I couldn't have said it better myself.

I'm reading this book right now called The Bad Mother's Handbook. It takes place, as so many of my reading choices do, in England. Northern England, actually. Near Wigan and Bolton, since you really want to know.

It's about 3 generations of women, 33 year old Karen, her 80 year old mother Nan, and her 17 year old daughter Charlotte. The novel moves from character to character telling her story.

At one point Karens says this:

"What is it about kids? I'd lie down in front of a train for Charlotte without a second thought, but most of the time want to beat her about the head with a blunt instrument. Do all mothers feel this way?"

While I am quite sure that there are a great many mothers who can say nothing but good about their children, we all know that I am not one of those. There are days when I could write the bad mother's handbook myself. I'm sure I've authored a chapter or two on this blog.

And it's very true, this statement, for me. I would gladly jump in front of a train for any one of my four children and would threaten the life of any man who hurt one of them and yet, there are days when I think that if one of them talks back to me one more time I am likely to blow a gasket right in their direction.

Motherhood...it's a complicated job. Frankly, I think deserve that $116,000 per year the think tanks say we are worth.

Yes, my friends, it is yet another meme...

...and it's not like I have nothing to post about...there was the awards night fiasco where they forgot to call up Taylor to receive her honours award...there's the Catholic Archdiocese telling people not to go see Bodyworlds and telling parents that they shouldn't give their daughters the HPV immunizations...none of the church's business what I and my daughter decide to do for her health...believe me if we decide to go ahead with this shot (after much research) it will not be a free pass for her to have sex at the age of 14.

But I don't feel like writing about any of that, so from the lovely CPA Mom I enlighten you with the

ME from A to Z. That would be zed, not zee.

A is for age: 34

B is for beer of choice: Oh, beer. Yuck. Not only does it taste and smell absolutely disgusting but it tends to make me throw up. When I was 17 I threw up at a table in a bar in front of the guy I totally had a thing for. Needless to say, he and I? Nothing.

C is for career right now: Career? What's that? Am seriously considering going back to school for Social Work though.

D is for your dog’s name: No puppy currently; but as a child had two dogs, Toby and Brittany.

E is for essential item you use everyday: Toothpaste.

F is for favorite TV show at the moment: Remember when there used to be only repeats in the summer? I am loving Swingtown, Last Comic Standing and the Mole. I think I may even watch Canadian Idol this year.

G is for favorite game: TV Scene It. Obviously I watch way too much TV so I totally rock at the game. And I am super competitive too.

H is for Home town: Birmingham, England. I know I should say Edmonton, I know I should.

I is for instruments you play: Do sex toys count? No? None then. No talent in these fingers.

J is for favorite juice: strawberry banana. Though I would choose clamato juice with a little vodka over plain old juice.

K is for whose butt you’d like to kick: Oh, let's not talk about it.

L is for last place you ate out at: Opa! (a Greek fast food place at the mall) For a proper sit down restaurant it would have been Red Robin. A disaster with Sophie and her father duking it out.

M is for marriage: Married but not to William. I know. Scandalous.

N is for your full name: Emma Jayne McD.... ...it's on this page somewhere.

O is for overnight hospital stays: A D&C at 17, baby at 21 and 22, baby at 30 and 32

P is for people you were with yesterday: Hmmm...Wednesday...what did I do? Hung out with the girls...Liam was at camp...William when he came home from work...awards fiasco at school, which I went to with Taylor and my friend Michelle and her son Connor...drinks at Second Cup with them afterwards.

Q is for quote: "Youth fades; love droops, the leaves of friendship fall; a mother's secret hope outlives them all." -Oliver Wendell Holmes
"How wonderful it is that nobody need wait a single moment before starting to change the world."- Anne Frank.

R is for Biggest Regret: Well, as you may know I like to say I have no regrets because every possible regret is a lesson learned. However, I wish I had gone to university or college.

S is for status: Mother.

T is for time you woke up today: 6.45 the first time and since I hadn't gone to bed until 4 I made the girls watch TV in my room and we all fell back asleep. Got up at 9 to wake Taylor up to go to school where they walked over to the church for theit year end celebration.

V is for vegetable that you love: Eggplant, cucumber, red pepper, scallions, zucchini

W is for worst habit: biting nails.

X is for x-rays you’ve had: one I think. Chipped elbow at the age of 10.

Y is for food you ate today: hamburger at the pool party today, just had a rice krispie square, so much for not eating after 8.

Z is for Zodiac sign: Saggitarius. The best sign ever. Did you know we are prone to sciatica? And that our day of the week is Thursday, a day on which my 3 youngest children were born? And that we don't like cleaning? Glad I can blame it on something.

Too many with 16.

A random photo post. Random in that all the pictures have a jpg with the number 16 in it. Why 16? It's my favourite number. My birthday is 16/12, my favourite hockey player of all time (one Kell.y Buchbe.rger- I don't want any random stalkers of his to land here as oddly enough our children attend the same school. Weird hey? I mean I was mad about him when I was 13 and attending that very same school) was number 16. Oh, and I lost my virginity on the 16th of July. Or the 7th. I'm not really sure about that one. It took a few tries before it worked.


In no particular order, these are from July '05 to this month.

Levi from Liam's soccer team. This was taken seconds before he was kicked in the head and went down.


Saoirse in the ball crawl at a local play place. Called Play Place actually.


Sophie with reindeer ears on.


Sophie, who likes to lie in chairs rather than sit.


"Mmmm...nanas!"


Mini train at the International Children's Festival.


Sophie at her first birthday nonparty. Look, she even looks pissed off that no one was there.


Sophie trying to open a pckage of fruit snacks. Yes, I do allow my one year old to play with plastic wrappers.


Saoirse decided to have a birthday party for me, a little early but that's okay. She and Taylor made papercup party hats and sang happy birthday to me.


Saoirse hanging out under the not yet decorated Christmas tree.



My table at Goldeye. I had 2 to myself actually. That's the benefit to arriving early.


Taylor and our neighbour Thomas running after the horse drawn sleigh at our neighbourhood winter carnival. Yes, we really do do stuff like that.


Sophie playing in the princess castle.



Taylor's confirmation. She is third from the left. Right behind her is the former Archbishop. He also confirmed me. 22 years before, not that day. Obviously.



Sophie kissing Daddy. Why yes, that is my vacuum in the middle of the floor.


I absolutely loved this house on Stanley Street in Nelson (BC). It is 19th century and I dream about what the inside would be like to this day. This is the house I would love to have.


Saoirse sleeping on the sofa.


a newborn Sophie.


Sophie at about 6 weeks.


Saoirse's 2nd birthday. Blowing up balloons.


Daddy feeding Sophie. Jeesh, those parents who let their babies fall asleep with a bottle in their mouths. I actually forgot that she would take the odd bottle until I saw this picture.


The wave pool at the water park in the mall. Aug'05. That would be a very skinny Liam hanging on to William's back.


The Christmas tree. Dec 05.


Saoirse, hidden amongst the stuffed animals.


Taylor's friends Marissa and Ashley doing karoke at Taylor's 11th birthday.


Friends of Liam's at his 10th birthday. No Liam of course.

Who told Liam he was allowed to grow up?

For almost 9 years Liam was my baby. He still is, he just doesn't know it. Nor would he want to be thought of as a momma's boy. But no matter what he will always be my only baby boy.

Tonight my baby boy had a Grade 6 farewell at his school. Next year, they are off to Grade 7 and the world of junior high with all that that entails...soccer teams, options and a bus ride to the other side of the city. (Apparently, I'm still not over that.)

The majority of his friends from his Academic Support class will go to the same school as Liam next year as they continue on with this program. Only one of his friends is moving into the regular program and I know Liam will miss him, but I hope they will see each other out of school.

The school had a farewell dinner and a small ceremony for them in which they received a fancy dancy pen (not really) and a cross on a silver stone. There was a slideshow of pictures and I hinted to another mother that perhaps the students should each receive a copy. She suggested it to one of the teachers who said yes, they could do that. It never hurts to ask. Or to get someone else to do it for you.

I'm not sure what has happened over the course of this school year. In September he could still fit into a size 8 pair of jeans. By Christmas size 10 no longer fit. This week I noticed that all the brand new size 12s he has are almost at his ankle. Damnation. The child is growing faster than we are making money. He's still quite skinny, so thankfully we can get away with size 10 shorts this summer! He is coming along with his reading and is still the top Grade 6 math student, even amongst the kids in the regular program. His confidence this spring has been amazing. He is a great big brother. Now, if I could just get him to keep his room clean for more than a day I would declare him the world's most perfect 12 year old boy.


Liam, with 2 of his classmates, Sasha and Josef. Joey is the one going to a different school next year.


We were asked to provide the school with a baby picture, a picture from kindergarten and their Grade 6 picture. They made this photo out of them. If you click on this photo you can see what a cutie he was as a baby.


This is a picture from the slideshow. Minus the little circle of dirt on his face, he looks quite handsome here, I think.


Liam and his teacher. I had really hoped to get a better picture, but damn it if one the dads didn't keep her talking after the event.


Josh, Joey and Liam outside the school. Now that he is no longer going to be there, I am not bothered about posting a picture with the school name on it. Feel free to stalk away, stalkery types.

Tomorrow is Liam's last day of classes. Wednesday morning the Grade 6 classes go camping (where they will canoe, rock climb, zipline and learn archery) and they arrive back at noon on Thursday which is the official dismissal for summer holidays.

Oh, summer holidays...how fondly I remember those days of sleeping in, hanging with friends all day, riding bikes and discovering new places or even just lazing about. Those really were the days. Must remind my children of that when they start complaining about being bored!

Politically Incorrect? *EDITED* *AND AGAIN!*

At the risk of offending people and coming across as sounding like a complete and total eejit I am going to ask this question:

Do you say African American or black? Or do you have another term entirely?

In Canada we hear African American from the American news (of which we are inundated with, even before the advent of cable TV) and, in our very indecisive Canadian way, a variety of different terms from the Canadian media- black, Caribbean, Jamaican, (insert any country with a majority black population). I do not think I have ever heard "African Canadian" and occasionally have heard African American.

I was reading an article in the the paper the other day about a school that has opened in the city for high achieving black students and I wondered if black was a term that would offend Americans?

And then today, I was reading my novel, Motherland, which takes place in England. The main character is accused of being a racist partially for referring to someone as "black" rather than "Afro Caribbean".

Is she? I don't think so. But do you? Inquiring minds want to know. Well, I do anyway.

*Edited to add... I guess I should have said what I say, which is black. However, in my very politically correct way, I am always worried that I am offending someone. Like Ms. Porter I don't use African American because a) being in Canada it highly unlikely that they are American and b)there's a pretty good chance they aren't African either. I believe the majority of black people in Canada are actually of some Caribbean descent (I've mentioned in the this blog before that Toronto has the largest Jamaican population in the world outside of Jamaica itself...even Edmonton with its rather small black population (3.1%) has an annual Cariwest festival) but I haven't heard Afro-Caribbean used here.

It's the same with what do you call someone who is native? I grew up with Indian, which is apparently quite taboo these days. We don't say Native American in Canada and First Nations sounds odd to me to use as a descriptive term. So I say native, but again I always wonder if I am wrong.

William thinks I am too politically correct, that I need to stop worrying that I am offending someone, that I shouldn't correct my 22 month old when she says "PAKI-stan" instead of a more smooth, less enunciated "pak-is-tan."

Why does Sophie even need to know how to say Pakistan (or Afghanistan, or Australia, or even Canada) at this age? I don't know.

** Edit...I wonder if the anonymous who uses that word is also the same anonymous who figured I had a thing for my son. Small minds and all that. My firt instinct was to delete that comment. But maybe it's good to know there are still complete morons in this world?

An open letter to "anonymous"

Hello Anonymous,

I believe that if you are going to call someone out and maybe even accuse them of being an incestuous pervert that perhaps you should do it without the veil of anonymity. Because honestly? It makes you look like an eejit.

If you are someone who regularly comments on my blog (which I am pretty sure you are not) than you should know me well enough to say "What the fuck did I just read?" You would then perhaps have reread the statement and realized that you read it wrong.

Even if you have never commented on my blog, you still shouldn't hide who you are. It is just plain wrong. You can't leave a negative comment and hide who you are at the same time.

Please take the time, anon, to reread this statement in its entirety:

"I must get a picture of his coach to show you all, I think he is adorable and if I were 18 I would totally have a thing for him."

In that statement his would be referring to Liam, my son. Coach would be referring to my son's coach. Ergo, what I actually was saying was "I must get a picture of my son's coach, I think my son's coach is adorable and if I were 18 I would totally have a thing for my son's coach. "

Do you see that Anonymous? I think MY SON'S COACH is cute. Granted, he is a good 10 years younger than me, but I am quite sure it is not illegal to think someone over 18 is cute. But even so, what I said was "..if I were 18 I would have a thing for him." However, I am not 18 and I do not have a thing for him, I simply think he is adorable.

This is what you said to me, Anonymous:

"I think he is adorable and if I were 18 I would totally have a thing for him.


your talking about your son?
your SICK!"

Please take a moment and look that over. See a mistake? One that was made twice? The incorrect usage of the words your and you're drive me crazy. Please learn how to read and how to use proper wording before commenting on my blog again.

Thank you Anonymous. I would really appreciate it.

Sincerly,
Emma (who totally does not have a thing for her 12 year old son, not even if I were 18...which would actually make it impossible for me to be his mother. Please add addition to skills required before commenting here again, Anon. I was not birthing 9lb 9oz children at the age of 6.)

Once a week posting

It seems I have become a blogger who rarely posts. Once again, the bloggy mojo has fallen by the wayside. There's so much going on here, but I just can't bring myself to write a long, dull post about it. Even my twittering and facebook updates have slowed down. I used to update facebook faithfully but I could really care less this days.

Such a bad attitude...

Anyhoo, this is a run down of what has been going on. Oh, so exciting.

I have been sick for 35 days. Shutup Alissa! 26 of those days have been with bronchitis and I have never been so freaking miserable in my life. I've missed the last 4 weekends at work and they are not very pleased. Do they seriously want me to compromise the health of the sick and elderly? Of course, that's not why I'm hesitant to go back, I am freaked that I am going to have a coughing fit and pee myself.

Oh yes! I am suffering from stress incontinence. Poise pads and I are best friends. And when I ran out of poise pads? I was forced to steal a nappy from Sophie. Look at that, 34 years old and back in nappies. Bloody humiliating. I thought it would be done by now but no such luck. The first round of meds didn't work plus they gave me hives. I had just read an article on how bad bed bugs are in Edmonton and, in a fit of paranoia, was convinced we had them. It didn't matter that William and the girls didn't have them, I was sure. Vacuumed the mattress, scrubbed my walls, washed the blankets all while coughing and peeing and scratching the marks. Went to the doctor who informed me that they were hives. Well, at least my bed is really clean now. Oh, and he also informed that I have shingles. Yes, lucky me. Along with the coughing induced pulled muscles, cracked rib, peeing AND throwing up I am a total pleasure to be around.

William and I are finally in counselling. It is going well, I can even agree with his statement that I am selfish. It is quite true, but who knew I was using it as a defense mechanism from childhood? Boy, those psychologists can dig! (Which reminds me for those of you who wanted to know if I prefer giving or receiving your answer is there in the word selfish! Of course, I think I give more than I receive but I am sure he would differ. Sorry for the TMI, for those who didn't want to know!)

The kids are all doing well. Taylor is 13. What can I say? I'm a little pissed off that I took her out for summer clothes, spent $250 on her ($100 of that on ONE lululemon jacket) and have not yet heard the words "Thank you." She really needs to take some lessons from Sophie, who says thank you to absolutely everything. Can I for once find something positive to say about my oldest child? Yes, she went to camp this weekend and the house was very quiet. Only joking! She finally cleaned her room. And it looks looked lovely. It's Taylor, people, of course it's getting messy again. Oh, and she won the spirit award at school. Not quite sure what it is, something to do with being well behaved and working hard. And hey, as long as she behaves at school than I am pretty happy.

Liam is very exciting about almost finishing Grade 6 and moving on to junior high. The Grade 6 classes at his school go camping at the end of the school year, so he is looking forward to that as well. He is playing soccer again this year and is finally getting to play in goal, his favourite position. He has had an amazing season, his best ever. His team made it to the top tier for this final round. I must get a picture of his coach to show you all, I think he is adorable and if I were 18 I would totally have a thing for him.

Saoirse is also playing soccer, well she is more walking on the field, occasionally kicking the ball. But she too loves soccer. She is compltely recovered from the hospital stay, and has had no problems since. Playschool finshes up next Thursday. Not sure what she thinks about that, she loves going to school and hated missing it when she was in the hospital.

Sophie will be 2 in 2 months. She is so freaking smart. She repeats everything we say. You should hear her say 'Afghanistan'. So cute. I love some of what she is saying "Pash, pash" (pass...used for everything from a ball to food to more food..have I ever said how she loves to eat?), "I be back in a minute, okay?", "I carry you! I carry you!" (Obviously this is supposed to be 'You carry me' and we laugh everytime she says it. If you've seen me or heard me whinge about my weight, you know that William isn't going to be carrying me anywhere, never mind my toddler.)She loves swings at the park, cuddling with Daddy, helping me with the laundry ("I help you?") and climbing up the cupboards to stand on the counter and get into the snack cupboard. Of course, then she has to yell "I need down!" I am trying to get her out of climbing up them, one day she is going to fall and smash her head. Would you give a time out for that? I've never had this issue before. Sophie is a whole new ballgame.

And here is why I no longer post all the time...it takes so freaking long to write one simple post and here it is 12.30 am and I've a mess of scrapbooking on the table that I'm not going to be arsed to clean. Off to bed!

A meme about me, but of course.

I saw this on both Suburban Mum's and Mum of 4's sites and since I am not able (able? more like is too lazy) to do a proper post I am expecting you to totally enjoy reading yet another meme from moi.


My ex is a friend on facebook. (That would be the teenage ex, not the ex husband.) But I never called him by the first name he is using on there. And never would have, it used to drive me crazy when people called him that.

Maybe I should stop eating Doritos Collisions at midnight if I ever want to lose weight.

I love Doritos Collisions. Just trying to be witty, without success I am sure. I love books. And my kids. And William. And oral sex.

People would say that I am bloody fantastic. They wouldn't really. Um...some would say I yell too much. Judgemental fucks.

I don't understand how Alberta's premier and his cabinet ministers can justify a 34% raise, of which a third is tax free, when the average joe's raise doesn't even come close to covering the increase in the cost of living. That's if you get a raise, which my union has not yet managed to get us.

When I wake up in the morning it is rarely of my own free will. It's an alarm clock or children.

I lost my cell phone. Months ago, and Taylor just told me that she was playing with it and broke it. She said she would give me hers, but I would rather have Liam's newer and better one. Why couldn't he have messed about with my phone?

Life is full of questions.

My past is my past. Though sometimes I wonder.

I get annoyed easily. My bad.

Parties are dreaded. Am too shy for large crowds.

I wish that I was in England. Must stop reading books about England. Must remind myself that 21st century England is not 1940s England. Course, its not 1980s England either, which is defo a plus.

Dogs shit in your back yard. And scare Saoirse.

Cats shit in your house. I have enough people shitting in my house without adding to it, thanks.

Tomorrow I am going to the doctor to get a sick note for the past 3 weekends and possily the weekend upcoming. And an inhaler, since I am still coughing so hard I am throwing up. Lovely.

I have a low tolerance for bigotry. Like Suburban Mum I was going to say pain, but really? My tolerance is not just low, it is practically non existent. At the hospital when they ask what it is out of 10 I say negative 3.

If I had a miion dollars I would buy a house. Oh, there's goes $500,000 for a new house with 3 bedrooms and an unfisnished basement. Throw in finishing the basement so child 1 and 2 have rooms and furnish said house and that money would be pretty much gone. No feeding starving children here.

I am totally terrified of being stabbed. Unreasonable? Totally, but I would really hate to die that way. All potential murderers should be aware that I would prefer to be shot. (Not normally what I would have went with, but last week some man stabbed to death his tenant, wife, and 2 of his 3 young daughters. It seems almost every death I read about is knife related. Gives me the heebie jeebies.)

Crazy. Crazy, I say.

I popped over to Suburban Mum tonight and came across a personality test. I rather love personality and IQ tests and games of Scramble so thought I might as well as take this test. After all, how bad could it be? I'm a nice girl, smart(ish) and pretty down to earth. Not such a bad person at all. So I thought.

Big Five Test Results

Extroversion (26%) low which suggests you are very reclusive, quiet, unassertive, and private. Accommodation (56%) moderately high which suggests you are, at times, overly kind natured, trusting, and helpful at the expense of your own individual development (martyr complex). Orderliness (46%) medium which suggests you are moderately organized, structured, and self controlled while still remaining flexible, varied, and fun. Emotional Stability (50%) medium which suggests you average somewhere in between being calm and resilient and being anxious and reactive. Inquisitiveness (20%) low which suggests you are overly small minded, traditional, and conventional at the expense too often of intellectual curiousity, possibility, and progress.

Take Free Big Five Personality Test
personality tests by similarminds.com

I am not a reclusive! Yes, I am quiet and sometimes too unassertive, but reclusive? I mean, it's not like I live in a house with 9 cats and have no friends. I'm not particularly private either, I will tell anyone and their dog about issues that should be private, such as the ins and outs of my sex life.

Moderately organized? Obviously the quiz makers have not seen the pictures of my kids rooms.

I thought I would score much lower on emotional stability, but shocked myself with a dead even 50%. On reflection, this is quite accurate and I think much more frightening that being at either extreme. I mean, my kids never know if I am going to be nice and calm or fly off the wall and threaten their very lives. (Not really people. Calm down. Well, maybe once or twice. You know, the old "I could beat/kill/murder you for that!" Don't tell me if you are the perfect parent who has never had words of that sort cross their lips. I bet you've thought, but are just too emotionally stable to say it out loud.)

Trusting? More like freaking gulliable. And everytime I hear the word gulliable I am reminded of 2 British soldiers that totally had me on and made a fool of me. Bastards. And a martyr? Not so much, though perhaps I act that way on the blog with all my "I did this and this and this and didn't get so much as a thank you." Yeah, maybe that's sort of right.

I am completely and totally offended at being called small minded. I don't think I am small minded at all, I'm a Liberal for godsakes. That doesn't mean I am saying Conservatives are small minded, so don't get your knickers in a knot Stephen Harper/George Bush/David Cameron supporters. And traditional at the expense of progress? Excuse me?! So, so wrong. Sooooo wrong. I think I scored low because I answered not accurate in the questions that applied to theoretical physics. People!It said physics! Of course, I ran in the other direction. I am not of a scientific mind at all but that doesn't mean I can't form progressive opinions.

Other than that last one and the organization one this test was apparently pretty close to reality, even though I never would have said that stuff about myself. Except for the being too trusting.

Oh! I have to say that one of the statements was "I love large parties." I read it as "I love large penises." Not once, but twice. I think I have a penis obsession. I am fascinated by them. And just so you know I would have been right in the middle on that one. Having seen gigantic ones and almost miniscule ones and all the sizes in between I am of the opinion that size does not matter at all. It's all in how you use it. Both of you.

And that's all Dr. Emma, sex therapist, has to say about that.