do
Was be a little kind

I guess the moral of this story
Is plain for all to see
That climbing wooden ladders
Isn't for the elderly

the very end

Thursday, 10 November 2005

Embarrassing story #3

I don't want to talk about it! This story is for yesterday's failure. This one is from a couple of years ago. I may have embellished a bit. As usual....I've changed all of the names. I'm proud to report I am now more on the "glass half-full" side of things.

The Heart Attack ?

I have always been of the “glass half-empty” school of thought. I do not like to consider myself a pessimist as such, but more of a realist. Being a firm believer in Murphy’s Law, I was quite sure that whatever could go wrong, would indeed. It didn’t take much faith on my part to believe this. I am an involuntarily strict follower of this law. It seems I am helpless to break free from its firm grasp of just about every situation in my life.

I also have the unfortunate disability of being a worrier, as many true believes in Murphy’s Law frequently are. I worried about things that had happened, would happen and probably never would happen, but possibly could. I worried about my problems, my family’s problems and problems of others around me whether they asked me to or not. I worried regardless of the time of day. I even made sure to awaken regularly during the night to worry in case I missed worrying about something during the day. If I wasn’t worrying, I was wondering what would be coming up next that would cause me to be concerned. It was something that I was unable to escape. With this in mind suddenly something actually occurred one day suddenly to my great distress.

I awoke to a normal day, or so I thought. It was a lovely crisp autumn day. The gently breezes blew the remaining leaves creating a calming sound amongst the branches of the surrounding trees. The air held the distinctive smells that one so often associates with a Canadian fall. Wood burning in a fireplace, browning leaves crunching underfoot, decaying plant matter sitting in the flower beds since the first hard frost the previous week.
I had been feeling a little out of sorts since the clocks had changed just a few days earlier. The days becoming shorter at an alarming rate had left little time to complete the required chores, which had long become the rituals associated with this time of year. I just assumed that it was my normal worrying and nothing new. As the day passed, it became increasingly clear that there was something outside of the norm happening. Aside from having a headache, I found I had come down with a case of some mild indigestion. I contributed the indigestion to my bagel and coffee from breakfast. My chest and back on my left side were also bothering me. This I assured myself had to be because of the damaged mattress and box spring that my husband and daughter had created while playing a game called “Timber”. Timber involved my husband standing at the side of the bed with my daughter planted firmly in the middle. He would then throw himself onto the edge of the bed causing Katie to bounce into the air in a fit of giggles and squeals. This was music to our ears. This was a game they would play every evening after dinner until the day the bed finally gave out a resounding crack that could be heard throughout our bungalow and signaled the end to this form of entertainment.

I was starting to feel what I would describe as palpitations. Slight jumping sensations occurring intermittently in the left side of my chest. I had never before experienced palpitations and was not sure what they even felt like. I needed to find out for sure. I turned to the tool most used on regular bases by hypochondriac’s worldwide that were in need of information on their ailment of the day. I turned to the Internet.

“Palpitate. To pulsate, as the heart, with unusual rapidity; flutter. To quiver; throb; tremble.” Was among one of the many definitions I found listed in the endless source of information.
“OH No! I though and actually cried out loud.” There was more! Listed in various sources was a large number of alarming potential causes for this symptom.
Perhaps it would be prudent to actually make sure that my heart was indeed skipping before becoming too alarmed and coming to any incorrect conclusions.
I headed for the medicine box kept out of reach on the top shelf of a closet out of the reach of curious little hands. In it I obtained a stethoscope rarely touched since I left my nursing career many years ago. I paused wondering if I truly wanted to listen and find out yet one more piece of information that may cause me further worry.
With a deep breath I tried to relax as I made the decision to proceed with the examination. I placed the earpieces into my ears and took my first listen. All seemed normal. A flood of relief washed over me like a calming wave. I wasn’t dieing. That’s good, because my husband—being domestically challenged—is to ignorant in such matters as running a household or caring for children on a daily basis. After all, didn’t he dress Megan in a bright orange striped shirt with purple butterfly pants, green frog socks and sandals one day when left to care for the children. And wasn’t it true that their hair didn’t see a brush at all that weekend, not to mention their teeth. Nope. I couldn’t die right now. My children would become the laughing stocks of the school without somebody to nag them about fashion and personal hygiene.

I reached to remove the stethoscope from my ears, and then it happened. I heard the dreaded sound. The distinctive telltale sound of palpitations, an extra beat. I froze on the spot. Now it was fear that was washing over me. Only this time it was in the form of a wave the size of a giant killer tsunami.

For the next half hour or so I continued to monitor my symptoms. After much deliberation—which took all of about 30 seconds—I decided to call the doctors office instead over calling 911.
“ Dr. Forrest’s office, how may I help you?” The receptionist stated with a professional tone.
“Yes, I am a patient of Dr. Forrest’s, and I seem to be having palpitations. I was wondering if this was something I should be concerned about.” I said, trying to sound cool, calm and collected. But not so much so that she wouldn’t see me today. After all if the decision were to be that she wouldn’t see me, I’d be forced to take option number two and call for an ambulance.
“Are you having any other symptoms?” The receptionist asked.
Attempting to continue displaying a reasonable amount of calm—but still not too much calm—I answered, “Well. Yes, I am having some pain in my chest and back, as well as indigestion, a headache and oddly enough sore ears.”
This last symptom slipped out before I had taken a reasonable amount of time to think about it. Once I did, I realized my ears were sore from walking around with the stethoscope attached to my ears for the last half hour. Hopefully this part of the conversation wouldn’t get passed onto the doctor. I got the impression that she had already come to the conclusion that I was a bit odd from my previous visits.
The receptionist decided that it was worth a trip in. I could come right away. This was a good thing, because by this time my ears were becoming down right irritated.
Upon a thorough examination my doctor concluded that I might be suffering from and anxiety disorder.
“Anxiety disorder?” I asked slightly confused. “But I’m having palpitations!”
“That’s one of the ways that it can manifest itself.” She informed me.
“Hmmm. What brings you to the conclusion that it is anxiety over something to do with my heart?” I asked.

“Mrs. Halffull, in the past month you’ve been into see me with…” she paused to check my chart. “A sebaceous cyst, which was completely harmless. A breast lump, which turned out to be normal breast tissue. A severe headache which you believed may have been a brain tumor.” Here she paused to look at me over the top of her glasses, “which turned out to be a migraine related to too much chocolate. Lower back pain. By the way, did you get a new mattress set yet? And problems sleeping because you wake up periodically during the night feeling anxious.”

I felt deflated, embarrassed; yet oddly relieved. “At least it’s not terminal, right!” I replied with a nervous laugh. Dr. Forrest went on to discuss ways in which I could deal with my anxiety. This included the possibility of going on medication for a time.

I was preparing to leave; with informational pamphlets in hand, when she casually tossed out, “Oh, before you leave—just to be on the safe side—stop off downstairs for an ECG and some blood work.” As she left the room she mumbled, “We’ll let you know if there’s a problem.”

I don’t remember making my way down to the lab for the tests. I was back to thinking about Murphy’s Law. It had to be my heart regardless of what she had said. That was the worst possibility of the two. What else could it be? Surely not something as benign as anxiety!

Once arriving at the lab, I walked directly to the reception desk. No need to delay the inevitable any further. I was indeed having a heart attack. It was time to receive the final confirmation of this. Hopefully I wouldn’t expire before they administered the test and took my blood.

Oh wow! a thought just struck me! Since the first part of the above story was embarrassing all in itself, why don't I just stop there for now! I can post the rest (the rest doesn't get any less embarrassing) if/when I fail again! Have a good day, and wish me luck! [sinister smile]

Tuesday, 8 November 2005

Embarrasing Story #2

I made it all through yesterday! But didn't want to live through another day like it, so I hit the chocolate chip jar first thing. The good news is that I managed to exercise adequately today and kinda cut down on the intake!

This isn't an embarrassing story per say. But here goes:

I am a chocoholic! And I have failed to avoid chocolate today. So here is my embarrassing fact. I let my dog eat off my fork....occasionally. Technically his mouth doesn't touch the fork (like that makes it any less disgusting.) I wonder sometimes is he maybe finds this disgusting and humiliating, but doesn't want to hurt my feelings, plus what I'm eating looks so much better than his dry kibble. NOT! Dogs lick each others butts and chew on dead things outdoors.....why would he mind eating off of my fork....D'oh!

Sunday, 6 November 2005

The Big Chocolate Fast ---Day 1

Day 1 - The stats:
weight: Equivalent to a female great dane and a skinny beagle.
mental status: Alert. I can form full sentances, and still know how to spell my name. I feel like a blob on chocolate. Time to kick the habit. (hmmmm...maybe I should take up smoking....)
Mood:Fat...believe me fat has a mood to it!
Chocolate status: The house is packed with it. It was Halloween, d'uh! I ate chocolate pudding today, and a piece of chocolate chip muffins. (are there any other flavours? (smile)

I'm attempting the impossible and trying to give up chocolate (YES, AGAIN, OK! YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT!?) I don't expect to have a functioning brain for some time to come. I will therefore go into my "embarrasing stories" archives and post embarrasing stories for every day that I cheat on my attempts at giving up chocolate. Oh heck, maybe I'll just keep posting them until I gain my brain cells back.

Well, here's the first one so guess what......I didn't make it through the first day.....exactly. [sigh]

My sister and her husband just celebrated her second anniversary....I think.

My Sisters Wedding

The dream wedding I had envisioned for my sister involved a minister, the Bride and Groom and 2 witnesses. As much as I love my sister, preferably I would not be one of the witnesses. Unfortunately the happy couple had other ideas.

It was a small wedding with family only. Being matron of honor, I proceed down the isle with the flower girl, who happened to be one of my daughters. I assist her in the task of handing out roses to all of the ladies in the pews. It was a proud moment. I was relieved that I had found a lovely champagne coloured blouse with a dangling neck and black 40’s style shirt, that didn’t empty my bank account but hid my neglected bulges. I was stunning. OK. I was actually just presentable, but since I don’t often get dressed up, I thought I looked stunning. I gracefully bent down to hand the flowers to my daughter. One at a time, one for each lady. A horrible thought struck me at the start of the ceremony. I am wearing a blouse with a dangly neck! Guess what view the minister, groom and best man got. Yes, my not so volumptuous chest in full view for anybody to see. A more horrible thought struck me then. Nobody even seemed to notice or bother to look. What’s worse? Showing them off or having anybody care?

The minister then asks the couple to join hands to exchange the vows. I, the Matron of Honour Extrordinaire choose that very moment to take a mental holiday. Letting my mind wander to wonderful places, not seeing the ever important cue from my sister that it’s my turn to do my duty. I notice the silence. I looked into my sisters beautifully made up face and noticed a look of .... annoyance as she held her bouquet out to me and waited. And waited, and waited. Oh yes, that’s right, I’m suppose to hold her bouquet!

The minister asks for the rings. Now is my chance to make up for my previous blunders and exhibitionism. Ok. Have you ever tried to open a little tiny box with a small latch with shaking hands while holding a bouquet of flowers? Need I say more? I see the exasperated look on my sisters’ face as I finally get the box open.

It’s at this moment that my four year old daughter, returning from a trip to the bathroom, ran up the aisle with her lovely purple dress tucked fully into her underwear. My husband runnning after her frantically saying in a loud whisper, “Stop!…your dress….take the dress out of your underwear!” Too bad he couldn’t catch her. This is not a proud moment.
Despite it all, it was a lovely day. We returned home after the dinner with one crying fussing baby, two bouncing, jumping sugar high children. Butter smeared all over my new champagne colored dangly neck blouse. One chocolate covered four year old in a purple dress. Not tucked into her underwear this time.

P.S. When the pictures came back I looked like a large baked potato wrapped in gold foil. Yup.....and that's the look I was actually going for.

Tuesday, 1 November 2005

Will The Real Hag Please Step Forward

86 year old female, loves rocking by the caldron on cold winter nights. Loves that old adage "There may be snow on the roof honey, but thar's still a fire in me furnace." A carpenter by trade, working primarily with natural materials such as sugar. Enjoys unique cuisine, and loves children (heeheehee) looking for a male companion between 25 and 35...."oh heck, I'd take anyone just as long as thar breathin' like." With same interests. Non-smoker, athletic, romantic type. "I just want someone who appreciates me for more than just me mind, you understand." No pets...."them varmit tend ta eat the house!"

All interested parties can reply in comments box please.

I haven't gotten into Halloween so much since before I had kids. What fun it was to get out the make-up and scraps of cloth and use a bit of creativity to see what I could invent. Apparently my husband thought I had invented my Dad in an old hags costume. Nice.

Upon arriving home from work, I tried to give my dearest a hello kiss as has been our daily custom for some time. He wasn't going for it though. At first he though it was my Dad since he likes to dress up for fun to freak people out any chance he gets. Once he realized the hag was me, I still wasn't gettin' any lovin'. I don't know why, I'm still the same charming person underneath...aren't I? Or maybe this is the real me coming through....

Quite enjoyable though, was the end of the evening when I went across the street to a neighbours to see if I could scrounge me up some candy. I approached the door with a couple of kids who were looking adorable in their cute little fuzzy costumes. I was sure that the neighbours would recognize me and turn me away, but alas, they didn't. Even when I laughed uproariously and handed the candy back, I don't know if they knew who I was. I don't believe they figured it out until a gaggle of giggles rang out from my house across the street. I suppose that I should be happy that it didn't look so much like me.

One child actually swore when I open the door. [giggle] That was an interesting reaction.

Well, time to put that kind of make-up away for the year and pull out the other kind that I use on a daily basis to keep from looking like that hag for a few more years.

Hope you all enjoyed the a kiss for me next Halloween.

P.S. the costume I wore the day before to a Halloween party was "embarrassed." My husband wan't keen on that one either. Snotty nose, crud stuck in my teeth, fly down, underwear and socks stuck with "static cling" to the back of my clothes. Zits aplenty, toiletpaper trailing from my shoe and get the idea. Same reaction though. People wanting to stare, but not wanting to really get too good a look. Especially at dinner! I believe that one poor soul, not mentioning a thing, just thought maybe I was having a bad day and she wouldn't embarrass me by pointing out the obvious. My littlest child followed me around with kleenex so I could get "the boog" sticking out of my nose. Ahhhh yes, I love Halloween!

Monday, 31 October 2005


Tuesday, 25 October 2005

I Knew You Were Coming So I Baked a Cake

Last Thursday evening, I had my regular scheduled outting with a very dear friend, Mongo. Mongo met me at my piano class with a most unexpected suprise.....CAKE! I love cake. Actually, I love chocolate cake and anything related to it.

We enjoyed an evening of good company (hers, not mine....that is to say that she's the good company, not me.) and the obligatory Starbucks coffee (my mouth is watering as I type this out, and I find myself wishing that it was Thursday night!) I appreciated the gift of cake, but was enjoying myself and was giving very little thought to it while we went about our evening. At the end of our evening I dropped her at home and started on my way. I found myself with a dilemna. One mouth watering chocolate Kahlua cake sitting beside me on the passanger seat and me with no fork! The call of the cake was too much for me to bare. I broke a small sticky morsel off and popped it in my mouth.

Now let me tell you something about myself. I don't drink. Never, never, never, never. I don't eat food with alcohol in it. I had never before tasted Kahlua. I never wanted to taste it before. I made a mistake. A very big mistake. Not only did I taste this nectar of the Gods, but I was eating it mixed with chocolate!

Half way home and half a cake later, I started wondering what would happen if I got pulled over by the police on the way home. I must have smelled like alcohol. I know I smelled of chocolate. (when don't I!?) I didn't know if showing the officer a half empty cake plate would be enough evidence to get me off of the hook!

"honestly officer, I only had one. One half a cake actually....."

I could just imagine the call to my husband:

"yes, Mr. Perpetual Chocoholic. We have arrested your wife for eating and driving under the influence."

I knew I was just being silly....right. It's not like I was actually drinking.

Well wasn't I just about ready to wet myself when a police vehicle pulled up behind, lights flashing signalling for me to pull aside. Cautiously I pull over to the side of the road. In that split second my mind has already raced through a dozen of possible scenarios and their possible outcomes. When will I learn that one shouldn't mess with chocolate in it's most perfect form.....plain and alone! What was I thinking by eating half a cake while driving?! Why didn't I wait until I got home? I was shaking like a leaf, chocolate on my fingers, Kahlua on my breath....

He passed my car..... He kept driving to the car ahead! YES! He's pulling that guy over! Sucker!

Well....I've learned my lesson. Never eat Kahlua cake and drive. Never eat any cake and drive is probably the best policy. I made it home in one piece, ticket free, with half of a chocolate Kahlua cake, wet pee pants and a smile. Another enjoyable evening with Mongo! Does life get any better than that?!

The Bathroom -- Part 2

While acting out yet another episode of the ever popular "Beat the Bus" this morning, I was stopped dead in my tracks upon hearing my eldest daughter in the bathroom speaking to her sister through the door. It went as follows:

Tara: [knock knock on the bathroom door] "Who's in there....I need to go pee!!!"

Elsie: "Hello, you have reached the bathroom. We can't come to the door right now, but if you leave your name and number, we'll get back to you as soon as we can. Thank you. Beeeeeep."

To my utter disbelief this worked! Tara turned and left. No argument. No pounding. No stamping. No fighting. She just.....turned and walked away.

First question I asked myself was, Why?
Secondly, why the heck didn't I think of that!

Wednesday, 19 October 2005

Happy Birthday

Happy Birthday to my oldest daughter...who is not really old at all. I am too young to have a r-e-a-l-l-y old kid. (I feel an odd tingling in the tip of my nose!)


Thursday, 13 October 2005

Three Kids, One Bowl and a Brush

I found myself standing watching the school bus depart with my children this morning holding an empty cereal bowl in one hand and a brush in the other. I was wearing my painting pants and raggiest sweatshirt with duckie socks that have a little stuffed duck head attached at the back with my very best black high heal dress shoes. No make-up, bed head and stinky breath. My pre-schooler locked the door for me on the way out. A girl can't be too careful when she's in the house alone watching "Dora the Explorer." I don't have a key with me. It's raining and I have n0 umbrella, no coat, no hat. This is how anyone passing by would find me. At the end of my driveway....looking perplexed. But you know what?! I BEAT THE BUS! YES!!!

Tuesday, 4 October 2005

New Game Show

I'm not sure if any of you have heard, but my husband is hosting a new game show, called "Beat the Bus." Here's a partial transcript of the first episode:

Gid'day eh! I'd like to welcome my 3 lovely contestants and their hiddeous looking coach, who apparently just dragged herself out of bed after about 4 hours sleep, for this weeks to Beat the Bus. Elsie is a grade 5 student from Very Religious Catholic School. Tara is a grade 3 student from the same school and finally Karen is a grade one student also from VRC school. (applause)

And let's also give a warm welcome to my assistant Tessie (applause) Who peed in her pull up last night! Well done Tessie! Tessie's job is to attempt to foil the groups progress by adding to the work load.

As you know, on beat the bus, the object of the game is to get completely ready for school in 3 minutes before the bus comes after sitting on your behinds and fiddling around in the hour you had previously to get ready but chose not to use wisely.

Are our contestants ready? Letttt's plaaaaay BEAT THE BUS! (applause)

Coach Sandi: CRAP! The bus is here in three minutes. Let's get moving people! We have an extreme kid make over to do, let's move it, move it, move it!

Tara: Mom, did you see my sandwich?

Coach Sandi: I made it, I handed it to you, if you didn't eat it or put it in your lunch bag then retrace your steps and FIND IT NOW!

Coach Sandi: Karen, get dressed. Karen, get dressed. Karen! GET DRESSED!!!!!

Coach: Elsie, hair, teeth and shoes, NOW! And stop talking to your fish! I'm sure he'll get over the trauma of your leaving him to go to school for the day.

Tessie: Naked bum, Naked bum. Look I have a naked bum. I go to the bus too mommy?

Coach: I can't get you dressed now, I'm looking for Tara's sandwich.

OOOOH! Doesn't look good for the MacIntyre team! Only one kid is dressed and they've lost a sandwich. That will put them behind! And Tessie has thrown them a real curve ball. She's on her way out the door naked to go and wait for the bus. What will coach Sandi do? Will she chase the pre-schooler or work on the sandwich problem? OH! Okay, okay. She choose the pre-schooler! She's searching through a basket of clothes for a pair of underwear.....and YES! she's found them. Good work coach. Now she's looking for a dress.....and another quick success....but, wait! Oh no! Tessie just through them another curve ball...she doesn't like that dress! She says it's "too fit." Quick thinking Tessie. She's wiggling, she's wiggling, she's throwing a tantrum! But coach is ready with a comeback.....

Coach Sandi: Put on this dress right now or I'll, I'll....bring you back to the Tessie store and get one that fits this dress! And don't you dare wipe that boog on the wall! Get a Kleenex!

Quick thinking coach! She's putting on the dress! But is refusing to wear the shoes....okay, okay, now coach is reassessing her options. She's staring at the boog, but decides to clean it up later....she's leaving Tessie and moving back to Karen. She's yelling, she's yelling some more....Karen is smiling and has just passed gas in coaches face. Karen is laughing, still laughing Coach doesn't look happy! Oh no! look out Karen! Coach is ready to pull out the big guns I think!

Coach Sandi: No computer this weekend if you aren't dressed in 2 seconds flat! And Tara did you find your sandwich yet? Elsie, you looked like you rubbed the butter all over your head! Did you actually get any on your muffin this morning? And wash your face! You have chocolate all over it.

Coach Sandi: Son of a....labrador! Elsie and Tara, did you study your words for your spelling test again last night? What? NOOO! Who's agenda haven't I signed. All of them!!!!? What do you mean you have a book club order due today Tara?

Coach Sandi looks like she's loosing control! She's off to look for the sandwich....she checks the basement, again, the bathroom, not there, the other kid's rooms, nope. Not there either. She looks at the dog...she smells his, no balogna smell there. She looks....disgusted. She re-checks Tara's room. BINGO! She finds her sandwich tucked under her pillow! She raises the sandwich in the air in show of victory with a stellar smile! (applause)

Coach Sandi: Ok Karen, teeth shoes and school bag, now! I'm going out to the bus with greasy and her sandwich losing sidekick with the bad bed head. Get ready NOW! You better be out there before the bus, or else!

Elsie: But mom, you're only wearing your jeans and bra!

Keen observation Elsie! Coach is running to the bed room. She's yelling at the kids not to leave the house before she's ready, because they may get abducted or hit by a car if they're out there alone. She throws on a shirt. She grabs a brush and runs out to the bus. Now Karen is done, Coach is brushing Karen's hair. Karen is yelling, louder, louder....a neighbour opens the door to see what's going on. Coach is throwing spelling words at Elsie and Tara while she brushes faster and faster. Another stay at home mom runs by with her crew on herway to the stop for the public school bus.

Other Coach: I see your right on time and organized today too! (hysterical laughing)

Now coach Sandi is snearing, but turns to flash a smile. She's smelling Karen's breath. She's yelling, yelling....Karen runs in to brush her teeth...but, here comes the bus! Will they make it? Yes! Karen's back. Hugs and kisses all round. Coach recovers nicely with a smile and good morning to the driver while straightening her hair.

SCORE: Let's see how our contestants did. They get full points for making it to the bus on time, fully dressed with all of their equipment, and bonus points for studying spelling before boarding the bus.

We have to unfortunately subtract points though because coach has thrown on her low cut in the back shirt, inside out and backwards, thus exposing her bra for all to see. (Not to mention a wee bit too much flesh!) She's also bare footed and has forgotten to put on her make-up. A definate no-no leading to substantial deductions in her score!

Even though they don't win the main prize of appearing organized and a model for the neighbourhood, coach does win the runner up prize of sitting down for 5 minutes to finish her coffee with our lovely assistant, Tessie, using her as a jungle gym before running the errands and preparing for her volunteer work later in the day.

Congratulations coach! On winning a 5 minute break.

Disclaimer: The above mentioned prose is meant to provide a humorous look to at the lives of the MacIntyre family. It is by no means a completely accurate account of their daily routine. The coach is happy to be at home and loves the children very much even though she has written this. The coach realizes she is lucky and does not require a lecture pertaining to the above mentioned story. Any resemblance to persons living or dead are purely intentional. Names have been changed to protect the identities of the participants. Any comments can be sent to This e-mail address is not an actual e-mail address, it's only there for your don't really e-mail me there....unless you want to, knowing that I won't get it.

Sunday, 2 October 2005


Ok. I intended to only eat chocolate over last weekend and do another week chocolate free. Well, guess what. I fell off the wagon. It was one hell of a fall! But, boy what a glorious fall it was. Who knew chocolate chips tasted so good sprinked on oatmeal, and that melted chocolate was such a good substitute for ketchup. Well back on the wagon again. But hey! It's only Sunday. One more day to enjoy chocolate covered chocolate before I have to detox again!

Monday, 26 September 2005

Chocolate Fix

Well, I've finally had my chocolate fix. I lasted through seven days, chocolate free, which was my goal. I wanted to try to avoid chocolate during the week and just indulge in a bit on the weekends, but looking at the pictures from last week that I took, maybe that's not such a good idea. Maybe a small daily dose would be more prudent.

I can't believe I actually dressed up somebody's lawn gnomes like that. What was I thinking! I should have chosen the white crown to go with that colour gnome!

Saturday, 24 September 2005

When I "Paint the Town"

When most people "go out and paint the town", it usually involves alcohol and a good time enjoying the company of friends. When I go out and paint the town I do things a little differently. Yes, it did involve going out with a good friend. No, it did not however involve alcohol. It would be hard to tell that I was not drinking, unless you knew me. I did not act as if I was drunk in any way, but "painting the town" did involve walking down a busy strip lined by small shops, busy bars and bustling restraunts. My companion was wearing a crown, and I a set of bunny ears. Easter bunny ears to be exact.

Were you to ask why we would consider doing such a childish thing, you would receive the simple answer, because we could. My companion was wearing it as a symbol of her inner princess and I, on the other hand, have no reasonable explanation as to why I was wearing bunny ears. I don't, to the best of my knowledge have an inner bunny. So, I'll just chalk it up to a sudden lack of chocolate (I made it to seven days! Yeah Baby!)

Now, you would think that a couple of women in their late 30's (I'm being generous as far as my age goes here, seeing as I celebrated the big 40 this summer.) would draw a bit of attention walking down such a street wearing these odd articles of head gear on a busy city street. Oddly enough, in the rougher end of this area, we were unable to attract even a single second glance.

As we ventured further to the "up town" area of the strip, we were able to get the attention that we were expecting among those who were enjoying a bit of liquid pleasure, in the outdoor patio areas of the local bars. We received a few cat calls and a couple of interesting suggestive remarks. Most just assumed that we were headed to a weekend party....never mind that it was only a Thursday night.

We proceeded on to walk one of my favourite middle upper class neighbourhoods, filled with expensive, quaint condos lining a number of small narrow streets. Expensive landscaping noted throughout each and every lot. At least... all but one. One lonely little lot in this sub-division filled with exuberently priced show pieces. On this block, sits a small gem. The reason for our travels this night. A green grassy front lawn no bigger than two car widths, and one car legnth. What interest could we possibly have walking this distance to find such a small bare uninspired place? I will tell you what! Lawn ornaments. Tacky little lovable characters that were begging to fit into this high class condo paradise. How, you ask, could two nutty ladies with a crown and bunny ears respectively, turn a lawn gnome and dog statue into upper class works of art, so that they could feel a part of this community? Well, as they say, a picture is worth a thousand words. So that's why I included one. (or two.)

I can't wait to see what we do on our next ladies night out!

Thursday, 22 September 2005

Day Five and Barely Alive


It's day five of my chocolate free existence. I am not finding that the cravings are so bad that I can't stand it. My problem exists in the fact that my memory and brain function have all but ceased.

I was out in the park with neighbours I have known for a number of years. They were a sea of nameless faces. I couldn't remember their names, those of their furry friends or even the names of my own children for that matter. At least not correctly.

I am finding it amusing, looking back, at how these people reacted to my absence of brain power. I explained to them why I was having problems, and they were very kind as to assist me in any way possible. This became very amusing when I was having trouble searching for appropriate words to finish an idea in a discussion. Anyone looking out at us from the adjoining homes, would have seen a small intimate group of people playing a game of charades in the park with dogs dodging in and out of the circle. The excitement was visible upon each correct guess of a word. This would result in a loud yes being yelled out and the applause that would ultimately follow.

I could feel the empathy emitting from all and after a while just gave up trying to form sentences because I could see how painful it was for them to watch me stumble through another thought. Quick one or two word answers were what seemed to work best.

Eventually, by the time the sun had started to slip down under the pinkish orange horizon, my kind neighbours had started fumbling for words themselves. Calling their own dogs the name of their spouse or child. Funny how something like that becomes contageous. I have managed to make them all uncomfortable in their own speech patterns and thought processes. Well, all except for one person.

This one person, (oh, let's call him Ron...) decided it would be more helpful to lecture me on the evils of chocolate, especially milk chocolate, and how could I have possibly been eating so much as for it to have this kind of affect on me upon trying to give it up. He obviously isn't living in a household with One working husband, four children, two fish and one very big shedding white dog. If he were, maybe he would be struggling with this addiction too! Or possibly even something worse.

Friday, 16 September 2005

Were only they open 24 hours a day....

Ahhh! September. It's a fresh beginning to yet another school year. A time to start over with renewed hopes of a successful year in the ongoing acedemic journey of children. A time to indulge oneself in the fantasy of remaining organized and finding endless enjoyment in learning all throughout the year.

This is also the time of year that librarians and library technicians alike enjoy almost as much as Christmas! A time to embark upon a journey of ultimate importance.... Shopping for school supplies for their tiny wards ! After all, what self respecting library geek doesn't feel the magnetic pull of the nearest "Staples" or "Grand and Toy" calling them in. They don't even have to buy anything to achieve that euphoric high. Like a drug addict getting a fix, the bibliomaniac can obtain their pleasure from the smell alone of the stationery supplies. The fresh crisp sound of plastic wrap so tightly wound around a perfectly stacked block of "400 sheets" lined loose leaf paper. Pre-sharpened coloured pencils in a perfectly undented box with sharp square corners. Sticky notes, exsensive as they are, even bring pleasure, in their blocks of varying colours and sizes. Oooh! I get shivers just imagining it!

Luckily for me I have kids. I have a reason to actually buy these coveted items. Well, actually, it's not so much that I have a reason, as I have an excuse. I know I've taken to buying items that my 6 year old could not possibly be requiring in grade one. After all what 6 year old is allowed to use pens or white out in class, not to mention a package of business card sheets for our printer. And lets not mention the solar calculator that she just had to have to figure out her ever difficult grade 1 addition and subtraction questions.

My only regret is that these palaces of joy aren't open 24 hours a day. Grocery stores are in many a city, why aren't stationary shops? I guess we can't have everything in life. It's not a perfect world after all. Maybe someone could work on a fragrance for the home that smells like these heavenly places. It could be called, "Ode to September, new beginnings."

Wednesday, 14 September 2005

Coming soon.

Tuesday, 13 September 2005

Blueberry T's and Tye Dyed Floors

This is your mission, should you choose to accept it:

One of our agents is in need of backup daycare assistance while carrying out her mission. Your job will be to entertain and care for, two three year olds females and provide adequate, stimulating activities for the course of an entire day. You are to play the part of "Super Mom." A difficult role to pull off but, this is an important one. Don't blow it.

This message will be covered in grape jelly and butter in five seconds.

Well, guess what....I chose to accept it. Madison always eagerly anticipated the arrival of one of her favourite friends, oh, let's call her Bailey....since I never use real names on the blog. Madison could hardly sit still. She kept asking me what time it was. Well actually she kept saying "Mom, one sleep is it time for Bailey to come over?" Her equivalent to "hey lady, you got the time?"

The exciting, long anticipated moment had arrived. Bailey is finally here. She comes fully equiped with bathing suit, a picnic lunch, benadryl and epi-pen. (She is allergic to peanuts.)

After a hesitant and upsetting good-bye, for the mother only, they are off like a shot. So many toys to play much time.

The day goes smoothly. Too smoothly. Well, except for the fact that Bailey is terrified of Blue, our Labrador Retriever. Also, she was afraid of the frequent visits in the back yard from the squirrels. They are used to being fed their meals of peanuts at various times throughout the day. It was lunchtime and they were hungry. She believed these viscious little rodents were attempting to kill her with peanuts I guess. I patiently explained why they were visiting and that she need not worry, there were no peanuts in the yard at present. I taught her how to scare them away by tossing a toy in their direction. Luckily she didn't take any of them out. I had just started relaxing my anxiety riddled brain. "Mom" would soon be here. The other kids would soon be home from school, and I, Supermom and hostess, would no longer find the need to follow my little twosome around making sure that they had activities aplenty to stimulate and entertain.

Hmmm. We hadn't done a craft yet. I had planned on doing one, and decided that tye dye t-shirts would be the craft au jour. I was after all "supermom." Surely I could handle that.

We headed to the kitchen, t-shirts and Rit dye in hand. I had sent them out to the flower/rock garden to bring some nice rocks that we could tie into the shirts to make them more interesting. This was also to aid them in feeling like they were assisting me in the wonderous creation of these little masterpieces. After all, there was no way I was letting them anywhere near the boiling hot dye mixture.

"Sandra" Bailey says while tugging at my shirt.
"Bailey...remember it's Sandi, not Sandra." I said this for about the 10th time that day.
"[giggle, giggle, giggle] No. Sandra," She repeats again while attempting to stretch my shirt to my knees."
"I hate that name! Remember honey, it's Sandi" I say while turning back to my duties.
"Sandra, Sandra, Sandra, Sandra....I don't want to get rocks."
"That's ok then. Go ahead and sit down with the elastics and wait for Madision to come back with some rocks."

I'm so glad that I picked an activity that I knew they would so thouroughly enjoy.

We managed to make it though the activity without incident. The final rinse had just finished and the grand unveiling was about to occur. I quickly removed the elastics while trying to keep the attention of my two little playmates. I was excited. This would be spectacular. I could just imagine them proudly modelling their new creations to friends and family alike. "I made this shirt with Sandra!" I mean "Sandi."

"Tada!" I holler with a wide smile spreading across my face.

Silence follows. Madison turns to play with a toy she has brought into the room. Bailey stares. Finally she looks up and me and states,

"I won't wear that. It's wet."
I reply "I know sweetie, but it will dry soon and then you'll be able to wear it."
"But it looks like blueberries fell on it." I know this is her way of telling me "hey woman, you expect me to wear a shirt that looks like I've just spilled my dessert all over it? You crazy or somethin'?"

Well, luckily for me a retort is not required. The school bus arrives home with a fresh group of friends to play with. Three older kids of varying ages arrive noisily with news of their day.

"Oooooh! Tye dye! Can I do one?" my oldest daughter requests.
Still stunned by the less than enthusiastic response from my little guest, I reply, "Sure. Extra t-shirts are downstairs. Pick one in your size."

Again we go through the steps of creating a tye dyed shirt. This time I am more careless. Still stinging from the blow I had received earlier and therefore not concentrating on the activity at hand and the individual I was performing it with. I splash a spot on my face with the still hot dye. This brings me around enough to realize what horrible thing I have just done. I have agreed to make tye dye t-shirts with my oldest daughter, oh, let's call her Elsie.

Let me explain a little bit about Elsie. She's a combination of Mr Bean meets Frank Spencer from Some Mothers do 'Ave 'Em. A little heavier on the Frank Spencer side perhaps. And I can't believe that I've just asked her to pick up the two pails of dye and place them on the floor.

I hold my breath. I didn't want to, upon coming to my senses, startle her in any way. I also didn't want to destroy her feelings of self worth by letting her know I thought she'd bungle this up. I felt every movement the pail took in the thumping heartbeats in my chest, occationally interupted by palpitations. First one bucket makes it down. I decide the only thing I could do was to let her continue. The second bucket slowly makes it down. What took only a matter of second to complete felt like an eternity to my now damp and sweaty body.

Relief floods over me as we unravel our work to see what genious we have created, together. I may be Supermom after all. My daughter is enjoying this. A large toothy smile is now spreading across her face as she is perched on a chair beside me as we rinse out the excess dye.

"Tada!" I say, only this time to an appreciative audience. I am wonderful. I am the best there is. I am Supermom! At least with the older children.

Now in a previous blog entry I quoted a verse. I didn't stop to remember this verse before starting this activity, when perhaps I should have. I will post it once again for those of you who are new readers:

Pride goes before destruction, a haughty spirit before a fall.

Proverbs 16:18

To bad I didn't remember this verse first!

Elsie's beautiful glowing face, with beaming smile glances over at me as steps down backwards off of the chair she has been standing on. She steps onto the edge of one of the dye filled buckets she so carefully placed on the floor not 5 minutes earlier, knocking the entire bucket over spilling deep violet Rit dye all over the kitchen floor. I watch in horror as it spreads like a colourful wave of doom and destruction under the stove, splashing the cupboards, stove, and walls in it's wake.

Elsie looks up at me. That beautiful beaming smile fading. Standing in a pool of purple dye when she says, "My foot is purple! Do you see that! My leg is purple too! Wow, cool!"

I now am the proud owner of purple dyed (called violet on the box) towels. I couldn't possibly use paper towels to clean such an immense amount of fluid.

You know, it's all worth it though in the long run. My daughter is excited about her new shirt. She was disappointed when it wasn't yet dried this morning and she couldn't wear it. Even Madison seems happy to be wearing her new shirt. I wonder if Bailey minds wearing her blueberry shirt?

What did I learn from this activity you may ask? Three things:

1.)Perhaps a more age appropriate craft can be planned for the next visit of our little friend.

2.)When we renovate our kitchen this tye dying in the kitchen!

3.)Vim thick bleach is wonderful! And in the ever popular phrase of that oh so annoying American entertainment diva Martha Stewart, "And that's a good thing!"

The very end. Thank God!

Wednesday, 7 September 2005

Grand Central Station aka The Bathroom

School has started. I find it difficult not to enjoy the thrill of a potent rush of adrenaline and break out in a case of the giggles every time the realization of this hits me once again. As excited as I am that my children are once again happily and snuggly tucked into a routine, it does have it's drawbacks. Many of these revolve around my bathroom, first thing in the morning. This morning was a prime example of that.

I arose--groggy--after only about 5 1/2 hours of restless sleep. I have not yet altered my bedtime routine to adjust to these new earlier mornings. When I went to bed, there were only two of us there. Sometime during the night, one more wee, itty-bitty, small, tiny little body found it's way into the bed. I stress the point here about the size of this little person--because as small as this little one may be--she takes up approximately 75 percent of the bed...give or take a couple of percent. I was feeling a bit....pretzel like.

I dragged myself to the bathroom. Relishing the thought of enjoying a quiet 10 minutes or so soaking in a hot tub before the start of a fast paced day. Enoying some quiet and solitude.....(you know where I'm going with this don't you!) When the first of my barbaric invaders slammed into the locked door, begging for attention. Luckily for me the dog doesn't have a set of opposable thumbs. He wasn't able to pick the lock to let himself into the room. Even if it weren't locked, I doubt very much that he's figured the door knob out yet. I wasn't taking any chances though.

Relieve flooded over me as I sunk slowly back into the blissfully warm tub, allowing the healing waters to wash soothingly over me.


Barbaric invader number two had arrived. Just in time too. I was actually feeling the tension starting to melt away. We couldn't have that now could we.

Barbaric invader #2: "Mom, Megan said the F word!"
Cranky Mother: "Which F word is that? !" (yes, yes, I thought I had some idea of what that F word might be, but I just wanted to make sure before somebody got punished.)
Barbaric invader #2:"Friggin'"
Cranky Mother: "I'm in the friggin' tub trying to have a bath! I'll deal with it later!"

Ok. Now that I've solved that one, I'm noticing that the tension is taking a little bit longer to fade away this time. I don't even believe that I got to actually finish this thought before barbaric invader #3 entered the picture.

Rattle, rattle, rattle, BOOM!

Barbaric Invader #3: "Why's the door locked?! I have to use the bathroom."
Cranky Mother: "One guess."
Barbaric Invader #3: "But I have to use the bathroom, NOW."
Cranky Mother: "Luckily we have two. Go downstairs."
Barbaric Invader #3: "But I don't like that bathroom!"

Unfortunately barbaric invader #3 does have opposable thumbs and knows how to jimmy the lock.

Why is it that these people feel so comfortable around me that they can sit down in full view of where I'm soaking and feel absolutely no embarrassment at relieving themselves of every possible fluid, solid or gas that happens to be awaiting escape from their bodies? And since they have no inhibitions, can actually enjoy attempting to carry on a conversation all the while.

I was sitting in shocked disbelief and denial at what was happening in full view of where I soaked. "If I close my eyes and pretend not to hear, everything will be ok" I thought to myself. "If I hold my breath and pretend I can't smell, everything will be ok."

Drip, plop, crumble, drop (it's not what you think.)

Ah yes, I see invader number 4 and 5 have arrived to join in the fray! Just in time too! Wonderful.

Irrate Mother: "No eating muffins in the bathroom! That's gross! You're dropping crumbs in my water, and can't you see your sister is using the toilet! That's disgusting!"

Two invaders quietly exit without argument or complaint. They can't mutter a word, their mouths are full.

Well....finally, all of the barbaric intruders have finally left. I believe I can finish my now tepid bath with some peace since I have been visited by all of the kids, and even the dog. I hear a light tapping at the door, as a balding head cautiously peaks into the room.

"You don't mind if I shave while you're bathing do you?

Is it any wonder that I haven't adjusted my schedule yet? 10:00pm to 1:30am is the only time I have to think an uninterupted thought. That is the only blissfully quiet time of the day when all of the barbarians are asleep! (Yes, that includes the big bald guy and the short furry one too.)

Yes, we love our families, but have you ever wondered why God has provided us with the gift of a requirement of 8 hours of sleep a night? And why children need more? Any thing less would be uncivilized.

p.s. this blog entry was written a bit quickly. The barbarians are at the gate arguing again...on with the fray!

Monday, 5 September 2005

I am inspired

I have upon writing my previous entry, inspired myself to attempt to once again, decrease my chocolate intake. I attempt this feat without the assistance of any kind of a chocolate substitute. No cocoa patches, hypnosis, cocoa addiction gum, overeating other things in it's place.....

12:20am: I have not eaten chocolate in approximately 15 minutes. (give or take a few.) There is a slight tremor in my left hand, and my stomach is gurgling, but I can handle the withdrawl so far.

12:22am: I find myself thinking about the texture of the peanuts in the chocolate I ate earlier. Rolling around my tongue, gentley being carressed by smooth melting chocolate. So sweet! So satisfying.

12:23am: Crap. I'm having palpitations. The only fighting chance I have is if I go to bed and hope I don't get up during the night and sleep-eat. I've been known to do that where chocolate is concerned. Night, Night.

Slave to the Cocoa Bean

I was at a baby shower this afternoon. It was a wonderful event. Lovely to see everybody, incredible food, gorgeous mother to be. My only question is why is it that I insist on gorging myself until I feel like I am carrying a little one of my own? It doesn't matter how much I have promised myself before the actual event that I "will not go near the dessert table under any circumstances," I always land up sampling, no... cross that out, inhaling large quantities of food, particularily dessert! I have issues with chocolate (if you haven't figured that out by now, well....I hate to say it, but you're just stupid!) What would it take to keep me away from the chocolate? (aside from diabetes, or falling into a comatos state) I'll let you know if I ever figure that out. In the mean time I'll continue to make promises that, like so many New Years Resolutions, will continue to fall by the wayside. I am however, secure in the knowledge that though I have not yet met a chocolate I didn't like, one of these days I will. It is at this time I will be freed from the iron grip of that oh so horrible slave master....the cocoa bean.

Wednesday, 31 August 2005

Winter's Amost Here

Ahhh! The good old days! In this sweltering heat of temperatures in the 30's celsius range with the humidity, doesn't this look refreshing! Doesn't Blue look excited, frolicking in the fresh powdery snow like a puppy.

Don't worry sweeties! Soon you too will be enjoying these long sought after frigid days. Sitting firmly in the grasp of winters' loooong icy months.
In two months or so, this unbearably hot summer will be all but a distant unpleasant memory to look back and reflect upon.

Friday, 26 August 2005

"You can't make up anything anymore. The world itself is a satire. All you're doing is recording it."

Art Buchwald quotes (American Journalist, b.1925)

Translation: The world is going to H-E-Double Hockey sticks in a hand basket!

Tuesday, 23 August 2005

Late Night Walk

In the past few years I have decided to work on the improvement of all the different parts that make up me. Unfortunately I haven't been able to get them all whipped into shape at the same time. When I am physically fit, I am spiritually depressed and mentally derranged. When I grew closer to God, and managed to get my brain chemically stable, I grew a pot and added 15lbs. Now I'm back to square one and am trying to catch my body up with my spirit and mental capacity. This is not going as smoothly as I had hoped. First I have to realize that I am not the person who I once was.

Being the busy parent that I am, it is often quite late at night before I have been able to get out to exercise. It is not unusual to find me wandering the streets, earphones plugged into my head, at 10:00 at night. This has lead to some nervous walks, as I often hear in the news how the gangs are raging in this end of town at all hours. At least I assume it's at night, since I don't see them spray painting during the daylight hours.

Watching various diverse groups of people collecting throughout my route to socialize, was unnerving to say the least. Especially when I would come across a group that contained all young males or the odd single male walking suspiciously alone.

I started to ask myself, was I doing anything that would/could make me a target to any of these groups? Was there anything here that would cause them to swarm me? Was I just so darn sexy that I'd get hit on when walking past? Here's what I came up with. See what you think:

List of items that would make me an irrisistable target to young men along my walking route.

*I'm 40. Strawberry blonde with white highlights.
*AT LEAST 15lbs overweight (which is the equivalent to 30lbs in my doctors opinion I'm sure.)
*Hair is starting to grown on my chin....oh baby! That's hot!
*I'm wearing an extra large baggy t-shirt with dirty little handprints all over the back. Most of them are on my butt. I still don't know how or why, I have no knowlege of anyone grabbing me there, but they are there. Like crop circles. A mystery.
*I'm wearing clothes that were in fashion when I first bought them about 10 years ago. Except the new pants, which are the low waisted ones. I like this new fashion! My waistband can fall beneath my bulging waistline!
*I'm carrying the latest in technology. A walkman. Ok. It was the latest in technology when my husband bought it for me about 13 years ago.
*Orthopaedic shoes
*Control top underwear

Ok. Maybe I was kidding about the shoes and underwear, but the rest pretty much fits. I started to realize along my walk, that I'm old. I'm old and unattractive! And I am not up to current geek standards as far as technology goes. I don't even have an ipod for goodness sakes. Everybody and their dog has one of those.

I'm getting to that age where personality matters. That means I'm going to have to start to be nice to people, even when I'm having PMS. Ewww! Looks aren't something that can get me by anymore! (Not that I ever had them in abundance to start with, but now they are becoming even more fleeting!) I'm not ready to be that nice yet!

Well, since I'm not carrying a purse, or up to date electronics, I suppose I'm safe. Unless the nursing homes up the street have let loose their 90 year old gang bangers. I may still be somewhat attractive to them, considering what they have to work with.

Oddly enough, my husband worries if my walk goes on a bit longer than expected. I don't know what he thinks might happen to me. At first I thought this sweet until I realized the true reason that he is worried is that if something happens to me he doesn't know a single thing about kids fashion. The last time I went out of town overnight I came back to find the children hadn't brushed their hair or teeth all day and were wearing mismatched clothes most of which weren't even for the correct season. He'd have to care for the kids alone. This scares him. I can tell by the look of relief when I finally walk through that door!

I sure do hope that in end times when I get my new body that it doesn't look as old as it looks now! What a way to spend eternity!

Sunday, 21 August 2005

"Ah, good taste--What a dreadful thing! Taste is the enemy of creativeness."
Pablo Picasso quotes (Spanish Artist and Painter. 1881-1973)

Saturday, 20 August 2005

New Look for Winter for the Whole Family

What guy wouldn't feel like alpha dog with this fabulous new creation....the winter diaper doggie hat

And every owner can be just as "cool" in this all new pull-up hat with matching diaper scarf. Get them while supplies last! We have only a limited supply of clean ones left.

"Isabelle the Diaper Head" Sung to the Sponge Bob square pants theme song

I went for a walk with Isabelles Mom
Isabelle, Isabelle the diaper head
We went for a coffee, for the soul it's a balm
Isabelle, Isabelle the diaper head

Her dad was there too, he rode on his bike
Isabelle, Isabelle the diaper head
His bike was gas powered, a thing we disliked!
Isabelle, Isabelle the diaper head

We drank lots of coffee, ate desserts off the floor
Isabelle, Isabelle the diaper head
We told crazy stories and then told some more
Isabelle, Isabelle the diaper head

We laughed till we cried, then finally we left
Isabelle, Isabelle the diaper head
It was cold outside, but her mom's really deft
Isabelle, Isabelle the diaper head

She used a clean diaper, a cloth one it was
Isabelle, Isabelle the diaper head
To keep her head warm, since she has only peach fuzz
Isabelle, Isabelle the diaper head

Her mom put it on well, it looked really nice
Isabelle, Isabelle the diaper head
A lovely new bonnet at such a cheap price
Isabelle, Isabelle the diaper head

And now down the street the four of us went
Isabelle, Isabelle the diaper head
It's one of the nicest evenings that I've ever spent
With Isabelle, Isabelle the diaper head

exit stage left here

Friday, 19 August 2005

Happy Friday

"What garlic is to food, insanity is to art"
Augustus Saint-Gaudens

Translation: You're breath stinks when you eat food with garlic in it, and you're art stinks when you're insane.

Thursday, 18 August 2005


Extended piano lesson full of laughter and fun
with a patient instructor. Meeting with a
friend for coffee and a stroll through
Westboro. Window shopping in quaint
shops along the way. Watching a
toddler explore her surround-

ings and testing her limits.
More fun. Stress melts away. RELAXATION
I love Thursday's.
Happy day.

Tuesday, 9 August 2005

Find Me!

I'll just hide beside this tree
If I can't see her
Then she can't see me!

If I don't look
Then she'll go away
And that would really make my day!

Prarie Dog Tired

I used to be on the top
But now I'm on the bottom
If I had a little more energy
Maybe I would have fought 'um