Honestly, people, these things are so stupid!

You Were Nice This Year!

You're an uber-perfect person who is on the top of Santa's list.You probably didn't even *think* any naughty thoughts this year.Unless you're a Mormon, you've probably been a little too good.Is that extra candy cane worth being a sweetheart for 365 days straight?

Were You Naughty or Nice This Year?

So why do I do them then? Because I have nothing else to do apparently. No original thoughts in my head, so I am dependent upon such amusements.
Here's the thing. These are obviously written for the single high school student. I am sure that when I was 17 I kissed well more than one person (in fact I know I did- that's what high school was all about) However these days, I am kissing only one person and I am quite happy with that, thank you very much. So because I am in a relationship and I don't go out every night I have become a goody goody. There's no mixed balance in these blog quizzes. They should do one for the elderly among us.

*Mist point out that I was far from good 365 days this year. Screamed at my kids a thousand times to often, avoided parental responsibilities and my daughter would tell anyone who would listen that I am far from perfect. In fact, tonight she told me that I get mad too quickly. Sooo true. My response was "Then why do you do things that you think will make me mad?" (That would be almost everything) If that girl would just realize that my sanity is hanging by a thread life would be much more peaceful.

The limited talents of myself

Anyone who knows me, knows very well that I am craft challenged. However, I like to spend lots of money on crafty items that I occassionally, very rarely, actually do. So here's a card I made, minus the cutting which I let my friend do while my other friend and I talked, ate and drank. I don't know about the rest of you, but I am left handed and therefore unable to cut a straight line to save my poor life.

Anyhoo, here's my Christmas card to you, whoever you may be. Have a good one. I'm shopping tomorrow, working Thursday and Friday and might take Taylor to a movie on Christmas Eve Day and who would post on Christmas Day? Pathetic really. So I may or may not be on before Christmas but if I'm not I'm hope your day is lovely, whereever you may be. We will be having a brown Christmas so the Christmas Day sledding tradition is out the window.

5 Weird Habits (or just things if you are me)

I have been tagged by United Irelander for one of these memes. I could swear he once said he hated these things, but nonetheless, he seems willing to participate in them. I said it would take me awhile to think of something and it has. In fact, I'm still thinking. So let's see if I can figure out how to copy the rules onto here and in the hour or so that it may take me to do that, I may have thought of a few things. Maybe.

"The first player of this game starts with the topic "five weird habits of yourself," and people who get tagged need to write an entry about their five weird habits as well as state this rule clearly. In the end, you need to choose the next five people to be tagged and link to their web journals."

Ah, that only took but a minute. Didn't even have a thought cross my head, except for the fact that I'm pretty sure it should read "Five Weird Habits About Yourself" not of yourself. Could be wrong though, I am occassionally.

So here we go.................... #1) I do not like to use other people's bathrooms, or public ones. This is quite possibly odd, as I am sure most of my friend's have cleaner toilets than myself (especially if I have to use Liam's...that boy never lifts the seat and always, ALWAYS pees on it.)

#2)I lose my train of thought in a split second. I know that one day I am going to suffer dementia, probably early onset. That's not a habit is it? That's just something about me. Looking, so is number one. Damn. Let me change it to I have a habit of not using other people's toilets.

#3)I have a habit (I have to start it this way now otherwise I will just say something wrong) of starting something and not finishing it. Hmmm...that's not weird, it's just annoying.

#4)I refuse to move for other people. If I am walking in the mall and there is someone in my direct path I expect them to move for me. When I was little couples walking by holding hands used to have to raise their hands and walk on by or split apart. I would then get in trouble from my mum for not moving out of their way. This is only weird because I am normally a very polite, apologetic person.

#5)This is weird, but not a habit. I absolutely can not drink beer, it makes me throw up. However, I can consume vast quantites of any hard alcohol, and mix them, and not even suffer a hangover.
*Note: due to the fact that I am a mother to three young children, those episodes are few and far between. Like never.


Now I have to tag 5 people. Let me think, let me think. Do I know 5 people? Am not sure.

Erik at Terminal Dysfunctio
Boliath at In My Head (I have just started reading her, and have not yet updated my links, but will shortly)
Calista at the Barham Bunch
William at Travelling Ulsterman (I'd like to see how different his list is from the one I would give him)
Mike at Mindless Dribble

Only one or two are regular readers so we'll see if this gets done.

A shameless plug pour moi

Happy birthday to me
Happy birthday to me
Happy birthday dear Emma
Happy birthday to me



Isn't it sad when you wish yourself a happy birthday?

Did you notice my ability to switch from English to Francais. Aye, I was impressed too.



*Pour moi is one of the few things I can say in French. Shameless plug? Not a friggin chance. Must ask Taylor, she'll know.

Taylor and the Bully

Taylor is being bullied at school. It started in October with name calling and teasing. I went to the teacher and was told that it would be dealt with, but that I should understand that this child, who was brand new to the school, came from a bad home on a reserve, and has had a hard life.

Well, I'm sorry but that is not my problem. That is the problem of the girls family, her elders, her school and quite possibly Social Services if they have become involved. I said to him that Taylor has had a difficult home life as well (a dying father for gods sakes, parents seperation, freakoid of a mother) but that she has always been very well behaved at school.

I will give Taylor kudos for that one. She may drive me crazy at home on a daily basis, but has been loved by every teacher she has had from the age of 3. She has always been friendly, is commended for her willingness to help others and her grade one teacher said "If every student was like Taylor, teaching would be a pleasure everyday." See, I've done something right.

So don't give me that bullshit about a bad home. Deal with the child before it becomes an issue at school, or as soon as a sign is seen at school, and it shouldn't go to far. He never talked to the girl and for the rest of the week Taylor was picked on. And then one day she called home and said she was sick. William went to pick her up and as they were coming home he asked her a few questions. He said to her that he didn't think she was sick, but that she was suffering from "Bully-itis." She said "I think you are right." Taylor hates missing school, she cried one day last year when I made her stay home because she was really sick. So with her actually calling home I had known something was up.

The teacher still hadn't talked to her by Friday and Taylor was still getting picked on. It was a hot lunch day and I served lunch to her class. I figured that if he wasn't going to take care of this, I would. I went up to this girl and said "Since your teacher isn't going to talk to you, I will. If you say another word to Taylor, I will take it right to the principal. Do you understand me?" She nodded her head and said yes. When I saw her again at the end of the day I said "Remember what I told you."

And all was good. The following Monday Taylor came home and said that Hope had been really nice to her. The last 6 or so weeks have been teasing free.

Until Tuesday when Taylor came home and said that Hope kept hitting her in music class. I am going to the school tomorrow to talk to the music teacher (who's a hard ass, I know she'll deal with it) and if it doesn't stop I will call the police and ask them to come in and talk to her. I know that seems like I am pushing it, but it is something they offer and so why not take them up on it. Now that Taylor has actually been hit, the police consider it assault, not bullying. Although this girl will not be charged, I am under the impression that the police actually open a file on her (if there isn't already one.) It will make the principal mad, but too bad. It is our silly conduct policy that allows children to get away with being monsters. Zero tolerance, my arse!

I will not have my daughter afraid to go to school. This is that school's problem, they have had children move to other schools because they have been physically attacked and the bully's haven't been punished with anything more than an in-school recess suspension. It's ridiculous.

Liam's Christmas Concert

I went to Liam's Christmas concert tonight. I'd post some pics but I was so far at the back they all turned out shite. Ah well. I was surprised by the songs played, as at our other school they only sing religious songs. Away in the Manger and the like. This was a mixture of religious songs and songs of the Silver Bells and Must Be Santa variety. I enjoyed the change. I have been listening to the same 8 songs every year at Taylor's school, although apparently they plan on changing it this year. We will see. Somehow I don't imagine there will be much of one.

Still, at least they can sing songs about Jesus, the public schools don't have a Christmas concert it is a holiday concert or winter concert. And there is absolutely no mention of Jesus. Which means no Little Drummer Boy and I do love that song.

In the absolutely fantastic news of the day, I won $205 in a 50/50 draw at the concert. I do realize that this is not alot of money to some people but to me it is a few Christmas presents. When they announced the dollar value I said to the girl I was sitting with "Well, I could really use that" and then they called out Liam's last name! It took him a minute to realize, I was already walking up when I saw him jump up from the crowd of kids sitting on the stage and do a "yoo hoo." He wanted the money himself, but I figured it was better to keep it myself than to have him lose it in a crowd of 200 children. Which I can almost guarantee he would have done.

A bit about my Saoirse

There's no need to point out to me that this wee girl has a dirty face, I can see that very well for myself. I can also see a piece of her toast on the floor. This is something about Saoirse..she absolutely positively hates having her face washed. I know all babies do, but she hates it more than my other two did. There is screaming and fists flailing. Usually, if we're not off somewhere, I just give her a wet facecloth to suck on and then at least her chin gets a bit of a wash. And then I'll quickly give her a once over while she screams her head off. But I do love this picture of her, minus the dirty face. It was taken in November, just after her first birthday. I love the expression on her face. Sort of a saucy smile.

Saoirse is her father's daughter. When I was pregnant William used to say she was going to be bad, just like his neices. It's not so much that they are bad, but that they are stubborn and determined. And that's what Saoirse is. From the refusal to arrive to this very day, Saoirse is a troublemaker. And we love her like crazy.

So here's a bit about my youngest...she's super affectionate. She hugs everything and everyone she likes and gives them a big "aaaahhhh" while she's at it. She has just starting kissing and you're very lucky if you get one!

She hates her godmother. I have no idea why, but she just does not like my friend Shelley. Poor Shelley, it devastates her.

She loves her dad. There is no one she would rather be with. She cries when he goes into the kitchen to make supper or up the stairs to go to the bathroom.

She loves the park. She has loved going down the slide from about 8 months old. It used to freak me out, but she seems to enjoy it.

She only just started saying mummy. Her first word was dada and then she went right to who's that, and what's this at about 9 months and then started saying read this just before her first birthday. She's a genius I say! Like her older sister, she loves books. Current favourite "Brown Bear, Brown Bear" and anything with Elmo.

Her favourite meal is spaghetti. She can take or leave the meat, but sucks up the pasta like a pro.

She likes to be chased and to run away. She loves playing on the stairs and has been known to fall down them the odd time or two or ten. She has a great laugh and is a screamer. She screams and Taylor or Liam will scream back and then she will do it again and on and on. It gets the two older ones in trouble, but we all seem to think she is adorable when she does it.

One day we will pay for that.

Proof that men are wimps

This happened at work last week, the day my nan died actually, which is why I never posted about it, but just thinking about it makes me laugh. I don't know that I will adequately be able to express the pure amusement of this story, but I'll give it a go.

I was with a patient in one of the ER rooms, messing about with her IV pump. There was what I originally thought was a baby screaming. As I listened I realized it was someone slightly older. "What's going on?" this patient (an older lady, in alot of pain, just a bit of moaning.)

"I'd assume it's someone who's broken a bone and they have to reset it" says I, the medical genius.

So I'm walking by the doctor's area and the intern/resident ( I can't tell the bloody difference, someone enlighten me) says to the doctor "Can you believe he's doing all that screaming just for stitches?" As I walk past a couple of the nurses I hear them saying that all they had done was the needle for freezing the area to be stitched.

I'm back in the ER about 10 minutes later, getting a patient ready to go to for an x-ray. More screaming. Last time, I was in the room next to the screamer. Now I am in a different area with doors in between us and him. But I can still hear him screaming. One of the nurses says something about him looking for attention and another says he said he a low pain tolerance. I have a low pain tolerance. This man had a negative pain tolerance. Liam had stitches in his chin at 4 and never uttered a word of complaint. It turns out he received one stitch. All that and alot of whinging.

See, men are wimps. It's true.

Just a note...if you ever have to go to the hospital don't expect anything to be kept quiet. I have heard patients called fat over their heads, I have heard nurses making fun of patients, and people's medical histories discussed in the open. I don't imagine it is just the staff where I work, in fact I know it's not. I dread needing to go to into hospital. Frightening.

Slacking off

I am not sure what's up with me but I am feeling very blah these days. Blah can not even begin to describe the terrible bitchy mood I have been in the last wee while. Here it is December, my favourite month and I, quite frankly, am a miserable cow.

I have been particularly lazy also. I had a meeting tonight and it was only today that I even started the minutes from last month's meeting. I just had zero interest in doing them. I am suffering from volunteer burn out I think. William always says I need to prioritize and I think he is totally right. Perhaps my New Years resolution will be to drop some of these things from my schedule. Then perhaps I can focus on my family.

Look at that...I feel better already. I'd still yell at one of the kids if they walked down the stairs right now, but it would be yelling because they are being a pain in the arse, not because I am stressed all out. Sometimes you just have to write that you're in a shite mood to pull yourself out of the shite at least a wee bit.

I am off Christmas shopping tomorrow. Liam had decided to go to Red Deer with his dad for the holiday. Ah crap, here comes the shite mood again. That really has me down. I will miss him like crazy, but I know his dad misses them at Christmas as well and I have had both Taylor and Liam with me every year since we split up. So I will let him go with as few as tears as possible. The dilemma is what presents do I send him with? I don't want to send them all as I would like to see him open at least a few. I think I will send down one or two Santa presents and his Christmas Eve pajamas. He hates the Christmas Eve pajamas, but I always say it is tradition and one day he will appreciate it. I suppose I could get him boxers and a t-shirt instead.

After tomorrow I should have most everything done... just a few odds and ends and those last minute gifts I always end up getting. I have to say I am not as excited about Christmas as I used to be. I still would say it's my favourite day of the year, but there's just something about Christmas when you're a kid. I used to count down the days and the closer it got, the slower I wanted time to go so that the excitement of it all would last longer. And of course when you're little it's all about what you are going to get (and if you tell me it wasn't like that for you I will call you deluded or a liar.) Now, I am excited about what I am giving. I would much rather have extra presents under the tree for the kids or William than for me. This doesn't mean I am not giving William a list of things I want, of course I am, I am no fool. But I ask for sensible things, the things I actually need, like the frying pan my mum is giving me for my birthday. And books of course, since I seem to have run out of things to read.

I am getting so desperate for fresh reading material I am now reading Taylor's books. I just finished a book that Taylor bought while in England called the Illustrated Mum. I have to say it was quite enjoyable, very amusing and sad also. So I have just admitted that I love children's literature. I do, I do. I reread the Little House series every couple of years. It pains me terribly that Taylor never got into those books. One of life's great disappointments really. They were my favourite books as a child. I also loved the Famous Five, another series Taylor has no interest in.

The worst thing about posting is that I rarely know how to properly end them. So I'm just going to go. No rhyme or reason really.

Yesterday

I worked yesterday, and had to go down to my mum's office to pick up some charts. She wasn't at her desk so I siad to one of the girls "Where's my mum?" She just kind of shrugged her shoulders. Odd, I thought, she's normally so friendly. And on I went with my day.

Was back at her office around 12.30 or so and she still wasn't there. I said to the 2 girls at the front "Is my mum not in to today?" One of the girls said "No, I think the jet lag has caught up with her." (She came home from England on Friday night.) So I say something about how I talked to her last night and she never mentioned not feeling great, in fact she was supposed to be bringing me in fruit pastilles for the kids. Her boss walks by and I can't remember what she said but my next words were "Has something happened to my grandmother?"
"No, no, " she says, "your mum's just not feeling very well."

It's the way they all looked at me that told me that something was in fact wrong.

I went back to my department and said I needed to make a phone call. My mum's line is busy so I call William.
"Did my nan die?"
"I don't want to tell you" he says.
That kind of tells you doesn't it? He tells me he spent part of the morning at my mum's, she hadn't called me that morning because she knew I wouldn't have gone in to work.

The thing was, alot of people at work knew and I didn't. So while I can understand why my mum didn't tell me, it kills me that all these people knew and I had absolutely no idea my nan was dead.

They called my mum at 6am. I'm not even sure at what time my nan passed away. Sometime in the late morning I guess, maybe the early afternoon. A nurse and an aide were with her, my grandad had not long left. The nurse phoned my aunt in London so she could say her goodbyes. My aunt in Weston had spent the evening before there. My mum had just come home after spending 2 weeks with her.

It must not be easy to lose your parent. I have never seen my mum cry like she did last night. She said to me "What am I going to do without my mum?" It is funny to think that at 56, you still need your mother. But I suppose it never goes away, that mother/daughter bond. We have lived in Canada for almost 30 years, but my mother and her mother always remained extremely close.

My last conversation with my nan was the Sunday before last. My aunt called and said that she would like to talk to me. She came on the phone and sounding very weak, said "Hello, Emma"
"Hello Nanny" I said. I always called her Nanny. Not growing up with her, I never shortened it to Nan, although I did in letters. I will never forget my cousin making fun of me for calling her Nanny.
"I miss you Nanny." I said.
She said she missed me too.
"I love you alot" I said, and I was crying by now.
I could hear my aunt say "What do you want to say to her?" I couldn't hear the reply but I heard my aunt tell her to say she loved me.
"I love you, Emma" my nanny says.
"I love you too." I say, practically bawling.
My aunt comes back on the phone and I don't even know what she said but we were both crying.

When she came home on Friday, my mum told me that what my nan had said in reply to my aunt asking what she wanted to say to me was "Remember me."

I always will.

A spelling lesson for me.

Conservative..honestly, Emma, it's fifth grade spelling. Smarten up.

Bono...bugger off for a change.

I think I have said before, in one of my very first posts, that I actually do like U2. I really do. But if I have to listen to Bono go on and on about Canada committing 0.7% of its GDP to eliminating global poverty I am going to seriously consider banning U2 CDs from my house. And yes, I do realize that would have absolutely no impact on the millions of dollars that U2 brings home every year. But it might make me happy.

Bono has said that he expects Paul Martin to suffer at the polls come January, due to this very issue. I don't know what poll he is quoting from but most Canadians I know are not as concerned with eliminating global poverty as they are with eliminating poverty in their own backyards, along with a number of other concerns from health care and education, to gun control and gay marriage. I have not seen one person on TV nor have I talked to anyone who has said they will not vote for Paul Martin because he did not meet the goal of 0.7.

This does not mean I am against eliminating poverty in African countries or anywhere else, not at all. I am completely for it, but not necessarily by this 0.7%. How about proper trade? One of Paul Martin's concerns is that the money will not find its way to the people who need it most, but to war lords and corrupt governments. I also believe that a government's first responsibility is to its own people.

Sixteen years ago, all parties in the House of Commons agreed to seek to eliminate child poverty in Canada by 2000. In 2005, 1.2 million (1 in every 6) children in Canada live in poverty. That is disgraceful. It is the government of Canada's job, be they a left or right party, to take care of Canada's children first and foremost.

That being said, I will still be voting for Paul Martin's Liberal party on January 23rd. I eagerly await the sign for my lawn. I will vote for the Liberals because I believe they are one of 2 parties who have a chance of forming a minority government (even I can't be overly optimistic and expect a majority.) This will be either the Liberals or the Conseratives..can't remember their new name..is it Progressive Conseratives? Am I even spelling conserative right? It looks all wrong. See, that's how much I avoid them, can't even spell the word. I like the NDP party but their chances are nil. I wouldn't vote Green if you paid me a million dollars (well, I would really, but not if you paid me ten) and I don't even have the option of voting for the Bloc since they are a Quebec only party.

Reality is I'll vote for them because I have voted for them every election since I became a Canadian citizen. I even voted for them while working for the National Party. Remember them, anyone? I really loved Mel Hurtig. Shame about the short existence.

December, lovely December

Here it is, finally. The best month of the entire year. Not only does December bring Christmas, but it also brings my birthday. I am about to turn 29 for the third time, but I still find the day somewhat exciting. One day the thrill will be gone I am sure, but for now I still enjoy birthday wishes and the odd gift.

I am sure I said before that Edmonton in the autumn is beautiful, but even that can not beat Edmonton in the winter when the snow is newly fallen and the world is so pure and white. Sometimes, this is a truly lovely city.

December is always a busy month, and will be more so this year with Liam at a different school. Both kids go right until December 23rd, the first time this has happened since Taylor started school. Usually they finish the week before. Liam's Christmas concert is December 14th and Taylor's is the 21st. Taylor will also be an elf at a Christmas party for inner city children, along with the rest of her girl guide unit. Although we as a family certainly don't have alot of extra money we are lucky enough to have a nice roof over our heads, we are properly dressed for the weather, there is always food in the fridge and all 3 children will have plenty of presents under the tree. These children that Taylor will be handing out Christmas bags to will quite possibly get only that bag for Christmas and what little kid wants shampoo as a Christmas gift? It will be good for Taylor, and all the other Guides, to learn that while they don't always get what they want, they always get what they need. I could swear that comes from a song!

We will spend Christmas Day at my mother's, and will be joined by my best friend from elementary school (and Taylor's godmother) and her family as well as her new boyfriend. I am quite excited about this Christmas as it will be the first one that Saoirse is aware of. And of course the best part is that William is with us this Christmas and we will not have it in the back of our heads that he is leaving in 2 days. And that will make my Christmas complete.

Bambi? What the hell?

Bambi

Which DISNEY character are you most like?
brought to you by Quizzilla

Confession Time

I have a confession to make.

I, Emma, am not at all ready for winter. I don't know if I have pointed this out before, but I live in Canada, one of the coldest countries on the face of the earth. Not only do I live in Canada, but I live in central Alberta and if you take away the three territories, Manitoba and northern Alberta, I am quite sure I live in the coldest area of Canada.

But here's the problem. Until this week we had been spoiled by our somewhat balmy, it's-a-cold-summer-day weather. I saw people in shorts for gods sakes. In NOVEMBER!! In EDMONTON!! Madness had descended and winter was somewhat forgotten. Forgotten were the winter boots and coats, the boxful of hats, mitts and scarves. Forgotten was the excitement of Christmas decorating (this is not entirely the fault of the weather, there is a dead spider right by the Christmas decorations in the basement and I am waiting for William to find it a new home in the garbage.)

And then Monday arrived and with it a blast of cold air and a wee bit of snow. The coats were around, but getting hats and all was a bit of a mess, dropped boxes and all. I have yet to buy a new pair of gloves this season for either Taylor or Liam although they are both in desperate need; Taylor because she chews holes in the fingers of hers and Liam because he is a boy. That explains it all I think. Being the bargain hunter I am I bought new coats and boots at the end of the season last year (the coats were $17 each, regular $89 and the boots were $8.99 per pair, regular $50. The baby's stuff was an even better deal. Sigh. I do love a good sale.) So it's just new mitts I need. I hate buying mitts, you pay a fortune and they are forever losing one of the pair.

As for myself, sometimes I must think it is still 1987 and I must not do up my coat, nor wear mitts or a hat. It is a wonder that any of us ever made it out of our teen years alive and well. When your skin freezes after 30 seconds and you refuse to wear a hat it feels as though your ears will snap off if someone touches them. The things we did to be considered cools. Friggin' eejits is what the lot of us were.

The Report Cards

Last Friday Taylor's first report card came home. I wasn't overly happy with it, the math marks were terrible, mostly Cs. We had her parent/teacher interviews yesterday and I met with her teacher as well as the resource teacher. Her teacher said she needed to work on her multiplication and the rest of math should come along quite easily. No worries about her English or French, and other subjects were fairly good. So off we went to see the resource teacher as I had to sign her IPP paperwork. She proceeded to inform Taylor that her teacher has said if she does not become more self motivated and pull up her marks he doesn't want her to continue in gifted programming. I thought Taylor was about to cry. She only does this program once a week, and only for an hour at that. She loves it though. I am hoping that that was the push she needed to actually make her try a wee bit harder.

And then there was Liam. Oh, Liam. I knew his English marks would not be great. I'd rather pull out my own teeth than try and get Liam to study his spelling. But I expected all excellents, or As, in his Math. And what I got was proficient ( Bs.) Liam is not proficient at math, he is brilliant. The comments were good, but I don't feel the marks reflect that. Of all his marks, there is only one excellent and that comes in Religion (and I was shocked, he hates Religion...this is the kid who refused to take First Communion)

I meet with his teacher next Thursday. And I have alot to say to her. She doesn't give them homework, other than spelling words and home reading. I want something to start coming home, even if he is just redoing sheets that were done that day. I want to see where he is. I want to know why I wasn't told before report cards that he wasn't using class time effectively, or completing in class work. We are almost 3 months into school and I had no idea.

It pisses me off that he had to change schools to do this academic support program and he got a worse report card there than he would have at the old school. At least there he was happy. I am seriously tempted to pull him and put him back into a school where all his friends are, where I am only 5 minutes away and where I know his teacher and if he's not doing what he should be doing they are going to tell me. I am pissed off at the old school for not providing him with a teacher's aide like they seem to do for every kid who's a troublemaker. We have 17 T.A.'s in that school. There is no way there are 17 children with more severe learning problems than Liam. I am pissed off at myself for not fighting for Liam's right to an education at his neighbourhood school. My mother said last year that I should have taken this issue to the media and I think she may have been right. The sad reality is that money talks, and I don't have any. (Long story about an LD child and her lawyer father and teacher mother and her TA and blah, blah, blah. Someone tell me to shutup.)

Banned!

I have, through no fault of my own (I think), been banned from commenting on United Irelander's blog. I am quite sure that this is because he has banned William and since we share a computer I just happen to be sharing in this ban.

I have a huge problem with this, because although I do not comment on his site as often as I used to, there are certainly times I have something I want to say. Like tonight with UI's list of enemies. My sort are included in this list twice...once under "anti-american lefties" and under "bleeding heart brigade." (Note to any Americans who may read this, I am not anti-American, I am anti-Iraq war and anti-Bush, and anti-stupid tourists of any nationality...sorry, I worked in retail for 10 years, most of our tourists did happen to be American, but there was a fair number of rather foolish people from other countries, I just think you should learn a bit about the country you are visiting and I should really save this discussion for another day.) So while I am a lefty, both by hand and politics, I am not aware of being left wing and anti-American necessarily going hand in hand. As for the bleeding heart brigade, well I don't see anything wrong with Polish people getting their own channel in Ireland or with two men raising a child. I just don't see what the problem is really. And I suppose when someone calls people names regularly when he doesn't agree with what they say, chances are the odd person might toss out the words "bigot" and "racist."

So in saying this, I still enjoy UI's site. I do recommend people give it a read, if they haven't already, for he certainly has some interesting posts. It's just that you won't see me commenting for a wee while. Which is quite sad, don't you think? Yes, I thought you would. Perhaps the 3 or 4 readers I have could start a bring Emma back campaign. Or not.

Another Day, Another Fight

I have discovered the reason I choose not to get up in the morning. It is due to the fact that I am bound to fight with my daughter.

Got up just before 7 with the baby. Woke up Liam who complained of feeling ill. He was sick this weekend so I was suckered in and sent him back to bed. Had a very pleasant half hour watching Sesame Street with Saoirse- there are certainly some joys to early morning rising.

7.30- go to the top of the stairs and call to Taylor. "Tay, it's 7.30 time to get up." I was extremely pleasant.

7.45- back up to the top of the stairs. "Taylor, sweetie, it's quarter to 8. You need to get up." Still very pleasant. "I am up." she says. She must not have realized I was standing right outside her room and could see her lying under her blnkets. "Really? It doesn't look like you are up." Still very pleasant, but turn on her light something she can't stand. Doesn't have a fit, which she normally does. I put this down to my extremely pleasant attitude.

8.00- Taylor appears and sits at the bottom of the stairs. "You do realize it's 8 right?" Goes to make herself breakfast. Has breakfast, goes to get dressed. Calls from her room "Mummy, I have no pants!" Remembering Thursday, I tell her there is a laundry basket full of clean clothes in the linen closet. (Why is there a laundry basket in the linen closet? I suppose William got tired of it sitting in the hallway awaiting it's dispersal into the childrens' rooms) She comes down looking all right, but I wonder should I be concerned that my 10 year old is dressed completely in black? Didn't look at her feet, but I can almost guarantee she is wearing white sweat socks so I'm alright...no future goths in sight. So far so good, Taylor has been awake for 15 minutes and we have yet to fight. I have the hair brush and the taming spray ready. "Here, Tay, let me brush your hair."
"I can brush it myself."
"I know, but you always miss the back"
"OW OW OW!!!!!"
"Taylor for gods sakes, you don't complain when anyone else brushes your hair"
"I know but I want to. OW OW OW"
"I'm not even pulling hard. Here, this is pulling hard." I know, I know, a terrible thing to do. but honestly, I was not pulling hard!
"Here, let me put this in your hair."
"I don't want my hair styled."
"Too bad, I'd like you to occassionally look like someone loves you."

Anyway, I got my way with the hair, though I'm sure the clip was pulled out the moment she closed the door behind her. She kept up the attitude and I got mad. "I'll tell you something, miss, you're grounded tonight! You can home and clean your room and stay in it tonight. And if it's not clean you aren't going to Guides tomorrow!"
"Blah, blah, blah, you are so mean to me. Why am I grounded?"
"Because I am sick to death of your bad attitude."
And off she went to school, crying, and slamming the door behind her.
I just don't know what it is with the two of us. We don't get along at all, at all.

Christmas Trees (or the lack of)

I'm starting to get a bit antsy. The mall is full of Christmas trees, the hospital has one up in the front lobby and now my neighbour has gone and put hers up. I am not liking that one bit. I used to be the first person in the neighbourhood to put the tree up. It used to go up the first weekend in November but as my livingroom seems to be getting smaller as the years go by, I started putting it up the last weekend in November. However, William has informed me that it is bad luck to put a tree up before December 1, and he would like to wait! Although I certainly do not believe in the bad luck theory I suppose I can wait a bit longer. I'm somewhat fearful that Saoirse may try and pull the tree down on her anyway. Still, I don't really like waiting. However, it's better than when I was a child and we had to wait until December 15 to put up the tree. If my mum had had her way the tree would have went up Christmas Eve and come down on Boxing Day. Such a grinch. But because I always wanted it up in time for my birthday she'd grumpily relent. I have fond memories of having the tree up back then, my friend Janine would sleep over and we would leave the tree lights on and sleep underneath it. Life was easy when you were 10. I had no worries that I wouldn't get at least some of the things on my Christmas list. (Quite easy to achieve when your list is 2 pages long, full of stuff from the Sears Wish book.)

It's not feeling very Christmasy outside. Normally we have snow and it is below zero out. Right now, it is plus 12. We were warmer than Mexico City and Rome on Saturday. I'm sorry, but that's just not natural. It is plain wrong actually. Eventually we will get our winter weather I guess. Might as well as enjoy this while it lasts.

The Fashion Crisis

We are in the midst of a clothing crisis in my house. It revolves around Taylor and there are a few reasons in particular for this:
1)She does not have the body type to fit pants properly. She is tall and skinny (physical traits not passed on by her mother, sadly.) She is a size 10 waist and a size 14 length. The invention of adjustables waists was a fantastic thing, but quite often she ends up looking all bumpy in her middle because it pulls the jeans funny when you have to tighten it as much as possible.
2)She is literally growing overnight. She is now 5' tall, only 3" shorter than me. Since she was about 5 she has being saying she would be taller than me by Grade 6 and with a year to go, she may be right.
3)She has absloutely no fashion sense. Colours don't need to match, dress shirts and trackies would be perfectly acceptable in Taylor's world.
4)She could care less what she looks like. Not one iota.

This post comes about because the way Taylor dresses is a constant sore spot. Take Thursday for example. In the mornings I am usually at work or in bed (lazy I know, but William is fantastic about getting up with the kids.) I did not see Taylor that morning, but when she came home at noon I almost died at what she was wearing. Pants that were so short you could see her calves over her socks! I am not normally a calm person and I certainly wasn't at this moment in time.

Me: Jesus Christ Taylor! What are you wearing!!!???

Taylor: I had no pants.

Me: If you'd put away your bloody laundry you'd have pants!

Taylor (crying): I didn't have time to look, William woke me up late.
(A classic Taylor maneouvre...cry and blame someone else.)

Me: Honestly, one day you are going to be so embarrassed when you look back at how you dressed. Those pants are way too short! You are never to wear them again!!! I mean it!! Do you not care how you look?

Taylor (crying): NO!!!!! (Runs up the stairs, still crying.)

The conversation was longer than this, mostly me demonstrating my poor mothering skills. I have no patience with that poor girl. She has also taken to cutting the legs of her pants in class (2 pairs so far) and to drawing on them with ink. This leads to another tirade on my part, about how I am not made of money, yada yada yada. Does she have no respect for the things she owns, yada yada yada. And on it goes.

I admit that when it comes to my kids I am a bit of a clothing snob. I want them to look nice, I refuse to buy second hand clothes and I won't shop at places like Zellers. This doesn't mean I am going high end(much to poor for that), and I will usually only buy clothes at places like the Gap or Old Navy if they are on sale. Hmmm, I should rephrase that. I almost never buy anything, anywhere if it is not on sale. So here is a kid with a closet full of nice clothes, not to mention 6 drawers full, so why does she look like she just walked out of a homeless shelter? I can't figure it out.

While at work on Wednesday, I stopped in at my mum's department to pick up some charts. She told me that she would be leaving for England on Friday, and my brother would come with her. My nan is dying. I cried, like I haven't cried in ages. I left my mum's office and cried my way throughout emergency. Telling someone that her grandmother is dying in a hospital setting is probably not the best choice to make. The hospital is full of elderly women, and that made me think of my nan. Which set off the water works everytime. My boss is fantastic, she let me go home. I have had 30 some hours to process this news and it still makes me cry.
Almost 4 years ago my nan had a stroke. My grandad had just come into some money and they took an extended trip to Portugal. They hadn't been home very long when my nan started complaining of headaches. She had gone into town one day with one of her friends (as she did everyday) and came home early due to a bad headache. She complained to my grandad about feeling very dizzy and he went to phone an ambulance. When he came back into the room she was lying on the floor.
She was left paralyzed on the left side, which was devastating to her as she had always been extremely active. She had a holiday to Scotland planned for the next week and was supposed to be coming to Canada that summer. But she was alive, and for that we were all grateful. My grandad decided to move down to the south of England, where my aunt lives, as he wanted to be near family and there's no one left in Birmingham.
There have been ups and downs in the last few years. My nan has been lucky enough to have all three of her daughters with her at times (something that had not happened since 1984) as my other aunt moved back to England and my mother would go over 2 times a year. She was very ill just before this summer and they had thought that she might not make it, but she did and Taylor got to see her. I am happy for Taylor that she had a chance to be with her great nan again. It had been too long.
As for me, I saw my nan 5 months before the stroke, when I spent a week in England. Part of me is glad that I am not the one going with my mum on this trip, as I will only remember her as the way she was prior to the stroke. She is very different now. I remember her as very tiny but because she is permanantly in a wheelchair she has put on a lot of weight. She was always very outgoing and happy. She no longer shows emotion, she can hardly even smile. The other part of me is devastated that I am not going. I would like a chance to say goodbye, to tell her how much I love her and how sorry I am for my selfish teenage years. She was (and still is) a beautiful, wonderful lady and I will miss her more than I can say.

The bedroom from hell (aka the preteen's room, so much the same)

The idea was to take before and after pictures of my daughter's room to see just how clean she could get it. I had pulled everything out of the closet and left it in the middle of the room for her to deal with it. This was back in late September I think. Her idea of cleaning it was to shove everything back into the closet (so much so that I can not reach the clothes on the back rod) and to change the room around. Some cleaning was required for that effort. I am waiting to paint it, as she is a bit old for pink, but it is never clean enough. So there are no after pictures to join these before ones. If I were to take pictures right now, the room would actually be even messier than it is here.

Remembrance Day

Today Taylor will be taking part with her Girl Guide unit, and other Guides in our division, in the Remembrance Day celebration at the mall. I think it is so important for our children to know the sacrifices that were made for them by these brave men and women. It's important that we attend these ceremonies since there are so few veterans left. It is the year of the veteran in Canada, and today I will remember two in particular.

My maternal grandfather was a member of the Oxfordshire and Buckinghamshire regiment and spent 3 years in Burma, the forgotten war. He doesn't really like to talk about those days. The only thing I know is that a Japanese soldier was about to shoot him when he himself was shot and killed. My grandad left the army in 1946, married my nan and had 3 girls. He is now living in the south of England, taking care of my nan who had a stroke 3 years ago. Taylor had the opportunity to meet him this summer and got on very well with him. They are very similar personalities, both very stubborn, opinionated and intelligent. I don't think Liam will be lucky enough to see him. Sad, that.

My paternal grandfather was in the RAF and was stationed in England. He managed to get home to Belfast quite often as my granny gave birth 4 times between 1940 and 1945. My mother often says that the only action my granda saw was a fight with a Canadian soldier. I don't know how true this is.I only knew my granda for just over a year. They moved to Canada when I was 7 and he died when I was 8, unfortunately I was too young to be interested in what I would have considered old war stories. A couple of years ago, I found out that he was actually jailed during the war for stealing arms and selling them to the IRA. Selling them, not giving them. He wasn't much of a nationalist. Strangely enough, he wasn't dishonourably discharged for this.

I will think of both my grandfathers today, even though one of them was far from the perfect soldier.

My baby's officially not a baby

Saoirse has just turned one. A year ago at this very moment, I was pushing and pushing and no Saoirse was appearing. She was stuck the poor thing. She'd come down and go right back up. Stubborn more than stuck perhaps. I ended up having a c-section and she was born at 1.49 in the morning. She was a screamer. They took her away to the Intensive Care Unit pretty quickly after I had a quick peek at her. I didn't see her again until 9 that morning. She was on oxygen and they said she had a terrible headache. So they assumed anyway. She was screaming so much (a solid 2 hours) that they gave her a dummy, which was something I was not going to use for her. They weren't supposed to, it is actually against the health region's agreement with the World Health Organization, but as my friend who works in that unit said when a baby is that upset they will do anything they can that might calm them down. And it did, I suppose. She still loves the dummy to this day. Not that particlar dummy, of course. We have loved and lost at least a dozen since then.

So happy birthday to my wee Saoirse Maeve. I hope today is a lovely day for you.

Finish my sentences, why don't you

This totally requires blogger particpation. I'll even go first....

I could really use a new.... pair of jeans. Or two or three. All the ones I have are either too loose or too tight. There's no happy medium with me.

The strangest thing about my family is.... that we are not very close. William finds that very strange for a Northern Ireland family. Obviously, I am talking about my dad's side here, as my mum's side are all in England. My aunt has disowned both my dad and my uncle. Odd.

When I was a kid I thought that all adults were... crazy. See above. I'll never forget those Christmas dinners that always ended in someone getting very drunk (my dad) and how about the New Years Eve my mum tried to stab my dad. Ah, childhood memories.

I'd love to be.... content.

The most beautiful sound in the world is... a baby's laugh.

My favourite board game is... Taboo. I am AMAZING at it. Especially celebrity taboo.

I'm not embarassed to admit that my CD collection has... every Corey Hart album, plus his greatest hits.

There we go...easy as pie. You have no excuses. Finish those sentences.

A silent killer

Early in the morning last Sunday a family of three were brought into the hospital. All were found comatose in their home by the daughter's friend. Both the daughter and her mother worked there. I knew the mother, but had never seen the daughter before. When I arrived at work on Sunday morning, at 11 am, the mother was already in the ICU, the daughter and husband were still in the ER. The mother spent 8 hours in the hyperbaric chambers, it did not help at all. The family was poisoned by carbon monoxide. A hospital is like a small town, and even if you don't know someone by name a description will usually have you saying "Oh sure, I know her. Lovely girl." And, like in small towns, rumours fly.

We heard that all three had been in the ER on Friday night complaining of headaches, and that they were all sent home. It turns out that only the mother was, and was there for 6 hours. All the talk at the hospital right now is about this family, and specifically the mother, who had been working there for some 15 years. It would be impossible to say a bad word about her, she truly was a lovely a person. She always used to say hello to me and ask about my kids. This was before I even knew her name, but like I said the hospital's a small town and my mother has worked there for so long that people I don't know seem to know an awful lot about me.

She died on Wednesday night, the mother did. 5 minutes after they pulled the plug. The husband was transferred out of ICU and up on to Medicine, he is expected to fully recover. The daughter is in ICU, she is on life support but apparently has shown some improvement. I am not sure what sort of improvement there is to be had when you are on life support, but I suppose it does happen. I wonder about the quality of life if she survives. It is all terribly, terribly sad.


* Just looked at the date and realized that Saoirse was due one year ago today.

I quit, effective immediately

I quit job #2 on Wednesday. When I first got the job it was fun. It was suppose to be for a maximum of 20 hours a week, but it ended up being 40. The hospital would call to see if I could work and I couldn't because I would be working at the store, or I would end up at the hospital on my days off. The only days I'd have off in the last month were the two sick days I took. I was getting more and more frustrated that I was turning down good money for bad. It was only $8 an hour and no one can survive on that.

What really got me was that I was scheduled for a call in shift on Saoirse's first birthday. (Let me just say that a retail store having call in shifts is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard. You have to call in 2 hours before your shift to see if they need you to come in, talk about putting your life on hold.) We were not allowed to book Remembrance Day off, but I wrote my manager a note and explained that I was having Saoirse's party that and could I please have it off. I assumed all was fine. I was at the hospital all this week so I asked my friend to check my schedule. When she told me I had a call in that day I was so pissed off. I didn't do anything about it though. I said I'd talk to her my next shift and if I couldn't have it off, I'd quit. I decided on Wednesday that I was going to quit, the opportunity for shifts at the hospital is just too great right now and I would like the odd day off. I went by the store and asked the assistant manager if one of the other managers were in. They weren't and I told her I would have to give notice. I had to put it in writing, with the date of my last day. I was going to work until Nov. 10 but then I looked at the schedule I couldn't believe the amount of people that had it off...lots of the high school girls who you'd think would want to work, all the people without kids. Candy has to work and pay a babysitter to watch her 3, which is something she specifically asked not to have happen. So that was the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back. I wrote my note which said " Due to personal reasons, I have to quit, effective immediately."

Thank God it's all over .

The Gomrey Report- who really cares?

Not me. I could really care less about who did what and who spent what and who knew what and who kept what secrets. I do have my opinions on it, of course. I am glad Paul Martin was found not to be at fault as I am somewhat fond of him. I think Jean Chretien is a bit of a mad man and I thought it when I was 19 and started voting for his party.

I don't think that this will really hurt the Liberal party. They seem to bounce back from an awful lot of messes. Sure, what's the alternative to them anyway? I like the NDP but you know they will never win and the Conservatives are worse than the very worst the Liberals could ever dream of doing. Not being in Quebec, the Bloc isn't an option. I hope Stephen Harper doesn't try and force a Christmas election. He did a bit of double speak today saying that in his opinion the public doesn't want a Christmas election but on the other hand in his opinion opinion polls are often wrong. So what will it be Stephen? Maybe he will try and force an election, screw it all up and be forced to resign as Leader of the Opposition. That would be a great Christmas gift. Peter McKay is much nicer to look at anyway, and like Paul Martin, is much more willing to poke fun at himself. Stephen Harper is so boring.

And that's that. People may read this and say I have no idea what really happened. And maybe I don't. But guess what? I really don't give a fuck.

Rain + freezing temperatures= Emma flat on her ass

Did I say I love the coming of winter? I think I did and I do, but not, I repeat, NOT when it involves rain. I think someone forgot to tell Mother Nature or God or whoever takes care of the weather that it does not rain in Edmonton in November. Clearly there has been some miscommunication as it rained all last night. Happily, I trotted off to work this morning, walking with Taylor and her friend Ashley who were on their way to school. I saw it. I did. But I thought it was just some frost on the sidewalk. So I walked on it. And I went flying. I didn't actually fall on my ass, but I definitely caused my lower back some grief as I tried to catch myself. It wasn't pretty. It provided Taylor and Ashley with much amusement and a tale to tell at school. Ah, winter/spring. It's a new season.

Walking home through the mall, I noticed that Zellers has their Christmas trees up. The giant tree at centre fountain only had two pieces remaining before it was finished. Benetton had garland in the windows. And so begings the Christmas countdown. Tomorrow I am going to start decorating the house, excluding the tree.

The Coming of Winter (but it actually turned into a post about Christmas)

I worked last night, a graveyard shift. It wasn't too bad, steady for the first couple of hours and then fairly slow from 3 am on, I had a bit of a sleep (it's always nice to be getting paid for sleeping) and otherwise just read. When I left the hospital at 7.30 it was bitingly cold. That's the worse thing about scrubs, they are so thin. My legs were freezing. The grass was all frosty, and I love mornings like that, when it is all quiet and so clean looking. It makes me look forward to the first snowfall. I used to love waking up in the morning with a fresh snowfall before all the footprints ruined it and all the cars on the street made it muddy and grey. Ah yes, I will be bitching about the snow a week after it gets here. But for right now, at this moment, I am looking forward to it. And that reminds me that I had better bring Taylor and Liam's winter coats out of the garage before I go to bed.

With the cold weather comes Christmas preperations. Walking through the mall on my way home I noticed that they had started to put together the giant tree at centre fountain. I guess they aren't changing that Santa display this year. I wonder if Saoirse will sit on Santa's lap this year. Somehow I doubt it, she's a bit scared around strangers. Well, alot. She screams actually.

I love Christmas. It is without a doubt my favourite time of the year. Taylor and Liam are generally well behaved throughout the month of December, as they are threatened with calls to Santa for any misbehaviour. I am pretty sure they no longer believe in Santa Claus, but the only time they questioned it, about 2 years ago, I said "If you don't believe in Santa, you get no presents from Santa." And Liam said, "OK , OK, I believe." I think I was six when I saw my mum putting presents from Santa under the tree, so to have them go to 7 and 8 wasn't too bad. Of course, they will have to continue to pretend now anyway, since there is now Saoirse to have believing in him.

I have been asking them what they want. Taylor wants rollerblades (done, my mum got them) and Spongebob Squarepants stuff. I asked if she thought she was a bit old for it, but she seems to think not. So whatever, I'll pick up a few things. She also wants books. I'm running out of books to buy for her and she ran out of bookshelf space long ago. Liam wants a guitar, just a guitar and nothing else. Very easy to please that one. He's also getting a Gameboy Advance, which he hasn't asked for so I think we may be able to surprise him once again this year. Last year, he had the best reaction to a shared gift with his sister, from Santa of course. There were 5 gifts, all wrapped seperately and out into a giant gift bag. He unwrapped a playstation game first and after a few seconds said "If there's a playstation game there must be a PLAYSTATION!!!!!!!!!" It doesn't write as funny as it actually was. A storyteller, I am not. Anyway, off topic. I mostly done Saoirse. She's easy as she gets what we want to get her. And a car or something, since she loves anything that moves and makes 'vroom' noises. I always thought that was only a boy thing.

Time for Jon Stewart, must go, leaving this post incomplete but long enough to bore the pants off you all anyway. Then it's bedtime, I am surprisingly tired for someone who slept until 3.30 in the afternoon.

Halloween

It's Hallowe'en and my doorbell is constantly ringing or kids are yelling trick or treat. William has taken Taylor and Saoirse out around the neighbourhood and then he will bring Saoirse home and take Taylor and her friend Allie out a bit further. Liam has gone with his friend Josh out to one of the wealthier neighbourhoods (home to doctors and hockey players) where rumour has it they give out full size chocolate bars and cans of pop. Happy days for my Liam.

Liam is Captain Jack Sparrow, Saoirse is Tigger and Taylor is a hippie with a great big blonde afro. I think I'll get William to post a picture for me. They are looking pretty cute.

The things some people search for

I must say that I am seriously concerned about some people with internet access. A few days ago someone did a search for mother and daughter sex tag team. I don't even want to know exactly what they were hoping to find, but I would say to any mothers of daughters in Phoenix, Arizona be aware of the freak in your backyard.

Spitting in the streets

My pet peeve is people spitting. There is nothing more disgusting than walking along the street and staring at big globs of gob (well, staring at puke is slightly more digusting, but a much rarer event- though there has been some by a mall entrance for about 3 weeks.)

I was walking to work today when from behind me I could hear some guy hoarking and spitting. It was enough to make me feel sick. He passed me and then I was dodging his spit. Yuck. I had to wait at the crosswalk with him and he continued hoarking and spitting. Oh, and smoking a very smelly cigar. I wanted to say him that if he couldn't handle the cigar he shouldn't be smoking it. He then proceeded to throw the lit cigar into the street. (I'm pretty sure there's a fine for that, shame there were no police about.)

I don't know why this bothers me so much, but it always has. I was amazed at how many people did it in Dublin, it seemed you were doing nothing but dodging spit. Today's guy had nothing on some middle aged man on O'Connell Street who put his finger on the side of his nose and blew and a great wad of snot landed on the wall of the GPO. I'll never forget that moment in time.

Taking the day off

I called in sick to work today, just like I did yesterday. It is not so much that I am sick, just that I am really, really tired. And I've had a headache for over a week, one just that doesn't seem to go away, but sometimes is just sort of there, not really bothering me but telling me it can turn into a migraine at any second and knock me for six. Which is exactly what it did last Thursday while I was at work. And there was my first sick day at my new job. And here I am on number 3. Not very good, I know, but I just couldn't be arsed.

So I called in this morning and I was told that as this was day 2, I needed a sick note. So I went to the medi centre over the road and after waiting for an hour (and reading an article on blogging of all things) I got into the doctor. This is not my regular doctor, just the one I go to when I am too when I don't have time to wait for an appointment to see my family doctor or when I just couldn't be bothered to see him as he's a bit of a quack. More on him later. I told her what was going on and that I needed a note and she said "Emma, what are you doing? You can't work 2 jobs with a baby!" Well, the sad reality is that I have to work. And though I would prefer just the job at the hospital, I can't feed and clothe a family on shifts I may not get. Which is why I got a part time job, where I am working full time hours and turning down shifts at the hospital, which I have said before pays way more money. It has been determined that I am just way to stressed, as shown by my rather short fuse leading to my rather bad temper.

One day things will get better, this I know.

A story about my family doctor... A few years ago, well 5 or 6 now, my doctor, a very nice doctor, had a baby. When she returned to work she decided to move her practice to the north side and work only 2 days a week. As I live in the west end and had young children who didn't find it convenient to get sick on only Tuesdays or Thursdays, I decided it would be best to go to a new doctor. Her office had sent our files to a clinic not too far away with a choice of 2 doctors. I called my mum and asked if she knew of either of them. Since she works in a hospital, she was able to look them up. I found out that one was Scottish and the other was Irish, both mid-middle aged. Who do you think I chose? Go on, guess. Of course, if you have glanced at my profile you know that I chose the Irish one.

And that was probably not the smartest thing I have ever done. For let me just say that this man, a somewhat nice fella from Galway, is a fucking eejit. No, no, not just an eejit, he is perhaps the most inept doctor ever put on the face of the earth. Maybe that's pushing it, but let me just say he does not represent UCD well.

I have been seeing him for 5 or so years and he does not yet know who I am. My gynecologist who I see much less then him knows me by name when she sees me when I am working at the hospital. My dentist, who I see even more rarely, said "Hello Emma" to me at Wal- Mart. They both know all about my children, even when they are not with me. (And believe me, I wouldn't take my children with me for a pap smear.) But this man, who treats not only me, but also my children, forgets I have them unless he is looking directly at my chart. When I take one of the children to see him, he doesn't know my name, he just calls me 'mum'. What's the deal with that? Shouldn't you learn a bit about your patients? Take a quick glance at their chart before going into the room? His people skills are less than pleasing. He has ignored my requests to look into medication for Liam's ADD. (I didn't actually want to put him on medication, but I wanted the option to be discussed.) When Saoirse was 2 months or so old she developed a hacking cough. When I took her to see him, he told me that fair headed babies often have bad chests. My aunt, a nurse, said she had never heard anything so foolish in her life.

So he is most definitely not the brightest man going. I should change doctors, but frankly, it is all such a hassle.

Does yelling at your kids make you a bad mother?

Someone did a search using that question and somehow ended up at my little ol' blog. So I'll answer it, since I am an expert in child psychology, having successfully fucked up 2.5 children. (The baby only gets a .5 since she is not yet a walking, talking mess.)

I don't think yelling at your kids makes anyone a bad mother, or a bad father for that matter. It just makes us what we are- imperfect, fallible people. I wish I didn't yell at my kids, but I do. I would put myself in the yells too much category, but do not think I am as bad as people I have heard yelling at theirs. I do realize that yelling has become moot. My kids literally tune me out as I go around screaming my head off for all the neighbours' entertainment. The thing is, I have yelled at them so often it really means nothing anymore. In fact, I get a much better response when I speak very quietly, with a certain "Say a friggin' word and I'll knock you into next week" sort of tone. Not that I ever would knock them into next week, though I may have threatened it once or twice in a very weak moment. In general they are pretty good kids who act up occassionally like all kids do. Their misfortune is that they have a slightly wound up mother who sometimes appears to go off the deep end when tormented. A mother of the year award will never find it's way on to my shelves, although I do have two "Best mom ever" wool people on the entertainment unit. One received last Mother's Day and the other the year before, both as third grade art projects. So while not perfect, and even though I yell too much, I'm sometimes a pretty good mum. So says the artwork anyway. As well as the note on the fridge that Taylor wrote me when she was 4...."Dear Mummy, me-and-Liam-love-you. Love Tay." She really loved hyphens when she first started printing.

Writing this reminded me of the maddest I have ever been at Taylor and Liam. I was so mad I sent them to their rooms and they actually stayed in them until their dad got home. Usually, they would come out of their room not even 2 minutes later begging to be allowed back into the livingroom or the basement. So anyway, I think they were 3 and 4 or thereabouts. They were playing very nicely in the livingroom and I was putting away laundry in the bedrooms. It seemed to be awfully quite and then I started hearing thumps and hysterical laughter. I went into the kitchen and saw 2 4L jugs of milk lying on the floor, and in the livingroom Taylor and Liam had made a slip and slide out of the milk and the carpet. They were having a great time running and sliding. At that moment, I wanted to kill them. Imagine the smell of sour milk in a day or two. The waste of all that milk. Today, I laugh about them doing that, but that day was very unpleasant. They went to their rooms and I had the thrill of steamcleaning my livingroom 2 times that afternoon.

Lyrics from the concert I was at

Tonight I went to see Jann Arden. She was fantastic. Made me laugh so hard I was crying.

Everybody's gotta find a God they love
Everybody's gotta figure out the end
No one can tell you how to live forever
And who would want to in light of all this
- How Good Things Are

Hide your heart under the bed and lock your secret drawer
Wash the angels from your head won't need them anymore
Love is a demon and you're the one he's coming for
Oh my lord
-Could I Be Your Girl

oh you probably won't remember me
it's probably ancient history
i'm one of the chosen few
who went ahead and fell for you
i'm out of vogue i'm out of touch
i fell to fast i feel too much
i thought you might have
some advice to give
on how to be
insensitive
-Insensitive

I've got money in my pocket
I like the color of my hair
I've got a friend who loves me
Got a house, I've got a car
I've got a good mother
And her voice is what keeps me here
Feet on ground
Heart in hand
Facing forward
Be yourself
- Good Mother

Every tear you cry
Every doubt you have
All of these things will pass away
All of your big mistakes
Your little old heart would break
I'm wishing that I could take them back
Write down the things you don't want
Burn them in a glass
Write down the things you dream of
Make a paper plane that flies to heaven
And buy a ticket for a plane and come and see me baby
Or drive your car all night just by starlight to Canada
That's where I'll be
Waiting
All of the empty rooms
Every warm embrace is you
Nothing is like it was
There's nobody here but us
I have been filled right up with this
Write down the words of sadness
Burn them in a cup
Write down the things you've wanted
Throw them to the wind that's soaring up to heaven
-Waiting in Canada


Depressing? Possibly.

Dreaming of Dublin

I had a dream the other night that Taylor and I were in Dublin for what seemed to be a stop over. We were with two of her friends who are Guides as well as both their mothers who are Guide leaders. There were a few other Guides, but who they were is a bit hazy. They were, I believe, going to Pax Lodge in London. I'm not sure why we were in Dublin, but we had a few hours to spend there. So Taylor and I went up O'Connell Street where I insisted on taking dozens of pictures of her (perhaps to make up for the lack of pictures I took when I was there in reality) and we went to Kilmainham Jail and to Glasnevin Cemetery (two places I should have went to). Suddenly we were at a hospital because some wee girl in our group had injured herself. I was in a fit because we were running out of time and I wanted to be touring. I have no idea what happened after that as I woke up. I hate waking up when I have dreamt I am in another country, it is always a downer to realize that, in fact, I am in my bedroom in Edmonton. I wonder what this means? Could there be a trip to Ireland in my future? I'd even take Pax Lodge, actually, just to go SOMEWHERE. Can we all please feel pity for me that I have not left the province of Alberta in the last 4 years? Minus a few days, as exactly 4 years ago I was in England, having just left the north of Ireland. Sometimes, it seems like I never actually went.

I have had two days in a row off for the first time in what feels like ages, but in reality has only been 3 weeks. It was rather nice, and somwhat quiet, except there were two major blowouts with Taylor (why can't we get along?) Had Thanksgiving dinner at my mum's. I even had things to be thankful about...Saoirse having her first Thanksgiving, William being here, Liam reading a book, even the ever moody Taylor gave me something to be thankful for. Not only is she brushing her hair properly, but she is actually styling it! Good God, will this child never cease to amaze me? All in all, life is quite alright. Now if only I could win the lottery like that old lady in Nova Scotia!

I am sooooo pissed off

I was very excited today to hear that INXS would be going on tour with their new frontman, JD Fortune. William even said he would go with me, although he is not really an INXS fan. And what has happened?

They aren't bloody well playing in Edmonton.

The bastards. I do realize this tour is in January and February and they are the worst two months of the year in this corner of the world. But that is no excuse (and in fact, I am quite sure they would not use that as an excuse.) So what is wrong with Edmonton? Or Calgary? Or Montreal? Why is a band with a Canadian lead singer only playing two Canadian dates? I understand that Vancouver and Toronto are the chosen Canadian destinations for most bands but shouldn't this be a time for INXS to reaquaint themselves with fans from long ago? I know I saw them in two sold out shows back in the late 80s/early 90s (jeesh, am I getting old.) I am sure that at least 10% of the audience of those shows would like to see them again as well. So there's 2000 people, give or take, enough to fill the Winspear or the Agricom.

Again, all I have to say is those bastards.

On an aside, in Toronto they are playing Massey Hall. I am quite sure that the Jesus and Mary Chain played there in like 1984 or something. Another band that couldn't be arsed to come to Edmonton. Bastards! But I still love them. JAMC that is, not INXS. Quite annoyed with them, actually.

Today's Sad News

Today I missed Saoirse's first step. This is what I hate about working. I wanted to cry when William told me. Sometimes I wish I could just stay home and watch what she does all day. But of course on the days I am home, I always seem to have stuff to do...cleaning, or meetings or something that drags me away. I regret getting so involved in things outside of work and home. Except for my stamping club. I do rather enjoy that. Anyway, I am home tomorrow so hopefully I will see her walk.

In today's bad news, there was a notice in the front of Liam's agenda that he has been accused of kicking a kid in the private parts while on the bus and it also said that Liam said the boy was choking him. The bus driver did not witness either. I have asked his teacher to call me as Liam got very upset talking about it. This happened last Wednesday and I only heard about it today. William told me tonight that last week Liam asked what to do if someone fights with him and William told him to fight back. I have told him as well that when someone trys to hurt him (though I was thinking more of adults or teenagers) to kick them exactly where he is accused of kicking this kid. So maybe it has something to do with what we have said to him. But knowing Liam, I honestly don't think he did do this. He's a pretty good kid and generally gets along well with others. But then again this is a new school and who knows, maybe the tide has turned.

Today's Good News

I stopped off at Taylor's school this morning on my way to work to drop off a donation for the school dance. My friend Michelle and I hung out in the library to watch morning announcements, which are shown on TVs in all the classrooms. Her son Connor was doing a bit on garbage (those kids are pigs) and Taylor was doing some powerpoint thing on the computer as well as reading about Read In Week. She pronounced Lois as Louis but otherwise did very well.

As we were standing there the resource teacher came in and said she had to talk to me. I said "Oh, do you have Liam's PAT results?" (Every Grade 3 student takes Provincial Achievement Exams in June, and the results have just been released.) She said "This is about your other child." There must have been a look of horror on my face because she said "Don't worry it's good news!"

And it was. The school would like to code Taylor as gifted. This doesn't really mean a whole lot. They used to have a gifted program but she said the kids didn't enjoy it as they were being made fun of for being smart. Really, at this point, all it means is that Taylor will have extra work and will be encouraged to go to some robotics fair. Oh, and the school will get some extra money because she has been coded. I'm not sure about Taylor and extra work as I am hard pressed to get her to do the homework she brings home as it is. I did say I was concerned about how lazy she was, and that her marks do not reflect the gifted title. She said that she and the principal had discussed this and that the marks on the district wide exams were what mattered. And then she showed me those marks. And let me just say my daughter is SMART. Like Mensa smart ( I looked it up and she really is.) Out of 100 children in verbal and non verbal testing only one student would do better then Taylor. In Math, 4 would. I always knew Taylor was quite smart, she learned the alphabet in one go (except for the letter O) at the age of 10 months and she could read chapter books at 4. But because she does tend to be lazy and leaves everything to the last minute her school work tends to suffer. So a kid who should be scoring in the high 90s often only gets 80. There was a huge fallout last week over the 78% in a science exam.

I'm not sure what this will all mean for Taylor. Do I tell her about this or not? I think I might just say that her teacher would like to give her extra work to see how well she does. I want Taylor to try harder and to put in more of an effort. So while I don't want to tell her she is "gifted" I do want her to know that the teachers, and myself, expect more of her. The good thing about her being coded is that it follows her to junior high and the school she wants to go to has the IB program and I suppose it would be much easier for her to get in to it.

What astounds me about all this is how two children can be so different. On one hand, I have Liam who has been coded as Learning Disabled and had to change schools as ours couldn't teach him. Although he is great at math, at the age of 9 still can not read. Liam will not pick up a book while Taylor never has her nose out of one. I think I'd rather have 2 kids in the middle of the pack than have two extremes. I'd sacrifice some of Taylor's smarts to give a bit to Liam. Isn't that a terrible thing to say?

Some meme thingermajinger.

Because Eric over at Terminal Dysfunction has threatened me with eternal bad luck if I don't do this, I am going to do it. I'm pretty sure I already suffer from eternal bad luck, but no use in making it eternal even worse luck. So here goes....

........no English or Scottish pavillions though, so no Rowntrees Fruit Pastilles or Gums.

That is the fifth sentence from my 23rd post, which was entitled Heritage Days and if I had computer abilities I could link you right to it. But I don't. Heritage Days is a big festival here with over 50 countries represented but NOT England or Scotland who had a bit of a tiff with the H.D people. Therefore I suffered without my fruit pastilles and gums. But I got a few packages a week later when Taylor came home from England and some more a couple of weeks ago when Christine sent some from Scotland. They are all gone now. Shame. I could buy them at the British shop, but am too cheap to pay $1 a roll.

So what does that sentence tell you about me? Well, it tells you I love Rowntrees Fruit Gums and Pastilles. And that's really all it says. Read deeper if you must.

Here's the rules for the people I now have to tag.
Delve into your blog archive.
Find your 23rd post (or closest to).
Find the fifth sentence (or closest to).
Post the text of the sentence in your blog along with these instructions.
Tag five people to do the same.

I'll tag...let's see...Frank over at The Land of Ireland, UI (who doesn't seem to visit these days, sigh), Emma at Welcome to Melancholy, Bliss Disclosed and 42 Year Old Loser. There we go then.

Foolish, foolish me

Sometimes (OK most of the time) I speak before I think. And I did that yesterday and again today and I think have really fucked things up. I said things that I don't think are forgivable. I am not sure how, or if I can, make amends. I wish I could erase the last two days and start all over again. I wish that I did not say things out of anger that I don't mean. I wish that saying sorry was acceptable. I wish alot of things, but I don't think wishing will be much help in this case.