Wordless Wednesday- Like Father, Like Daughter

I think the title says it all.

Tuesday This'n'That - I apologize for the politics! But there's no *nastiness here.

*I express my dislike of Sarah Palin with the words 'God' and 'forbid'.

Note: I started this post at about 7 pm. As I finish it is going on 11 pm. I watched election coverage throughout most of the night, occasionally blogging while messing about on the computer. What else to talk about but the election? It's a long post is what I'm saying.

Just like I borrowed Musical Monday off of Suburban Mum, for this month I am borrowing Tuesday This'n'That off of Julie, host of the fantastic Christmas Ornament Swap. So here we go...random things that I have done, random thoughts that have crossed my mind, random is as random does...

* I have been following the US election with a lot more interest in which I followed the recent Canadian election. I am, as I am pretty sure most of you can guess, a supporter of Barack Obama. And yet, I do not think a Democratic presidency is the best thing for Canada. Democrats tend to be protectionist, and with the slide in the economy I exoect they will be even more so. I did not like Joe Biden saying some time ago that they would renegotiate the Free Trade Act, when really he needs both Canada and Mexico to do so.

* I am watching John McCain's concession speech and, my goodness, he is a class act. I can't wait to see Obama's though! I do note he has not yet mentioned Sarah Palin. And right as I said that did. I bet we'll see her in 4 years, God forbid.

* On facebook today you could donate your status to getting out the vote, or getting out the vote for the candidates. I used mine to "get out the vote" because what right do I, as a Canadian, have to tell you, the American reader, who to vote for? I don't care if you voted for McCain, Obama, Nader, Baldwin or anyone else. Do I think American politics affect Canada and the rest of the world? Most definitely. But it's not our right to say how Americans should vote. Now saying go and vote? In a democracy I do not think it just a right, but a responsibility. I have voted in every municipal, provincial, and federal election (and there have been 3 of those in just over 4 years!) since I became a Canadian citizen. I have also voted in one British election. I believe it is our responsibility to get informed and to go out and vote. And I am all for fines for those who don't vote, just like in Australia. Not that William, who has never voted, have ever been fined.

*And I venture away from politics finally! For ages I have blogged about how I need to get my birth certificate because I need my passport, my Canadian citizenship card and, ahem, my drivers license. Yes, I suck and don't drive. And with all those kids going here, there and everywhere I need to drive. So anyway! Yesterday I got the kick in the ass I needed to get the ball rolling on getting said birth certificate. My friend Shelley called and said that instead of going on the craft weekend next fall, the plan is to go to Washington on a shopping trip. Plus, should the Canadian government ever get their act together and grant William his residency the hope is to get ourselves over the border and to Disneyland. So today I go onto the internet to order my birth certificate from the British registry office. It's about $8 cheaper to order it if your have a GRO index number and other than my year of birth I have no idea what the other numbers needed are. So I call my mum, who I have not told about the missing birth certificate becuase I fear her wrath. I ask her about this number and after a lecture about my irresponsibility she says that she thinks she has my long birth certificate. She tells me I only had the short form and really? I think the woman is losing her mind because I KNOW I had the long form. I think I gave it back to her knowing that I am likely to lose it. Well, that's my theory. So anyway, I have my birth certificate and now I have no excuse to get my license. Which sort of scares me to be honest.

* I am in tears watching Barack Obama talk about his family. I am glad his supporters did not boo McCain like McCain's booed Obama. But I suppose they have more reasons to feel generous.

* I think to be a black person in America tonight must be an amazing feeling. To think 150 years ago there was slavery, that 45 years ago there was segregation, and that in just under 3 months the president of the United States, the leader of the largest super power in the world, will be a black man. Absolutely amazing and fantastic. I think no matter what your political views are you have to be in awe of that fact.

* My brother posted a note on facebook last night asking if Obama can live up to the hype surrounding him and fulfill his campaign promises. Note that I don't necessarily agree with everything he says! He is currently working in San Francisco, so has been in the midst of this election, inasmuch as visitor can be.

Excuse me whilst I wax pessimistic. But I am afraid Obama, the great half-white hope, will prove the greatest of weather vanes. What is it that he believes, what does his heart and his conscience tell him? I know not. I wish to believe that in his heart his aim will to be the best of men, the best of leaders. But I am afraid that of all the competing factions that will seek his attention it will be the moneyed interests that have his ear. Indeed, that will pull his ear to do their bidding.

Change? A cosmetic change of the status quo, perhaps, but I would bet for little else.

There will be fire in America.

Can he meet all these expectations that have been raised? I don't think he can do it in this first four years, I hope that he is given a chance to do it in his final four.

And then, today, Thom posted another note entitled "Okay, maybe I was wrong". The number 8 is very important to my brother. His tour around the world is meant to la 888 days. His birth date adds, subtracts and divides into 8. 8 is the number of abundance and prosperity.

For those of you who know me and love me you will know that I am somewhat of mathematician. Though I do not have, as of yet the proof, I have a theory that everything either adds, subtracts, multiplies or divides into eight.

Let us take today's date, for instance, November 4, 2008, adds to eight. Here the proof:

The day, the fourth, times by the month, the eleventh, is forty-four. Four plus four is eight. Now, the year, two thousand and eight adds to ten. Now ten plus eight equals eighteen and one and eight is... eight.

Wow, the darkness, of last nights political prediction, put forward before I did my mathematical equation and realized that today was the election on a day that adds so beautifully to eight.

Perhaps there is hope for humanity.

I so had so much more to say but people! The election! History being made!

I wonder what George Bush thinks.

Musical Monday - I love the whole world

Wth four Mondays ahead of me, and 28 more posts to think up I asked Suburban Mum if I could borrow Musical Monday off of her. Turns out it wasn't her brilliant idea. Who knew? She was the first blogger I knew of who used it. So to me, Musical Monday will always belong to Suburban Mum.

I love this Discovery Channel commerical. Except for the part with the giant spider. I always close my eyes at the part. My kids love this too. You will often her a very loud chorus of "Boom De Ya" coming from the livingroom.

Penis Envy

I had the following conversation with the 2 little ones at the dinner table the other day.

We are talking about something, can't remember what, and I refer to Sophie as a girl.

Sophie: I'm not a girl! I'm a boy!

Me: Of course you're a girl.

Sophie: No! I'm a boy!

Me: You're a girl. You know how I know that? You have a vagina and boys have penises.

Saoirse: I wish I was a boy.

Me: Why???

Saoirse: Because then I would get to have a penis.

And to think not too long ago she told me she didn't like penises!
Sometimes? I can totally see why families eat in front of the TV.

Hallowe'en

Ah, November...the first day of NaBloPoMo. Luckily, the month starts out after one of the biggest days of the year...Hallowe'en!


I was supposed to make witches' broomsticks for my treat bags for Saoirse's class but they didn't work out. As in, I cut about 5 bags, couldn't get them to look right and gave up. Plastic treat bags it was...


...but, hey, I made the tags. I even embossed. And I NEVER emboss. Becuase I tend to burn the paper. Shutup.


For playschool, Saoirse was Snow White. She was determined to be Ariel again but my friend Shelley picked her up the shoes at a garage sale this summer (they were in perfect condition, I don't think they had ever been worn and definitely not outside) and then Saoirse just had to be Snow White.


Sophie was going to wear a monkey costume to watch the playschool parade/concert but then I thought about this beautiful fairy dress my aunt had brought over from England for Saoirse. I added a pair of wings and tada...well, she's still Sophie with that grin. No sweet little fairy for me!


Some of Saoirse's classmates singing songs...


After a massive temper tantrum from Sophie over not wearing clothes under her costume we finally got out of the house. Here is my monkey with a stuffed pumpkin.


And here is my elephant taking a break.


I loved this yard! This coffin had some banging going on, and I was under the assumption that it was some battery operated thing.


My friend Tanya (dressed here as a hockey grandma complete with blue hair) was told she could try opening the coffin...


...and out popped an actual person. Tanya and I both screamed. We are such girls. (This picture was taken after his third pop up, I was laughing to hard to get a good photo. You know, after I was done screaming.)


I hestiate to wonder what this skeleton was meant to be doing when it died.


Some gravestones in the same yard.


Sophie, my neighbour Lachlan (Darth Vader), Saoirse, Tanya's girls Stephanie (Little Bear) and Samantha (Hannah Montana) and her son Tyler (as a Storm Trooper.) After we dropped Sophie at home Saoirse, Lachlan and I took a walk down to my friend Michelle's for her full size chocolate bars, stopping at houses along the way.


All in all, it was a great Halloween. Oh, and my other 2 children? The ones I seem to only mention in anger? They had fun too- Taylor and four of her friends went to a Farm of Fear just outside the city and Liam handed out candy at a friends. They are both on sleepovers tonight. No pics of them of course, I didn't even see Liam leave for school this morning and he went straight to his friend's after school. Taylor went as Bella from Twilight, other than some foundation to make herself pale and some glitter to "sparkle in the sunlight" she had no costume. She chose to be Bella over the others specifically so she wouldn't have to dress up. I so wouldn't have given her candy had she come to my house. Unless she sang for me of course.

The first haircut

At 2 years, 2 months and 2 weeks, Sophie finally had her first haircut! We had tried going last weekend and the girl said "If she's going to cry I can't do it." I thought "What? Don't most kids cry?" But whatever. Saoirse had her hair cut, Sophie didn't. On Friday we dropped Saoirse off at playschool and I said to Sophie "Would you like to go get your hair cut and then Mummy will buy you a bag of chips?"

Whatever works, people, whatever works. I am not above bribery.

As soon as we walked into the hairdresser's she freaked. "I'm not getting my hair cut! No hair cut!" I managed to placate her with some broken crayons and Happy meal toys (this is my salon- definitely not catering to toddlers!) while she gave a quick trim to some man. When he was done it was our turn.

Sophie wouldn't sit on the big cushion so I had to hld her in my lap. There went my plans for first haircut pictures.

She screamed, she cried, she yelled "NO!!!" at the stylist. She moved every which way even though I was holding her as well as I could. The end result is a little uneven, but at least she can see again.

Sophie in September:




Sophie yesterday:



Like I said, it's a bit uneven, but I think it makes her look sort of sweet, even if she was still mad at me in this picture and is giving me dirty looks.

To NaBlPoMo or to not NaBlPoMo

It's almost November. Can you believe it? I know, neither can I. Barely 2 months until Christmas. Yikes. I am the furthest behind in Christmas shopping that I have ever been. It's a bit frightening really. And I haven't even started making my Christmas cards! Good God, there will be some late nights ahead. The good news is that I have 3 new Christmas stamp sets. I know, I know. You are beyond thrilled. As you bloody well should be because if I have your address I am sending you a card. And if I don't have your address send it to me okay?

So have you noticed that my posts have been a tad sporadic? Once upon a time (or two or three times) I said that blogging reminds me of high school (so does plurk, twitter and facebook) and when I start feeling like I am reliving those days I have the need to do a runner. I was not a popular high school student and I am not a popular blogger. This is okay, mostly. But sometimes I feel like I am on the outskirts of the popular group just trying to be let in.

And then I realize that because I don't have the talent to be an A (or B, or even C) list blogger I would have to work to get there. And frankly? I couldn't be fucked. I don't have the time to comment on every blog, or even regularly read blogs. I don;t have the time, the energy, or the skill to blog everyday. I think it's great that people can do it, I assume they are either super organized or on speed or something. But I can not do it. When I was trying to do it I was sacrificing the things that are truly important to me- spending time with my girls, reading a good book, having sex, cleaning the house. Um, not that cleaning the house is important to me. But it certainly keeps the peace around here when it's clean.

I think I also forgot that I was blogging for ME. I began to want comments. I found myself competing with other bloggers to see who got more comments. Not only in regards to my own blog, but with others. Why does Blog A get so many more comments than Blog B when Blog B is so obviously the superior blog? Why have only a handful of people dicovered the sheer comedic genius that is Squishy Tushy? Why does Random Mommy not get 40 or 50 comments on her thought provoking posts? There are so many other bloggers I could name who are absolutely fantastic who do not get the credit they deserve. It took me some to relaize that they are not searching for it.

And I should not be searching for it either. Over the last year or so my writing has changed. It has become less honest, less me. Sometimes I hide things that I never used to hide. It has taken me some time to remember who the most important person reading this blog is- me.

So I am challenging myself to post every day in November. I may post a whole lot of crap. I may not. You can be guaranteed that shortly after midnight on November 1st, I will be posting Halloween photos. Whew. One post down, 29 to go. If I find that I am not posting for myself, if I am worrying about the lack of comments, about the fact that I am feeling guilty for not getting to blogs I enjoy then I am seriously going to have to reassess whether or not I should even be blogging. I many just have to open a document called A Question of Sanity and write it all out there.

See you in November. Or earlier probably. But only when my girls are in bed. And not on nights I would rather have sex. And not when I am reading a good book.

Lessons learned at work this weekend

It was Thanksgiving this weekend, so a three day work week for me. Normally, I am not a fan of stats, even with the extra pay, because it means I am missing out on a day at home with my lovely children (!) as well as a fancy meal prepared by my mother. Well, my mother is currently in England so no fancy meal and some of my children are slightly less than lovely these days so I didn't mind working this weekend. And sometimes? Work makes for okay blog fodder.

I learned a few things at work that I thought I would share with you.
I wrote the first one on plurk but in my ever so intelligent way I thought "Why share it with the 50 or so people who my come across it on plurk, when I could share it with my remaining half dozen readers?" Smart, that's me.

Lesson #1: Old men are pervs. Example number 1: I pick up a fellow who is the tender age of 80. His son is visiting and he is very tall. Not freakishly tall, but easily the tallest person I have seen who doesn't wear an NBA uniform. The patient himself is quite tall, and he tells me that his 3 sons are all taller than his 6'1", being 6'5", 6'6" and 6'10" (that would be the visiting son.) I say to him, "Your wife must have been quite tall also." And he says, "I put it all down to good titties."

Um, ewwwww?

Example number 2: I am walking into the ER and what do I see down the hall but a man sitting in a brod.a chair (a chair with wide padded belts that fasten up between the legs) having a wee wank! At first I thought he was just pulling at the blanket between his legs but when I walked by him about 5 minutes later he was actually playing with himself.

Again...ewwww.

Lesson #2: 20 year old girls can talk on the work phone, text on their cell AND study all at the same time. I worked with one girl for 2 of my 3 shifts who literally spent the entire time either on the phone or on her cell. How many times did I hear the story about her sorority sister buying her some amzing gifts? About 6 times, which was 6 times too many. What else did I learn about her? That she is voting only because her friend told her she should, that she missed a concert because she needed to study but that instead she talked with her friend until 4 am, that "dude, that is so dumb!" and that "dude, it was so great!", that she partied to hard but still would e went to an interview and that she thought the game the Oilers won, their first game of the season, was a Stanley Cup game.

Tonight I worked with another girl, who is also 20. These 2 girls are worlds apart. This one can carry on a conversation that does not take place on a phone and doesn't only involve talking about sororities, drinking and calling everyone dude. This one actually talks with me, and even though I rarely see her, I realized tonight that she knows the names of my kids, I don't think the other one even knows, or cares, that I have children. I always enjoy talking with her, even though our lives are completely different (she's a med student, off to work in Africa next year) we have a lot to say to one another. Shifts are never boring with her around.

Lesson #3: I am aging, and looking it. I think I have generally always looked younger than my age, but working amongst all these young ones has made me realize how very old I am. Today we were talking about schools it turns out that the guy I was working with went to the same junior high that my daughter goes to, that I also went to many years ago. For some reason this made one of the others ask how old I was and when I said my age she said "So you are older than my kids." Now it used to be that when I said my age, or how old my kids were, people would say "You don't look it!" or "You don't seem old enough to have a child of that age." Apparently I am that old. And I am old enough to have a child who is 13. What I am not? Is tall enough to have a daughter who towers over me a grand total of 4 inches. Okay, 5. Whatever. Can I not have that extra inch I have lied about for so long I actually forgot I was not that height until we measured me to see exactly how much taller Taylor was than I?

The point of this tale? People no longer tell me I look younger than my age. And when I look in the mirror even I think I look older. Blah.

Lesson #4: Nurses make a lot of freaking money. Whereas I was paid time and a half today, the nurses made double time. If they worked overtime today? They made double that. Imagine..$120- $160 an hour. Funny to think there is a nursing shortage in the province, where nurses are the highest paid in Canada, and amongst the highest paid in North America.

Lesson #5: Making out with your boyfriend when he is disgustingly dirty, reeking of drink, sick as a dog, lying in a stretcher in an ER hallway with EMTs around him and oxygen tubing coming out of his nose? Is not pretty. It is not pretty at all. I have seen some freaky ass things in that ER, but you, with your unlit cigarette hanging out of your mouth and your disgusting PDAs win the prize for freakiest of all freak asses.


And that in a nutshell was my Thanksgiving weekend.

I'm off to vote later today, as it is Election Day in Canada. Who to vote for? I am very torn. But that's a whole other post.

Around the world in 888 days - Leaving Los Angeles

My brother posted this as a note on facebook, and since he is not yet blogging (even though I harrass him every time we talk) I am copying it here. Hey, saves me having to write a post. Or think of one, for that matter.


It had been ten thousand miles, eleven weeks and one day since I had first had Brunhilda (his bike) on the road. South Carolina seemed worlds away from the Southern California I had just left that evening.
The sun was setting on the Hollywood Hills, as I was riding to the 101 to catch its north flowing traffic. I passed the boulevards Santa Monica, and Sunset. Narrow streets fronted by buildings of a far earlier generation, streets active with the to and fro of pedestrians. I thought with great favour upon my week in LA. The storied and legendary Los Angeles. La La Land. It is, for certain, home to many an angel, truly beautiful people who call it, and its pockets of cool community home.
I followed Cahuenga to its end, as it ingeniously snaked and turned to meet the 101. A week of blue skies I had had and the last of the sun tinged the edges of sky pink. I took in a big breath, again my love for Los Angeles affirmed. Descending to meet the traffic, to the right trees running along the curb and from it rose a plume of dust as a man with dirty matted hair kicked at the earth and released words, unintelligible, screaming first in a sharp falsetto than a deep baritone. I caught his eye as he turned to look at the line of traffic descending on the ramp - his young face yet to be ravaged by the trials of poverty and addiction. Two seconds was my window onto his world. With it he would be unto the end. A moment later I was laying off the throttle to join the long line of bright red lights braking themselves forward, six lanes strong, north on the Hollywood Freeway. The sky grew darker, a few exits more and the pace picked up, a Mercedes to my left, a long white stretch limo passes me to the right and I was leaving Los Angeles.

Help a gal (or two) out

So over at Burgh Baby, the entire month's ad revenue is being donated to the Flight 93 memorial fund. More money is made for each and every click of a page. And to make a bit more money for this worthy cause Burgh is hosting a contest in which bloggers have donated prizes.

There's all sorts of great stuff...gift cards, clothing, makeup, DVDs...and all you have to do is leave a comment saying what you would like should your name be drawn.

I did a little Second Cup shopping this weekend and picked up some white hot chocolate (the best ever!) and some English breakfast teabags. Since we hadn't opened anything yet, I thought I would donate that, and I will pick up some Tim Horton's coffee since people seem to like it. Not me, I'm not a coffee fan. Did you know there is even a Tim Horton's in Afghanistan? It is not only enjoyed by Canadian forces, but by all NATO soldiers.

I also have some cards I am willing to pass on. I was a little nervous when a gal who makes stampin' up cards put her name in for them because say she is absolutely amazing? There are couple each of the first two cards, and a quite a few of the final card...perfect for those little girl birthday parties!

So go on over to Burgh Baby, tell her you want my stuff so that at least I offer a little competition to all the great stuff over there. And, you know, so I don't look like such a loser.

Attention Wal-Mart Shoppers...

...I'm thinking that all you people shopping at the west end Wal-Mart yesterday have never had a child, or, judging by the age of some of you, you gave birth in the midst of the Depression and have convienently forgotten that two year olds are prone to temper tantrums. Of course, I forget that children "back in my day" were extremely well behaved and never, ever would have dreamed of pitching a fit in the midst of the super long Wal-Mart line. Or the local Hudson's Bay Company in those days I suppose.

But my two year old? She is prone to those tantrums. And quite honestly, I don't need to listen to your snide little comments. I don't need to feel your evil glare boring a hole in the back of my head. I don't need to hear from my friend that the guy in the line behind her said "She should just give that kid a sucker."

First off, I am not going to reward my child for having screaming bloody murder. As much as I hate the fact that I am making a store full of people listen to my child have a fit, I am not willing to give her a treat to make her stop.

And just so you know, she wasn't crying because she wanted some candy and I said no. She was crying because she wasn't allowed to run amongst the bras and panties. She was mad that I made her walk away. So mad she decided just to lie down in the middle of the aisle. Me picking her up and putting her in the cart is what led to her trying to scream the building down.

Yes, I know that girl can scream. It was in my ear after all. But you? Are no more mature than her with your holier than thou attitudes.

Not so sincerely,

Emma,
Mum of 4 (and just so you know, 2 of those 4 never had tantrums!)

How a miserable week ended well

This past week was hard. I always find September stressful, it seems like for every dollar we bring into the house I am required to spend 2. School fees, new gym uniforms, fundraisers, $73.45 dance shoes, indoor soccer fees...it's neverfreakingending.

But this September? Has been a bitch. She has kicked me in that ass one too many times. And this past week has been a nightmare.

Last week Saoirse developed a cold which turned into asthma. William was getting ready for work and we watched her struggling for breath as she slept. He said he was calling into work and taking her to the ER.

On the weekend, Liam's soccer team was in the Inter-cities. They lost their first game on Saturday morning. Liam was pretty down, as the goalie he felt responsible for their 6-1 thrashing (when in reality they still would have lost by 3 goals had he not let in 2 rather easy ones.) I told him he played a good game (he did! he made some amazing saves) and gave the usual rahrah statements. He got upset, William said something stupid, I got mad, William got mad...blah, blah, blah. They lost game 2 that evening and game 3 the next morning. They came in 4th out of 4 and yet they still got a medal. Copper. Who knew? I think it's pretty ridiculous myself. So did Liam apparently as he immediately gave it to Saoirse, who now has a pretty impressive collection of soccer medals. Two belong to her, the rest are Liam's.

On Monday William didn't go into work again. I had to go for a filling. Ouch.

On Tuesday William went into work and came home just past noon. I thought he was home early for lunch but it turned out he had been sent home "to cool down." Which worked out great for him, as the Liverpool game was on TV. For months William has been asking to change departments and has been getting the run around. That day they told him he could move in October if his attitude improved. I guess he got a little mad about this. I can't really blame him, they have sort of fucked him, and others, around. He was supposed to get a raise in April but didn't. They were told that when they did get the raise in would be retroactive to April. They then decided to do that just for people who had been there a year. William kicked up a fuss, as I think most of us would. He then found out that all new hires were being paid what they were. So it really wasn't much of a raise at all. Anyway, they didn't like that he was standing up for himself. Granted, William is not exactly the most tactful person out there so I can certainly see where they might refer to an attitude.

On Tuesday evening I had a meeting at the playschool. I thought it would be an hour. It was 2 and a half. I missed the early viewing of 90210 for goodness sake. I got home at 9 pm and Taylor was sitting at the computer and Liam was watching TV. The dishes from supper, 3 hours before, were still sitting on the counter and the table. I freaked. You know, I had just had enough. Do I really need to tell a 13 year old that I would like her to do dishes? I went on strike, in regards to anything to do with Taylor and Liam. I told them I wouldn't cook for them and I wouldn't do their laundry, clean their bathroom, etc... It is now Saturday and I have not cooked a meal for them yet. I did do their laundry today, forgetting that they were not in my good books.

He took a personal day on Wednesday. Silly. Saoirse had an appointment with a pediatric lung specialist. For the first time, I realized that Saoirse could actually die from this. Even though I have a cousin who died during an asthma attack I just didn't think of it like that. So he prescribed a nebulizer for her and the neds that go with it. We were told to pick the machine up at the pharmacy downstairs, as most don't carry it. I was cursing myself for not bringing my insurance card through William's work, as my coverage is 80% and his is 100%. So the pharmacist shows me how to use it and then says "$230. And it's not covered by Blue Cross." Huh? Insurance covers the medication but not the machine needed to administer the medication? What is that craziness? Well, payday wasn't until Friday and there wasn't $230 in the bank. I slunk out of the pharmacy with my head down in shame. Well, until I had to chase Sophie through a food court. Then I was just pissy.

Thursday morning William had a panic attack before going into work. (Have I mentioned boefre that he suffers from anxiety? He does, big time.) Needless to say, he didn't go in. Later that morning I listened to a message from his boss asking him to come in and talk. William, who must live in lala land, was under the impression all would be fine. I was a little more realistic. I was pretty sure he would be fired and if not fired, then severly reprimanded. Essentially what happened was he went in for this "talk" and his boos said "Here are your papers. We have just cause to let you go." By saying they have just cause they don't have to pay him a week in lieu of notice. And they do have just cause. He missed 4 out of 5 days. It doesn;t matter that he was one of the hardest workers they had. I would have fired his ass too.

So yeah...it was a shitty week.

But then... he called a company that had advertised in the paper that they needed installers. This is what William wanted to do at the company he was working with, and for some reason it never happened. He had talked to them on Tuesday, knowing that his days at Company A were numbered. He was asked to come in for an interview on Friday. And he got the job! They will train him for 2 weeks, they will build the rack he needs for his truck, they will even pay for the tools he will need and he can pay them back "$100 here and there." Because he will be a contractor, he will need a company. They gave him some ideas for that, and we have a few friends who have small companies, so we will talk to them. I'm very excited about this, I really hope it all works out.

Because if I have another week like this one? It won'be be pretty. Not at all.

An early conversation about boy parts...

Saoirse (2 months away from age 4): I don't like penises.

Me (good mother that I am): Oh, I bet one day you will.

Saoirse: You mean when I'm bigger?

Me: Yep, when you are bigger. Much bigger.

God forbid when she realizes what you do with those penises.

Random happenings in the neighbourhood.

*A couple of people asked for updates on the woman who coded in Labour and Delivery...she was in fact transferred to a major hospital in the city. (My workplace is not equipped for traumas...so if one gets shot they should hope that they don't get dropped off at our ER doors, which did happen a few weeks ago.) Oddly enough, I was talking to my neighbour who is a student nurse and I asked if she had heard about this and the woman was actually sent to her unit. Apparently she was in labour for some 30 hours, baby was breech and then they did the section. I find this a bit odd as we share the same doctor and I know my doctor would have been pushing for a section long before 30 hours had passed. I'm assuming the mother herself was insistent upon a vaginal birth, but I could be very wrong. Anyhow, hows this for a great big ouch- we all (well, the mothers amongst us) know how painful engorgement is...imagine engorgement right after your chest has been cracked open. Ow!

She saw the baby for the first time at 5 days old, they are both out of their respective hospitals and at home now.

*Proof that I am old before my time...I live right across the street from my community league hall. Behind the hall are some basketball hoops, where we quite often see teenagers hanging out. The other week though, a sports car drove up onto the grass and they blasted music while they played. I was annoyed, is it not bad enough that a fancy dancy sports car is there every Friday night to sell drugs? Do I now need to listen to rap while my girls are trying to fall asleep? And how disrespectful to drive up on the grass...honestly. Teenagers today. Tut tut, she says.

So I called the police. Not 911 people, I am not quite that pathetic. And I was placed on hold. I was on hold long enough that the car drove away and I hung up. Then on the Saturday at about 11.30 they showed up again. The girls were in bed, with their open window kitty corner to the field. The base was so loud that when I stood on my deck I could feel the vibrations. I was pissed off. So just before midnight I called the police. I was on hold for a few minutes and when the phone was answered I explained the situation. He asked my name and I said my first name. I can hear him typing away and then he says "Your last name is Mclastname?"

"YES!" I say, "How did you know that? That's from when I called in about the drug dealer isn't it?"

He says "Call display."

"Oh right, am I ever an eejit."

"Yep, we have all the latest technology."

Facetious bastard.

So he says he'll send out a police car and 15 minutes later I looked out to see police lights and heard the sound of silence. 15 minutes for a noise complaint? I was mucho impressed. I hope I didn't make them late for a stabbing or something.

A while later I see the sports car drive away and a few minutes after that the phone rings. It's a police officer.

I gave those boys a harsh verbal warning, he says. He told them that if they were caught again it would be about $1000 in fines. He says to me that they aren't even from here, they are from the south side.

"What were they doing all the way out here?" I say.

"That's exactly what I asked them, they said it's just a great set of hoops."

"That's fine and dandy, I have no issues with them playing there at all, we are always watching the kids (jeesh, I really am OLD) play, it was the noise so late at night that bothered me, my little girls are in bed."

"I totally understand," he says. "I can tell you that the young man in question has never been in trouble with us before, and that was evidenced by the tears in his eyes."

"Now you're making me feel guilty!"

And I did feel guilty, for a brief moment. But really? I like quiet late at night when the kiddos are in bed. It's bad enough that I live next door to crazy and am across the street from drug dealing luxury vehicles. I don't need to listen to rap at full blast at midnight.

Yep, I'm old. And grumpy. God forbid what I will be like at 75.

*Sophie turned two last Sunday. The Sunday 8 days ago, not just yesterday. I am nothing if not thorough when it comes to posting about my children's milestones. She had a great day, we went to see Sesame Street Live in the afternoon, and then we had some friends over for a barbeque. She received many lovely gifts, even though I said no gifts please! She ate an entire piece of cake and while she was eating it she wished me a happy birthday. I know! She is freaking adorable. I just want to eat her up, she is so cute and cuddly.

Shall I let you see for yourself, the yummy goodness that is my 2 year old? I've posted these on facebook, but apparently the only blogger that regularly looks at my photos is Squishy Tushy. And my mother, but she isn't a blogger and she doesn't comment either. She just calls me up and says "How could you post a picture of Sophie with a dirty face?" (easily...the child is dirty 2 seconds after you give her a wash) and "Take that picture of me down! I look awful!" Which reminds me...better delete that picture. She made me promise.

Oh yeah...the pics...


Well. There are no photos. Blogger is a bastard. I've tried downloading them twice and it hasn't worked. They are on facebook though, and if you don't fancy looking on facebook I'm pretty sure you can scroll through the teeny tiny album in my facebook profile on the sidebar. I mean, I honestly can not imagine that you would not want to look at pictures of my daughter. And then comment on her absolute adorableness and then lovely personality that just shines through.

*I received my book swap last week, from Beckie and let me just say it was like she knows me! Her book was the perfect choice for me. It was "The Vanishing Act of Esme Lennox" by Maggie O'Farrell, an author I have read before and quite enjoy. I started reading the book that day, and finished it the next. From the first pages to the shocking last pages I loved every moment. It made me cry, and I love when an author has the ability to make a reader really care for the characters. I adored the character of Esme for both her quirky personality and her strength.

I highly recommend this book to any reader of fiction, I can guarantee you will have a hard time putting it out. It has joined my bookcase of "lend out, but never give away" books. Thanks, Beckie, for a great choice!

If anyone else has blogged about their swap please let me know so I can link to it.

Around the world in 888 days

(Otherwise known as "Meet my brother".)

I may have mentioned on here that my brother Thom is on an around the world tour, he started out in Mexico and then went to Miami where he purchased a motorcycle, had his wallet stolen, went to the Smokey mountains, went back to Miami, went on a cruise to the Bahamas, back to Florida and is now in New Mexico.

We have been conversing a bit on facebook and a few days ago I asked him if he was still in Miami, he emailed his answer to me and since he is a much better writer than I, and since I still have nothing to blog about (so not true, just one huge incident that has taken over my household and has left me totally drained, unable to blog about birthday parties and the events we have enjoyed in Festival City.) I am going to write his reply here. This was actually an email he had sent to friends:


"The eighth day of the eighth month of 2008 and finally I was leaving Florida. I had arrived that morning, Friday, from the Bahamas, hours it took to disembark the boat, not till two in the am was I off and through passport control, another three months stamped into my passport. I didn't make it far down the road, I pulled off and got a motel in West Palm Beach. I awoke in the morning at the Super 8, I opened the door to my room, number 108, to see a car parked next to my bike (Brunhilda) (Thom names all his vehicles) the last three digits read eight zero zero. The day had certainly begun auspiciously.

It was, again, a hot day, cycling through the information on Brunhilda's computer display I read the temperature at 96 degrees. An hour out of Orlando I could see that was going to change as I was driving right into a storm, the sky dark with black cloud, lit on occasion by a flash of lightning. The rain began to come down hard bouncing off the road a bolt of lightning hitting the median between the highway. I thought at first the shock on my hand was the electricity but convinced myself instead that it was just the pelting rain on my exposed hand. The heat of the day quickly gave way to a chill as my jeans became soaked and the singlet beneath my mesh kevlar jacket drew in water. I saw a bridge flying over the turnpike and considered seeking cover under it to put on my gortex underjacket. It came and went in a flash, hestitation determining for me to go on. I had come to expect these storms to last no more than an hour and riding at 80 miles an hour to move through them even quicker. This one was to last longer than expected, but eventually I could see light slowly show itself in a corner of the darkness, lighting white the spray coming high off the tires of the vehicles in front of me, turning vibrant the green of the adjacent fields. The rain ended and the pavement became dry, the sun broke through the clouds and I was assaulted by its heat. I was dry with in half an hour.

Cleared Orlando, rode the turnpike till its end the afternoon quickly fading into evening, north I continued. To my right I spied a massive roadside billboard '888 ADMIT IT' So true I thought. Above, written much smaller 'if gambling is a problem call' I couldn't help but chuckle. Saw the blue shield of the interstate with '10' emblazoned on it. I exited off the 75 the single lane splitting, green signs hanging above the road East to Jacksonville declared one, the other West to Tallahassee. The roadside artfully planted with palm and pine. I kept left following the road as it crested a rise and turned into the setting sun. 'Yes! West' cried my heart 'West'. (Yeah, he's a bit of a strange duck.)

I thought I would cut and paste this Em in answer to your question, No, no longer in Florida. Leaving New Orleans today for New Mexico a few days journey on soon to be in the deserts of Nevada for Burning Man."

I spoke to him the other day and I said he must blog this journey nad he said he will be, that as his next stop he hopes to take some of the emails he has sent and turn them into posts.

Just to take a moment to tell you guys a bit about my brother...he is my polar opposite. Outgoing, personable...if any one of you met him I can guarantee you would love him. He is a complete free spirit, does yoga and took a course qualifying him to teach it in Quebec. He's only a year younger than me, but has had so many more life experiences. He is an amzing uncle, all my kids adore him. He is beyond generous...before he left for Florida he bought Taylor, Liam and myself ipods. Instead of selling his truck to the highest bidder, he has left it with William and I to buy off him when William's residency finally comes through, and for less than he could have got elsewhere. He really is a fantastic person.



Does anyone know Florida well? I am sure this was taken in Key West.