The countdown continues part 2

3 days until William and Saoirse arrive home.

I am not ready.

Rather, my house is not ready. I am more than ready to see them.

So tell me why it is that I am sitting at the computer desk rather than cleaning?

I can tell you. I work better under pressure.

I will spend my entire day Saturday cleaning and when I wake up on Sunday morning my house will look lovely.

It will.

It had better.

A letter to my daughter

I was cleaning up today (yes, I do occassionally)and I found a letter I had written to Taylor when she was 5.

I spend so much time bitching about Taylor on this blog, that I thought maybe I should share with you that I actually do love this child. If you have been reading me for awhile you will see that I briefly mention one of our constant problems.

Here goes:


12 August 2000
Taylor,
This week you learned to ride your bike without training wheels. You no longer have a bike, you always refer to it as a "two wheeler." You learned to ride your bike like you do everything else- on your own, completely by surprise. You came running into the house "I can ride a two wheeler! I can ride a two-wheeler!" How proud you were! I thought you were wrong, frankly, for just the weekend before when we went camping with Jeremy and his mum, you wouldn't let Shelley or myself let go of your shirt on Jeremy's old 12". And here you are now! I came out to watch you- you pushed your feet to start and then you were off, down the driveway, across the road, up and then down that driveway and back again. You fell once that night- a scrape on your chin and a small one on each elbow. Now I watch you and it as though you were born riding a bike. But that is the way you do things, Tay- nothing is ever halfway with you. It is all (riding a bike, reading) or nothing (cleaning!)

You are reading alot. You can pick a book up you have never read before and read most, if not all, of it. When we e-mailed Great Grandad to thank him and Great Nanny for the gifts they had sent back with Nanny you wrote that you could read, I believe, 11 books. How high that number must be now!

I love you, Tay!
Mummy

P.S. Less than a month until kindergarten- how quickly you are growing up!

Oh ye of little faith

So the Oilers pulled off a win 8 minutes into double overtime last night. It was quite exciting I must say. Towards the end of the first overtime it looked as though Detroit had won, but the puck had slid under the net. Those poor Red Wings, all hugging each other and happy. You had to feel sorry for them. Just a little. But not too much, that would just be wrong.

Next game's tomorrow. Can the Oilers pull off another win? Can they take this series? It's the number one team vs. the number 14 team. On paper, you wouldn't think it at all. They say though that it is often the team that wants it the most that wins. That has to be the Oilers. It has been sooooooo long for them. Certainly, the Oilers fans want it more than the Red Wings fans, if you judge by the noise in Rexall Place as compared to Joe Louis.

Still, no point in getting ones hopes up only to suffer crushing defeat. It's just that you sort of can't help it. It's been 16 years after all.

How I hate overtime

I am watching the Oilers/Red Wings game. It was fantastic for the first two periods. The Oilers were leading 3-1. And then there was a crappy, lacklustre third period for the Oilers. Sadly, Dertoit did not have a bad period. They scored 2 goals 18 seconds apart.

Feckin' bastards.

So now it's going to overtime. And I hate, despise, cannae stand overtime. It makes me nervous. It makes me want to throw up.

Because you know what? I knew the Oilers, a team that has not been in the playoffs for 3 years, winning two games in a row was way too much to ask.

Still, one can hope.

I have not been into hockey in years. Which is a shame, because it is a game I used to love. I used to be able to tell you the stats of every player on every team, back in the days when it was a decent 26 team league.

Today I couldn't even tell you how many teams there are...30? 32? I don't know. I don't even know who most of the Oilers are these days. In fact when Brad Winchester scored the winning goal in game 2, I was away from the TV and origianlly thought that Detroit had scored. Then I realized that the fans were not cheering. Who knew the Oilers had a player called Brad Winchester? Not this half arsed fan.

I think the main reason I liked hockey was because I was a teenager and men in their early 20s were pretty sexy, even with missing teeth. Especially the not very handsome but extremely sexy Kelly Buchberger. But let's face it- when you're in 30s (even if it is still your early 30s, thank you very much) men in their early 20s are no longer sexy, they are only boys. I was going to say babies, but that's a wee bit harsh isn't it?

My son, future Man U player?

Liam had his first soccer game today, after only one practice. They won 11-1. He played the first half out, and was in goal the second half. Which just happens to be when that lone goal for the other team was scored. But never mind, he did fantastic.

So I hear, since I was only there for the last 5 minutes, due to a meeting.

In the first half, he was kicked somewhere- my mother says the ankle, he told William it was the knee- and he had to be carried off the field by the ref, crying the whole time. Crying, and saying he wanted to go back on. Boys, I tell ya. They don't give up very easily. I always say that if Liam is crying you know he's hurt since he is usually very stoic.

Yesterday in practice, he did a signature Liam move- he took a dive. I have never seen a kid who falls as often as Liam does. Is it just clumsiness? Possibly partly, but no, I think he is watching too many Manchester United games on Saturday mornings. I've said it here before and I have no issues with repeating myself- Man U players dive alot. I mean, a whole lot. And I don't know why Liam bothers because it is very rare in U10 soccer that some kid will get a yellow card.

But keep it up, sweetie, one day you could be a millionaire. Or at least show them how to do it properly.

Sixteen Dead Men

15 Canadian soldiers and 1 diplomat have died in Afghanistan since 2002.

Unlike my feelings on the war in Iraq, I am not opposed to the war in Afghanistan. I am conflicted about it, though. What was started in Afghanistan by the Americans should have been finished before they ever went into Iraq. I'm pretty sure they were looking for bin Laden and I am pretty sure he's still out there.

Finish one job before you start another, that's my motto. (Not really, but if I were the head of the world's largest super power it certainly would be.)

It turns out that the Prime Minister's office is taking a lead from the adminstration to the south. They have decreed that the media can no longer show images of the soldiers' caskets returning home. Nor will Canadian flags fly at half mast for fallen sodiers. They will be homoured once a year, on Remembrance Day.

I am completely opposed to this. It has been suggested that the reasoning behind this decision is that Canadians may come to believe that "Afghanistan could become Prime Minister Stephen Harper's Iraq." I don't think so. What I do think is that the less we hear about these men is the less likely we are to remember what they are doing. There are not many people who become immune to death, so I don't feel that is a valid reason either. If anything showing the caskets arriving home should make us remember, and appreciate, soldiers who go into a foreign country in the hopes of making this world a better place.

I'm shocked that I also agree with Ralph Klein, who has stated that flags at the Legislature will be lowered to half mast when a soldier from Alberta, or who is based in Alberta, dies. Since there are 4 Canadian Forces Bases in Alberta, there's a pretty good chance that our flags will be lowered when a death does occur. Although I don't think CFB Suffield counts, I'm pretty sure it's all Brits these days. Hmmm. Must look into that.

Have you ever noticed that I get off topic very easily? I do this in real life as well, go from subject to subject and back again. Very annoying to the average person in my life.

Anyway, it is good to see that at least one political official is showing proper respect to our Canadian soldiers. And maybe even the odd Brit or two. (And don't point out to me that if they are now in Afghanistan they are no longer based in Suffield. I know that, I just had no way to end this bloody post.)

I'm an auntie!

Well,not really. I'm actually a second cousin but since the chances of my brother having children of his own that we know about is almost nil I'm taking what I can get.

My cousin Marcus and his girlfriend Sophie had a baby boy today, at 3.25 GMT. He is called Jacob Thomas Raoul. The Thomas is after my brother. For some reason, he is very well liked in the family. Raoul is Spanish for Ralph, who is the grandfather. There's not many who would call a child Ralph these days, but Raoul is not half bad.

Jacob has an older brother, Isaac, who was two in October and who was not at all pleased about the impending arrival. Apparently he did quite well though.

This is my Aunt Jacki's fourth grandson in 3 years, not a girl in the bunch. My mother got all the girls apparently.

I will meet all four in 2007, when they come to Canada to celebrate Jacki and Ralph's retirement. Nelson will never be the same after our lot is done with it.

The Countdown Continues

6 days to go!!!! And then my baby will be home. I am so excited to see Saoirse again. More new changes- she bounces up and down when her dad comes in from work, she can say her name and says "g'day", all with an Australian accent. I suppose that will go quickly and she will just have a regular old boring Canadian accent. You'd think we'd live somewhere good like Nova Scotia or Newfoundland to at least have something other than dull for an accent. Of course, I could live without the bad grammar that comes with being from Newfoundland. (And don't you try and deny it if you're from there, it's bloody terrible.)

Oh, it's also 6 days until William comes home which is also a fantastic thing. In different ways entirely.

A sign, if you take these things seriously.

You Belong in Dublin

Friendly and down to earth, you want to enjoy Europe without snobbery or pretensions. You're the perfect person to go wild on a pub crawl... or enjoy a quiet bike ride through the old part of town.

What European City Do You Belong In?

Unlike Boliath, I was happy to see that The European city I belong in is Dublin.

Not that I'd ever live there mind you. I don't have a fortune sitting in my back pocket to buy a house in Dublin or even a bloody paperback book. Have you seen the prices in that city? Living in Edmonton is cheap.

Plus there's the minor fact that William would not live in the Republic, and especially not Dublin. Ach well.

I would have been the perfect person to go wild on a pub crawl, when I was 17 or so. Not so much these days. And the bike ride? Well, I've not been on a bike since I was 11 so unless I fancied falling a few times there'll be no rides through the old part of town.

If I ever end up living in Europe it will be somewhere rather unfashionable like Aberdeen or Southampton. No offense to anyone from those two cities. I am sure there are worse. Eastbourne, maybe.

It makes me think of a place to tell you the truth

Tom Cruise has had his baby.

I mean, Katie Holmes has given birth to Tom Cruise's baby.

Suri. Which is not a terrible name. By far, it is not the worst celebrity baby name out there. There's some kid somewhere named after a piece of fruit.

Suri, however, makes me think of Surrey, B.C. or Surrey in England. A perfectly nice name but ruined by the fact that it is a place. And in the case of the one in B.C., not a particularly pretty place. It's like Devon. Devon's not a bad name at all, but there's a town right outside Edmonton called Devon, plus there's a Devon in England.

Here, did the people who settled this bloody country not have the ability to come up with an original name? Excluding Buffalo-Head-Smashed-In-Jump or whatever that place is called, of course.

Just looked it up on the World Heritage site and it is called Head-Smashed-In-Buffalo Jump. I may not know it's name, but I knew it was a World Heritage site. I'm not just a pretty face you know.

So back to wee Suri. We all know that's Tom's baby,not Katie's; after all, when was the last time you saw a picture of Nicole Kidman with Isabella and Connor? Well before Thanksgiving was the last time I saw one.

I wonder if she made noise during the silent birth. Although I did see him on Primetime Live saying that the mother can make all the noise she wants, it is people around her who have to be quiet. Which, oddly enough, I don't totally disagree with. However, that is not what John Travolta and Kelly Preston said. They said everyone was to be quiet. One of these couples really must brush up on their scientology lessons.

Somehow, though, I think those signs being taken into Tom's house were facing Katie during the birth, not the doctor or anyone else.

I give it another 6 months.

The lunch 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.

11 Days and counting

There are only 11 days until Saoirse and William come home!

Do you know what this means people?

In 11 days, I will hold my daughter for the first time in almost 3 months.

In 11 days, I will be able to have a proper mother/toddler conversation since she is now talking way more than she was in February.

In 11 days, I will have sex again.

Yea!


Was that too much information?

A stroke of genius or a sign of the coming madness?

I have decided to humiliate my children into cleanliness. Not the bedroom sort (a lost cause, I have decided) but the clean person sort.

I have told them they no longer need to shower/bathe.

I, quite frankly, am sick of the fight that comes every evening before they are told to shower.

Liam: "It's Taylor's turn to go first this time, I went first last time."

The mother:"Taylor, you're to go first."

Taylor:" No, it's Liam's turn."

Liam:"NOOOOO....I always go first, remember you said Taylor would go first for a while."

Taylor:"I don't remember agreeing to that!"

On and on and on and on it goes.....

The mother: "THAT'S IT!!!!!!!!!! I'VE HAD ENOUGH! If you two don't care enough to get into the bloody shower when you are stinking without being told then NEITHER OF YOU EVER HAVE TO SHOWER AGAIN!!!!!! GO TO SCHOOL DIRTY!!!! I NO LONGER CARE!!! I'M SICK OF ALL THIS FIGHTING!!!!!!!!"

So I'm done. I don't care if they have black hands from the dirt, I don't care if they stink to the heavens. I don't care how dirty Taylor's nails are or that her hair may become greasy. I don't care if Liam goes to school with his hair sticking up all over his head.

I am hoping however, that they one day might. I am hoping that the first time someone says "Och, you smell" they come home and hop right into the shower. I even hope it forces them to use soap instead of just standing under a stream of hot water. I hope that one day maybe, just maybe, my children will appreciate that the fact that they have to take showers. I hope that humiliation works.

Please let it because I am not sure that I could bear the smell of them for more than a day, or the sand in the sheets, or Liam not changing his underwear. By the way, is it just my son who thinks he can wear the same boxers for 2 or more days? I cannot tell you how many times I have made him run upstairs to change when I see those boxers over his jeans.

**NOTE: I am hoping this works. I once went on strike and would not do laundry or cook due to their ungrateful ways. They ate sandwiches and kraft dinner for a week. The laundry was harder, as they both have tons of clothes. But eventually I wore them down. Can I do it this time? Stay tuned.**

So who would be in your top ten?

At my weekend away the other week (which was fantastic by the way, I did almost fuck all) we were discussing who would be in our top ten list of celebrities to sleep with.

Much like the Ross thing on friends a few years ago, when he laminated his list of who Rachel would allow him to sleep with, since you'd never actually run into these people anyway.

We were listening to James Blunt at the time, and discussing whether or not he is attractive. It's my opinion that if he were not newly famous most people would not give him a second glance. There is however something very appealing about him, the lips and the shaggy hair I think. And then you hear that upper class British accent and any desire for the poor man is suddenly gone. But still, I'd do him as long as he didn't talk.

And here's the very sad thing... I could not come up with 10 celebrities that I would want to sleep with. This either signifies my lack of knowledge of those with fame and fortune or it tells you that I have grown up and am quite satisfied with my partner. I mean let's face it, once you've gone Irish there's just no going back.

Which leads me to Bono. I did list him, just because I would like to tell him that he is crap in bed and now can he please stop going on about what a fantastic person he is? The only other person I could think of was River Phoenix, due to my teenage obsession, but he is long dead and I don't think corpses could or should count.

So that's it, I have a top one and once I get sick of that CD, James Blunt will be off my list as well, so really there are no freebies for me. Which is quite alright for the newly mature me.

Who Am I?

Oprah's show on Friday was about women who have let themselves go. Apparently to get themselves back they had to keep a journal about who they were. But they could not be about their titles or roles. So no "I am a mom, I am Catholic, I am a lawyer." Obviously you should realize I am not talking about myself there since I am far from a lawyer.

This must have been thought up by people who are not mothers. (Hello, Oprah!) Being a mother defines who I am, good and bad. How can it not? If you are a mother, or a father, and you can tell me that being a parent does not define who you are then I will tell you that you must be half cracked and really, seriously need to reconsider your said role as a parent.

To a lesser degree our other roles define us...the fact that I am Catholic has certainly fucked me up in some indescribable way. The fact that I have a shitty job tells me alot too, did not go to university being the main one.

But beyond my roles and titles, just who am I? Let me enlighten myself, but sadly probably bore youse.

I am moody.
I am a procastinator.
I am disorganized.
I am messy. (Only at home, at work I'm anal about my workspace.)
I am a yeller. (Falls under my role as mum.)
I am all bark and no bite. (Yep, I'll yell until the walls fall down around me, but there is virtually no punishment involved.)
I am terrible at anything math related.

For fecks sakes, have I nothing good about about me? Thinking....

I have threatened people who have hurt my children or their friends. (This is not a good thing, one can get in trouble for telling a 14 year old -even if she is bigger than yourself- that you will choke her herself if she says once more to a child that she will choke and kill him.)
I am shy.
I am quiet.
However, once I know someone well, I don't shutup.
I am selfish in certain areas of life.(Just ask my poor fella, it's a wonder he wants to share a bed with me.)
I am generally fairly positive. (I know, you'd never guess it by reading this blog.)
I am obsessive.
I am a reader.
I am a contradiction.

Surely, there must be a few positive things about me, but I am much too tired to go on. I have been up for an hour and I need a nap.