School's out- braggity brag post

My little boy is now officially DONE Grade 1! A full year of full-day school. A remarkable year of friendship, learning, with a couple of truly amazing teachers. The kids were totally in love with the series of Mr. Men and Little Miss books. Each child in Liam's class was given a title, so Liam was Mr. Tall (for obvious reasons). The teaching assistant, Mr. R, a huge bear of a man but who was so obviously adored by each student, was Mr. Tickle. And his teacher, lovely Ms. E (who is even lovelier carrying twins!) was Little Miss Sunshine. They were a great team, and having had the pleasure of volunteering with the class through the year I was able to see the vast improvements many of the students made, and the love of learning that was clearly evident every time I was in the classroom. Mr. R even made a lovely slide show of the year, and will give a copy to each student.

So, the final report card was really quite good. I still can't believe that they grade the kids this young, but Liam had many A's, B pluses and B's, B being at the provincial standard. He's particularly good at Reading and Communications, and Health and Phys Ed (that part's not from me); meeting expectations in Math ( it may take a couple years for the Asian math gene to kick in - sorry, I'm so terrible!). Not straight A's, so I have to hide the report card from Grandma. But what I was most happy about was the comments section.

Ms. E reiterated that he is a hardworking, polite and conscientious student, with a very positive attitude to learning; he perseveres when faced with challenges and is always willing to assist others when needed. He's a reflective learner, self-aware of his strengths while recognizing his own areas needing improvement. WOW - it sounded like this had been written by his mother! To me this was the most important part of the report.

I had a great conversation with the mom of one of Liam's best friends yesterday, as they came by for a playdate and lunch. She shares a basic philosophy with me - academics are important, but it's more important to have be a well-rounded individual who is self-aware, empathetic, more in tune with the world around them - IQ with EQ. For her daughter, they're exposing her to music and the arts and skating; for Liam, he's tending more toward the sports. Although I'd still like to get him into piano lessons, and potentially visual art classes in the fall. But for now, I'm happy just to let him be a boy of summer.

A day of celebration as hubster is also officially in long-weekend mode, with Canada Day coming up. So yesterday was in fact also "throw-a-drink-back thursday"...

The wine we had with dinner - lovely full-bodied cabernet:


And after the kids were asleep, he brought me this:

All the health benefits of pomegranate juice beautifully combined with vodka! Love it, love my husband all the more for it!

Have a great long weekend to all my fellow Canadians!

Sisterhood

My blogging gal pals over at Pinks and Blues have started this amazing tradition, a lovely trip down memory lane. Their photos are so beautiful and fun; I just had to share in the fun too.

So, with the upcoming arrival of two babies to the family this summer, I pried open the family vault and dusted off some pictures of myself and my little sister as babies/toddlers. We were pretty much tied at the hip from day one!

Here we are at my 2nd birthday party - I guess I was pretty girlie even back then - check out the bow (and even cuter, my sister's hair!)


Here we are at my 3rd birthday party - little sis is already getting into my outfits, even before I've opened them. I was channeling church lady here, I think:


Finally, here we are in mod outfits. We remain the same height differential, much to the chagrin of my petite sister. She always thought she would catch up, I'm afraid:


Baby brother was born in the next decade, so he's gonna show up in some future episodes of throwback.

Wife Carrying Championships

Maybe next year ?

Toronto had its own version this past weekend. Gosh darn it, we missed it!
Winner gets his wife's weight in beer. Hubster is interested. Gotta love that viking in every man!

Timmy's Evil

Summer's here and I'm officially addicted again:



Yup, I've made a habit of picking one up EVERYDAY, and this is its usual state by the time I get home. I try to make myself feel better by asking them to make it with milk. Yeah, good one. If you happen to know how many calories are in one, please don't tell me.

They've just started advertising the Ice Cap Supremes - complete with whip cream and the like. I'm so not going there...

80's revisited

I saw some disturbing images this past weekend when I was out and about. Actually, three of them. I wish I had had my camera with me, because these are (at least I hope) rare sightings.

We had just come out of the salon after treating the little one to a lovely hair appointment. She just loves the attention, will sit there while the stylist brushes, cuts, trims, then blow dries her curly ends under. The perfect little page boy bob. Every time we pass by the salon she asks that we go in to see Felora (her stylist) so she can have a haircut. She even learned to close her eyes on demand at the salon, about the time that she turned 2.

So where were we? Oh yes, leaving a hair appointment. We drive out onto the road and come to the intersection where there are two bus stops. I glance over at one and I see a young man sporting a MULLET! Not just any mullet, but a reverse Flock-of-Seagulls mullet, with full-on highlights at the tips. Ian even noticed it before I commented. This is aging me, but it was like that 80's singer, kagagoogoo. While I'm saying that I can't believe what I just saw, I see out of the corner of my eye that there is another fellow at the other stop talking on his cellphone, turns his head and it's another mullet! This one was a little more subtle, but a mullet nonetheless. Two mullet sightings within two minutes. Wow.

The next day, as I'm zooming home from the gym, this silver Porsche convertible whips past me on the left. Of course I look over, after all it is a Porsche, and I'm always curious about who's driving these cars. I see dark, pointed darts reminiscent of a porcupine, but as the car moves forward and the wind blows, there's more hair flying out from the nape of driver's neck. Yes, flying. We're talking spiked up Billy Ray Cyrus on an Asian head. Uggh.

Of course, this is all my fault. I did what I promised I wouldn't do. I bought a pair of leggings to wear with these two cute dresses that showed a bit too much leg. Now look what I've done. The 80's are back with a terrible vengeance. Sorry!

Feeding Frenzy

The roofers came today, so as any good homeowner would do... I took little G out to Lionel's Petting Zoo! Well, there was a lot of noise and racket, and given my recent track record I had nothing to lose by not being here the whole day.

To be fair (to myself) I had already arranged this with our playgroup, but the roofers just showed up. We had booked them but we weren't sure what day they were coming. So they interrupted the deck/fence students for a day, but no worries, right? Don't worry, be happy.

So, the animals at the zoo were so excited to see people. I swear the goats started to climb the fences as soon as our van drove up. But it was the kids' reactions that were the most priceless. We had brought bread and carrots to feed with. Little G was jumping out of her seat, "Mommy, can I eat them?" (eat= feed!).

Here's the little one feeding carrots - such a brave little thing:



Here peacock, have some bread:



There is a fuzzy bunny in the background, but I had to share this close-up. Oh to be so young, skin so fair, I love this shot of her:



They also gave free dinosaur rides:



Then after school, Liam had back-to-back birthday parties to attend. And in-between he managed to have some street fun with his posse across the street while I dropped the little one off before taking him mid-town for the indoor volleyball party.

Two parties. Two opportunities in a row, to stuff myself with pizza and cake. I am, after all, the human garbarator.

A whole day of seeing my kids beaming, smiling ear-to-ear, playing and laughing with their friends. Me chatting it up with other parents, sharing renovations stories and managing to laugh too. What a great day. This is what staying at home is all about.

Poppa's gonna buy me a HARDHAT

Summer's here and the time is right for RENOVATING! This is the season I've been looking forward to and dreading at the same time. We'll finally be getting our new kitchen in this summer, something we've been talking about and planning for about 2 years. When we first had the kitchen guys here Giselle was not even sitting yet; now she's giving 5 minute soliloquies on the fact that her DVD player flew away so she'using her brother's.

We're talking major work - we're replacing all the main floor tiles; powder room, laundry, kitchen, foyer. New kitchen cabinetry, new layout with island, new appliances, lighting. New paint everywhere. And I just found out, as Ian was taking our contractor throughout to go over more details about the job, that we're having our family room carpet ripped out to be replaced with hardwood (don't you just love that as the project takes a life of its own right before you and the contractor's ever expanding dollar-sign eyes?)

On top of that, we're getting a new roof, and our fence and deck stained.

So here's the thing. I'm just terrible with dealing with these trade things. But hubster is meticulous. He fancies that he could or should be doing a lot of this himself, but if he can't at least he'll supervise the job. Problem is that he's working full time, and I'm the one at home. Who should be supervising.

We hired student painters (a company) for the staining in the back. We have no time to do it ourselves and thought we may as well help students for their summer - we've all been there. They did the powerwashing prep-work yesterday, but when I checked after they had gone I noticed that all the railings were very rough, peeling from the wash, some splintered. A bit too much in my opinion, but what do I know, until it was verified by Ian when he got home.

He was not too impressed. Called the crew chief and left a message. Asked if I had been home (which I was for most of the day) and that I should have watched them better. I thought, well, shouldn't they know what they're doing, one would hope that this isn't the first job they've done, hopefully they'd been trained? But he said that they're students, I should have been out there checking as they're working.

I'm just not that type. I'm happy to guide/supervise someone's paperwork, consult on their strategy and analysis, you know, office-type stuff. But these activities that venture into the great outdoors, not my domain. Unfortunately, like it or not, I've been appointed the foreman/foreperson, and I didn't do so well on my first day. According to Liam, if Dad were Donald Trump, I'd be "FIRED".

Wish me luck. I think it's going to be a long, hot, stressful summer!

A Look the Ladies will Like

Hubby is in need of a major wardrobe overhaul. He's been decluttering and declogging his side of the closet. His worn down, worn-out clothes trashed; the items he's tired of or just never worn stuffed into bags full for Goodwill.

So I'm rubbing my hands together with glee.

I've been waiting for years to get him into clothes that I think would suit him much better. He's okay with his suits. We even got him into a nice midnight blue (with micro-thin pinstripes in pink) suit which he looked smashing in. Only he left the pants somewhere in Europe. However, for his casual, especially business casual for-the-office look, it's been a real challenge. He's always been a "blue-shirt and khaki Dockers" kind of guy. After sporting that uniform pretty much since I've met him, I think it's time to bring his closet into this century. I'm aiming for more urban chic.

My husband has pretty good taste, he does read Men's Health (although I bought the subscription for him and since renewed it- OMG have you seen those covers?!), GQ and that sort of fare. He knows what looks good, but he has a hard time visualizing these looks on himself. And he's super picky. We go to Banana Republic a fair bit, but he's a bit sick of their "blandness". The last couple of years he's bought some items from Zara and he'll pop into Mexx occasionally. So he hasn't been a totally lost cause. It's just been a microscopically gradual evolution.

For the longest time I've been trying to get him into leaner pants, and he's finally figured out that pleats equal dumpy.

But his work is so busy now, and with the kids becoming ever so much more demanding, it leaves less than zero time for him to shop. A past-time that he gets little pleasure out of anyway. He can only do it for specific items. Like the time he took the girlie out to pick up underwear. She kept pointing at all the underwear packages " Daddy, why he naked?!" and then at the pictured nipples "Daddy, look at their Wo-Wo's". He could barely get to the cash he was having such a great time with her.

Therefore, since Father's Day, I have appointed myself his personal shopper. I've been looking out for HIM rather than the girlie girl and her brother or myself. So far I'm 3 for 4. Three hits: One light blue short sleeve cotton embroidered shirt from Zara; one deep gray rolled-sleeve shirt with epaulets and finally a black short-sleeve shirt with slimming detail. The golf shirt with (he-thought) unflattering horizontal stripes from Banana Republic is going back.

Today he wore the gray shirt and light coloured pants - paraphrasing the words of my new "bec" friend, it's a look that the ladies will like. Or at least I do. We'll see if we get a pic in here.

And they told two friends, and so on, and so on...

This is what blogging and the deadly links remind me of ... that hair commercial years ago, I think it was for Herbal Essence? I've been totally addicted to this activity lately, even more than I ever was to Facebook. Just sucked into cyberspace, as I pop into one blog, which leads me to another, and then another and I sit reading with a voracious appetite all these ponderings of bloggers all over the world. Commenting on others' thoughtful, insightful and often humorous musings. And then trying to come up with original material, thoughts, things that I might enjoy reading about, for my expanding circle of bloggity-blog friends.

I have to get out with the kids a few times a day or I would just be glued to the screen. As it is, whenever we get home, I rush to the computer, to see if anyone has read my most recent post and had anything to say about it. It's so bad now that if my kids are looking for me they'll more likely come to the study than the kitchen. So I'll have to remedy that and get a laptop for the kitchen. Yeah, that's it, to google for all those new recipes I will try in our spanking new kitchen, that's the ticket.

And I'm cursing the fact that I told my husband that he could take the camera on his trip, not realizing that there would be all these lovely moments to be captured while he was away. Who would have thought that the camera would be such an important part of blogging? There are some things that can only be told with an image. Including my new head, which instead of looking as luscious as when I walked out of the salon on Thursday, now looks more like Betsey Johnson's tresses without the cartwheel factor.

Help me! Is there such a thing as "Bloggers' Anonymous", or is that an oxymoron?

A Fun(ny) Contest

I like to think I have a good sense of humour, and hubster tells me I can be funny when I'm not stressed to the gills. I do have my moments. There's nothing like side-splitting, gut-busting laughter and we certainly have our share of those times together.

I heard through the Blogvine about a fun humour contest set up at This Eclectic Life Blog. I love the title of it "This Blows My dress up". I'm really enjoying reading all the entries - there are indeed some truly hilarious people out there.

My own entry is one of my funnier moments in recent memory.

There's still time to enter (barely - sorry, got wind of this a bit late) so have fun with it!

Girly Friday

Fridays are my favourite day of the week. Even though I'm with Giselle pretty much 24/7, Fridays seem that much sweeter as we have a little routine going, totally instigated by my little one.

I hit the gym for my favourite hip-hop aerobic dance class at the Goodlife in Loblaws. It's a great arrangement, I've been with the gym since my baby was about 9 months old. One of the best gifts hubby ever got me, was this membership. Nothing like your husband investing in your health - mind and body!

While I'm at class, Giselle is having a great time playing at the childminding facility. The ladies there who watch her are fantastic - they've watched her grow from when she could barely sit. She's also got a group of buddies there now, especially little 4 year old Jacob who's a good pal. But not his little sister who's closer to G's age, because "she's a baby". I hope she doesn't continue to be this "clique-ey"!

After class, and my decadent shower, we do some grocery shopping. But for about the past month, we've gone to the "meals to go" section and picked up a quick lunch, headed back upstairs where there are some tables and umbrellas set up, and a huge window giving you a lovely panoramic view of Hwy 7 and Hwy 407, laying just beyond the breathtaking Loblaws parking lot. Ahhhhhh, you just can't beat the scenery in the burbs!

I did this the first time because I ran into one of my neighbours who was picking up sushi-lunch for her kids. We sat down with her for lunch. So the next time I finished my class, G asked "mommy, go down get lunch and eat upstairs?". I was flabbergasted! (Don't know if I've mentioned it lately, but she's a Chatty Cathy - with an ever expanding vocabulary of unknown origin). And then when we got to the table and set everything up, she actually ATE her chicken - no fries required! Eureka!

So these are my Fridays. A workout, lunch with my itty-bitty gal pal, and some grocery shopping. I'm sure it will be no time before my little G becomes my workout buddy too!

So I thought I could Dance

I caught the first show of the final 20 dancers in this season’s “So you think you can Dance” last night. One of my favourite “reality” series. What a great show. These dancers are all so talented.

I wish I could dance like that. Or that I ever could dance like that. Oh, to be 20 again, with the flexibility of a feline, the energy of an Energizer bunny. That wasn’t me, but I can dream, can’t I?

That's not my grandma

Mommy too old to have a baby?

I read with great interest an article in this month’s Chatelaine magazine, about women having babies when they’re in their 50’s and 60’s. Although I’m all for women making choices and having control over their bodies, I tend to agree with the author. I think that these older women having babies is just too much.

Don’t get me wrong. Having had personal success with the advances of fertility technology, I don’t want to knock that avenue. It can make miracles happen. And now there is technology becoming available to freeze your own eggs for potential use later when a woman decides to have a family. I’m all for that, especially if they are young women with illnesses who may have to undergo medical treatments that may destroy their eggs. They may not be in a relationship or in a position to have children now, but this way they do have the potential when they are fit and able. But let’s get real here -- a 67 year old woman having a set of twins – that’s more than a stretch. With the average life expectancy of a woman these days, the children will be lucky if their mother sees them reach their 16th birthday. And that doesn’t seem right to me.

A doctor was quoted telling a 56 year old woman that she “looked great, had the body of a 30-year-old, so why not?”. What does “looking great” have to do with it? Childbirth is no cakewalk, infertility treatments are no picnic. There is a lot of expense in terms of time and money (we’re talking lots of it). Frankly, it scares me that all these stories of miracle babies give false hope to many women, who see these older women, many of them celebrities, being able to have their babies when convenient for them. They make it look like you can just hold back time, and presto, with a few dollars, a couple of injections, instant family. It’s just not so easy – the statistics are totally stacked against women starting in their late 30s, early 40s. And obviously these older women are post-menopausal, so have used eggs donated by other women. That’s another issue that needs to be addressed, particularly with the children as they get older and have questions as they realize that their mothers are perhaps even older than the grandmothers of their peers. Inevitably they will be raised by single mothers, not that there’s anything wrong with that, but things are usually easier with two parents.

And you’d have to think that the children born in these circumstances must be quite fragile themselves. With the recent infections being spread in major well-known neonatal wards in the city these past few months, some experts think the hospitals are just not keeping up with the technology to care for babies (preemies, multiples) who normally wouldn’t survive or are being brought into the world through fertility treatments.

Having had my kids in my mid and late-30’s, I already feel exhausted most days, and I’m a reasonably fit woman, who looks fairly youthful for my age. Somedays I already feel too old to be their mom. Can you imagine if I had given birth to my little one as a 67 year old spring chicken? That would make me 70 years old this year. Chauffeuring, organizing and hosting playdates, volunteering at the school, potty training, grocery shopping --- ugggghhhh! I don’t think so!

I hope that at 70, I’ll be back in the city with my hubby in a lovely loft condo, enjoying yet again the culture, restaurants and entertainment that we’ve currently parked on the sidelines of our life, once our kids are grown and onto their own lives. And hopefully they’ll be bringing our grandkids down to party with us!

While Daddy's Away

The thing about hubster being away on business, it’s both more and less work for me. More work obviously, as I’m with the kids on my own, so there’s no extra set of hands to keep them occupied while I try to get something done. I also miss one of my workout times, which for me these days is a big deal. If I miss it, I crave it, as I really need to have the energy to keep up with the rugrats. Especially since I’m alone in the evenings so I tend to become Ms. Munch-a-lot without anyone else around. On top of that I’ve got to take out the garbage and remember to water the poor parched plants that are at my mercy whenever their reliable keeper is away. I’m known as “Black Thumb” around these parts.

As for less work – I don’t feel the pressure to necessarily keep the house immaculate every evening. Not that it ever is or ever will be immaculate. By now you probably know that I’m not the best cleaner, but it’s a necessity to pick up after the kids because every which way you turn there’s an ankle hazard just waiting to be stepped on. My daily ritual around 5:30 pm is to try (and it’s a big effort!) to transform an erupted Mount St. Helens, into some semblance of a family room. For my husband’s benefit, primarily. He’s the neat freak. It’s the constant battle between the cluttered Chinese and the pristine German in this household. So when he’s away I don’t have to try quite as hard.

With hubby off to Barcelona (I know, what’s my problem, remaining home?!), on my weekly trip to the video store with the kids, I decided to treat myself to a couple of movies. On the offchance that I might have an hour or two to myself after the kids were safely tucked into bed. And also that I might be able to keep my eyes open long enough to watch at least one of them. The thing about me is that I’m a night owl. I really treasure the time, particularly at night, that I have to myself. I’m often hitting the sack after midnight, against my better judgment. I’m either catching the Hour on CBC, or getting caught up in whichever book I’m trying to get through. So when hubster’s away, there’s no timekeeper for me. With that in mind, I rented two movies that I’ve been wanting to watch (when I remember) and that Ian probably wouldn’t mind missing: “Friends with Money” and "Born into Brothels".

Last night after finally getting both kids off (a challenge, because it’s usually Dad’s time with them) I was all tuckered out. But I felt the need to put “Born into Brothels” on, despite the fact that it would be 11:30 pm by the time I got to the closing credits. So in went the DVD, and I was mesmerized with a capital M, for the next hour and a half. I so wish I had kept this one to watch with hubby – he would have loved it.

When I saw this DVD on the shelf, I remembered reading a review about it when it first came out. Then it won an Academy Award for Best Documentary of 2005. I was supposed to put it on the list of “ movies to see” whenever I go to the video store. The imaginary list I started in my head when Liam was born that keeps growing. When I checked it out, the girl said she’s been wanting to watch it but was afraid it would make her sad. It is indeed sad, the situations depicted in the movie, but it is also very inspiring and the story is still ongoing today.

The documentary was made by a photojournalist, Zana Briski, who had spent the last 8 years of her life living among prostitutes in North Calcutta, taking photos of them to showcase their plight to the world outside. A very harsh, dark world, that very few get a glimpse of and very few even want to see. What started as a focus on the prostitutes moved into a labour of love for the children of these prostitutes, who sought her out because of their own curiosity. Through weekly classes, they developed a real love and talent for photography. Each child was given a camera and they captured their own lives in their own ways, and while doing so captured the heart of Zana and her partner, who decided to make a film about this experience.

The photos are incredibly beautiful, and the children are so wonderful, so world-weary already as they have seen so much in their short lives. The girls know their fate as they come from generations of prostitutes. As she kneeled on the ground scrubbing a dirty bowl with even dirtier water, one ten year old’s voiceover said that life is sad and painful, but she’s okay with that as that’s just the way life is. That statement just cut right into my heart – so tragic with no hope. Life shouldn’t be that way for a young child.

The film is beautifully shot. The stories are told by the children in their own voice, and by Zana as she also documents her efforts to help these children get a real shot in life.

I won’t spoil it for you as I think everyone who’s been a child, who has a child, who knows a child, should watch this film. There is a companion book to the DVD that I will be looking to get a hold of.

If I keep my fingers crossed I just may get to the second movie tonight. But I suspect it will pale in comparison to the experience I had last night.

Needy Me

I copied this one from my Canadian Island friend Chrissy. I googled my name and "needs" to see what would pop up, and listed the first 13 items that made sense (or at least, came close). With a common name, I wasn't too surprised to see that this meme/list had done before by other Karens, but it was still a funny exercise. Here we go, with my commentary:

Karen needs to grow up – do I have to?

Karen needs a new job – probably, with my spending habits.

Karen needs to have full carbohydrate and be well hydrated – constantly. That's why I'm always going to Tim's for my coffee and Timbit. Should start picking up some of those Crystal light mixes to put in my water bottle. Always thought they were a crazy idea until I tried one.

Karen needs more CS training – to go back and confront all the bad salespeople I’ve been dealing with lately, no doubt.

Karen needs to stay – sane? Normal? Cool? Or maybe just stay.

Karen needs a man – I’ve got one already, but thanks for the offer.

Karen needs to find a cave to live in –good idea – need somewhere to hide a few times a day!

Karen needs to get herself a new blog – I’ve been thinking about it, but can barely keep up with this one.

Karen needs to finish her thesis – been there, done that, thank you very much!

Karen needs to learn the basics of spending and budgeting –amen to that! Google knows me well LOL!

Karen needs to learn how to cue and she also needs to give some consideration to her audience in terms of setup time – 5 minute warnings don't really work well in our household. I probably do need more help in this department!

Karen needs a facial – spaaaaaaah, that sounds lovely.

Karen needs to wear her school uniform when she attacks … ummmm, I could go places with this one, but I don't think I will!

Full body visor anyone?

Today before I turn onto my street at a three-way stop-sign, I do the requisite quick check into the car on my left to ensure that they have indeed stopped. I usually have a tiny moment of eye contact with the other driver, for a final confirmation that is is OK to proceed. But today as I peered into the windshield, I saw NOTHING. So I'm thinking, "Wow, that driver is really short; I can't even see the top of his/her head at the steering wheel". And as I continue my left turn, I finally get a look inside and this is what I see:



Holy aliens Batman! No wonder I couldn't see the driver, she (and I'm pretty sure it was a female) was hunched down with the visor pulled down past her chin over her neck. Frankly, I think it's a bit of a safety hazard.

I've seen these visors around for a few years now. I think they're quite popular in Asia, and we do have a fairly large Chinese community in my neighbourhood. I don't think I'm exaggerating when I say that 1 in every 3 cars I pass by has an Oriental driver (me being one of them!).

I can understand wearing them in the full sun, out on the street, at the park. Maybe. And perhaps if you just don't want people to look at your face, and honestly I've had days like that too. I would be more curious to see who is under that thing, so it wouldn't really be a deterrent for me. And how about the top of your head? There's skin there too. So sorry, besides being plain ugly, it looks a little stupid. Especially when you're in your car.

They've got them for kids now, and of course it is a concern for everyone, especially children, the strength of the sun and increase of cancers etc. And I suppose that some people have an aversion to wearing chemicals, creams, sunscreens. But I think it's important to be exposed to some sun, as long as it's in moderation. We really do need our Vitamin D. We're just a family of Sunscreen Slatherers. I hear SPF 50 is the new 30; sounds good to me.

So, I don't think I'll be getting such a visor anytime soon. But maybe if they invent one for the beach if I've strayed from my workout - now a full body visor may be in order then!

It's a Bubble-Sweet Symphony...

... this life.

The boys decided to go on a bike ride to end off the day; Giselle felt so left out. She cried and cried for about 10 minutes, just inconsolable.

"I want to go too; I want my Daddy!!".

I decided that the dishes and the laundry could wait, and suggested we go to the front porch and blow bubbles. Well, that was the magic solution. She began to jump up and down, and ran to the laundry room to get her sandals. She pulled her socks off (at the ripe old age of 2 she's already figured out the fashion faux pas that a lot of men don't yet grasp) and hopped to the door.

Squeals, glorious squeals pierced the quiet dusk, showering the air with their own brand of enchantment. There is nothing in this world as joyous as the sound of a 2 year old girl chasing bubbles.

And in the midst of it all, she began to sing as she poked as many bubbles that were within her reach. "Doh, doh, doo, dee, doo, doh, doh" was the sweet little melody that she sang with each pinch of her little fingers. She reminded me of a conductor, entranced by the beautiful symphony of bubbles in front of her.

"Giselle blow now; you catch and scream, Momma".

I had to pass on that one -- a 41 year old woman screaming at dusk would have had a less than similar effect.

Precious little G. I love these moments.

I don't know how they do it!

I just had an amazing, but EXHAUSTING day out with a bunch of Grade 1 kids, who took over the Ontario Science Centre for about 5 hours today. I only had to watch over 4 kids, but I almost passed out on the bus ride home I was so tired!

I have such admiration for the teachers. They have to deal with so many energetic 6 -7 year olds on a daily basis. Not only just watch over them, but actually teach them something, most times with a smile on their face. You can just tell how much the children just LOVE their teachers as well. And I must say, Gr. 1 teachers at my son's school are fantastic; they are sweet, but assertive, and having had the pleasure of volunteering, I can attest to the remarkable progress that all of the students in Liam's class have made in the school year.

The last time I volunteered for the school trip was to Casa Loma, around Christmas time. I only had to watch 3 boys that time. How good was I at it? After getting off the bus and through the entrance, I promptly lost 2 of them. Liam had to help me find them right away ... they came back to us hand-in-hand with the other Gr. 1 teacher. I felt so sheepish, but it was an easy mistake - they had followed her kids into their area instead.

So this time I was determined to do a better job. Likely why I felt so stressed all day. I was given 2 girls and 2 boys this time. At first it seemed easier than if I had 4 boys. But then once we got into the kids area - you got it - the boys separated from the girls. They had diverging interests. But they were quite good at keeping tabs on each other and reporting back. Liam especially - he's a natural timekeeper. Even at the end of the day his friends were telling him to take it easy, as he hurried them back to the meeting place to board the bus!

Watching the pros at work - each teacher had 6 children, all girls, basically forming a circle around them. Holding their hands, calling them to show them items of interest or things they had created. By the end of the trip, the teachers were still in great spirits, but very smartly ushered the kids out to the school playground to burn off all that excess energy.

And, by the way, both teachers are pregnant, which brings my awe to a whole other level. Miracle workers they are!

Pink UFO

The Time:
Saturday morning, post-post- winning soccer game (7-0); post- last-minute waterfight playdate for Liam; pre-swimming date at best friend's house.

The Background :
We've just come to the realization that we booked the tile-guy for a job eight weeks from now, and we have not yet chosen a tile. We need almost 900 square feet. Could be an issue. Decide to pack all the stuff needed for the afternoon, and then the kids, to check out a couple of places only open until 4 PM.

The Place:
In the minivan, on 16th avenue, en route to tile place.

The Conversation:
Me (as I'm checking behind my shoulder for the pink life-saving electronic device housing the Backyardigans DVD; I don't see it) :
"Oh, little girl's fallen asleep already, so I guess we don't need it"

DH: "Yeah, yeah, I brought it, it's somewhere, just don't know where I put it"

Me: "Good, if we take too long we're going to need it."

Sound effects: GALLOPING ON THE ROOF AND THEN A THUD.

Me: "What was that?"

DH: "Oh shit, that was the DVD player. I must have put it on the van when I was buckling her in."

Liamster: "Yeah, I saw the flash of pink. It bounced off the road and the car behind us hit it on the side. Cool!"

Me: "Great, the DVD rental is in there."

DH: "We'd better go back to get it, don't want to cause any accidents"

The Next Steps:
DH drives around the block, parks, then hops out of the van and runs around the corner to get it.

Meanwhile, back in the van:
Me in frustration (warning, don't do this, as it's not nice to call people names, and kids have great memories) - "Your Dad can be such a knob. Why put it on top where you can't see it? All he had to do was buckle your sister in while I had to pack everything and act as beast of burden with 5 bags to load up the van... blah, blah..."

Liamster: "Mom, are you ever going to forgive Dad?"

Me (after a brief pause): "Yeah, I guess I'll have to."

DH gets back in the van. "Were you guys laughing at me running?"

Liamster: "No, but Mom forgives you. Besides, she's put one of my mad science projects up there once."

The Lesson:
I keep forgetting my kid's memory - I guess he's taken what's left of his parents' combined.

Wear a helmet if you're walking in my neighbourhood.

A glass of wine, girlie's asleep, boys are playing PS2 ...

life is sweet!

Whatcha reading mummy?

Now that I'm starting to get more into the blogging swing of things, and have made some very cool blog buddies, I'm constantly amazed at how many super-intelligent people, especially women, are out there in the blogosphere. And even more impressed by how well-read and cerebral these people are. What I can't get over is how many books they have read and are reading. Whereas yours truly can barely get through the flyers that come once a week with our neighbourhood paper, scouring for the best deals on Pampers and Cashmere toilet paper. For me there aren't enough hours in the day!

One of my cerebral friends is my sister, who kindly let me borrow about a dozen books from her after I had just given birth to the little G. The theory was that I would read while I nursed, and heck, if she was nursing every couple of hours, for at least 1/2 hour every time, I should easily be able to get through a handful of books. So, how many did I manage to get through? Weeellll... maybe about 3 of them! And remember, the little girl is now just about 2 1/2 years old.

In addition to what sis gave me, I did have some other titles at home that I had just never gotten around to. So in all I did manage to read the following: other women, Balzac and the Little Chinese Seamstress, The Human Stain, The DaVinci Code, the Five People you meet in Heaven, The Girls and partway through Interpreter of Maladies.

I should confess that in between I also subscribe to a few magazines, and my guilty read every time we go on holiday is the latest issue of "In Style" magazine. It really is important to know who's wearing what dress to what venue in which international glam city - just in case I ever happen to go to those spots, heaven forbid if I show up in the same outfit as Mischa Burton (as if!).

In order to instill a love of reading in my kids (and also to save money on buying books that I might never finish) I've started taking them to the library on a more regular basis. I used to really enjoy chick lit, ie. Bridget Jones' Diary, I Don't Know How She Does It, and the Shopaholic series. So I borrowed "Shopaholic and Sister", but rather than enjoying it, I'm finding the character increasingly annoying. Now it's just a chore to get through the darn thing. I took it with me yesterday to Liam's swimming lesson in the hopes that I might actually finish my speed-read during the one hour wait, but I ended up flipping through the summer camp schedule instead. For the whole hour. Talk about avoidance.

Maybe my tastes are really changing. Or perhaps my mommy brain is just seeking something a little deeper these days. I used to use chick lit to escape from the very dry, scientific work world (who wants to argue the virtues of bioequivalence, biosimilarity and therapeutic equivalence on a hot summer day?). Now this genre just seems too fluffy (at least this book).

But I'd better finish it. I've got Bloodletting and Miraculous Cures just screaming at me to pick it up. And like a really bad movie rental, I find it extremely difficult to return a book without completing the read, no matter how excruciating the experience may be.