I wonder what I would have been like had I not been late?

Your Birthdate: December 16

You're incredibly introverted and introspective. You live inside your head. You spend a lot of alone time meditating and thinking. People see you as withdrawn, and at times they are right. You are caring and deep, but it may be difficult for you to show this side of yourself. Your strength: Your original approach to thinking Your weakness: You tend to shy away from others Your power color: Pale blue Your power symbol: Wavy line Your power month: July

What Does Your Birth Date Mean?

Authentic? Somehow I doubt it

I suppose it's a good thing I am not native as my authentic Indian name is Eileen Quirky Buffalo. Now I am not opposed to the name Eileen, but it is not a name I would choose for myself. Quirky's quite alright, nothing against quirky whatsoever. No my problem is with the Buffalo. A great big, ungainly, ugly animal.

Thanks to Joe over at Assorted Nonsense for adding some amusement to my day, I had a great laugh at Taylor's name and the soon to be baby's.

9 Days and Counting

Is it just a tad pathetic to be excited about a weekend away? It might be, but I could care less at the moment because I AM GOING AWAY!!!!!!!!!! No children fighting, no housework for 3 solid days, no telephone that is contantly ringing.

A break, a complete and total break. I might even get some stuff done. I am trying to decide what I should do. Should I sort pictures, scrapbook Saoirse's holiday to Australia or make my birth announcement cards? I am probably leaning towards making cards, as I placed an order with Stampin'Up for all the things I need and it should arrive the day before we leave. If it fails to show, I will scrap Saoirse's holiday.

The last time I went to this place, Goldeye, was when I was 3 weeks pregnant with Saoirse. The next one was scheduled for the week before Saoirse's arrival, and I did not go to it because a)William had only just arrived and b) my friend Shelley said she could not handle it if I went into labour. Even though she is an ICN nurse and attends all deliveries. Wimp.

So it's been over 2 years and in that 2 years I have done very little, only a handful of scrapbook pages. Disgraceful really, judging by the amount of money I spend on materials. It will be nice to actually do something.

Or will I? The last time I managed to do a fair bit of organizing, with alot of chatting in between. There are 23 of us going, 2 of whom I know very well and about 6 or 7 I am aquainted with, mostly through Shelley. I invited my friend Nancy from school, who is worried she will know no one (except for Shelley, who she knows through hockey.) Nancy though could talk to a wall and get conversation from it, so she will do fine. It is me that always has a sense of dread, as I am not a talker and really am quite uncomfortable around people I don't know. It always works out though, and I always have a great time.

And I may actually get things done and be able to justify the thousand or so dollars spent on stamps and accessories in the last year.

VOTE FOR NATHALIE

I have been watching a show I vowed not to watch, Much Music's VJ Search. I got suckered in however, because I know one of the contestants. She is a mother of one Liam's classmates, a girl who was at his previous school from Grade 2 and is now in this Academic Support program with him. She was also one of my Brownies last year (the girl of course, not the mother.)

Nathalie is the same person on TV as she is in reality, very nice and friendly and always with a huge smile on her face.

She was however the second one of the final 10 to be voted off, and has since been hanging out in the Loser Loft. It was down to the final three yesterday, and not one was eliminated and they brought 6 of the 7 that had been kicked off back for one of them to be voted back on to the show.

So I am asking a bunch of people who will never ever have watched this show, not have a fig of an interest, to vote for Nathalie. (I mean, really, Toronto vs, Edmonton...where would you rather live?) You have until midnight Eastern Time on Thursday.

Get voting.

****Cannae believe I forgot to put in the link. Vote for Nathalie!***

The top 100 books for kids

Chapters has put out a list of the top books for kids as chosen by irewards members. In our house we have 79 of the top 100, some that belonged to me as a child and most that have been purchased since Taylor was a baby. Working in a book store definitely had its benefits, the shite pay not being one of them.

Included in this list are only 12 books by Canadian authors. At number 4 is Love You Forever by Robert Munsch. This book freaks me out, frankly. Rocking a teenage boy in your arms? Weird. Rocking your elderly mother in your arms, almost as weird. I suppose I should look past that and just appreciate the meaning of the book, but sorry I can't.

My all time favourite Canadian book is on this list, Pierre Berton's The Secret World of Og. I don't know why this book is not in this house, but it isn't. Who knows what ever happened to my childhood copy. Taylor took it out of the library yesterday, though I suppose she is probably a bit too old for it now. Did anyone ever watch the cartoon as a child? It used to be on as a Saturday morning special on ABC. I watched it everytime and never grew tired of it. It wasn't until years later that I found out that og meant young. Sneaky of old Pierre there, using Irish to trick all us North Americans.

What I don't like about this list is that some picks are given over to series, such as the number one choice, the Chronicles of Narnia and number 41 The Baby-sitters Club, which is probably over 100 books by now. Yet Laura Ingalls Wilder is on there for both Little House on the Prairie and Little House in the Big Woods, which is essentially a series. So why not do one or the other? Surely not everyone thinks Claudia and the Phantom Phone Calls is in the top 100. I don't think a single Baby sitters club book should be in there, it's much like putting in Sweet Valley High, books that I read but certainly wouldn't consider worthwhile literature.

Anyway, it's an interesting list, there's a suprising amount of poetry on it. Take a gander at it, if you happen to be bored senseless. If you're smarter than I am you may be able to pull up the actual list, all I could get was what they have in stock so it looks as though Kristy's Great Idea is the number one book.Those babysitters would take over the world if they could.

How young is old enough?

Mums (and dads too, I suppose you must count also) I have a question. At what age do you let your daughter go to the mall with a group of friends?

My daughter is 11 now, and is hinting that she would like to be allowed to wander around the mall with a friend or two, with a month's worth of allowance (a whopping $20), and the free will to spend it on what she wants (New York Fries, a rootbeer and Spongebob stuff, I imagine.) Has she reached the right age?

My friend Janine and I used to go to the mall on our own every Saturday afternoon. We would spend our money (way less than $20) at Marks and Spencers on a 4 pack of sherbert with the black licorice straw and a package of crisps each, we'd each get a different flavour so that we could split it. I was partial to Spring Onion, in case you're interested. Sometimes if we were really flush we would go over to T-shirts and Things and buy some pins. Corey Hart for me, and I think she would get Bryan Adams. To my eternal shame, I was also rather fond of Michael Jackson buttons. Hey, it was 1984.

When I was 11, closer to 12, a group of us all used to meet at the mall on a Friday night, always a busy time, always lots of kids.

The difference between now and then was a good 20 years first off. The mall was smaller, our houses were closer. Were people kinder then? I don't know. I don't think people are much different really, I think we are just more paranoid. But still, I don't know. It seems like such a big step, like admitting that she is no longer a little girl, but is actually growing up.

There are a few girls in her class who are allowed to go to the mall on their own, who are even allowed to attend a monthly Rock'n'Ride at Galaxyland. That is pushing it for me. It is for kids aged 12-17 and there is no way I would allow my 11 year old daughter, a girl who is as tall as many 14 year olds, to be around 17 year olds. Nor would I allow her to be around the drugs that are Rock'n'Ride.

For that is the thing about the mall, it has always been a great place for kids to find drugs, and for pimps to find kids. I was a teenager at that mall once, and though I never came close to "mall rat" status, many of my friends did, including Janine. I can make Taylor as aware as I possibly can or I can ban her from it altogether, unless she is with an adult.

This is probably a moot point, as Taylor's friends all have very protective parents, I am probably the least protective of the bunch. Taylor was the first to be allowed to walk to school on her own, the first to be able to go to the shop up the road on her own. But I don't think I want her to be the first to go to the mall. Perhaps if all the other parents were to allow it. Her friend Connor's mum and I once joked about it, about how we would let them go to a movie, but we would sit in the lobby and wait, or how we would follow them through the mall 10 paces behind. It was a joke 2 or 3 years ago, now it looks like it might become reality.

How protective is to protective? At what point do we let them go and try these things out? That freedom was a part of my childhood, shouldn't it be a part of hers?

New Years Resolutions

Yes, yes, I know it is the end of March and New Years was almost 3 months ago. I just thought I'd wait a few months to see how I did before I posted about it.

I started early this year, or rather last year. I decided that since New Years Resolutions have never worked for me (aside from giving up sugar in my tea when I was 13- or did I give that up for Lent?) I would make my resolutions Boxing Day ones. So here's my resolutions and how I did:

1) to lose weight. A constant one, as I am constantly carrying around extra pounds from a)Liam, b) Saoirse, c)pop and d)a slight obsession with jalapeno and cheddar nachos.

I was to lose this weight by a)cutting out all junkfood...did OK, would have the odd chocolate craving, who knew I was up the duff?, b)drinking only diet pop...not to bad there either, but now I think regular pop and diet are both sort of gross, c)to drink 8 glasses of water a day...nice feckin' try, I'm lucky if I drink one bottle while at work, and hardly touch the stuff when I'm at home, and d)to get more exercise... well I already walk enough, I was to join a gym but managed to put it off by always being to busy, at work I was supposed to use the stairs when possible, did it a grand total of once.

2)to save money. Well, hey, it helps if you actually work. And if you don't eat out. Which I have done everyday this week (certainly not helping with the weight issues either.) It also helps not to go places in which money spending is required eg)the scrapbooking store, Old Navy, my monthly stamping club, Chapters. It would really, really help if my children were willing to starve. Unfortunately, unlike their mother, they have absolutely no fat stores on which they could live off for a few weeks. Ergo, I am forced to feed them, which requires spending money.

3) to stop being such a bitch. Yeah, didn't work. Such is life.

I'm done with resolutions, no matter what time of the year they are. My daughter asked what I was giving up for Lent and I said "The same as last year. I'm giving up yelling at you guys."
"You're supposed to give you something you like." she says.
"I do like yelling at you, that's why I'm giving it up."

I think that lasted all of about 73 minutes, when Liam pissed her off and got a thumping for it and they both got in trouble for doing in my head.

Choosing a Junior High

Taylor has spent the last three evenings attending events at two different schools in order to prepare for her for junior high. She's doing the open houses a year early, due to the fact that I want her to do IB (International Baccalaureate). She wasn't very keen on it as she had been told it included a few hours of homework per night. So I wanted her to go, just so she could be prepared for what she might be getting into.

And she loved it. She was thrilled to hear that the IB and non IB students are all in the same class, and that they will have no more homework than the other students. The only difference is that the ones in IB work toward certificaton, and have to take French and Music as two of their options. Which is fine, as she loves both subjects. She plans on studying the flute as her instrument of choice, shunning my suggestion of the saxaphone.

So in a year and a bit my daughter will be attending the same junior high that I was at all, all those many years ago. It wasn't IB then and it was heading into "bad reputation" territory. It seems to have done a turnaround though. If she follows through with the IB program she will automatically be accepted into the highschool I went to. It was an academic school then and still is, unfortunately I was not a student who excelled in academics. I was more the "why the hell did you choose this school?" sort of student.

If only I could go back in time. God, would I do things differently.

The curse of MSN and a preteen girl

I don't know how Taylor did it, but sometime ago she managed to link her MSN account to Outlook Express and now whenever I open my email, up in the corner pops up "You have 12 new messages!" or whatever. I usually turn it off but sometimes am not paying attention and it gets overlooked. In which case I suddenly find myself engaged in conversation with children who have a fantastic vocabulary that seems only to include the opening line of "who dis".

This comes from one particular girl in Taylor's class, a child she is not friends with, and usually I just turn it off. Sick of constantly seeing "who dis" yesterday I replied with "If you don't know how it is, why don't you just delete it?" There was no answer.

What do these kids do? Pass a list around the class saying who has hotmail, add your address to my list (but leave out your actual name) and I'll send you the same forwarded email you have already received 9 times and then I'll message you asking who you are? They must. And the names they use!

Here's a few choice one from Taylor's list: (yes, I realize I am interfering with the privacy my daughter is entitled to)

-Treauring Christ (if you're that religious at 10, I am slightly more than concerned)
-PIGGYSROCK
-Who ya callin nerd
-Head MUSLEM
-im goin to the waterpark tomorrow with my friends becca, mylene and jan. ohh yeah its going to be awsome (spelling error hers)
-zacks a retard who coppies people 24/7...vote for me (spelling mistake his, Zack is a long time friend of Taylor's and has recently started getting teased and I'm pretty sure Zack has this same kid on his MSN and is seeing that he is being made fun of in cyber space)

Some of these kids are as mean via email and messenger as they are in person, and although Taylor is not being bothered by them it could happen at any moment. She doesn't even chat with half these kids so I am not sure why she keeps them on her list. She's not allowed into the actual chat rooms and has not shown any interest in them yet. I suppose that will all come in a year or two, and they will be having a talk ourselves about chatting with strangers online.

Yikes. My mother must be so glad there was no world wide web when I was a kid.

Tell me a story

I was reading an article the other day on storytelling and on how this generation of parents has lost the knack to tell a story and that our children do not even know to ask. Sure, they'll ask to be a read a story and with the abundance of books most families have that is quite easy. This is true with me, I couldn't tell a story off the top of my head to save my life and I would be hard pushed to be able to even retell a story from something I had read or heard. "Um..so Goldilocks sat in Papa's chair..or was it Mama's...ah, maybe it was baby bears, hear, I bet it was all three..." There's no fluid motion with me, just like in my writing. Odd, since I loved to write as a child and won plenty of creative writing awards. Sometimes we lose the few talents we actually have.

My father is a storyteller and so is my son. At the age of three he told me two stories that I won't soon forget. One was that he had had a dream (and who knows maybe he did) that he was a grandfather and his grandaughter died in a car accident. He went into great detail, describing places and all sorts of things well above a three year olds understanding. Another time he told me that he had been on the Titanic and had died in the water and his wife survived. This was before he knew what the Titanic was, and how he ever came up with the name of that boat is beyond me. I had a friend who believed he actually was on the Titanic, I said he was just repeating something he must have heard somewhere. In playschool his teacher told me he was always telling tall tales, and at Easter she wrote him a note saying she loved his stories. I said "She means he's a great liar." Which he was. And still is, in fact. Today, his teachers most common comments about him are that he is a great storyteller and can dictate pages and pages of stories and that to get out of trouble, he will start telling her some long winded tale.

But this post was primarily supposed to be about my dad who as I said earlier is truly a great storyteller. When we asked to be read to as children he would tell us a story instead, often some Celtic myth, but more often about his childhood in Belfast. We heard stories about all the broken bones he had, about my granny sewing his toe back on with just a needle and thread. There were stories about stealing a gypsy's horse and about him setting fire to his younger brother's hair and his mother beating him with a hanger for his efforts, about how he would do the older kids homework for money, about his summers spent in Donegal speaking nothing but Irish and the trouble you would get in if they heard you using English. There were stories about his relatives and friends and every single house on every single street that he ever lived on.

There were stories he never told of course, stories I had to hear from other family members. Last summer my aunt told me that when he was 12 or 13 he tried out for a boys choir based out of London. They picked two boys from Northern Ireland, and one of them was my dad. When they arrived at the house to tell him, my granny said no, he wouldn't be allowed to go. I still don't know why she did this, when I asked my dad he said oh, she was just worried about me being in England and the travelling I would have to do. Odd, since at 15 he was travelling throughout Ireland working. Perhaps she just didn't want to lose the paycheque my dad equalled. He also never told me that he started drinking at 14, this I was told by a social worker when he was in hospital for a broken hip and attempted suicide. He always did say drink was the devil, and it definitely did ruin him.

Still, I would like these stories, the good and the bad, but he seems hesitant to record them or to write them out. My father is Taylor and Liam's only tie to Ireland and to that little bit of family history that will soon be gone. Of course, they can hear William's stories about growing up outside of Belfast, but his stories are much different than the ones my father has, different times and different areas.

My dad will be 64 this coming summer. I wonder how much longer there is for me to convince him that there are still stories to be told, still children to hear them. His father died at 66, his mother spent the last 10 years of her life with Alzheimer's. Memories of long ago events remained, but the interest to tell them in detail certainly wasn't there. I hope I can get him to do this. It would be much easier if he was like my mother's father who is huge on family history, and has actually created a family archive to be passed on one day (to which of the five grandchildren, I have no idea.)

One day, I might actually convince him. I should just go out and buy him a tape recorder. But would he use it?

I'm glad this guy's not my husband

This comes from Bacon and Eh's and holy crap, did it make me laugh. In a frightened, thank-god-my-partner-is-sane sort of way.

This document was written up by a man and given to his wife. It is all his expectations of her, sexually mostly. The rules for shaving were amusing, the fact that she's not allowed to wear proper pajamas is concerning; after all they live in Iowa and that can't be all that warm in the winter. I've read On the Banks of Plum Creek, I know these things. She does get to buy herself a sex toy every year for his birthday gift, so at least she has some entertainment now that she has wised up and dumped him. Oh, and he was really, really nice and said that during fellatio she was allowed to bring him to orgasm. It was nice of him to think of her pleasure, don't ya think?

Anyway, take a few minutes and read it here.

How's this for justice?

An Edmonton man has been sentenced to 46 months in jail for his role in an internet child pornograpy ring.

This is the longest ever sentence in Canada. That is absolutely pathetic. Less than 4 years for distributing pictures and video of children and babies being raped. Babies! Some with their umbilical cords still on. Who in their right mind could watch that, let alone actually do it?

The reason the crown did not request a longer sentence is because this man cooperated and eventually it led to the arrest of 40 people worldwide. It looked like just Canada, the U.S., England and Australia on the map I saw, but apparently includes South America and Denmark.

I am interested in seeing what happens to the others arrested in Canada and around the world and how their sentences will vary. I don't hold out much hope that Canadian sentences will be tougher than the other, sadly our justice system doesn't seem to value children.

The report cards arrive on St. Patrick's Day...lucky or not?

Both Taylor and Liam received their report cards today.

And guess what? I didn't want to kill either of them.

Taylor greatly improved in Math (3 Excellents, 1 proficient) but I was slightly disappointed in her Language Arts (4 excellent, 1 proficient and 1 insufficient plus and inconsistent for effort.) Insufficient, folks. That equals a D. A D. I wasn't very happy but as I was reading it out loud she said "But I did that." Whinge, whinge. She really did whinge. I didn't get mad and I didn't get mad about the 2 insufficients in Social Studies. I wasn't very happy about her refusing to take responsibilty for those bad marks but I did not yell. This is a big thing in my house as I am a yeller, something I have mentioned often. I said to her "I am not getting mad at you, Taylor, but obviously you and Mr. H. have different opinions on what you are doing or not doing. We will talk to him about it at the interview." I don't even want to go, she says. No of course she doesn't. This is what drives me crazy about Taylor...nothing is ever her fault, so there is no point in her accepting that she needs to try harder.

But, here, I didn't yell! No worries, I've already given myself a wee pat on the back.

And then there's Liam. I was quite happy about his report card as I was expecting it to be really bad. His Language Arts improved, math remarks were great, no marks of excellence in math though, which is disappointing as it is his strength. For the most part he had alot of proficients, which would be equal to a B.

The only problem was I have talked to the principal and the resource teacher at St. B's (his old school, Taylor's current one) about him coming back as he is very unhappy at the new school. I said how badly he was doing in class and how miserable he was. Well, he's still miserable but the marks are pretty good. So now I don't know what to do. St. B's is willing to take him back, but I have no guarantee of an aide even being in his class, whereas at the other school there are 2 aides in his class. And being in a class of 14 kids who all have some sort of learning disability is surely much easier than being in a class of 20+ kids with no significant problems, not to mention somewhat of a confidence booster when they are doing math and science, subjects he enjoys and does well in. I just don't know. Unhappy and doing ok or happy and struggling. Sometimes it is hard to know what is best. Ultimately, I know his progress in school is the most important thing, but shouldn't emotions matter too? If he continues to be miserable won't his schoolwork suffer? It's going to require a lot of thinking. I meet with his teacher on Tuesday, so I'll see what she has to say.

Something I am pondering

If cheesies are only called cheesies in Canada, what are they called in the rest of the world? Anyone?

Boys and their bodily functions

Catwoman wrote a very funny post on farts today that had me laughing out loud. And made me think.

Liam is the king of farting. He will sit his bony bum on your leg and let one go. He will put his bum directly in front of your face and let one just rip. They are not normal boy farts but stinky disgusting manly farts. Like rotten eggs.

I cleaned their bathroom today and it was absolutely disgusting. I know that the dirty toilet was because of Liam and not his sister, I have never seen such explosions in my life. I have had to wash it off the wall! It is really, really gross and I think he needs more foilage in his diet. Of course, this is also the kid who can manage to pee everywhere but in the toilet. Why, oh why, did I teach him to stand? I can tell you why...I didn't want the other kids to make fun of him when he got to school and was still sitting. I'd live with his humiliation now, if only I could have a clean, dry bathroom floor.

Thinking about farts always brings me back to reading Roddy Doyle's Giggler Treatment to Taylor's third grade class. If you've never read it here's a brief run down- the gigglers are little creatures that put doo poo in the path of adults who have been mean to children. One of the examples used said that when a parent blames their own farting on a child they will get the giggler treatment. I will never forget a boy called Derek saying "My mum does that! Every time she farts she blames me!" That was a classic kids say the funniest things moment. The teacher and I, along with all the other kids, started laughing. Every time I see his mother I think of it.

Still makes me laugh.

The things you find

I am in the process of cleaning out my bedroom closet, only because I have bought a rod extender that hangs down and I now need the room near the floor that is currently assigned to old magazines and assorted of boxes of junk.

This is what I have found thus far: copies of Rosie (now defunct after she was sued), Today's Parent dating back to April of 1995, and Cosmo UK (much better than American Cosmo.) There are dozens of playschool and kindergarten pieces of artwork that belong to both Taylor and Liam. There is a very dusty box full of unused sex toys. There are 2 of those cassette holder things full of tapes from the 80s and early 90s. I was late to the world of CDs, so I was. There are newborn clothes belonging to Saoirse to be boxed up and passed on to her sister. There are odd socks and a purple bra from the days when black and white were not the only colours of underclothing I owned. There are song lyrics for a scrapbook I never made. There is a box full of magazines and newspaper clippings on Princess Diana's death. I thought Taylor might one day have an interest, but somehow I doubt it. There is a folder of clippings with the news of River Phoenix's death (will definitely hold onto those as she is named after him), an article on the Hothouse Flowers when they came to Edmonton with the Tragically Hip's Another Roadside Attraction tour in 1993 (I still have that tshirt) and a few articles reviewing Paddy Clarke Ha Ha Ha, which is still one of my favourite novels. There is a scrapbook of the River Phoenix pinups from Bop and Tiger Beat that I was unwilling to throw away when I took them all down in highschool.

This is just one corner, I wonder what I might unearth in the other three. I know there are some Christmas gifts I never gave to my cousin's son from 2 years ago, they are wrapped so no idea what they are anymore. Sure someone will enjoy them.

Emma was arrested for...

1)...DUI, unlicensed driver and no proof of insurance.

2)...debt and consigned to Kings Bench prison. (Eek! This could really happen!)

3)...speaking out against the draft of young men in World War I.

4)...for telling a crowd "Ask for work, if they do not give you work ask for bread; if they do not give you bread then take bread."

5)...for publicly explaining for the first time in America how to use a contraceptive ( I always was very progressive.)

6)...for murder. (Apparently my passionate liasion proved a flimsy alibi.)

7)...for having a gun and shooting someone.

8)...for relaying a message to a caller on behalf of her cousin.

9)...arrested for the crime (what crime, I do no know) but pled insanity.

This is one of those Google search things. Small things amuse me greatly!

Seeing Saoirse

I received my second set of pictures of Saoirse yesterday. I have learned the following information from them:

1) She loves animals. Many of the pictures involve Saoirse looking into the guinea pig cage, watching the dogs or touching a lizard. I can't wait for the pictures from the day she went to the zoo to arrive, apparently she was in seventh heaven.
2) The humidity has curled her hair.
3) She is getting chubby.
4) She still has her dummy.
5) She does not like ocean water breaking over her feet.
6) She is constantly surrounded by people.
7) She is constantly dirty. Dirty face, dirty hands. Where's the washcloth?
8) She was sent with a suitcase full of clothes but seems to wear only a selection of them.
9) You should never allow a father to dress a child, he can not match to save his life or he over matches (3 shades of pink!)
10) I miss her like crazy.

How I adore questionnaires!

God, I love that Boliath is occassionally a "lazy blogger." Not only do her questionnaire posts make me laugh, they give me some fodder for my own blog.

What time did you get up this morning? 10.00. Hey, it's a Saturday, my baby's in Australia and the 5 children sleeping in my house last night went to bed late and woke up late.

Diamonds or pearls? I own neither. However if some nice person wants to send me something, I won't say no.

What is the last movie you saw at a theater? Pink Panther, Liam's birthday movie if you recall.

What is your favorite TV show? Oooohhhhh...the choices. Cold Case maybe. Amazing Race, Grey's Anatomy, CSI....do I have to pick one? I absolutely loved American Dreams, but they cancelled it.

What did you have for breakfast? Oatmeal. Brown sugar and maple. I think.

What is your middle name? Jayne.

What is your favorite cuisine? Is there a difference between cuisine and meal? Grilled chicken. Very dull.

What foods do you dislike? Peanut butter. Among others.

Favorite potato chip? As a kid I would have said Salt and Vinegar. I rarely eat chips these days, they stick on me, but I did have some sea salt and pepper today because there were 12 bags of chips left over from Taylor's birthday party and, hey, someone has to eat them.

What is your favorite CD at the moment? James Blunt.

What kind of car do you drive? I don't. Too poor. No licence either. But William will be driving a minivan if I have my way.

What characteristics do you despise? Couldn't begin a list.

Favorite item of clothing? A very old Eddie Bauer sweatshirt that I can only wear around the house as it is falling apart.

If you could go anywhere in the world on vacation, where would you go? Silly question. Ireland. Though Australia is appealing at the moment.

What color is your bathroom? 2 are Arizona Tan (terribly dark for bathrooms) and one is white.

Favorite brand of clothing? I'm an Old Navy girl.

Where would you retire? Again, silly. Ireland, maybe Scotland.

Favorite time of day? In the evening, when the kids are in bed.

Where were you born? Sutton Coldfield, England.

Favorite sports to watch? Soccer, hockey.

What laundry detergent do you use? Sunlight or Tide. Though I have Gain at the moment.

Coke or Pepsi? Pepsi. But I've not had any since Christmas, in my quest to punish myself into thinness.

Morning person or night owl? Night owl.

What size shoe do you wear? 7 or 8. Wide since my first pregnancy. Bloody kids.

Do you have pets? Nah, just the kids.

What would you like to share with your friends? A good natter, which we do enough of.

Who or what did you want to be when you were little? A pathologist, a psychologist, anything wish a gist apparently.

Favorite candy bar? Mars, maybe. Again, things I am not allowed.

Best childhood memory? A holiday to England and France at 9.

What are the different jobs you have had in your life? Retail crap, hospital crap.

Piercing? 4 in my left ear lobe, 3 in the right lobe, one in the middle and one at the top. Only one in though (top of the left.) The rest are probably closed.

Eye color? Dark blue.

Ever been to Africa? No.

Ever been toilet papering? Is that a Hallowe'en thing? No.

Love someone so much it made you cry? Suppose so. A familar question.

Been in a car accident? Another familiar one. I think I said yes, it was only minor and I was not driving.

Croutons or bacon bits? Both.

Favorite day of the week? Friday, if I don't have to work the weekend.

Favorite restaurant? Am partial to the Cheesecake Cafe.

Favorite flower? Not a flower person.

Favorite ice cream? Pralines and cream.

Disney or Warner Brothers? Disney I suppose.

Favorite fast food restaurant? Subway.

What color is your bedroom carpet? Greyish berber.

How many times did you fail your drivers test? 3. See above.

Which store would you choose to max out your credit card? Old Navy, because I can outfit the whole family from top to bottom.

What do you do when you are bored? Read, clean, blog, stamp, whatever.

Bed time? 11.35, when My Family ends. Love that show.

Last person you went to dinner with? Who goes out for dinner with 3.5 kids? I do lunch, and it was at Red Robin with my friends Fiona and Candy and Candy's son Ethan.

Ford or Chevy? Don't care. A car's a car.

What are you listening to right now? Corrie Street in the background.

What is your favorite color? Blue.

Lake, ocean or river? The only thing in Edmonton is a very dirty river so definitely not a river. I'll say ocean since I'm nowhere near one.

How many tattoos do you have? One. Over left ankle, a maple leaf in a clover.

Which came first, the chicken or the egg? The chicken.

Where would you go for a girls/guys weekend getaway? I'm going on one the first weekend in April, to a place called Nordegg (don't laugh), to a retreatish like place called Goldeye.

What would you do if you had to select another career? Rejoice in the fact that I finally had some sense.

Favorite family vacation? Never been on one sadly. Aiming for Disneyland one day.

Turning Eleven

Taylor turned 11 yesterday. Two more years until the terror of teenagedom (I don't believe that is actually a word) but I wonder can anything be worse than the terrors of raising a tween? Surely, it must only get better. It has to. Anyone who has ever read this knows that Taylor and I have a difficult relationship at best. We are two totally different personalities. Or maybe we aren't really all that different. We are both somewhat moody, and both do not like to give in during a fight. She is though, a much stronger personality that I ever was or ever could hope to be. I was her polar opposite as a child, shy and quiet, while she is outgoing and vibrant. She is friends with boys and girls, while I stuck to being friends with girls after the age of 7. She is well loved by her friends parents, so why is it that this particular parent does not get on with her?

I wish we did, I really do. When I was young I used to imagine my future daughter and the fantastic relationship we would one day have. I do not see Taylor and I as being friends when she is an adult, if I were her I'd be to busy being angry at my shite childhood and I imagine that I will feel to much guilt about my part in said childhood. For so far, Taylor has not had it easy. Some of these issues are not my fault, some very much are. My lack of patience, for one. My friend Shelley constantly has to remind me that "you are the adult and she is the child." Which essentially means that it is up to me to be the one who changes, that Taylor is a child and acts as children do. And so I will. I am looking into counselling for myself because I do not want to one day be that old lady for whom there is no next of kin, no children who visit her in the hospital. When I look at patient histories and I see that although they have children who are often local yet never visit I always wonder what sort of parent they were. I don't want Taylor to one day be the sort of mother that I am. It is terrible to admit that you really are an awful mother, that you deserve the title you gave yourself in your blog.

Does it not frighten you all to think that I am having another one? And yet, I don't necessarily think I am a terrible mother to Liam nor am I to Saoirse. I see Saoirse as having very much the same personality as Taylor, prone to tempers and all, but I think I am already mothering her better than I did Taylor. Though I suppose it also helps to have a much more involved partner than what Taylor's dad was. Not that I am blaming him, I'm not, he certainly had and still has his own terrible issues to deal with.

This was supposed to be a happy birthday post, but quickly turned into a self pitying one! So I will wish my Taylor a happy belated 11th birthday. I wish alot of things for her: love and happiness and, one day, a mother who loves and accepts her for what she is and stops demanding more. I wish for her to hold on to the wonderful set of friends she has, some that she has known since she was four. I hope she develops more strong relationships that will last her a lifetime. Taylor is the type of child that you know has the potential to do amazing things, if only she works to that potential. I hope that she works on reaching that potential, I've said before how smart she is, but also how lazy. One day, I hope she realizes how important an education is, and that the realization comes before it is too late. I wish that she could be protected from sadness in life, but Taylor already knows how much sadness there is. Since she was two she has known her father is very ill, in the next few years she and Liam will have to deal with his death. I do not believe there will be support from his side of the family, it will come from myself and my family and I can only hope that I am able to provide it. I hope that she will not inherit this terrible genetic disease. My biggest wish for her is, and always will be, health. I do not want this disease to rob her of a productive life. Though this disease is possibly years away for Taylor, I hold onto the fact that she has always been very healthy, she has not had even an ear infection. Perhaps she will be the generation that breaks the cycle of this disease. I hope so. I wish it. I pray to God every night that both Taylor and Liam will not suffer as their father has.

Rolling up the rim

We don't do our coffee mornings at Tim Horton's, as most of us much prefer Second Cup/The Great Canadian Bagel because there is so much more variety. Who wants just a double double? Not me, since I have never had a sip of coffee in my life and nor do I plan on it. Their tea leaves much to be desired, whereas at Second Cup I can have English Breakfast or Royal Blend and as much milk or cream as I please. Which is alot. Not so at Timmy's, they are a bit stingy in the cream department. We do go there occassionally, if we feel like a doughnut rather than a bagel or if Old Navy has a great sale on.

Every once in awhile Tim Horton's runs a Roll Up the Rim promotion, in which you can win anything from a free coffee or doughnut to money and cars. I've won a doughnut, that's all. It's the luck of the Irish, dontcha know? I suppose you need to be 100% born and bred to actually have luck. Though I don't actually know any lucky Irish people. Thinking.......... no, not a one. Anyways, I'm wandering.

In Quebec, a 10 year old girl found a Tim Horton's coffee cup in the garbage at her school. (Why was she going through the garbage? I don't know, the article never touched on that.)

[Excuse me, but did you notice that???? Yes, I have finally learned to link! I had to scroll through 400 some emails to find it, but I did. Thanks, Eric!]

Anyway, the girl couldn't roll up the rim, so asked an older school mate to help. And what did the girl win but a bloody SUV. That's certainly a step up from a doughnut. The school/daycare (depends on where you hear the story) called both sets of parents and the younger girl's father was the first to arrive. Originally both families thought they would share the vehicle but the father changed his mind. Now it is not only the 2 families involved, but a staff member who says he was the one to throw the cup away. He is now seeking legal representation.

I'd cancel him out right away, he threw the cup away after all. If he was to lazy to even look under the rim, then he doesn't deserve the prize. The lawyer who represents him, is the lawyer who gives all his peers a bad name. Personally, I think the vehicle should go to the younger girl's family. After all, she was the one who has humiliated herself across Canada by digging through garbage cans. Might as well as get something out of it.

There comes a time in life, people,....

...when it is time to say goodbye to huge, gigantic hickeys, love bites, tribal tattoos -whatever you fancy calling them- on the neck. What goes below your shirt collar is your business, but do I really need to be witness to the fact that your boy/girlfriend apparently has the largest mouth known to mankind?

Now please don't think I am a prude, folks. I was quite fond of giving and receiving love bites when I was, you know, 15-16. And then I turned 17. And suddenly a neck full of them was not so physically appealing. In fact they look absolutely disgusting. Thinking back, I am not so sure what the appeal of blood being sucked to the surface of ones neck is, but surely there was one there.

There must have been, because I got kicked out of my house the summer I was 15, the summer my neck was full of the things. Apparently my father was not a fan of hickeys or 16 year old boys with a face full of pimples.

But eventually I grew tired of them and I always am surprised when I see someone with them on their neck, you know someone who is in their 20s, 30s or, worse still, in their 40s. I have taken women who are in labour upstairs with fresh hickeys on their necks. Honestly, have we nothing better to do in the midst of a contraction? I know they say orgasms are a good thing at that particular time, but seriously.

I tell you the day I see an 80 year old in bed with a hickey on his neck, is the day I walk off the job.

Why you should never watch Grey's Anatomy with your mother and daughter

My daughter, a few weeks short of 11, recently caught bits of Grey's Anatomy, one of my favourite shows on T.V. I normally watch it at 8 on a Sunday evening, when the kids are coming and going before bedtime. I may have to change that to 11 though, as the show is just full of sex.

The other Sunday the episode of Grey's Anatomy featured a girl who was suffering from spontaneous orgasms, much to the amusement of Izzy and George and much to my dismay as I happened to be watching not only with my daughter but with my mother as well.

"What'a a apontaneous orgasm?" says Taylor. "What do you guys keep laughing at?"

My mother and I gave each other a look, but neither of us fessed up to knowing what they were. And frankly, I'm not sure how I feel about even my mother knowing what they are. I am from the old school where parents had sex a number exactly equal to the number of children born to them. No orgasms, spontaneous or otherwise, involved, thank you very much.

And while I have to say that I wouldn't half mind being inflicted with spontaneous orgasms myself while in the privacy of my own home (no children around please) I certainly would not want to experience one while driving down the road or at work or anything. I could quite understand the character's humiliation, especially when her father was in the room!

At the end of the show, Taylor finally figured out what an orgasm was and a wee piece of her innocence went flying out the window.

Who in their right mind would call their baby Balyog?

I know that I am probably the last person who should comment on the names people give their children, due to the fact that I have the daughter with a name no one can say properly, but honestly, how old do you think the mother of Nikki-Heavenly-Dawn is? I am guessing about 14 and she had probably just finished reading Heaven by V.C. Andrews. Or how about the parents of Sara-gobad? Just what do they have in mind for their daughter's future? Or the rather funky parents of C-iara. There was apparently too much rap in that birthing room. Or the mother was very drugged up when she filled out her registration form. A slip of the pen perhaps.

My mother takes care of all the registration forms at our nearby hospital and she is amazed by the names she sees. There was a couple who wanted to name their child The Saviour Has Arrived, a name that the Government of Alberta is all their wiseness rejected.

I am looking at the Vital Statistics list of names for 2005 to see what I might or might not call this baby who is due to arrive sometime this summer. I want something Irish or Scottish and something that I will not hear everywhere I go. Unlike Liam. William and I can't agree on a girls name, he has given a resounding no to all my choices, yet will not come up with one of his own. I like Caoimhe, of which there are none, Niamh (there was one), Mairead (there was one, this is William's most hated name, he considers it an IRA name) and a host of other names that didn't appear on the list. For boys he likes Declan (too many at 38) and he vetoed my choices of Cathal (0) and Cormac (1) but said he could live with Calum (3, but 17 spelled Callum.)

So what to do? I'm looking for opinions people.

The reason I'm a male superhero...

...is because I don't wear a pushup bra. At least that's what I think. But honestly, Robin????? For fecks sake, there's something wrong with that picture. And I'm pretty sure I put I wasn't aerobic. But who wants to be Robin? He was so geeky. Hmmmm.
Your results:
You are Robin

Robin 72% Spider-Man 65% Green Lantern 50% Catwoman 40% Supergirl 35% Hulk 35% Superman 30% Batman 30% The Flash 30% Wonder Woman 25% Iron Man 15%

Young and acrobatic. You don't mind stepping aside to give someone else glory.

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