Cutie Celebration

This weekend was a very important milestone in our family. A Chinese tradition dating from ancient times, the family celebrates after a baby reaches its one month birthday. Such a milestone likely made sense way back when, when it was indeed cause for celebration for any baby to survive that long out of the womb. In addition, before the one month mark, the woman and the baby are in self-imposed "hibernation" before the official unveiling. I've heard traditions where the mother isn't supposed to bathe or wash her hair the entire time. Ick. Thank goodness my family isn't strictly traditional.Although my sister and sister in law (and myself) didn't adhere to that, we did have to deal with an onslaught of soup from dear Mom.

In the "olden days" (don't ya just love it, my terminology screams "mom of 2 kids"), this "coming out" was celebrated by the newborn's family by sending out gifts of red eggs and ginger, for good luck. Nowadays, there's a 10 course Chinese banquet with a celebration along the lines of a traditional Chinese wedding banquet. In other words, a big party with tons of food, and tons of gifts and red envelopes (hung bow) full of lucky money for the baby. And lots of "friends of the family" (ie. Grandma and Grandpa's circle) that you don't even know that well. Or as I call them, the "village people", and they've never stepped foot in the YMCA.

Now with two new baby girls in the family, born less than 24 hours apart, it only made sense to have this celebration (or "Moon Yuet" ) as a joint banquet. Although they're now two months old, today's rules allow for the banquet to happen between one and three months of age. What a special party it was, and the girls were really well-behaved, just little angels really, the whole time. The party lasted over 3 hours, and they were awake for much of the time. Real troopers, those girls, even though they were obviously over-tired, and there was some crying as expected, it went really well.



And my kids had a great time, as it was a totally kid-centric event. There were probably just as many children as adults there. Which made it a real party indeed.

Although we had a banquet for L when he was born, we didn't do so when our little G came along. For one thing, she was born just before Christmas, and we didn't want to have a big party for her in the midst of a freezing Ontario winter; she was a bit of a fussy baby; scheduling would have been a nightmare given Ian's travel for work, and to be honest, I felt that we'd already had our fair share of gifts and cash from friends and family for our first baby. Having another banquet seemed too much of a cash grab for me; not that I have anything against any parents that celebrate each and every new baby in this lavish fashion, this is just what felt right for us. It was a miracle gift that we were lucky enough to be blessed with another baby at all.

So we dressed our kids up for this party, as my parents still wanted to show off their older grandkids to all their friends. And my tykes didn't disappoint, especially little G. She loves a party, and especially a party dress.

Hamming it up with Grandpa!

Born a diva; always a diva :)

Of butterflies and big girl beds...

We finally moved the little one into her "big girl" bed. And lo and behold, she's slept right through the night ever since. What was I thinking keeping her in the crib? It took an early morning crib rescue to convince the both of us (little G and myself) that she was indeed ready for the big time.

I woke up at around 2 AM the other night to the sound of my little girl crying. Which is not too unusual, really. I think the one thing that parenthood has taught me is that there's no longer such a thing as a good night's sleep - I'm lucky if I can squeeze in a good five hours before waking. It's such a habit that even when my kids do sleep through the night, I'll still wake up in anticipation - my body's internal clock is now programmed. What a drag.

But this particular time, there was a little more sense of urgency in G's cries. As I walked into the bedroom, I saw her sitting up, and in the hazy light cast by Winnie the Pooh's plug in, I could see the tears rolling down her face and her leg awkardly positioned with her ankle wedged between the corner rung of the crib. Uh-oh. Try as I might, I couldn't pull her leg up or out by sliding it either which way.

Finally I snapped out of my sleepy fog and had to reposition her so she turned her body into a crawling position away from me. Meanwhile, she was wailing as of course, she was still half-asleep herself. Poor little G. We had to face the facts -she really should be in a big girl bed now.

This fact probably hit me the hardest. The crib, it's the quintessential symbol of "baby". And after the little princess, there ain't no more babies in this household. So we've been okay with the fact that she's just loved her crib, and was reluctant on all counts to pass this down to her cousins baby J or R. I'm a little bit sad.

So what's a Mom to do when she's sad, but to embark on a little retail therapy. I hit Winners the very next day on a mission. To find the cutest "big girl" bedding possible. And we struck the jackpot with a some wonderful purchases:

-a duvet set with butterly designs just perfect, for a perfect little princess;

-a toddler gardening tool set to tend to our landscaping with her green thumb daddy
-some new shoes for mommy. After all, there's always room for new shoes in my closet.


And the crib? Well, it's still in the little G's room, complete with new occupants.
Shhhhhhhhh.....



We figure we'll leave it there until she (the landlady) decides to move it. But only when Mommy and Daddy are ready.

Spelling perfection: an after school special

Now that the school year is getting off the ground, I've been trying to lead the household into some sense of normalcy. No more late nights, hours on end in front of the computer (for the boy, that is :), PS2 or Nintendo DS. Establishing a homework routine, attempting to get everyone to sit at the dinner table for at least one meal together a day, so we can all gather around and play Pictionary after dessert, the parents with their tea, and kids with their chocolate milk and cookies.

Sad to say, this is only in my June Cleaver dreams.

The hard part about having a son who is social (both kids, for that matter), is well, that he is so social. Usually we don't get home after school until 4:30, as both kids play in the school playground with their friends, setting up impromptu playdates. Which I am very in favour of, as there hasn't been a bucketload of homework yet, and the weather has been wonderful. So we've had a playdate here, a playdate there. One of the major benefits and flexibilities of me being home with them - they can have more of an "out of school" life.

Once he gets home he wants to see what his other friends are up to. Cutting him off the computer actually cuts off his means of communication with his "homeboys" who live on and up the street. The computer is the preferred medium these days to the telephone - he chats online to set up playdates as follows:
"Are you coming out now - I'll meet you in 2 minutes?" to his pals across the street; or "Did you want to take our bikes up and get D and B?"

And then he's prancing out the door. While I'm making dinner and keeping the little girl amused. Just like he did all summer. Smart kid that one. Striking while the iron's hot. Trying to rein him in after he's out is like herding cats. Unless I make it clear to him before he's out, that he's to be home by a certain time. He's pretty good with rules - that firstborn trait is alive and well in my boy, thank goodness. The toughest part for me is that it doesn't appear that these other boys eat dinner at all. Or at least they don't eat until well after 8PM. Which is the new dinner time that L wants for his schedule too. Uh, let me see, let's think about that .... NO!

I do feel badly for him when his pals ring the bell right at dinner time and L' s food is just being set, or dinner is just coming off the stove. Because he's the youngest, I never let him head out unless he's with another boy. So if he doesn't get to go with them right away, he panics. And has a huge freakout, tears, yelling, stomping of feet - all the tantrums that he's bottled up from when he didn't have them as a two year old. My boy, who is so even tempered and the sweetest thing. I've told him that his friends will wait for him (and they always do, or they come back for him - they're actually all wonderful boys). But OUR dinner time is non-negotiable.

The other non-negotiable is of course, homework. One new item on the agenda in grade 2 is the weekly spelling test. Ahhh, spelling, my specialty! I like to brag about the good old days when I would get perfect on all my tests, all year long. My favourite tale is about my grade 5 year. Mr. Gilmour, what a great teacher. Even thinking back now, I remember what a "cool" guy he was. He used to teach us poetry through songs such as Gordon Lightfoot's "Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald"; he had longer hair, John Lennon type glasses and he lived in the Beach with his wife, no kids.

Mr. Gilmour had this tradition of sorts. We also had weekly spelling tests, and for any student who managed to get a perfect score on all the tests in a term, he would take them to McDonalds for lunch. That was such a huge deal, and for me, junk food junkie even to this day, it was nirvana! So I got perfect all three terms, with the fringe benefit of getting my hands on some of those lovely greasy, never-decomposing-fries. This was so long ago I don't even know if they had Happy Meals. But the best was at the end of the year, everyone who'd ever gotten perfect on any test (so the whole class), was invited over to his place down in the Beach, for a barbecue!

L loves this story. The words they've been tested on have been quite easy, but there are always a couple thrown into the mix that tie into their latest learning units. Week 1, the difficult word was September. L's difficulty was remembering the capital "S". But he did get perfect. Week 2, the words were "tradition" and "ancestry". Wow. But he got perfect again. As a treat, then, he wanted to go to Toys R Us, as his version of a treat is significantly more expensive than a Happy Meal. But with my fabulous negotiation skills I managed to get it down to a chocolate chip cookie at Tim Horton's. L reminded me that it had to be not one, but two cookies, one for each week that's he's maintained a perfect score.

This week's words are "relatives" and "culture". I bet he'll score a third cookie... or if he catches his Dad in a good mood, likely a new Pokemon game.

All in the name of perfect spelling!

I love the fall

It's my favourite time of year. I just wish it would get here and stay for a while.

We've been experiencing some really hot days; today it's a sweaty 31 deg. C out there - OUCH! And in the mornings, it's cold enough to wear a jacket. So I'm running around with my head cut off in the mornings getting the Boy's lunch and about 3 outfit selections for him, so that he doesn't freeze in the morning and then sweat to death by the mid-afternoon.

On Sunday, though, the weather was beautiful, and although on the warm side, we felt it necessary to do a fall activity. Like picking apples at the apple farm, going for a wagon ride, fun, family, farm stuff. We were all raring to go, with the exception of my Boy Wonder. You'd think we were taking him to the dentist to get some teeth pulled out. I've been told that some kids go through this stage where all they want to do is stay home. I'm hoping this stage exits real soon, as it is getting so tiresome. The Girlie was super excited, as she's up to most things these days. Much like her big brother used to be before he hit pre-pre-teen mopey phase.

When I was growing up, my parents didn't have much, but they did spend what extra they had on lessons and the like for us. That didn't leave much time for what I think are the traditional Canadian "family" activities. Nothing against my folks, they did a wonderful job raising us into well-rounded, responsible adults and fairly decent human beings; but I always vowed that if and when I had kids, I would spend family time with them. Structured activities such as lessons are still part of the picture, of course, but the unstructured family time is just as important. So the family was going to Applewood Farm, and we were going to have a blast together, dammit!

It was, as I expected, PACKED! But Ian had no problems finding parking (he's got the parking fairy over his shoulder, unlike me who usually has to circle a half-dozen times before finding a spot about 10 blocks away from any entrance). After some fun time running along the hay:


We got into the thick of the orchard and did some serious apple picking:



And then took a fun wagon ride around the pumpkin patches.



But seriously, it was way too hot for pumpkins. We'll pick those up the next trip.

Should it stay or should it go?

Okay, so I've been holding out on publishing more posts about the reno because:

1/ I thought my blog was starting to get lopsided content, boring myself with the ongoing saga of the progress or lack thereof;

2/ I was waiting to get everything in place for a final reveal. But the fact of the matter is that with two kids, the start of school, adjustment to a new schedule and the reality of back to work for hubster, the kitchen remains a work-in-progress. We're about 85% there, but the final 15% may take the next few months.

So gentle, patient readers [(but I use that term loosely, because I suspect my reading community is not necessarily so gentle or old-fashioned :)]here is an update, sans backsplash or much needed- pendant over the table:

Remember this?

And this?

And this?

Now we have this:



And this:

And this:


Here's a close-up of my beloved sink where I spend countless hours wiping away the droplets, as heaven forbid any watermarks make themselves permanent. Who'd ever thought I would get this particular over a stainless steel box?


For the backsplash, I'm thinking glass tiles, the mini-subway tiles, perhaps in an aqua/blue/green colour. Hubster, on the other hand, is thinking mosaics. In either case, we need a backsplash quickly, as just yesterday I somehow managed to get sticky rib sauce not only on the top of my head and my lower back, but also the island cupboard and the frickin' ceiling, when I was trying to baste the darn ribs. Don't ask. Needless to say, I need more practice in my stellar kitchen.

For the light fixture, we're leaning toward something along these lines:



So, the question of the day: We have a beautiful harvest table that we inherited from Ian's parents. I think it was used as a schoolhouse table at one point. It's an antique piece, and used to be his table growing up. And it's quite rare, especially the fact that it's made from two solid planks. Here it is a bit closer up, check out the square nails:




We're not so sure it goes with our new kitchen. We're thinking of getting dark espresso bar stools for the island, and espresso kitchen chairs. This may or may not go with the harvest table. Alternatively we could refinish the table in a darker stain. Which would be more kid-friendly too.

Anyway, what do YOU think we should do? Should it stay or should it go?

You can take the girl out of Scarborough...

but you can't take the Scarborough out of the girl.



RUSHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!

Nothing like experiencing "YYZ" at the A.C.C. (Air Canada Centre) in the middle of the week! We did our couple-concert thing last night, catching the Snakes and Arrows, 30th Anniversary Tour, of Rush. After a mad-dash downtown to drop off the kids off with my parents (who did the double-duty babysitting for us last night after a full shift with 7 week old baby J), installing the carseats in Dad's car, parking in a ticket-free zone near my sister's, hopping a cab to avoid the parking madness that would surely ensue, we made it down to the concert at 7:15 PM, let off just in front of a hot dog/sausage stand. So we had a whole 15 minutes to grab a very quick bite, and run inside to order two honking large beers (at a steal for, gulp, $13.50 a piece) and get ourselves seated along with the rest of the mom and dad crowd.

Yeah, it looked like the neighbourhood movie theatre.

People walking around with popcorn in hand, (albeit usually with a beer in the other). Here I was, getting excited about another evening without the kids, heck, I even googled "what to wear to a rock concert". However, as soon as we walked in we saw tons of Dads with their mini-me sons (some as young as Liam or even younger), the odd mother with her teenage son, and even whole families of four or more. And I also noticed the number one fashion faux pas hundreds of times over. Apparently, you're not supposed to wear a T-shirt bearing the band that you're actually there to see. I guess most of the concert-goers didn't check first - RUSH, RUSH clothing EVERYWHERE!

There was so much testosterone there (there were no line-ups for the women's washroom, believe it or not!, but a lot of it was mini-testosterone. Concerts have certainly changed since I was a kid. There was still the distinctive smell of the "doobie" behind us, but the crowd was pretty subdued, everyone sat in their seats at some point in the concert, although we were on our feet for most of it. Ian and I were discussing that we couldn't imagine going to any concert with our parents back in the day. I guess parents are that much cooler nowadays, or so we like to think.

Now I must admit, during their prog/rock years (late 70s early 80s), I wasn't the hugest Rush fan. But their sound was all round, getting a lot of radio play including the massive hits "Tom Sawyer", "Limelight", and (having grown up in Scarborough the song I could totally relate to in the burbs) :"Subdivisions". When they finally started playing these familiar tunes, the crowd went nuts! All these older folks (including yours truly), doing the head-bob, fist-throwing, bowing low with the "I'm not worthy" salute (okay, I drew the line there). Fifty-year-old air guitar enthusiasts contorting in ways their kids probably never thought they would witness. Quite the sight. Singer Geddy Lee even admitted they have a gazillion songs, and at the intermission he said they needed their break for transfusions, after all, they're 100 years old. Thirty years together - incredible, longer than most marriages.

I'm sure it hasn't been without their ups and downs. I'm in total awe of their amazing musicianship. Each performer has been the best in class at one time or another during their career. Alex Lifeson's still got a bit of a boyish bounce while he does his fantabulous riffs; Geddy and his distinctive voice and great work on the bass. And Neil Peart, more on him later. Absolutely incredible that three guys, only three of them, can produce such brilliant sound together. And then such amazing virtuosity when going solo (I'm glad I was able to witness one of Neil Peart's well-deserved famous 7 minute performances on his drum kit(s):



His story alone is one for the books, having been dealt such terrible losses of his daughter and then his wife, in a very short period of time; then overcoming this tremendous tragedy to move on.

I never saw them when I was a teenager; glad I saw them now. The encore performance of YYZ in the big T.O. (they HAD to play it here in their hometown) was itself worth the price of admission. Rush ROCKS!

First day of nursery school...

and she didn't even look back to say good-bye.

Baby's growing up.

Sniffle. Sniffle. Sob.

Dirty Dancing

Little G and I had the pleasure of spending the day with her Daddy yesterday. Ian realized he still has a few days of vacation which he must take before the end of the year. With Liam in school, it’s nice to have some alone time with just the little girl. It seems forever ago that we had only one child, and while we love the family dynamic of the four, it’s a rare opportunity to focus on just one at a time.

As it was such a gorgeous day out, we decided to have lunch at our favourite pub, the Unionville Arms. We just love Main Street, Unionville, it’s a little slice of “small town”, with boutiques, shops, restaurants and ice cream stops on a cozy little street in the middle of suburbia. The street is lined with flowers, and many of the buildings are the originals from the 1800’s. It is so quaint, picturesque, and it is a popular photo site for wedding parties. The other draw is Toogood pond, a man-made pond that is surrounded by walking trails. When G was younger and would stay in her stroller, I made the trek around the pond with other moms and babies during our weekly strollercize walks started by my mommy friend Lauren. G remembered the plentitude of geese and the ducks, and was anxious to get out there to feed them.

Well, no surprises, but as soon as we got her buckled into the van, her eyelids drifted downward and she was out for the count. With her Spongebob baseball cap, it seemed like the sponge himself was snoring away. The incredible power of the soothing engine – knocks her out every time. And that meant impromptu couple time.

What’s a girl and a guy to do on a Friday afternoon in a pub, but order a couple of pints and all-day breakfast – whoo-hoo! With Spongebob baby (always our baby!) comfortably ensconced in her lay-back Peg Perego, we finished the meal uninterrupted.

While having our coffee, we both simultaneously noticed this couple outside the window next to us. They were older, and awfully chummy, standing very closely together, facing each other, looking into each other’s eyes, seemingly oblivious to the world around them. We couldn’t help but watch them, they were right there next to us, but we had to avert our eyes, feeling like we were intruding. Then the fellow started to stroke her arm, and they began getting VERY MUCH closer to each other. I just couldn’t look anymore.

I don’t consider myself a prude at all, but maybe I’m getting old. I’ve never been a huge fan of PDA’s*, although we still usually hold hands when our kids aren’t with us (ie. when we have a free hand), and will give each other quick pecks hello and goodbye when we’re in public. When we were dating, I suppose we used to walk with our hands around each others’ waists, thumbs in the jean belt loops, that sort of thing. And I think it’s sweet when I see older couples hand in hand (my parents walk together like that). Do I think it would have been easier on the eyes if they were a young couple? Did I feel it was inappropriate because they were older and should know better? Or was it just that it seemed too intimate, regardless of the age of the couple, for public viewing?

Well, Ian couldn’t resist, and he had the better view, and after a couple of more minutes, he said to me “Oh, no way, now they’re DANCING!”. So I had to peek, and there they were, slow grinding to some imagined melody in their own little universe. Remember, this is about 2 PM in broad daylight on a Friday afternoon, on a very public street. I could think of only one thing to say:

“GET A BALLROOM!”

(*Public Displays of Affection)

Blame it on Beckham...

Posh Victoria that is.

You know those shows where they take a woman who hasn't had a haircut in 15 years, whose hair is down past her knees and is in dire need of a makeover? The weight, the time, the hair product, the sheer energy needed to maintain all that mane on a day to day basis - I can't imagine! And the majority of these women tie it all up in a pony tail or put it up in a bun, just so they can function throughout the day. What's the point of that? If you lop it all off, it does grow back. I just didn't understand why those women would get so emotional over getting a badly needed haircut. Tears streaming down their cheeks, sometimes bawling their eyes out. I didn't get it.

Until now. I've spent the last year or so making a conscious effort to grow my hair past my shoulders. Taking advantage of not having to go to an office or meeting everyday, letting it grow longer and longer, colouring it a bit more crazily -- a little bit of me peeking out despite my 150% focus on my kids. Actually, letting it get long so I can finally put it in a ponytail and flick it around with abandon at my thrice-weekly hip-hop aerobic classes.

To top it off, Ian actually likes it longer nowadays- it's the longest its been since we started going out. I know, guys hate that, long hair when you're reeling them in (to get that - ok, close your eyes little ones - "just f*#ked look" as coined by an old girlfriend of mine). Then when you've got them, you cut it short. But because of the texture of my hair, usually the longer it got, the harder it was to manage. It seemed sleeker when it was shorter. And then I found Sandy, my wonderful stylist, who has been able to cut and colour my hair exactly as I want (or even better). I was able to grow it long again.

So, back to now. "Was" is the operative word. It's fall, a change in season, time of new beginnings. As I was sitting in the salon with little G, flipping through the hair magazine, I found the 2008 trend pages. My eyes kept coming back to this one particular cut, and even though I kept turning the pages, looking at the longer hair styles, my left thumb would not leave that page.

After my hair wash, having settled G down with her Max and Ruby DVD (portable players, world's greatest invention) I sat down in front of Sandy.

Sandy said, "Wow, it's getting long. So, what are we doing today?". I showed her the picture.
She replied, "That's nice, we should do it."
I said nervously, "But I've spent months and months growing it long, should I really do it?".
Sandy said, "You look great with long, but why not, it's a great cut, and it will grow back."

Then we went for it. There was a part of me secretly cringing, "What, am I crazy, I've been growing it for eons and it's all coming off?!!". Thank goodness we were chatting the whole time as I didn't even notice the good eight inches she chopped off the back. Until G pointed to the floor and asked me where all that hair came from. I'm glad I didn't have my glasses on. But Sandy's better than your average chopper:



Yes, me cracking up at the fact that I'm taking a picture of myself (you don't want to know how many it took) to pop in here. I didn't realize that my hair was that red! I couldn't go quite as short as Posh Spice, but it was certainly her influence and that of several of the girls at the salon (they all look so chic!) that made me think of a change.

When Ian came home he was shocked; in a good way, although the first words he said were "I thought you were keeping it long" (the inner guy thing remember?). But he likes it. As does the Boy.

But little G wants her Mommy back. I guess she's only really known me with longer hair. So I think it will take a while for both of us girls to get used to it.

Soccer Star

Check out Pinks and Blues for their weekly photo backtracks. Love those girls!

For my week's throwback, I'm going to a fall season not too long ago, when my boy was developing fab soccer skills, and would play with whatever ball was available. Any time, any place. He was about 18 months old here:


Here is my soccer star now... David Beckham, here I come...



His mother, well, not so into the athletics at his age, but boy did I love ballet - check out the knobby knees!

A Girl After My Own Heart

I took the kids shopping after school today for new shoes. L, because his feet are getting big so fast - and with the orthotics now in place, I figured we should make sure his shoes fit as well. And G because although she has about a dozen pairs of sandals, she only has one pair of running shoes, and they're getting small. Yes, I went on a bit of a shopping spree for the girlie back in the spring - seeing those little toddler toes in those sandals was so irresistible.

We went to the Shoe Company as I usually do well there - the kids section is very kid-friendly, usually with a video playing, and a little "castle" where the kids can sit and try the shoes on. And a mirror from the funhouse, where they could make funny faces at each other. After grabbing a few pairs of Skechers for L to try, we popped over to the clearance section at the back. I always check there for G as at the rate she's growing, we're lucky if she can stay in one pair for half a year. I scoured the wall looking for runners in her size, but saw nothing but sandals upon sandals.

But then I heard her pixie voice calling me and saying "Mommy, I want these ones, with pretty laces.". I looked down at her and noticed she was carrying a box with white runners and not one but two laces, white and pink interlaced. The thing that I also noticed right away was the brand - Phat Farm! Regular suggested retail price $60; their price $39.99; but then clearance prices $29.99 and then $23.99. They were the only shoes in her size in that section, and G found them. She promptly made me put them on her, and even asked me to roll up her pants so she could see them as she ran.

I have to admit, I am brandname, designer name conscious, but I feared that the laces would not be too practical. At this age (well, probably even at my age but you'd never catch me in them) velcro is the way to go. So I looked further for some velcro offerings, and found some OshKosh and Keds in her size. Do you think I could get them anywhere near her feet? She screamed and ran away, up and down the aisles as if the shoe-witch were after her. There was no way we were leaving the store without the Phat Farms on her twinkle toes. So I gave up, and decided that we would just make do with these (admittedly fab) tie-up runners.

Meanwhile, big brother had settled on a cool pair of red and black Skechers, complete with a mini-flashlight keychain. At an even cooler $20 less than a similar pair we saw at Kiddie Kobbler (thank goodness they didn't have his size there!).

The very helpful salesperson (fancy that, some luck today!) told me to check back in a few weeks for other shoes that the girl might like, as the new lines would be coming in. And while he was at it, he noticed that the shoes were incorrectly priced... they should have been FURTHER reduced to $15.99!

No wonder the girlie was running away from me. She was probably thinking "Get away from me Mommy, are you nuts?! These are an absolute steal!"

I'm still a baby, and a big girl

I took G into the nursery school yesterday to finalize some paperwork and meet the teachers. Well, actually just to re-introduce G to them, as they're the same girls who looked after L when he was in the daycare program at the school. Some days I still can't believe how quickly time goes by. The teachers still remember me being pregnant, then carrying the little baby in her carrier when I came to pick up big brother every day. She's been on the waitlist as "Baby X" since she was in utero. I guess I can be organized and forward thinking if I really have to be.

G was so excited to be checking out her school. She made me put her in a pretty outfit (floral skirt and pink frilly-T), and during my interview with the supervisor she interrupted us several times as she had "something 'portant" to tell us. Actually, I think she talked nonstop in the office, until we finally got out to tour the playroom. I think she wanted to demonstrated her excellent verbal skills and then some.

When we went into the room where the program is run, her eyes popped wide open and went straight for the paint area. We do painting or drawing on a daily basis, so this was a big bonus for her. The other children in the room were on the carpet and were quite curious about G. She kept an eye on them as well, albeit a little cautiously, keeping her "hairy eyeballs" deceivingly downcast as we walked by them.

After our short stay, the children got up to go outside for playtime, and G was very eager to join them. In fact, she kicked up a fuss when I said we had to leave. The only way I got her out the door was a promise to go on the swings in the playground. And then we were off.

I've signed her up for two mornings a week at the program, to leave the rest of the week for other activities in the community with her. There's a part of me that is very reluctant to move into this stage. Being home with her (and L for that matter) for 2.5 years has been such an amazing gift. We've had so much alone time, just the two girls (as G likes to call us sometimes), I've been with her almost every minute of every day, watching her grow from this tiny baby into a blossoming little girl. And I've loved every minute of it.

People have asked what I'm going to do with those few hours that she is in nursery school. Honestly, as of right now I'm not really sure. A whole few hours completely to myself ... hmmm. I'm sure I'll spend it thinking about my kids!

While we were at it...

With little G toilet training, we figured it wasn't a bad idea to finally get rid of the carpet in the family room. The room that up until now, we only permitted to be lit with the low-level dimmers. Because you really don't need to see stains of questionable origin glaring at you every day.

Therefore, this...



Became this...



Just ignore the furniture, as it's on its way outta here. And the cheap blinds, yuck.

It's all going. At some point, anyway. It's funny how tastes change over the years. Or maybe we're just sick of the sofa springs digging into our backs. After all, couches in a house of children = trampoline.

Of course now that they're so shiny and new, we have to get a rug to protect them. G's already taken to running her toy school buses along the floor... uh, when did she ever play with her toy school buses before? Only NEVER!

Wood floors. I heart them, truly, madly and deeply.

Oscar Worthy

This is the week of the Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF). And despite all the years of wanting to attend and living right downtown Toronto for five years B.K. (before kids) we have never seen a single film at the event! Now that we live in the burbs, I've discovered a free ticket to creating my own mini Suburbia-FF - the local public library.

I love the library. Unfortunately, it hasn't really helped my goal of being a well-read mother. Which is a lofty goal, and will perhaps be more attainable once my little home renovation project is complete. My primary reason for going there these days, (other than exposing my kids to a little-known concept of “free”) is the video library. I’ve managed to find some great movies there, movies that I never got see when they were in theatres, but really wanted to see. And the bonus is that they’re absolutely free.

In honour of the TIFF, here's my take on a couple of DVD's I watched recently. These were both nominated for acting Academy Awards last year. :


Little Children, a movie based in a suburban neighbourhood, which follows the lives of a reluctant stay-at-home mother, a reluctant stay-at-home father, in their community dealing with the recently released convicted pedophile who has moved back in with his elderly mother across from the neighbourhood playground. I remembered hearing great things about this film, and it didn't disappoint. I loved this movie as this seemingly ordinary setting has such darker themes just under the surface.

Initially, it almost appeared as an indictment of the whole stay-at-home lifestyle, as it portrays the stay-at-home mothers as such catty, judgemental women who have nothing better to do than keep their children to regimented play and snack-time schedules, and dream about the hunky stay-at-home Dad (aka "Prom King"). What fodder to add further fuel to the mommy wars. But as the movie progressed, I felt the caricature-like personas they were given provided the backdrop needed to highlight the heroine's struggles within.

The SAHM Sarah, as played by the fantastic Kate Winslet, is in such denial that she is living this life. To survive each day, she has to pretend she is conducting a study in sociology while her young daughter plays in the playground. A previous academic who feels she has given up so much by marrying an older man who's quite successful in "brand marketing" and staying home with her toddler daughter, she appears so much happier when her daughter is anywhere but with her. Sarah wants out in a huge way, and it makes it easier for the audience accept her subsequent adultery with the Prom King Brad (Patrick Wilson) when we find out that her husband is also having an e-affair with internet porn sites.

Brad also has his own issues, having completed law school but failed the bar exam twice. He is currently at home with his toddler son, supposedly studying for another attempt at the bar. He is also being supported by his gorgeous documentary filmaker wife Kathy (gorgeous Jennifer Connelly). He hasn't grown up, nor does it appear that he wants to, but he is resentful of his SAHD status as well. It is inevitable that these two dreamers gravitate toward each other as they both seek escape.

The other plotline about the released pedophile played by Jackie Earle Haley, comes in and out of the main story seamlessly and with great effect. His elderly mother is fiercely protective of him, while he is harassed by the one man "concerned parents coalition" that wants him out of the neighbourhood. As one movie review noted (and I can't for the life of me remember which one), this relationship is the only one in the movie that reflects the absolute love between a parent and child. The movie does end with some shocking events, but also with some important lessons. Extremely well done, with some exceptional performances.

Kate Winslet – even her eyebrows can act. Will someone give her an Oscar already? It's always so unfortunate when actors miss out on awards because of timing (honestly, no one could win with Helen Mirren in the running as the Queen!).

Jackie Earle Haley as the pedophile - creepy looking even as a young teen in the Bad News Bears, he is at his creepiest here. Where has he been? Coming back with a vengeance in this pivotal, dark and disturbing role. His Oscar nomination was so well-deserved.

Patrick Wilson – played the Prom King to great effect. Where has this hotness been? This type of Dad doesn't frequent any playgrounds in my neighbourhood LOL! No Oscar nods here, but it was fun to watch him. Very steamy sex scenes with Kate. OMG.


Half Nelson. Two words: Ryan Gosling. A Canadian no less! He was the movie. I can't believe I spent almost two hours watching a young man's life spiral downward and out of control on crack, but I was mesmerized by his performance. He was so convincing as Dan Dunne an exceptional and well-liked inner city history teacher and girls' basketball coach by day; crack and coke head party animal by night. He develops a friendship with one of his students, a young girl who's left on her own a lot (single mother works all the time, older brother is in prison). This young girl also has a mentor/guardian in the form of the neighbourhood crack dealer, so Dan is torn by his need to protect her from the world he is very much a part of himself.

The last movie I saw him in was the sappy love story "The Notebook". Who knew he had this in him? The Academy Award committee couldn't even ignore this performance.

He is only 27 years old so I'm sure he'll have many more opportunities. I can't wait to see what else he's got in store for us. He dated the lovely Rachel McAdams for a while, but now rumour has him linked up with Lenny Kravitz' and Lisa Bonet's daughter. A baby!!! He even dated Sandra Bullock at one time - she's older than me, so I'm not the only dirty old lady on this planet. Can you say it with me? Cougarrrrrrr!!

(DVD images from amazon.com)

Throw-Back to School

In honour of a successful back-to-school week for my little boy, here are a couple of shots of me around Grade 1 and Grade 2. My parents used to take us for those studio shots (they probably bought Sears packages for us) every six months.

Here I am in Grade 1 - I'm liking the pink textured turtleneck. I remember wearing that top a lot, the itchy polyester feel of it on my skin more comforting than uncomfortable. Not so much the haircut though. Can you tell my mother did the honours?



This picture was taken when I was in Grade 2. I was very much into jumpers that year (actually, probably for much of my childhood and adolescence). I suspect I may have lost some teeth, hence the closed mouth grin. Shiny cap of hair, though. It grew in quite nicely. Too bad it now has the texture of a horse mane. Albeit a coloured horse mane.

Grade 2: Day One

For some reason I had the most fitful sleep in a long time, the night before the first day of school. I was restless, and during the moments I was awake I was thinking about nothing except trying to get back to sleep. The one thing I'm pretty good about is organizing my kids for school/ outings. Backs packed, items all lined up and ready to go for the lunch bag - all major food groups accounted for including too much in the sugar department; water bottle and indoor shoes even! There was nothing to think about - we were set.

Lboy by all accounts, had a most excellent slumber, which was a really good thing. His baby sister and Dad sawed it off all night without a hitch. I'm still trying to figure out what it was that was keeping me awake.

I think stress manifests itself in ways that are often difficult to comprehend. There was really not much to be stressed about. Perhaps it was the return to a "new normal"; the realization that my kids are really growing up much too fast (my baby boy in Grade Two, and the little one starting a nursery program this month!), and that they are not going to need me so much as they continue their journey to becoming their very own individuals. Or more thinking about what I want to do for myself in this next stage. Various options abound for me, but that's likely the main issue. I just get overwhelmed sometimes.

The mass confusion that I expected at the schoolyard did not materialize. Since Ian had the day off he stayed home with little G. Which was lovely - I was able to savour L's first day of school with my full attention on him. It was so nice to see him in his element, so excited to see many friends that he had missed over the summer. And some friends that he just saw on the weekend. The beauty of going to school in your own neighbourhood - it was something that we had really wanted for our kids, and it is working out so well for us, I sometimes have to pinch myself.

While L chatted incessantly with each passing face, we made our way over to the big number "2" placard being held over little heads. It was easy for us, as two of his little classmates from last year came over and told us that he was in their class. We popped on over to check and we found out that he was in Mrs. Brown's class; which is a bonus because I've heard she's one of the "good ones". But then we found out we hit the jackpot - in L's class were some of his very best friends! I internalized a huge sigh of relief.

I'm hopeful this will be a good year for all of us. Little G starts her program in a couple of weeks. It will just be two mornings a week - but I'm already a little weepy just writing about it.

Anyhooo.....speaking of water - WE HAVE IT ON THE ISLAND! Gooseneck pull-out faucet, gorg sink and dishwasher are now fully functional. I've got chills and they're multiplying....

Sweet-R Sunday

We were fortunate to have our second little niece drop by for an impromptu visit yesterday (well, her parents were very curious about how are kitchen reno was going).

This is the most hilarious thing; she loves the spotlight! This is her favourite position, being held up as the center of attention. Whenever she gets cranky, fussy, my brother holds her just like that and she get quiet immediately! So here is the newest little angel to join the family, cutie-pie baby -R:


She's so precious, don't you think?


So cute, almost makes me want to have another...what, am I crazy?! Too old and snarly nowadays anyway!

Stung not once, but twice

... serves me right for getting the kids McDonalds for lunch.

It was such a gorgeous day out yesterday, the last Friday before school starts, that I decided to forego my usual morning workout at the gym to take my kids to Canada's Wonderland. We had bought season tickets, and L is such a tall boy this year he was charged the adult rate. So in total our passes plus parking came out to about $250, not exactly chump change. To make it worth our while we would have to visit the park at least twice. Including this visit, it would be 3 times, but the second visit without the Dad. L was disappointed because he can only go on the big rides if Ian or I can accompany him.

I had warned L (yeah, fancy that, WARNING him) that I was going to take them to Wonderland if the weather wasn't too steamy. To be fair, Wonderland isn't his favourite place when we have to stick to Kidsville and Nickelodeon Central. He'd rather be hanging out with his friends on the street. But I promised we'd only go for a few hours because our granite counter tops would be coming in later that afternoon.

The big dilemma was what to eat for lunch. We didn't want to eat inside the park, where the food is so overpriced and service usually superslow. Our kitchen still isn't fully functional, so I was trying to think of healthier drive-through options. I suggested a subway sandwich, pizza (although I am sick of it); tacos, sandwiches from Tim Horton's etc... Nothing was striking his fancy, and we were running out of options as we got closer to the park.

L is quite good when it comes to McD's - we try not to have it more than once a month, for special treats only. And if the Happy Meal Toy is not up to snuff, then we don't bother. But it seemed unavoidable as I ran out of ideas as we came to the last McDonald's before Wonderland; and from the way the cars were snaked around through the parking lot into the drive-through line-up it was the last McDonald's on earth. At this point, L thought he might try the Fish-burger; a change from his usual. It was decided that we would both get fish, and the little one was good getting her nuggets.

As I pulled up to the end of the line, it was the most inopportune spot - at a stop sign in the parking lot. I didn't want to block this mini-intersection, so as cars pulled up I backed up to let them through, not wanting to miss my place in line. Well, wouldn't you know it, the second car who I back up for promptly took my place in the line up in front of me. You know how patient I am with those kinds of things, so I threw up my hands in the air and did a "WHAT?" in my meanest krump fashion. Body language is obviously universal, as the woman put her hands up, shrugs her shoulders and did a "Oh, sorry," but did nothing to show she would move.

That was the first sting, and it really gets my goat. I don't like drive-throughs much for the obvious environmental issues, but G had just passed out in the back, and Liam was hungry by this time. I think there should be reserve lines for people who have more than one person in the car, like those High Occupancy Lanes on the highways. Single drivers should not be allowed through drive-throughs because they can get their lazy butts out of the car and walk .... anyway, I digress. By now, the line was so long I decided to park and plop G in the stroller, and walk with my boy into the restaurant to order.

Well, wouldn't you know it, as I set the stroller up, and put my arms up to pick up the still-slumbering girl, I hear this yell "Mom, there's a ..." and I feel this sharp pinch just beneath my armpit. Yes, you know that tender point of flabby flesh that's a reasonable facsimile to a bicep when flexed? Yeah, right there, I SWAT at this annoying yellow-jacket out of pure reflex, while simultaneously a foul stream of unmentionable phrases spews out from between my snarling lips. I think you get the picture.

Second sting. And I feel the venom spreading throughout my upper arm.

Now more annoyed than ever, I grinned and bore it, and we went inside and stood through the shortest but of course slowest line. And got our lunch. Gotta be brave for the kids after all.

L wanted to ask the guy for a band-aid (so cute) but I said it was OK. Now people are staring at my bicep not because it's so firm and toned, but because it looks so red and nasty.

Despite this early setback, we had a couple of great hours at the park. We saw a diving/trampoline show, then each child got a couple of rides...

L on the bumper cars.

G all on her own in an airplane ride.

And then a cute visit with Dora, Diego and Pablo!



Oh, and a few new (and not so new, apparently) words have unfortunately been added to my son's vocabulary. He didn't miss a beat. Asked me about them later that evening - from his point of view, these bad words can be only uttered to himself. I had to correct him - they are not to be uttered by him at ALL (after all, his mother was in severe duress, pain etc...). I think he got it. But he's probably wondering where I got those in the first place. Mmmmmmm.

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On a totally unrelated note, here we have my newest island destination complete with the shiny black pearl on top:



Can you hear the angels sing?

Over and out.