Crazy Eights on Day Eight

8 things I'm passionate about:

1. My children. Even the ones who drive me crazy. Wait. That would be all of them.
2. William.
3. Reading.
4. Spending money.
5. Ummm...apparently I am not a passionate person. Passionate is a strong word. I will, however, debate you on the following:
- Circumcision is not a necessity
- euthanasia should be legal
- a woman should have the right to choose (but come on it's not a method of birth control)
- Liberal good/Conservative bad.
- The Edmonton Oilers sorta kinda suck
- Hockey players make too much money
- And who cares if the American dollar is weak and they are making less. That’s what you get for insisting on being paid in American dollars. Whingy brats.


8 things I want to do before I die:

1. Go to a Liverpool/Aston Villa game with William. And even though we cheer for opposite teams I’m pretty sure we could sit together.
2. Go to a Celtic/Rangers game. I would not sit with William at this game. That would not be a pretty experience. I am quite sure he would utter the word fenian.
3. Live in Ireland.
4. Own a house with a library.
5. Own a house with a kick ass craft room.
6. See my Grandad again.
7.Have all my children graduate from college/ university.
8. Enjoy my grandchildren.

8 things I say often:

1. Fuck off.
2. Piss off.
3. What are you talking about?
4. TAYLOR! GET OUT OF BED NOW!!!!!!!
5. Do not EVER use that tone of voice with me again.
6. Because I’m your mother!
7. I love you.
8. Ach, no.

8 Books I’ve read recently (or am still reading):

1. The Xmas Factor by Annie Sanders (just got it tonight!)
2. The Night Blitz - John Ray (about the Battle of Britain---a pretty dry read!)
3. The Bells of Burracombe- Lilian Harry (British WWII fiction- love it!)
4. A Song at Twilight- Lilian Harry (more WWII fiction.)
5. Lucy Sullivan is Getting Married- Marian Keyes ( a reread. Pee my pants funny.)
6. I Did (But I Wouldn’t Now)- Cara Lockwood
7. Goodnight Nobody- Jennifer Weiner (not as good as Good in Bed, but still a good read)
8. Paddy Clarke Ha Ha Ha- Roddy Doyle (another re read. This was maybe the 7th time? Love this book.)

8 Songs I Could Listen to Over and Over

1. I Really Want You- James Blunt (in fact I could listen to the whole album everyday. Well, I do. Lurve it.)
2. Lullaby- The Dixie Chicks
3. The Rocky Road to Dublin- Sons of Maxwell.
4. Home For a Rest- Spirit of the West (the best drinking song EVER)
5. Almost Gold – The Jesus and Mary Chain
6. (Gonna) Shine Up My Boots- Corb Lund
7. Rockstar- Nickelback (because Taylor loves this song)
8. Have a Nice Day - Stereophonics

8 Things that Attract Me to My Best Friends:

1. They make me laugh.
2. They put up with my occasional mood swings.
3. In a perfect world, they would all be fatter than me but such is not my luck.
4. They are not crazy (like my neighbour, who is.)
5. They like to have girl only weekends.
6. They like to go out for coffee/lunch/dinner.
7. They don’t judge me for my messy house. At least, not to my face.
8. They have great taste in friends.

8 People I Think Should Do Crazy Eights:

1. M at And Then There Were Two.
2. Rachel at Crazy Is.
3. Kaytabug.
4. Joy at A Spot of T
5. Debbie at A Step at a Time
6. Dawn at Colours of Dawn.
7. Frannie at the T Family Syndicate
8. Terri at My 4 Kids
Note these are all NaBloPoMo participants…just trying to provide you with blog fodder. And it won't let me link! Will try later.

Canadianisms

I was reading this post over at Alix's blog about the differences in American and British words she has discovered since she moved to the States and I thought "I can steal something to write about!"

Canadian English is a mixture of both British and American English. From one of my favourite books I am going to give you a sentence. British words will be in bold and American in italics.

Canadians write cheques for their colour TVs. They turn off the tap, eat porridge, put jam on their toast and gas in their trucks, and munch potato chips as they relax on their chesterfields.

Hardly anything in their that belongs to us. Except for chesterfield. And I don't know anyone who says chesterfield over sofa or couch.


In this same book there is a paragraph with 19 listed Canadian words (but not double double, which I don't think has made it overseas or south of the border but I think every Canadian knows what it means). I will send a prize (something Canadian) to whatever bloggers can tell me what words are Canadian.

Last night, I cashed my pogey and went to buy a mickey of C.C at the beer parlour, but my skidoo got stuck in the muskeg on my way back to the duplex. I was trying to deke out a deer, you see. Damn chinook, melted everything. And then a mountie snuck up behind me in a ghost car and gave me an impaired. I was S.O.L., sitting there dressed only in my Stanfields and a toque at the time. And the Mountie, he's all chippy and everything, calling me a "shit disturber" and whatnot. What could I say, except, "Chimo!"

Frankly, I think this paragraph is full of Newfie expressions but I could be wrong. As I read it I picture a guy with his two front teeth missing. Not that I'm saying Newfies have a lack of teeth, but you know, the ones I know do. Well a few of them anyway. But I do imagine a Newfie accent. And I'm not being bigoted people. I'm just too lazy to write out "Newfoundlanders."

And if you can tell me what those words mean? The prizes might actually be good.

Canadian bloggers...I think you're out on this one. Though I will admit to not knowing what a few of those words were.

For Nancy

My friend Nancy (you know, the Dear Nancy...please start blogging Nancy?) has recently started reading my blog and tonight I was led to my April 2006 archives were I wrote about a meal we shared with some friends. I thought that maybe she would like to relive the memory of that disaster:


Once a month, 4 of my girlfriends and I go out for lunch. It was supposed to be to Julio's Barrio, but Candy, Fiona and I went there a couple of weeks ago and our 3 meals plus one child's meal came to almost $70. So we decided to be cheap and vetoed Julio's in favour of my choice, the recently rebuilt Cheesecake Cafe.

This may have been a mistake. We arrived just before noon and Bev and Nancy were already there. First sign of impending disaster: the terrible makeup job on our waitress. Sorry, are they only called 'servers' these days? I am terrible for keeping up with current lingo. Anyway, the makeup was really bad; tons of foundation that ended just before the jaw line without being properly blended. And cat eye eyeliner, I don't care if it's the style, it looks horrid. Unless you're, you know, a cat. For someone who does not wear makeup I am very judgemental about it.

Plus she was a bit of a bitch.

We ordered drinks and our meals. Fiona was the first in the bad books of our waitress for asking for 3 slices of lemon with her diet pepsi. Then Nancy said there's something in my drink. I said it must just be a piece of her lime. But then I made the mistake of looking at my drink only to see 3 little somethings floating in it. I fished them out with my straw and am still not sure what they were. She brought Nancy and I new drinks (probably with a wee bit of spit in them.) My friend Shelley joined us at about 12.40 and only 2 of us had our meals. Bev's soup had arrived, but she had to request a new tea biscuit as hers was rock hard. My meal was the last to arrive, due to the fact that they had to remake it before it even left the kitchen.

So while we are all eating, with the exception of Shelley who had only a drink, Nancy suddenly spits something out her mouth. It is a huge grip. Not a regular sized one, but the really big ones. (By grip I mean bobby pin for all you North Americans. You know, all 3 of you.) It was in her salad. I was dying laughing (but stayed totally dry for anyone who reads the other blog.) Needless to say, Nancy's meal was sent back. The manager came over and offered to buy her a piece of cheesecake. Shelley said "I should hope you are buying the entire meal." Which they did end up doing.

By the end of our meal, she wasn't even answering us when we said thank you anymore, but let's face it the thanks were few and far between. We had our cheesecake. I had turtle, it was delicious.

Our bill came to about $90. Now, I know Canadians have a shitty reputation for tipping. I personally don't know anyone who is a bad tipper, with the exception of my mother, but she's English so that really explains it all I think. The group I was with today, we are great tippers. But not for this one. I think there was a $5.00 bill left on the table at the end of it all. Which is sad, but she was a cow. And there was no service and isn't that what you tip for? Though normally I do tip whether it is good or bad service. But no longer.

At the very end of it all, Bev was talking to the manager who gave her $20 in gift certificates and said that that waitress has been an ongoing issue. So, um, fire her? It's not like the Chessecake has a union and she can grieve it until kingdom come. Honestly, if it weren't for those gift certificates we would never do lunch there again. Well, we won't, but we will do cheesecake.

Next month we are off to Dante's, where once upon a time a great big Jamaican man tried to pick me up, but I was very drunk and when I am very drunk I somehow pick up an Irish accent, so I told him I was off home to Belfast in the morning. However, we will be in the restaurant in the middle of the day, not the club in the middle of the night so I think I and any Jamaicans are safe from one another.

*I have just realized that as I was using a fake Irish accent, it is entirely possible that he was using a fake Jamaican accent. Damn. It was very good though, but then so is my fake Irish one, if I do say so myself.

Not a big girl yet

For a long time Saoirse has considered herself a big girl. After all, she has a baby sister who used to cry a lot. And I do mean A LOT. She uses the big person toilet (Saoirse that is, not Sophie.)She can climb onto the kitchen counters and get her own snacks out of the cupboard. She's been sleeping in a bed for years. Not her own bed mind you, but still it's a bed and big girls sleep in beds. She watches big girl shows, not shows for babies like Sesame Street. Those are her words, not mine. Frankly, I love Sesame Street.

She's been moving in a big girl world for quite a while now. Except...except she still uses her dummy. I don't think I would mind the dummy so much if it was just restricted to bed time. But it's not. She would have it in her mouth constantly if you allowed it. If she is hurt the first thing she asks for is her dummy, not Mummy or Daddy. We put them away, she finds them. The dummy is like a life line.

For quite a few months now, we have been saying that the dummy is going away when she turns 3 because "when you are 3 you are officially a big girl and big girls don't use dummies." Once she started school, it was easy to also say that big girls in playschool don't use dummies either.

It appears that she has gotten use to the idea and during the day the dummy isn't in her mouth as often and she even managed to fall asleep without it one night. But when we talk about being a big girl she says "I'm not a big girl yet!" Tonight she even cried and said it. "No! I'm not a big girl yet." And the tears poured.

One of us: "When are you going to be a big girl?"
Saoirse: "On my birthday."
Us: "When is your birthday?"
S: "In November."
Us:"And what's going to happen on your birthday in only FIVE days?"

No, she doesn't say she will willingly throw her dummies away. She usually ignores us, apparently she is of the impression that if you don't talk about it it won't happen. Sort of like a man, really.

I wonder what she will say when she discovers she is also moving into her own room?

Fun Monday - Holiday Traditions

Deborah is wanting to hear about some holiday traditions. She says:

I want to hear about or see a holiday tradition, recipe or event. It can be any holiday you like or that is special to your family. With Thanksgiving and the Winter holidays coming up, those would be especially apt, but anything that is special for your family is fine. If you have pictures - it's a bonus! Whether it's your Mom's famous stuffing recipe, going caroling on Christmas Eve, Diwali dances, or even the inevitability of Great Aunt Polly having one too many brandies and knocking over the Christmas tree - I want to hear about it!!!


Since Thanksgiving has already been and gone in Canada I'll move right on to the next big holiday, my favourite day of the year...my birthday. Ah, just joking. I haven't been a big fan of my birthday since my 25th when I spent the entire day on the couch crying and bemoaning my old age and my wasted youth while my then almost 4 and almost 3 year olds tore apart the house and each other. Good times, good times.

Anyway, a mere 9 days after my birthday is Christmas Day. My favourite Christmas tradition actually falls on Christmas Eve. As a child, we had a few Christmases where Santa would come by and drop off a small present. And even though Charlie was usually somewhat drunk (he was after all one of my dad's friends but for a year or two I believed Santa was from Belfast and therefore entitled to the drink) he still managed tp pull it off and I, for a while at least, believed that he really was the Big Man himself. Were you to see a picture? You would realize just how gulliable I was. And still am, actually.

I decided that one day when I had children I would let them open one present on Christmas Eve, and that it would be pajamas. Because what can be better than going to be in a new pair of Christmas Eve pajamas? And so, when Taylor was 9 months old and celebrating her first Christmas she received a "My First Christmas" sleeper. And a tradition was born. This will be the thrirteenth Christmas Eve that pajamas are opened around the Christmas tree. Although this year, Liam will probably just receive a pair of Christmas themed boxers, as he no longer wears pjs. Through the years there have been other presents given on Christmas Eve, always with a Christmas related theme. A picture or chapter book, a movie to watch. But always, always there are pajamas. There have been years when my children have said "Oh no, not pajamas AGAIN." I say to them that one day they will appreciate this tradition, that this is something they will do with their own children. And if they don't then I will.

Pictures? Well, I may have one or two. But with the way things are going it is best to write first, add pics later. When we get the new computer I may just scan in 13 years of Christmas pajamas. That would be a good way to waste one day of NaBloPoMo. If I could find all those pictures of course.


Taylor and Saoirse, Christmas Eve 2005. Liam spent this Christmas at his dad's, so it was just William, the girls and I. Taylor and I went to the early mass, and came home to open the Christmas Eve gifts. I think one of my favourite things about Christmas is Christmas Eve mass, I prefer midnight, but that doesn't always work out...our church offers services at 5, 7, 9 and midnight. We usually go to either 5 or 7.

Day 4 and I'm already reduced to using a poll as blog fodder

Sooooo....William has a big Christmas party coming up at his new job and since I am not magically going to lose a thousand pounds in a month I thought maybe I should have my hair done. Because a new hair style might distract from the fact that William's girlfriend is, well, fat. Not totally distract of course, but maybe they will say "Hey that fat chick has great hair." One can always hope.

But what to do? Right now, my hair is a very dark blonde. Really dark. It's at that inbetween stage where it is not a nice blonde, but not a nice shade of light brown either. See my little facebook picture in the sidebar there? Not blonde, not brown. Just blah. It currently sits just below my collar. It's got a kink on the right hand side, so it never stays straight. Which is why I am all for going with layers this time around.

And here I am asking the great wide internet what to do? Take my poll. Tell me what to do. And you know what? I'll even go with what wins. Why would I ask otherwise? And if I hate it? Well, it can always be fixed. Probably.

Dear lotsa people (and one thing)

Dear That Chick,
They say that imitation is the most sincere form of flattery. So I hope you won't be offended that I am sort of copying your open letter format. Well, not sort of. Totally. For while I have ocassionally written an open letter I have never before done them in a series. So I'm copying you. Without the great sense of humour of course.

Yours in thieving,
Emma



Dear Taylor,

I did not give birth to 2 little sisters for you to use them as boy bait at the park. That's what puppies are for.

Love,
Mummy



Dear Debit Card,

Where are you? I miss you. I know you were in my coat pocket on Monday when I withdrew some money and did some shopping. I didn't use you for the rst of the week and I am wondering is this a problem for you? Do you need to be used constantly? While I would love to use you on a daily basis my bank balance will just not allow it. If you do not show up I am going to be forced to steal your sister card from William's wallet. That may make him grumpy as I had her for an entire year the last time I lost you. And he got mad when I misplaced her a time or two. Please let me find you. There is money in the bank (yay to a one week paycheque that was more than what William was making in 2 weeks at the old job!) and I would really like to spend it. Secretly, you know.

Missing you muchly,
A girl whose bank is wondering why she is not spending any money. So unlike her normal banking activity.



Dear West Edmonton Mall,
While I am fully prepared to be harrassed by salespeople in stores (although this rarely happens anymore, I think they have come to realize that no one in the retail industry gets fired for being a lazy ass) I do not want to be bothered by the people running those cheesy kiosks while I am using the mall to get to work. No, I don't want a soccer ball with a string attached to it. And while I realize I look like shit, I do not want my hair straightened or curled. Tell your kiosk people to leave me alone.

And while we are at it, West Edmonton Mall, what's the deal with shutting the automatic doors come October? Isn't that a bit inconvenient for people in wheelchairs or with prams? And that one wheelchair accessiable door? It sucks. Suck up the cost of a bit of extra heating and turn those doors back on. It's not even cold yet, ffs.

From,
An annoyed patron.

Dear people who don't hold the doors open for people with prams,

Fuck you. Seriously. I hope one day a madwoman with a pram runs you over. Didn't your mother teach you any manners?

From,
A possible madwoman (with a double pram!)


Dear Alissa,
Can you please ask your friend Heather when her company will lower the book prices to the American price? You know, that our dollar is worth $1.07 and all. I don't want to buy my at Wal-Mart because I am pretty sure they only carry VC Andrews and Louis L'Amour, but at least they are the American price. Which is a savings of like $20 on a hardcover.

From,
Someone who loves Chapters but may have to start shopping elsewhere. And no, I don't want an iRewards card.

Dear Nancy,
Would you start a blog already? I think it would be hilarious. Looking forward to the purse party! And dinner next week!

Your friend,
Emma

Dear bloggy facebook friends,
Please go harass my friend Nancy and tell her to start a blog. And if I didn't think she would kill me, I would tell you to really do it.

Yours in facebooking,
Emma is....wondering why Nancy doesn't have a blog.

Dear friend who shall remain nameless,
I really care for you and so I am saying to you here...don't move in with the new boyfriend! It is too soon. Way too soon. You have just come out of a bad marriage, you have only been with him for 2 months...it is way too quick to move yourself and your children in with him. Stay where you are for a year. Have him rent out his house and live with you. Whatever. Just don't give up your place. What if it doesn't work out? Where will you go? I am really worried for you.

Love,
Your friend.

Dear all the people who have emailed me questions and invites,
I am sorry! My computer sucks, have I already said that a thousand times? I can hardly get into my email, nevermind replying to something. I have 1400 unread emails. I'm a little overwhelmed.

From,
Emma, who is getting a new computer in 2 weeks!

Dear Ms. Porter,
We pronounce Saoirse like Soar-sha. Most Irish people will tell you that is incorrect. It is. But that is how my dad says it. And that was William's favourite of the 3 pronounciations we tried out. I was torn between the other two. I do tend to call her Seer-sha when she is ignoring me. Which is the proper way. Unless you are someone whop says Sayr-sha. Those Irish, they are a weird lot. Oh, and it's a bit of a story about how we chose her name, which some bloggers have heard before. I am Catholic, William is not, he did not want her baptised as such and so I said that I would choose the most republican name I could think of, which was Saoirse. It means freedom. She was born on Remembrance Day, so it does fit quite well in William's opinion. And I did get to have her baptised. Sophie? He put his foot down on an Irish name (Aisling) and the baptism. So I won one and he won one.

Was that too much information?
Emma

Dear Catwoman,

Congratulations!

Is the girl name would you have used for Little Man had he been Little Lady still in the running? I like that name. Not that I have any say in it. Unless you do a poll of course.

Love, Emma (who is not pregnant!)


Dear people who actually read this,
Thanks. I know it was long and boring. You are so good to stick it to the end.
3 down, 27 to go. Damn this Nablopomo thing.

Emma, who thinks she had better start commenting on blogs before everyone stops commenting on hers.

She speaks!

I think I've mentioned once or twice that Saoirse does not speak with any regularity to people who are not named Mummy, Daddy, Taylor, Liam or Sophie. If your name is Nanny or Auntie Shelley she make speak to you after about 20 minutes of so. Or she may not. It all depends on her mood.

Playschool is a "no speak" zone. There is no singing "Here I am!" when her teacher says her name during attendance. There is no reciting grace at snack time, or singing the songs that all other kids yell out.

This is Saoirse after all. And while she doesn't stop talking at home (non stop talking during Survivor when she should be in bed!) she does not like to talk in public at all.

Because I've been going to playschool with her these last few weeks, she has had me to talk to. And I am all she talks to. She doesn't answer her teacher, she doesn't talk to the other 6 kids. It's shyness at its worst. If she were older I'd call her rude.

So yesterday we are playschool and since she only has one class left in which I am there solely for her I decide I had better remind her that soon I won't be coming to school with her and that on the days I do it is because I am the helper mom and I won't have time just to sit and play and watch her use the shark to kill the giraffe. (Can you tell this child has an older brother?) She wasn't overly happy about the fact that I wouldn't be there every day but at almost 3 they adjust pretty quickly. When she said she needed the bathroom I said she had better tell her teacher. I didn't want her thinking that she could just walk out the door. So she goes and stands by her teacher, waits until she is done talking to another child and very quietly says "Mrs. W?" I didn't hear the rest as she was really, really quiet but obviously the teacher did. And so off we went to the bathroom, with me all thrilled that my daughter willingly talked to an adult she is not related to.

And then? She spoke up during circle time! For the first time! They were doing the calendar and the teacher was saying that this was the first day of November and Saoirse said "It's my birthday in November." She was still quite soft spoken so the teacher asked what she had said and Saoirse said "I'm having an Ariel birthday." Her teacher said "Yes, it's your birthday soon and we are going to celebrate and your mom is going to bring cupcakes. Which I am. With chocolate milk, Saoirse's favourite drink.

And the Ariel party? It's not so much an Ariel party as princess decorations and an Ariel cake. Because Ariel decorations? Not so easy to find. And her birthday party? Not on her birthday. It's on the 25th, a full 2 weeks later. At the Y. Having it at my house means steam cleaning my carpets and thinking up games. No thanks.

Hallowe'en Part One

Thanks to my fussy computer I couldn't download the pictures from Saoirse's class party, and my treat bags that I slaved over at work. It's nice to get paid to craft I think. Here's a few from the actual night. It was the warmest Hallowe'en in Edmonton in 7 years. +11 (42 for you folks down below), so quite nice. Saoirse started out with out a coat, but ended up with a coat on by the end of the night. When I finally brought her in, after our third time out, she said "But I'm not freezing yet!"

Tigger (aka Sophie) from behind.


Keeping the hood on? Not so easy.


Saoirse as the Little Mermaid. Yes, I said she was going to be the already purchased elephant and bloody well like it. But her dad took her to the Disney Store and this is what they came out with. The elephant stayed in the closet. Really, William pretends to be all hard but he is just a big softie. Remind me to tell you about the Wii.


Why go out when there is all this candy sitting here?


A group shot. Taylor went out with a group of friends (she's the jogger...talk about a cheap Hallowe'en costume!) and after we did our neighbourhood I took Sophie in and went out with Saoirse and Lachlan, our neighbour (the cutie on the left...Saoirse loves him!) Taylor met up with another 4 friends and they went off for a few hours. I don't have a single picture of Liam, who was the Texas Chainsaw Massacre guy, as he took off to quickly.

Dear bitch in the ER

When I ask you a question, it is your job to answer it. You are the Unit Clerk, it is your responsibility to know where the reqs are. YOU are meant to place them on the desk so that I can pick the patient up. It is not MY job to search another 3 desks looking for one piece of paper. When I ask you about a certain req you DO NOT need to yell at me. I am not a moron and I most certainly am not a piece of shit that you have stepped on. Please do not treat me as such.

When I come back to you and say "I am sorry, but that req is not over at the nursing desk" please do not scream at me and tell me that it is. Guess what? I'm not blind. I can see. And I looked through every piece of paper on that desk and it was not there. IT WAS NOT THERE. And guess what? That is your fault. You were supposed to have that req there so that patient could go off to CT.

And guess what else? Guess. Just guess. Because you are going to love me for my thoroughness. Today I asked all about you. Talked to some people in the radiology department and talked to the service attendants in ER. And guess what I found out? I found out that you are not just a bitch to me (seriously, in 4 years of working with you I don't think I have seen you smile once. Never, in 4 years, have you spoken to me politely) but that you are a bitch to everyone. And guess what else I found out? Your boss' name.

And guess who's getting a letter from me this week? That's right. Your boss. And my boss. You have gotten away with being a bitch for far too long. I know that this may not change things, but knowing that there is a letter of complaint on your file? Will make me smile everytime I see your haggy self.

And the next time you are a bitch to me? I will walk away. And you will be the one who can explain why patients are not being picked up.

Have a lovely day you cow.

Conversations with Saoirse and Sophie.

In the bathroom:
Saoirse (in a sing song voice): I wipe my 'gina.
Me: Good girl.
Saoirse gets a new piece of toilet paper and sing songs: I wipe my bum.
Me: Good gorl, but you don't have to wipe your bum if you don't poo.
Another piece of paper and she says: I wipe my legs.
Me: That's a good girl.
Saoirse stands up and turns to flush. And says "Oh, I need to wipe the seat."

Seriously, such a good girl, wiping up her little drops.

In the bathtub, splashing by jumping on her knees:
Me: Don't splash, Saoirse, look at my jeans!" (one leg is totally soaked.Oddly enough, the leg further away from the tub.)
S: Can't you move?
M: No, I can't.
S (splashing again): Well, that's okay Mummy, they will dry. I will dry them for you.

Jumping on my bed:
S: Hop, hop, hop, I'm a kangaroo, hop, hop, hop.
M: Do kangaroos hop?
S: Silly goose! Of course they do. Hop, hop, hop.
M: Do you know where kangaroos come from?
S: Hop, hop, hop. Australia. Hop, hop, hop.
M: That's right. Do you know who else is from Australia?
S: Meeeee!!!!
M: No, Daddy is. And Nanny Rose. And Poppy John. And all your cousins.
S: And so am I! I'm going to Australia with Daddy.
Which she is. Her mother? Is not.

Saoirse started playschool last week. I have to go with her until she turns 3, which is in 2 weeks. Oh my God, my baby will be 3. Heartbreaking. Anyway, she doesn't say a word in class. She's so quiet. So shy. She won't eat the snack. She does love painiting and playing with the Dora house. She likes circle time but will not open her mouth. She just sits there looking a little lost. I don't know what she'd going to do the first day I don't stay. I expect a melt down.

And then there is Sophie, who really is a social butterfly. She will chat with anyone. Her vocabulary has exploded this week and while she has always babbled with us now there are actual words coming into play. If you ask if she would like something she says uh huh or uh uh or no. She says Saoirse, here, book, cup, drink, up, cracker, kiss, hug and if you say one she will say two. She asks questions, unfortunately I have no idea what she is saying. But you know that questioning inflection? Totally has it. Waits for you to answer and then she replies. If she wants you to read her a book she opens your hand and puts the book in it. She reminds me so much of a toddler Taylor, complete with the temper tantrums. I sometimes wonder what I am in for with that girl. I'm a little fearful.

Fun Monday- Not only clothing art, but nipple art too

Willowtree is the host of this week's Fun Monday and I think it is one of the best. So even though I knew I would have a hard time getting this one done, due to being gone all weekend (yes! it takes me days to get a post ready!) I was determined to do it. Before I left I went around taking pictures of all of the kids favourite shirts, and I had planned to show my family's allegiances to various sporting teams via team jerseys. Alas, it was not to be. It took me 6 hours to upload the 5 pictures you are about to see. Yes, that is the the honest to God truth. My house is a pig pen, all for the sake of Fun Monday. Cause you know what? Willowtree said "Don't sign up if you aren't going to do it." And since I've signed up for about 4 that I just have not done I figured I better get my ass in gear and do this. Sod the house.

Anyway, Willowtree wants to see some clothing art. That's tee shirts, baseball caps, hoodies, sports uniforms or any bit of clothing that you or your kids own that has interesting, funny or artistic graphics.

First off, I would like to conduct an informal poll and find out who writes tee instead of t when writing t-shirt. Am I just lazy? Is it just us in North America? Or maybe just Canada?

Right. Enough babbling. On to the clothing:

These tshirts were on display at the Cottonwood Farmer's Market when we were in Nelson this summer. The woman who designed and painted them was so funky. She was covered in tattoos, with one on her chin and piercings everywhere. She was a teacher which just goes to prove how liberal BC's school systems is as compared to Alberta.


My brother bought Taylor this t-shirt, and himself one in a burnt orange.


This one was bought for Liam, who sometimes forgets that the outdoors are a great place.


The tshirt Saoirse was wearing today. If only it were true!


And a boob. And no, it is not mine. I am sooo very reserved. Honestly. This boob belongs to my friend Shelley with the artwork provided by her friend Donna. Nope, neither of them were drunk. This was actually taken at 11 am on Friday morning, well before the other 23 women in our party showed up. I have to say say that Shelley is the most open person ever. I roomed with her and she had no qualms about coming out of the bathroom naked. Sometimes, I wish I had that sort of confidence.


For those of you who normally read me, I had a great weekend and got lots done. All my pay it forwards, my autumn swap, a gift (hopefully one she will like!) for a blogger, Saoirse's birthday invitations and Halloween treat bags for school and lots of cards. I was freaking productive. And if my computer doesn't shut down a thousand times I'll post those pictures tomorrow.

Not only do I rock, I rock the bowl

My very favourite Blue Momma awarded me (and the fantastic, mucho awarded AFF) with this beautiful, made-all-by-herself award. I think I may have been given it because I bitched everytime she awarded someone else. Sometimes, it pays to be a whinger. Because then, you get an award that no one else has yet been given. And even better, you get to pass that award on.

So here are my two nominees:

Emily at What's a Quirk? Oh, I love Emily. She has the life I never had. You know the one. Child free. Lots of friends (who all just happen to be gorgeous...what's the deal with that?) An active social life. Not that I'd give up my kids, but you know. Sometimes I wish I had waited. Had fun first. Instead I live vicariously through this blog. Oh and Emily? She's hilarious. My one problem with her is that she just doesn't blog enough. Yesterday was supposed to be Tuesday Ten and where was it? I don't know. But every Tuesday I look for that post. Yes, go read Emily. Go now, and then come back and then go read my next nominee...

...Debbie at A Step at a Time. Debbie lives not so far from me and were supposed to go to coffee together with Joy and Dawn but unfortunately she was unable to make it. But one day. I think Debbie and I have quite a bit in common, and so I am very drawn to her blog. Debbie often talks about homeschooling, which is something I could never, ever do but I really admire those people who have all the qualities required...smarts, organization and patience. My kids? They'd be as dumb as door knobs if I were in charge of their education. And myself? Well, I'd be up on the psych ward. Crying myself to sleep every night. But Debbie...she's doing it, and doing it well from what I can tell. And her kids they are cute. And her husband is English. AFF, you would love her wedding picture! (And you have no idea how long it took me to find that link, but let me just say you better go look!)

I'm off in the morning for my weekend away. And you people must have very little faith in me becuase not a single person was interested in waiting 6 or more months for a few cards. Honestly. I have an empty photo box that I am determined to see nearly full so if I have your address you might find you get them anyway, whether they are wanted or not. So there.

Two reasons why one should have ID

Have I ever mentioned that I lose things at an alarming rate? My mother always said that if my head wasn't screwed on I'd lose that too. Such a classic mother line. Thank God I've never said to my children. It was one of those things I swore I would never do. However, in my case, it is very, very true.

Today was election day in my city. For the first time they were requiring ID, and asking for pretty specific ID that most everyone should have. You know, a driver's licence (mine expired on my birthday in 2002), an Alberta Healthcare card (how many dozens of these have I lost? The only ones currently in my wallet are Liam's and Saoirse's...Sophie's did arrive in the mail a few days after her birth but it never actually made it into my wallet. Taylor's has been missing for ages. And yes, just in case you are wondering, you still get treated without your card, they just ask that you call in the number. It's not like American TV where you are bleeding to death and they aren't treating you because you have no insurance.)

Hmmm...totally went off topic. Basically, any piece of government issued ID would work. And me? I have none. Except for my s0cial insur@nce number, which was not on their approved list. Neither was my work ID, which is, if you really push it, government issued, since technically the government does fund health care, but like I said, you really have to push it. What my ID has though, is a picture (and is shitty as is required of all gov't issued ID) and an ID number. It also has a really cute monkey lanyard, but I figure that probably isn't what finally made the third person I talked to decide I could use that as my official yes you can vote ID.

And so I voted. And the person I voted for mayor won again. And one of the councillors I voted for won. This morning I saw campaigners for the second person I voted for and they were so enthusiastic that I decided to vote for him. He didn't win, but that's okay because I looked him up on Facebook and I wasn't so keen. I should have stuck with my 2 liberal votes. That's the thing about civic politics...you don't know who's what and you are forced to go by name recognition or, god forbid, personality. And we all know what politicians are like. Don't we? Just look at the guy to the south of the border. (No offense, AFF. Or any others who lean that way.) Oh, I suppose you could also do research on them. Yeah. Not me. I did quickly look up the fella I voted for, and I did like his website, but I didn't look at his facebook profile until tonight. Yes, I think from now on I am going to use facebook to make all of life's important decisions for me.

So there's reason one why you should always have proper ID. Reason number 2 involves those pesky Americans. Oh shut up. I love you all.

But again, not your president and his belief that terrorists are regularly crossing the border (which may very well be true. But I doubt it.) Because do you know what I need to cross the border come next year? Or to fly now? A passport. And what do I not have? A PASSPORT. Well, I do but it also expired in 2002. So you say to yourself...send away for a passport already you freaking idiot. And I would say to you that I think I already told you the passport story which is this:

I have a British passport. To get another British passport I need my birth certificate. Where is my birth certificate you ask? I have no idea. My mother, forgetting that I would lose my head if it was not screwed on, foolishly gave me my birth certificate, and I foolishly lost it. To get a Canadian passport I need my Canadian citizenship card and, yes, you guessed right, it is lost. It was lost once and actually mailed back to me but I lost it again. Because that is what I do, lose things. I could get a new one but I think I need my landed immigration papers (not lost! in my file folder!) and $75. I am cheap. I'm going to have to do it though because....

...I want to go to the States (or maybe Cuba...cheap! cheap!) next year. William is planning on taking the girls and Liam to Australia for a month in the summer so I thought that Taylor and I could have some quality bonding time. But what to do? If he wasn't taking Saoirse I'd say we'd go to Disneyland, but since he would like to take Saoirse and since Taylor has already been to Euro Disney I'd like to go somewhere else. New York maybe? Boston? San Diego? Vancouver (yeah I know it's in Canada!) with a couple of days in Seattle? If she were a Laura Ingalls Wilder freak like her mother I'd say South Dakota or Missouri. Of course, this all hinges on my saving money and knowing me the reality is we wouild have just about enough to make it all the way to Calgary, a grand total of 3 hours away by car.

But of course, first I need to get ID.

Toopy and Binoo

Saoirse's current favourite show is Toopy and Binoo. It comes on in little 5 minute pieces at the end of shows, and also in its own half hour slot. Everyday I watch Toopy and Binoo. Well, I don't watch it. I blog clean like a mad woman. Last weekend Toopy and Binoo made a stop in Edmonton on their cross Canada tour. Saoirse was very excited to go and visit them. I forgot two important things though. First I forgot my camera. I realized this at the gas station and William said "We aren't going back for it." Damn it, thinks me, there goes my next blog post. Second, I forgot to tell Saoirse that Toopy and Binoo are not going to be the smaller than her. In fact, they are going to be pretty big. Must remember to tell Saoirse these sorts of things.

We get to Londonderry Mall, which is way on the other side of the city, at 11.30 and the show is at 1.00. We are among the first there. In about 10 minutes the show area is packed. We were sitting on the floor and my back was killing me and both legs fell asleep. Much fun. I really thought Sophie would be awful, she is such a handful, but she was fantastic. They had two TVs set up and when 4 Square came on she about went crazy. Pointing and dancing, she was so adorable. I really wish I had had the camera to video her. 4 Square is this weird show where they all wear matching coloured outfits in the most atrocious shades and sing and dance and whatnot. I'm pretty sure Sophie's first sentence is going to be "Do what the doo-whahs do!"

When Toopy and Binoo came out Saoirse had a tiny meltdown and hid in William's arms asking to go home. Sophie stood up, pointed and oohed and aahed at them. They put on a pretty good performance about a magic show and Saoirse ended up really enjoying it. When it was all over it took me a good 5 minutes to stand up. I am so freaking old before my time it is not even funny.

If Toopy and Binoo happens to land in your city I highly recommend you go. With your kids of course. It'd be a bit weird if you went on your own. And if you don't have Toopy and Binoo in your neck of the woods I suggest that you call your local kids station and ask what's up with that. Seriously, how many versions of Sesame Street can one station show? I count 3 on PBS. Or you could always order the DVDs. Or ask your friendly Canadian to burn the ones her daughter is going to get for Christmas.