I'm one of THOSE Moms, but you still love me, no?

The second major project of the year for L arrived at home with a little less fanfare than the first. This one was a silent, insidious one that hung around for a weekend and then had to gather speed because the due date snuck up on us within the week.

Remember for the first project how I maintained that I was going to do my best not to actually DO the project for my son? This time I thought I should leave well enough alone. The topic was "Create an Invention" using two simple machines (ie. pulley, wheel and axle, lever etc.). Ugh. Physics was never my strong suit. Dad would have to do his share this time.

I was impressed with L, though. He had to come up with a problem. It's amazing that sheer laziness is sometimes the mother of invention. Here's his problem:

"My problem is that when I get into bed I forget my book is on the ground. My invention is great for bunk beds."

His invention: A Bunk Bed Book Lift.

Basically, if you're on the top bunk, and you forget your book, you get your little sister/slave girl to attach your book onto the binder clip, and then you can turn the crank and the book comes up to you. It looks like this:

It uses a pulley, wheel, axle and lever. Ian loves this stuff.

I went to the dollar store to pick up some better string for the pulley. While I was perusing the aisles (amazing the stuff you can get there), I noticed some bristol board. I knew L had to write plan, so I thought it might be easy enough to draw it out on the larger board so he could talk to the pictures, as opposed to reading from his page.

Here's where the high-achieving mother got involved. Can you tell that L's Mom has worked in a field that requires proper labelling and clearly defined process? Check out the colour coded labels:




Should have given him a laser pointer to go with it. He aced his talk; I think the schematic made it easier to discuss his plan. That's our story and we're sticking to it. Well, at least we didn't do a full blown Powerpoint presentation with flying bullets...we'll leave that for the next project.

I still think it's his unique way of telling us he wants a bunk bed.

*****************************************************

Well, it's awards season and I've been a bit remiss in acknowledging some lovely honours bestowed upon me from some of my uber bloggy friends. Sandy at Momisodes passed this Treasure award to me. I am truly honoured, she's a friend I made during NaBlo 07, she's got a great blog herself that you should check out. She's hilarious, has a gorgeous little girl, and I just love following her daily posts as she rocks Blog 365. (I wimped out). Others certainly have been as she's getting quite a following.

I'd like to bestow this award to the following blog treasures:

Don Mills Diva - she blows me away with her posts; they are exquisite in every way, from the hilarious to the poignant. A wonderful writer, mother, and hip mama. Replace the boar head with this treasure Kelly!

Ohmommy at Classy Chaos - she's an amazingly down-to-earth beauty with three adorable kids, such an interesting background, I love catching up on her observations on her busy life.

Rimarama- laugh, is what Rima makes me do. Often to the point of tears. But every so often she'll throw you a doozy and make you really think. And cry for another reason. I loves her blog.

Badness Jones - another fave blogger of mine. A talented artist, wife, mother, she tells it like it is. I love her honesty, her openness.

And one of my first blogger friends, now a friend in real life as well, C from Manitoulin Island, has named me as one of her daily doses. She is such a sweet lady, I love her blog about her life on Manitoulin after being a city chick. Stop by for a lovely slice of island life.


I read so many of your blogs on a daily basis I would run out of room here giving this out one by one. So if you're reading this, have a sweetheart on me. This drug's good for you.

Wordless Wednesday

A Domestic Diva?!

So when should I be concerned

The Diva gets around...

She's always sleeping with a different guy.

Maybe her wild ways will settle down before she hits puberty.

Last Bastion of Hotness

The following contains gratuitous use of the word *ass*, and not as in Shrek’s best friend. Just so ya know.

Something disturbing happened this week. As I was getting the children cleaned up for bed, I caught via my peripheral vision, a glimpse of a not-too-pretty sight as I passed by the washroom mirror. I got a peek at my ass. And it wasn’t a pretty one.

I had noticed that these jeans were feeling a bit loose, but when I first put them on in the morning, they felt snug and comfy enough. I didn’t wear a belt, because heaven forbid that a belt be used for something other than fashion. Function? Psshaw!!! And usually my butt cheeks are fairly well-encased enough not to need them.

The one part of my body that I’ve always felt pretty comfortable with is my ass. Granted, I’m Asian, so I’ve got a flat-ass, but with just enough curve to make me interesting. It’s been a fairly skinny Asian ass but one of my best features, nonetheless. I figured this ass made up for the lack-o’-rack. When I hit puberty and the chest area wasn’t happening, well, thank goodness I could at least shimmy into some hot denim. I mean, God had to get the balance right somehow, correct?

The last couple of years, since little G was born, I’ve prided myself with keeping fairly fit, active, and young looking for a 40-something mom of two. Suburban mom now, let’s be real, but I could still rock the skinny jeans, even the low slung versions (which likely explains the MT reference by my boy a little while ago). I can still get away with them as long as the T-shirt goes past the pelvics.

So I was quite unprepared for the ass sighting that hit me the other evening. The butt of the jeans was sagging, waaaaaay low, and these were stretchy jeans, ok, which were apparently supposed to have some type of spandex/stretchy synthetic component to them. That are supposed to, you know, hug those cheeks so invitingly.

Whaaaaaaatttt?! And to make matters worse, the husband, who was previously known as Lab 1 Guy hotness personified, walked by at that moment and said “Hey, what’s going on with you? Nice Mom jeans.”

Can you say freak?! Super Freak even?!!!

I don’t know if Bodyjam will even help Aging-Asian-Mom-Sagging-Flat-Ass Syndrome at this point.

I guess I’ll have to get me some of these:


On a separate but somewhat related note, the one with the littlest ass in this house is now wearing big girl undies. Whoot!

Lying down on the job

It's been a tough week around here, I sure work 'em kids hard...

Recycling boy

I'm too tired to hip-hop

Multi-tasking


Can you believe Mommy made me fold ALL that laundry?

Look who's moved in with us

Cimex lectularius a.k.a. Bed Bug

Rhinovirus a.k.a. Common Cold

Shigella a.k.a. Stomache Ache



Playtime a.k.a. building your kid's immunity

Just Like Heaven

Who could sling a two-four with one hand?
Who could take a swig of ice cold fresh brew from a bottle, swirl it in her mouth, spit it out and tell you the brand?
Little did she know what awaited her at the end of the summer...

*************************************************************

We changed plans a bit for the Labour Weekend date. Seeing as Lab 1 Guy (it's Ian, but this name sounds sexier somehow, maybe it's just me), didn't know the city very well, I thought it would be easier just to meet at the work parking lot. The lot was very conveniently located not too far from Harbourfront, so it made perfect sense.

I remember thinking how bizarre it all was, as I made my way down the winding highway. My excitement built as the Toronto skyline with its CN Tower beacon, appeared closer and closer. Only the week before we had been at the same place, going to work, leading separate lives. Could my heart be a flutter over the guy I chuckled at a couple of short weeks ago? The same fellow I found slumped, sleeping over his work report in the early evening whom I had to shake awake to ask his preference for pizza delivery? And here we were together again on a totally different level. No labcoats to hide behind, no steel-toed boots, no work distractions -- just a guy and a girl about to find out if that recent flirtation was just a dream.

When he saw me he got out of the car, gave me a huge smile and suggested that we take his car. His recycling-blue coloured Toyota Corolla, whose engine was running fantastically, but body was starting to fall apart (reminds me of the today me, but let's stick with the history, I'm ruining my own romance here).

The minute details. His light beige khakis a yellow shirt over a white T (remember, we're talking Miami Vice days). His pseudo Euro mullet (which we coined much later after he got a Mullet encyclopedia as a gift one year) was coiffed, just so. More tame than Nik Kershaw, definitely not Kajagoogoo or as dramatic as Robert Smith. He was freshly shaven, a bit better presented than the last time I saw him. (After all, the night that he asked me out he was running on only a couple hours of sleep from an all night party the night before. Yes, this boy was good!).

But it was his smile, slightly crooked at the end and his green, oh so green eyes with flecks of hazel, framed by gorgeous lashes, that drew me in. And he was wearing the scent of Armani. Pick me up off the floor now.

We popped into his car, and as it was quite a warm, humid evening, he rolled down his window. As we sped along Lakeshore road, he stuck his left arm out to bring the breeze in, his own version of air conditioning. I looked up at his rearview mirror and noticed that he had a bolo tie hanging there. Bonus, this guy had some fashion sense too. What a character, he was unlike anyone I had ever met before. So different for me. But I was already falling hard.

We had no definite activities planned for the evening. We thought we would grab a few drinks, get to know each other, see where things went. After we parked the car, he grabbed my hand in his and held it tightly as we walked toward the lights and action that beckoned by the waterfront. Such confidence and familiarity, I was just so impressed. I don't even know why it was such a big deal for me. Perhaps because it was so natural, when it was happening so fast.

As we passed by a small bakery, he noticed some rumballs in the window.

"I love rumballs! Do you wanna go in and have something?" he asked.

I'm not a great fan, but hey, this was Date #1 so why not. I didn't feel like having anything, so he got one to share with me. Really wanted me to try them. How cute is that? Sharing his rumball (and this is a HUGE deal for him, believe you me!). He didn't feed me or anything like that (that would be a bit much) but the whole activity seemed like such a perfect date thing to do, like sharing a soda. Cute, romantic fun.

We made our way to one of the outdoor patios, where it wasn't too busy. We sat, ordered some drinks, talked, had some munchies, laughed a lot and talked some more. We shared a similar taste in music, movies, spoke about our school programs, our summers, a bit about our families. The conversation didn't let up, no awkward moments, it was all more than good.

When we got tired of sitting, we strolled along the dock, and then came to the man-made pond that doubles as a skating rink in the winter. The small remote-controlled boats that bobbed slightly in the water were irresistible. So with the softly lit patio lights providing a lovely evening glow, music and quiet chatter emanating from the restaurant just next door, and the warm lake breeze wafting around us, we drove one of those miniature ships, the two of us together. With me in front, not knowing what the hell I was doing with the remote, and him wrapping his arms around me from behind. Taking my hands in his and helping me guide the controls. The others around us seemed to melt away. Yes, this guy was smooth... but I was soooo loving it.

I don't think either of wanted the evening to end. But time couldn't stand still forever.

When we got back to the parking lot, he saw me to my car. We discussed getting together again very soon, schedules permitting now that university would be in session again. Before we parted ways, we gave each other a hug, and he leaned in for a kiss.

Not just any kiss. The kind that started off soft, knee-meltingly slowly, that sent sparks literally from my lips down to the tips of my toes. And progressed to a kiss worthy of being loaded up on Youtube as a part of a "Best Kiss of the Movies" compilation. But even "The Notebook" couldn't hold a candle to this one.

Under the knowing, watchful gaze of the neon Molson's logo shining down on us, protected in a paved paradise guarded by chain link fences, I experienced the most romantic kiss of my life. The kiss that held a wonderful promise since fulfilled.

Dressed up to the eyes
It's a wonderful surprise
To see your shoes and your spirits rise
Throwing out your frown
And just smiling at the sound
And as sleek as a shriek
Spinning round and round
Always take a big bite
It's such a gorgeous sight
To see you eat in the middle of the night
You can never get enough
Enough of this stuff
It's Friday
I'm in love

And He Can Dance

WORDLESS WEDNESDAYS

Get Into the Groove

Girls Just Want To Have Fun...

The phone rings in the middle of the night
My father yells what you gonna do with your life
Oh daddy dear you know you're still number one
But girls they want to have fun
Oh girls just want to have--
-Cyndi Lauper


YES!

That's how I responded to Lab 1 guy. Then I gave him my phone number, he leaned over and landed a quick peck on my cheek. He got out of the car and ran into the subway station.

I drove home in a bit of a daze. What had just happened? That was really sweet. Totally unexpected. And I was, well, no other word for it, giddy! I could not believe it, this guy, this fun, cute, hilarious guy was there the whole time and I hadn't even noticed. But maybe that's because I wasn't necessarily twiddling my thumbs all summer long. I had been a busy, busy girl.

I got a telephone call about a half an hour after I arrived home. And no, it wasn't Lab 1 guy. He was obviously too cool for that.

A little bit of background here. Remember how I said I had been dating, as in plural dates? The beer factory is actually not a bad place to meet a guy, um, guys. I was having fun that summer, not looking for anything heart-stoppingly serious because I had been through a bit of a wringer with an ex. Was actually even still entangled a little bit in that relationship. At the beginning of the summer, microboy and I had mutually decided to just be friends before we started working together again in the lab. Without any strings, and no boyfriend in sight, playing the field seemed like a really good idea at the time. I didn't limit myself exclusively to the brewery, but that's where the "low-lying fruit" lay, so to speak. I even went out a couple of times with an Arts student (photographer) who was working in the brewhouse.

Back to the phone call. I failed to mention the OTHER player in this interesting scenario. I had a platonic relationship with one of the other guys in the lab - let's call him Sr. Lab guy. He was also friends with microboy. He was also at the restaurant, and had invited us all over to his place after we'd finished up dinner. He was a quiet guy, older (we're talking about 10 years older than me, he was one of the supervisors but not mine), but I had gone to a couple of movies with him and brought him along with me to a picnic that summer. As friends, with a whole bunch of other FRIENDS.

What I didn't realize was that the friendship wasn't entirely platonic from his end. Ouch. Clueless me perhaps? Or maybe just naive. I had no idea, we hadn't even shook hands, hugged, anything that would suggest it was more. We just had interesting conversations, he was a good listener, like an older brother that I didn't have. Heck, he was even trading dating stories with me.

Bet you didn't notice you were reading an episode of "As the Lab Turns" here, now, did you?

So THAT's who was on the phone. And the first thing he said to me was : 'Did Ian ask you out."

I replied, "Actually, he did."

And Sr. Lab guy followed with "So are you going to go out with him?"

Naive me said: "Yes, I think I will." (although finding this a bit strange, as in "Whaaaa...??? Why does he need to know this so earnestly?)

Silence.

Awkward. Silence.

And then a resigned sigh/ weird ironic chuckle from the other end. That's when I got it. I can't remember what I said exactly, something to the effect that I had hoped I wasn't sending vibes that indicated I was interested in being anything more than friends. I felt strange saying it, because this revelation came from left field, and I like to think that I'm sensitive about mixed messages and all that. I hate people who lead others on, and hated to think that that could have been me. I felt like such a twit.

So that was a little unexpected hiccup in my otherwise great shiny magic bubble of an evening. In the end it was fine, as we remained friendly acquaintances in my subsequent couple of stints at the lab. But it was still a bit disconcerting.

Okay, cue the happy music back.

The following day, Lab 1 guy did call me. And this was a very good thing. We made arrangements to go out the following weekend, Labour Day Weekend. He wasn't living in the city any more, but we decided that he'd come into town and pick me up, and we would head down to Harbourfront. Only one of the most romantic places in the city that time of year.

I was so excited. I'd never felt like this before, it was exhilarating and yet so very comfortable. An odd combination, but I can't think of any other way to describe it. It just felt right.

And we hadn't even had our first date yet! Can it get any better?

MANIC MONDAY-DATE

It was the end of the summer. A fun summer filled with sunny days, no worries about school, a job involving beer, and dates. Dates upon dates, halcyon days. I was young, I felt good and more importantly looked good. Yeah, as Don Mills Diva coined in her comment, days when I "rocked a bikini" (love that gal!). WELL before these muffin folds that now inhabit the space that previously housed two growing babies existed. Rent was being paid by some pretty awesome abs. This was the summer that I met the man who would be husband.

It was my second summer working at Molson's, so the lab routine was old hat to me. I had also been very casually dating a student microbiologist (let's call him microboy) whom I had met the previous summer, throughout the school year. When I breezed easily back into the job that first day of work , I was full of cheerful hellos to the group that I hadn't seen in several months. All men, older fellas with whom I'd developed a great camraderie with during my previous stint as a summer student.

There was a new co-op student working the 8-4:30 shift in Lab 1. I said an uneventful "hi" to him quite fleetingly. No sparks flew. And then I went on my way.

As I was doing a lot of different shifts , I would only see him whenever I was on "days", and only at the end of the day when I would bring samples from the packaging and bottling lab over for analysis.[ Yes, there is quality control in the brewing industry, and it does consist of more than pursing your lips and taste testing the amber liquid gold.] Although I did notice that this co-op guy did have a cool mop of hair and seemed quite likeable, you can tell little else when you're both covered in not-so-sexy labcoats. They were fire engine red labcoats, but labcoats nonetheless.

Since I wasn't really looking, and he seemed the type of guy who already had a girlfriend, that was the extent of our interaction for the rest of the summer. Other than being mildly annoyed at one of his comments during lunch one time (I bought Shepherd's pie in the cafeteria, and as I sat down with him and the group at the table he took one look at my plate and said "You're going to eat THAT?!" ...and I was thinking "WTH, that was rude-ish!), our exchanges consisted of no more than "Good morning" or "See ya!" . He was just Lab 1 guy.

Until that last evening, the last day of work, an impromptu dinner that would be the last time the students would all be together. The occasion when I drove him to the dinner, and saved us both from a major collision involving attic insulation. The evening when we got to the restaurant a full hour before the rest of the students arrived. The evening when I ordered a Long Island Iced Tea, laughed, twirled my hair, leaned forward and flirted subtly but obviously effectively with Lab 1 guy. The evening when the other student (yes, microboy referenced above) told Lab 1 guy that he should ask me out ( this conversation occuring while I was in the washroom with the other female student, whom micro boy was apparently lusting after himself). Yes, it was a veritable soap opera bubbling in that lab.

At the end of the evening, I gave Lab 1 guy a lift to the subway. While enroute, he gave this amazingly eloquent account of how he believed in fate. He wasn't really supposed to have this job, his initial position was in another city and another student had asked him to switch at the last minute. If he hadn't made that decision, we would never have met.

And now he was scheduled to go back to school in a couple of weeks. Again, in another city.

So what's a Lab 1 guy to do? On a night that was supposed to be about good-byes, he took a chance on fate. And he asked me on a date.

Stay tuned...

Weekly Winners

Here we are again, kudos to trailblazer Sarcastic Mom, another WW edition.

Only this time I'm cheating a little - the Man bought a new camera when he was in the US recently and just finished a quickie course on how to use it. So he's been acting like a bit of a tourist the last little while, you know, taking pictures of inventory at the Umbra store downtown and what have you. Well, he's not Asian, but I am, so I can make "annoying tourist photography" jokes at his expense. At any rate, he will be my guest WW for a couple of these shots.

It's the Thomas the Potato Sack races!

Mmmmmm, brownies...

Who needs toys when we've got packaging?

And from the Hubs we have the following offerings:

Icicles, icicles...

Through the looking glass...

Where'd the vino go?

Chains..

Prince of hearts

Note to reader: a bit of a braggity post today. I'm not one to boast about myself too much (well, at least not usually), but my kids...well, hopefully I'm not one of those Moms who bore you to sickness with the minutia of all of the juniors' accomplishments. But I did feel compelled to capture this moment, as we often forget these fleeting, precious nuggets.

Today was another sad day, as another, local memorial service was held for Uncle D. As we had already taken the kids to the one in Ottawa, and I wasn't feeling 100%, we decided that I would stay home with the kids while Ian attended this one alone.

Last night when Ian's cousin AJ phoned to ask a favour of him for today's service, L asked to speak to AJ's son K, after his Dad was done. L and K have this tremendous bond even though they're 2 years apart (K being older). When they were toddlers and preschoolers, we weren't sure they were clicking. But that's not surprising, as 2 years is a huge age gap when you're 2 and 4. For the last couple of years, it's been completely the opposite. We probably don't get them together often enough, but whenever they see each other they're as thick as thieves. K is also L's only male cousin, a saviour among a sea of older girls and female babies.

When L took the phone, the first thing he said was, "Hey K, I'm so sorry about your Grandfather..." as he turned the corner out of the kitchen and out of earshot.

I don't know what it was. Perhaps it was the way he said it, or even the fact that he said it at all. That he would know to offer these words to help comfort his cousin. Not just to offer these words, but really mean them. To see evidence yet again, that indeed, our son is a caring, sympathetic and empathetic little boy.

When he got off the phone, Ian asked him if he wanted to attend the memorial with him the next day. L boy said of course, he wanted to be with his Dad and to see cousin K. And although he didn't mention it, we know that he really wanted to be there to support his cousin, during a very sad time.

He continues to amaze me, this little guy of ours. He's had this awareness of others, of his surroundings, a keen sensitivity since he was such a little boy. I'd venture to say as young as 18 months of age. But lately, in his rush to grow up, in his growing social world courtesy of school and activities that no longer require us to be at his side at all times, we're not witness to this side of him as frequently.

Of course, he is quite sweet and tender to his sister (when they're not bickering), even though he's not paid to be. And I think at this rate, the love and tenderness will come to her totally free of charge.

Lucky girl. Lucky parents.

Aloha Friday - Edition #1

So I've joined this cute tradition started by my friend Kailani, as it's perfect for a laydown low Friday. And although I did do some shopping today for the girl (alas, I did purchase some cheap T's for myself), I will save the recently acquired items for a future Friday Fashion Foto Shoot. Let's stir things up a bit with Aloha Friday. These are Kailani's words:

In Hawaii, Aloha Friday is the day that we take it easy and look forward to the weekend. So I thought that on Fridays I would take it easy on posting, too. Therefore, I’ll ask a simple question for you to answer. Nothing heavy or thought-provoking.

For my first Aloha Friday, I thought I'd approach the hubs for something that was light, funny perhaps and definitely fun. Because I'm doing this after 2 glasses of Cave Spring Riesling (2006 , yes a very good year) and a Pomtini, so I'm not thinking too clearly. Some of his suggestions:

1/ Do you pick your nose when you drive?

2/ Don't you feel violated when you smell someone else's fart?

3/ What do you do if someone comes up to talk to you and they have a huge booger hanging out of their left nostril? Do you tell them, or do you do your darnednest not to stare at it, and leave it alone?

No, I don't think I'll ask any of those. Men -- don't you just love that little boy that never grows up?

So, here's my question of the day:

Do you like Salty or Sweet?

You know, according to Chinese Dim Sum rules, you're not supposed to mix the two. You have to eat up all the salty stuff, before the sweet. Can absolutely NOT have the sponge cake or egg tart or mango pudding, before finishing up the Har Gow or Siu Mai. I'll be honest, though, I personally don't think that desserts are the showcase of Chinese Cuisine.

Perhaps that's why I tend to like salty in general, as in chips, pretzels, cheezies, popcorn, pistachios, nachos. The salt around the margharita glass ... yum. Although I do like desserts, I can do without. I would gladly abandon dessert if promised a delectable appetizer. Escargots, grilled calamari par exemple?

So while my teeth are thanking me, I don't know if my arteries are.

Thursday Thirteen: Good things about the 80’s

With 2008 being a special anniversary year of my high school graduation, I've been thinking about the good things that I experienced around that time. And shortly thereafter. Heady years of young adulthood, full of bravado. The time when you think you know everything, but in reality know not much of anything. So in honour of all that, here were some good things that I experienced in that decade:

1. Ditched the braces.


2. Got contact lenses.


3. Got rid of the pimples (for a while, anyway). Yes, I was a bit of a trainwreck in those early years. And it was helpful that Dad had a great health insurance plan.


4. Irreplaceable, irrepressible 80's music. Awesome period of music, still hooked, don't know if that's a good thing? I attended some amazing concerts : Madonna, Paul Young, Tears for Fears (lined up in the rain at 3 AM for those tickets and thought it was FUN!), the Eurythmics, Howard Jones, Blue Rodeo.
   
5. Started dating. And practiced a fair bit, practice makes perfect after all. Even dated a guy who drove a Porsche. I was impressed with that...the car, I mean. Not so much the guy. And another who was a kickboxer/ hunter. Not too much my type either.


6. Graduated from high school. High school was actually quite fun, and even though I was in the band, so were a lot of other kids who came from all groups- cool, not so cool, smart types, not-so-smart. With the exception of the stone-heads. But maybe they were there too and I was just too naive to know. I made some lifelong friends in high school.


7. Graduated from university. University wasn't so much fun for me, at least not the first couple of years. Once I found a smaller program it got much better.


8. Visited China, Japan and Hawaii. In one fell swoop, over a period of six weeks. With the parents. They figured after I graduated from high school, the opportunities for the family to go on such trips would be few and far between. And they were right. We didn't do another family trip (ie. all the kids and the parents) until the cruise almost four years ago!


9. Worked at a brewery as a student. Got a free two-four with every pay cheque. Dream summer employment you say? You bet.
   
10. John Hughes movies and St. Elmo’s Fire. Despite the fact that I found Molly Ringwald a tad annoying, I still very much enjoyed the movies she was in. I still get a kick out of watching "The Breakfast Club", "Sixteen Candles", "Pretty in Pink". And then graduated to St. Elmo's Fire. I had a bit of a thing for Andrew McCarthy. And when I first met Ian, thought he sort of looked like him from certain angles. Maybe at about 20 feet away without my contacts on ...you see what you want to see, sometimes.


11. Travelled to Europe for the first time. Without the parents.


12. Got my first fulltime job. Crazy busy job, but it allowed me to buy my first car all on my own.


13. And right in the middle of that period... met the man who would be Husband. And that would be THE best thing of the 80s for me.

Top o' the Muffin to Ya

The boy is pointing at his mother, “Look mommy, look!”

I look down at my shirt – did I dribble coffee, perhaps some milk from my breakfast cereal? I must be starting to lose some sensitivity around the mouth area lately, as evidenced by my more frequent need to launder my own clothes. Thanks, old age.

Then I realize that he’s pointing a bit further down.

“Muffin Top!” he says, laughing. And he didn't mean this:




Okay, who’s the smarty-pants who decided to expand my son’s vocabulary to use such rude language in describing his beloved mother? I suppose that would be me. I think during my discussions with his father about the benefits of the gym, that term came up, which to big ears required further definition. To be used against me in future.

I won't share with you a pictorial presentation of the aforementioned offending image. After all, it can't be pretty after one month of NOT going to the gym, one month of Christmas food, ski vacation food...you get the picture. Honestly, I kid you not, I would have been going to the gym regularly if it hadn't been for this vicious "pain in the respiratory arse" (which is STILL lingering, going to the doctor for some stronger drugs today).

I hauled myself to the gym last night for my favourite class. And although I did end up gasping mid-way through (wheezing, snorting, lungs and belly grasping for oxygen to increase the future burpage-factor to high), I did this as discreetly as possible. Because in case we do decide to go somewhere warm for a winter holiday, this is what I'd like to have:



One can dream.

Stool Redux

(I don't even want to know what Google searches this title will bring here...)

After lugging the three counter stools and sample kitchen chair home on Sunday, Ian opened up the box, pulled out the first stool and and plunked it by the island. We knew right away that it didn't work. The espresso wood on the stool was still not dark enough, and the overall size seemed to overwhelm our space. Sigh.

We called the store immediately and asked if we could switch them with the other model we had also looked at. In black leather. We were fortunate that they have a couple in stock. So by mid week we will have these in our kitchen:

Of course, I had shown my sister a photo of the ones we originally purchased, as she thought we had ordered these. She was very diplomatic on the weekend, but when I told her we were exchanging them for the Lem model, she fessed up and said that she thought these were better anyway. The mechanism on the other one was too bulky. I guess that's why she's a designer and I'm not.

The funniest thing was, when Ian returned the chairs yesterday and explained why it didn't work in our kitchen, the fellow said to him that he understood -- he knows that designer types like IAN can be very discriminating, so it was no surprise that we returned them.

DESIGNER Ian?!!!! Guffaw! Hubs didn't say anything. And he wasn't even wearing head-to-toe black. He couldn't get over the hilarity of it.

So that was my joke of the day. Colin and Justin better watch their backs!

Start your engines and get on those elbow pads...

...it's Kindergarten registration day!

I'm just getting used to the fact that my baby is now 3 years old, but because she was born late in the year, she is actually eligible to start Junior Kindergarten (JK) this year.

Now I had heard through other moms that last year's kindergarten registration was quite busy, and not terribly organized. In fact, there was a bit of controversy because for the first time the school was offering a new schedule. For years it has been a half-day program, either in the morning or in the afternoon, for both years of kindergarten. The new offering, because there were enough parents wanting it, is full day, alternate days (with alternating Fridays). I believe that our school is one of the few in this region that actually still offer the half day schedule. So when there's choice, there's controversy, because not everyone will get what they want.

My feeling is that the half day is really better for kids this young. Most are still napping when they're 4 years old; at least L was, and G doesn't look like she'll be ready to give that afternoon sleep up completely before September. And I think that a full day is a long time for such little people to keep their focus; and for the teachers to keep up. It cannot be easy to teach and keep twenty 4 and 5 year olds engaged for an entire school day.

In addition, they split the class up with half JK and half SK; so your child stays with the same teacher for both years. This factors very much into the equation. You want to make sure you get a good teacher if there's any way to make that happen.

And I really want to get my son's JK/SK teacher for little G. Mrs. A, who is fantastic. Of course I'm not the only one who thinks so. In L's kindergarten class, I would say at least half of the kids were teachers' offspring. Tells you a lot about who the good teacher might be, doesn't it? I volunteered with her class for two years, including after G was born, and she always welcomed the baby to all of the kindergarten celebrations. She wanted G to know that JK/SK is really just one big party, after all. Well, not really - she's a tough cookie, but just excellent. We just lucked out when I registered L, but I wasn't going to rely on pure luck again. There are literally only 10 places for JK in her class.

Registration was to begin at 9:30 AM, but I was determined to get there no later than 8:30. Sure enough, G decided to sleep in today of all days. Mind you, she's got a cold so she really needed the sleep. As I scrambled upstairs to get her awake, the phone rang. It was my friend Wendy, who'd just dropped off her son at daycare at the school, calling to let me know that she saw four people already waiting in the hall! Panic! I managed to get my screaming, squirming 3 year old dressed and in the car in record time. I was going to drive L too, but he felt it might be easier for me for him to take the bus, so he decided to wait for it (he's such a considerate kid, it's unbelievable to me that he's still only 7 years old, sometimes).

I got to the school, and luckily was able to find parking because it was a little early. Rushed in, and lo and behold, was probably parent number 8. Remember, it is about 8:40 am now. I met up with a couple of parents that I knew, one a neighbour who's youngest will be starting this year too. He kindly offered me his seat, while everyone mentally took note of my place in the sequence.

The mood was quite collegial, and then more parents started coming in, standing around in the hall. Now it was a crowd. When the principal came out with the registration paperwork to be spread out on the table, there was this huge rush up to him. He had to tell people to remember their place; honestly, some people had just walked through the door and walked straight up - while others (including my neighbour) had been there since 8 AM! Things did settle down eventually, but it was still a bit crazy. They really should think about giving numbers out (which sounds ridiculous, I mean it's school registration and not a lottery, but it felt like a lottery!).

As it happens, thanks to my friend Wendy, I had checked online a little while ago and found the main document to be completed. So with that already filled out, I fortuitously ended up as the second parent in line with the completed package.

Whew! Now I just have to cross my fingers that we'll get a spot with Mrs. A. We won't find that out until May.

Once that stress is settled, then I can get back to stressing over the fact that my baby is starting school in nine months.

The Long and Winding Post

Now that I'm not blogging on a daily basis I've found that my posts have lengthened in order to make up for the days in between. My subconscious need to complete a blognovel of silly thoughts seems to surface in between days. So in my ever-increasing compulsion to multi-task, I combine this post with my regular "Weekly Winners" post (thanks to the ever-awesome and ever-hilarious Sarcastic Mom for starting this fun photo meme).

I think I shared with you the monumental milestone that G is now potty-trained. Every so often in the car, she'll utter "I've got to go pee-pee.". We've been very proud of her letting us know so diligently, but during the long drive that we recently did to and from the ski hills of Quebec, she said that a few times. To which her parents replied, "That's great G, thanks for telling us. Do you think you can hold it?"

And she said "No, I can't hold it!" Her brother repeated that he was holding it until the next gas station, and she got further frustrated, screaming again "I CAN'T hold it."

Then it dawned on me... she has nothing to "hold". Unlike her brother. Because she now knows the anatomical parts that make her and her brother different. Boys have "peanuts" which they can hold. Girls have "butts called the China", which they can't really hold. So we re-phrased the question: "Can you wait until we stop to find a washroom G?". And she replied: "Okay." It's all in how you ask the question, isn't it?

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In order to capture so many precious (blog) moments of my life, I decided to pull out this lovely journal that I've had for a while and populate it with fabulously lucid nuggets to further embellish on my online journal.

I brought it down to breakfast with me yesterday, and shared this with my partner as he was perusing the weekend paper.

Me: I think I'll start journalling.
The Man: Gerbilling? What?
Me: Journalling. I promise not to involve you in any of my gerbilling activities from here on in, though.

And since this blog shall remain PG rated, I won't get into other words that came up in our further conversation. I guess I did leave a fairly sheltered life prior to meeting hubs, thank goodness I have Ian to share his extensive knowledge of choice vocabulary with me. Courtesy of his obsession with Howard Stern perhaps?

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I borrowed the following CD from the library because there is no way I would ever consider buying it.
I usually consider his work overly schmaltzy, sentimental, and YEARNING. But I've been really enjoying the single "Somebody's Me" everytime it comes on the radio lately.

Guess what? I actually LIKE the rest of the CD. Especially all the songs sung in Spanish... whooo, get me a fan and some water. Hot.

Boy, I must be getting schmaltzy, sentimental and yearning in my horny old age. Even Ian would love to be able to sing like him... would the legions of women falling at Enrique's feet have anything to do with it? Hmmmmm.

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What happens when previously sheltered toys are evicted from their premises...


My associate publisher holding the aforementioned journal:



A Friday flyer find

(Honestly, even if you LOVE wolves, even if you DANCE with them, this is a bodyless wolf head perched on a stick. Doesn't belong anywhere in your household let alone your shelf, even if it is wondrously sale-priced.)

And we have island closure of sorts! We finally bought some counter stools for the kitchen. Lurve...

Fashion Friday: For a bad hair day

I've always had this thing about hats. As a fashion item, rather than as a functional article of clothing to protect the main source of heat loss on a cold winter's day. In more recent years, I've found my hat wardrobe to be functional on the most important days of all - bad hair days. And it's been a bit of a challenge because I have a big noggin. But according to Chinese wisdom, that's a good thing, big head=big brain. I don't know about that, but I'll run with it.

I've located a few in my closet from yesteryear that I am loathe to throw out because they bring me back to very significant times in my life. So while I sip on my lovely glass of "Vin d'alsace" de Dopff & Irion (2006- lovely year), I'll share with you some headless hatshots of my bygone eras...

This was one of my first big hat purchases, as in, expensive. A very pretty thing that I wore to the baptism of Liam's godsister (that would be about 14 years ago). But, yes, that is netting on it. It reminds me a bit of those hats that women wear to the Queen's Plate or any such horse race. Just about three feet shorter than most of those headpieces. Horse racing and big hats. An interesting mixed race marriage (groan....).

I'm not sure when I bought this one, to tell you the truth, but it must have been just as expensive as the one above because it has its own hat box. Suede with a velvet band. A nice fall hat.



This is my hippie hat, with a Monet-like painting on it. Purchased at a One-of-a-Kind craft show way back when. I remember it well, because I was wearing it to watch the movie "Ghost". I had no idea what the movie was about, we caught it on the first day. I have NEVER cried at a movie like I bawled at that one. My contacts were threatening to fall out, and my brandnew hat was also slipping off my head quite a bit, because, it was a mite small and SAT on my head, rather than having my skull inhabit it.



Russian/ukranian stage. WTF? No other words.


I bought this cute thing, velvet with bling on the front, at an Old Clothing Show. It's vintage, reminded me of the 40's. I wore it a fair bit in university. I can't imagine what people thought of me, after all I was studying SCIENCE. Didn't go that well with the labcoat.

Do you really want to hurt me, do you really want to make me cry... with this hat on, I'm sure some people did. Liam used to get a big kick out of wearing this at playtime when he was about 3 or so. So there is an afterlife in Hatland.

Now for some more recent additions:

I love this one even though Ian thinks it is tacky. It is tartan-like, you know, respect for Ian's ancestors. If I'd known the clan of the pattern, it could have even fit into L's family box. I'm just happy that it fit my head. And for $15 at Winners, price could not be beat.

The following used to be L's favourite hat, which has now been taken over by his little sister. Look at its honoured place on the bannister.

Did I mention that Tremblant was wickedly COLD?! And I didn't have a very warm hat. So on the girlie village shopping day, little G and I picked up the following two toppers:

I dig purple and grey. The Princess bought the cool red one.

Now, one of my favourite hats ever, I purchased in Iceland for my little girl. Look at this beauty:

If it fit my head, I would be wearing it everywhere! Unfortunately my little G inherited my big head genes. So while she can still pull it on her head, it slips upward most of the time. We can't part with it, no matter how small it gets. We'll probably have to put it on G's dolly's heads from here on in. But here she is wearing it when it fit.



And speaking of hats, heads and thinking ... (well, not really, but I was having a really difficult time finding the perfect segue) I was bestowed a blogging award courtesy of Curiosity Killer, my lovely blogging gal pal currently based in Hong Kong. I didn't really think I'd ever qualify for this one. Maybe CK noticed my big head at lunch this past summer.

Not that I'm NOT thinking all the time (or more appropriately *obsessing*), but sometimes I find that my thoughts never really run that deep. I don't think that I'm exceedingly shallow, at least I hope not (mind you, posts like this might make one wonder) but oft times I find my focus in life is on the trivial, and not so much the very important. Although I do tend to be a bit of a Melancholy Miss. But enough over-analysis before someone decides that I'm really not so deserving...

Happy Weekend everyone.