Random happenings in the neighbourhood.

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

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

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

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

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

He says "Call display."

"Oh right, am I ever an eejit."

"Yep, we have all the latest technology."

Facetious bastard.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Now you're making me feel guilty!"

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

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

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

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

Oh yeah...the pics...


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

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

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

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

Around the world in 888 days

(Otherwise known as "Meet my brother".)

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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



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

The one where her mother laughs like a maniac

William picked me up from work on Friday night and when I came into the house Sophie wass sitting at the computer desk falling asleep. Her head would drift off to the side and bounce right back up. Oh how it made me laugh. So I grabbed the camera and filmed her.

Two things you may notice:

1) the noise. The TV is almost always on in our house. 99.9% of the time. No one was even really watching it, so you think we would turn it off. Or down at the very least.
2) The huge mark on my wall. Someone (and I shan't name names because it may have been me) smashed the chair into the wall and tore off a chunk of drywall. And someone one else (Liam) noticed a small chip in the paint and started peeling. Which led to eveyone else peeling. I think I am just going to get a roll of that textured paintable wallpaper to cover it.



All she wants to do is sleep... from Emma on Vimeo.

I'm pleased to note that my voice sounds much more like me than in the other video. Minus the slightly snarky way in which I ask Taylor what she is watching.

Fun Monday- My favourite photo.

It's been a long absence from Fun Mondays- most of them just require way too much thinking for my tired wee brain so I just don't even bother. I thought this one would be easy.

I was wrong. A favourite photo. It should be fairly easy. I've only been digital for 3 years and I have yet to figure out the ins and outs of the scanner so any picture prior to July 05 is out of the running. A shame really, because my all time favourite photo is of Taylor at age 1, in 1996. However, there are thousands of pictures from the last few years and tonight I am just too tired to go through them all.

However, as per aoj over at The Lurchers I will still show a favourite, albeit very recent, photo and tell you why it is so:

This is not a well taken picture. A little blurry, not a great shot, but the emotion behind this photo is something I will never forget.

I think I mentioned on here that Liam had a great soccer year, in fact his team will be in the Provincials next month. He was the goalie and absolutely loved every moment of it.

This picture is from the zone fianls, where they ended sudden death overtime with a draw, leading to penalty shots. Oh, it was nerve wracking! This picture was taken as Liam's team was up 3-1, and the other team was about to take their fourth shot.

I was nervous and excited and extremely frustrated as Sophie kept trying to run toward the road so I was holding a squirming toddler and trying to hold the camera steady.




Right after this picture the other team took their shot and Liam made a fantastic save. The picture immedaitely following this one would have been my choice as favourite as it was of the team running up to Liam and hugging him however due to the squirming Sophie, the photo ended up being of just their legs! Grrr.

Anyway, this photo will always be special to me... Liam in his beloved goal, helping to bring his team a gold in zone finals, which led to a gold in cities and hopefully will lead to a medal in provincials (though I'm not counting on one- their best player will be at a wedding in Saskatchewan and believe me when I say that they need him!)

Everyone has a story that can break your heart

Jaysus. Two posts. Two days. It's a bloody blogging miracle.

I've been working a few extra shifts over the summer and have had a chance to chat with a few patients. Normally I work only weekend evenings and spend more time reading than I do ferrying people around. I figure I made $120 an hour for the time I actually worked on holiday Monday, the great majority of my shift was spent reading and chatting with my workmates. Oh, it was a grand night.

So anyway, because I have done a few day shifts I have been going to the floors and sometimes you have to wait FOREVER for a nurse to stop charting and come transfer a patient. So I chat with the patients, or in some cases the family.

I always wonder what people, especially the elderly, did with their lives. Were they happy? Were they loved? Did they travel the world? Fight in a war? So many of our patients are Canadian by choice, what made them choose to move here? I am fascinated by personal histories.

While I was waiting FOREVER (okay, it was only 10 minutes) for a nurse to come and help me with a patient I started talking with his wife. She asked me my name and I said "Emma". She looked at her husband and smiled and he smiled back. I wondered if perhaps they had a daughter with the same name. But she said "When we were students Maine, Geoffrey and his friends always went into a certain diner and the owner would always be yelling "EMMA! Bring me a pen and paper!" She said that for years after, when he and his friends would yell that phrase out for no reason. Isn't it funny how hearing one word can make a memory come rushing back?

I asked her if they had just gone to school in Maine, or were they from the States. They were American and had decided to move to Canada in the late 60s as they were not happy with the state of civil rights at the time and were worried that their three sons would reach draft age should the Vietnam War go on. She said they had always loved Canada, and chose to come to Alberta as they had family in both Calgary and Edmonton and wanted to be near the mountains because they were avid skiiers and hikers.

I looked down at the husband who was no longer able to walk and I wondered how he felt. How does it feel to spend your life being active and able and now you are unable? It makes me feel I am wasting my life, there just is not enough activity in my days. I would rather grow old saying "I am so glad I did these things" rather that "I regret not doing more." It made me realize I really need to change my lifestyle.

That same day I went to pick up a 29 year old patient. She was blind and her eyes were quite dark and sunken in. She was mentally handicapped, I would think she was maybe at the level of a 5 or 6 year old. She was so excited to be going over to x-ray, where she would be "getting her picture taken." Her mum told me that she had brought her home from a home for handicapped children to die when she was 2 1/2. She said they didn't want to leave her alone in a home with no one. "And here she is, almost 30." she said. I wondered with the way she said that was she sometimes bitter that a child she was told would die was still alive. When you have a handicapped child, hands on parenting doesn't end. Did she ever wish she had never taken that little girl home? I don't know. I would like to think she does not regret a day, but she just seemed so sad when she said that.

I also heard, while I got paid to chat on Monday, that last week there was a Code Blue in Labour and Delivery (and hey, blogger that wrote out my entire post on her blog and "corrected the typos" on the mother who almost suffocated her baby, there were no typos in my post, we spell labour with an ou.) A mum had a section and had a pulmonary embolism. She had just had her fifth child and she was 26. I've heard two different endings to this story, that she was transferred to another hospital with a police escort (which is what I hope happened) and that she ended up dying while still in our hospital. I must remember to ask my mother for the update on that.

There are sad stories from the ICN as well, a baby born up north where the ultrasound missed the fact that he had a dia.phra@gmatic hern.ia, where the organs move into the chest cavity and the lungs don't develop properly leading to a lack of oxygen. Last I heard he was in a vegetative state. There was a newly adopted baby girl who developed meningitis, there was another baby sent home to die.

It puts my so called difficult summer into perspective. Sometimes I need to count my blessings, take a moment and enjoy how lucky I am.

Overwhelmed

I'm pretty sure I have a post or two with that title already...

So this has been a pretty stressful summer. How long until they are back in school? 3 3 1/2 weeks? It can't come soon enough. I am tired of the daily fights between Taylor and Liam, between Liam and Saoirse (why must he irritate her so? Now I see why Taylor used to get so upset with him- and there I was getting mad at her because she was the one always in tears!), between Taylor and/ or Liam and myself. I'm pretty close to the breaking point methinks.

This was supposed to be the summer that my kids grew up and took on some responsibility. I sat them down and we worked out a deal that they would do chores from Monday to Friday for $5 a day. Weekends they would have total freedom to do sweet fuck all and during the week they were to help with normal chores- cleaning their own bathroom, picking up the livingroom, dishes, etc. You know, the usual day to day stuff that normally only I do. $25 a week gave them the potential to earn $200 by the end of the summer for what should have been less than 30 minutes a day work.

And then there was babysitting. I had hoped to pick up and extra 3 shifts every 2 weeks. Taylor was babysit at $30 for a full day, $15 for a half. However, when you don't wake up until noon you can't really claim you are babysitting all day. (No need to call Social Services- Liam got up with the girls.) I ended up telling work I could only do evening shifts, which actually works out in my favour as I then get shift differential. More money, but no seeing Himself as I leave at 2.30 and he comes home at 5. Granted, that can also can work out in my favour, depending on one's mood.

Sophie is beating up on Saoirse. If you are not a regular reader of my blog, you may be unaware that Sophie is 21 months younger than Saoirse. If she wants something Saoirse has she will take it, hitting or pulling hair if she must. And hitting for fun. Not only Saoirse. Oh no, we have all had a Sophie smack across the arms, legs or face. We are not a family that spanks so I really have no idea where this is coming from. The kid spends half her day on the time out step. Or rather, she would if she listened to me and stayed in time out.

And yet sometimes? She is so freaking sweet. She is really affectionate and smart and oh, so funny. The other day she sort of slid of the chair and bumped her bum. She was naked of course, because why get dressed when you can spend the day running around without pesky clothing to get in your way? So she bumps her butt and says to me "Oh Mummy! I hurt my bum! You need to kiss (mwah, mwah) it better." And she turned around and stuck her bum in the air. She did make kissy noises too. How can you not laugh at that? So I kissed the top of a bum cheek and she said "Thank you Mummy! My owie's all better!" She speaks in exclamations, everything is so exciting to her. She also speaks in periods. "Give. Me. The. Phone. Right. Now." That's what I heard when I called home the other night and was talking to Saoirse. Bossy and not very nice on one hand, sweet and loving on the other.

It's her second birthday this coming Sunday. Being the fantastic mother I am, I have arranged nothing. No birthday party planned, I sort of mentioned to a few people that we may have a barbeque but have followed up with no one. We are going to see Sesame Street Live on the day at 1 pm so I am a bit worried that by 5 or so she will be an absolute bear as she won't have napped. And really? I know she's only turning two, she isn't going to care that no one is there. But I do, I care that there will be no family friends in the picture. I think part of the problem is that I have pushed so many people away and the ones that I haven't are all on freaking holiday and so there is really no one to invite.

And finally, (I could totally go on feeling sorry for myself but shall spare you) today we got a letter from Imm.igation Canada saying that William needs to have another full medical examination as it has been more that 12 months since the last one. Do you know why it has been more than 12 months? Because every freaking month CIC sends us yet another letter telling us they need one more thing. Last month it was yet another criminal record check from Australia, this one requiring finger prints. Well,f you fucking wanted fingerprints why did you not say that in the original bloody letter. We are on third Australian check. I bet the next one they send says they want one from Scotland for the brief time he lived there more than 10 years ago.

Another medical is going to cost us about $400. Not a great deal of money, but not money we have at the moment. It has been a really tight few months, and with over $700 in school fees coming up in September it is not money I see being available to us in the next few months. Then there's Christmas and in the new year William has to go back to Australia as the medical board has said they will close his case if he doesn't come back soon. And then there was the letter telling me I owe Revenue Canada almost $500 for overpayments on GST in 2006 because I had an unclaimed partner. Gov't of Canada agencies really must not communicate because if they did they would know that in 2006 William was not allowed to work in this bloody godforsaken country.

In good news, we had our first bloggers get together in ages, and this time a new blogger joined us. I loved meeting 'She' from The Screaming Pages, along with her husband Drew. I know a few other Edmonton bloggers and I hope they will join us in the future.

Last chance to join the book swap!

Tomorrow (today, as in Friday, by the time anyone reads this) is the last day to join the book swap. If you've already said you're joining please make sure you email me your address. And if you were in last year's swap and you can remember who you had or who had you please let me know. My list seems to have removed itself from my blogger journal. Oh yes, I have a blogger journal. Loser? Harsh word, but I shan't disagree.

My email can be found in the 2 posts below!

The book swap

There are currently 17 people signed up for the book swap. And perhaps there would be more but my email was totally full. After deleting some 2000 messages and then deleting them AGAIN from the trash can I am now sitting at only 50% full so any messages sent should be received now. The address again was emmamcdonnellATshawDOTca. Oh, I did learn to do the AT and DOT after receiving hundreds of emails proclaiming me the winners of British and Irish lotteries, asking if I would like a bigger penis (not really, quite happy with the one that shares my bed) and would I allow the wife of some Nigerian in exile to deposit his great fortune into my bank account?

I have to tell you, I almost fell for the British lottery one. You see, I am the holder of 200 premium bond numbers. And in my 34 years of life I am the only one of my grandfather's (the purchaser of said bonds) 5 grandchildren to not win. NOT ONCE. My brother used to win almost constantly. My youngest cousin won a thousand pounds. Even Taylor has won twice. But me? NOT ONCE!

So I was quite excited to see that I had won the lottery. So excited I ignored the fact it said lottery rather than premium bond. I even called my mother saying I had just won the big one! A million pounds! And then my mother, that bearer of bad news to the gulliable among us, said "Well, how did you find out? It would come to my address." As I said they emailed me I realized how stupid I am. Sigh. I had that money spent in the brief minute I was a millionaire.

Anyway, I digress, as always. So the book swap....email me by July 25th, feel free to link to it in your blog. Wouldn't it be nice if I had one of those fancy little buttons? I do not. Beyond my limited computer talents, I'm afraid.

I'm hoping to get everyone their partners by midnight mountain time, and email everyone then.

Emma's second annual book swap

Well, it will be if people sign up.

Like last year I am asking you to sign up to send another a blogger a book by your favourite author. I did this swap a bit later in the summer last year, and books weren't sent out until September. Had I been very on the ball (which, let's face it, never happens with me) then I would have done this in June so that people could have a beach read, or if you live in Alberta, a book to read when the power goes out during a thunderstorm. Reading by flashlight during a storm... could there be anything more satisfying? Lots I'm sure, but it is a fond childhood memory.

Anyway, one book is all it takes. It can be new, it can be gently used, whatever. You can send your favourite book, or a book for children (assuming said blogger has a child or two.) You can send both. You can send more than one if you so desire. But, you know, make sure you send something.

So today is what? the 18th..no the 17th. It's summer, I can't keep track of the days. Let's see if anyone signs up by the 25th (next Friday, if my calendar is correct) with a mail out date of, say, August 5th. I would have said the fourth, but that's a civic holiday in Canada (known as Heritage Days in Edmonton...yummy food from all over the world) and a no mail day.

And if there's no interest? Well, I'll just buy a new book for myself. That's okay too.

Ooops...guess I should have said email me your info at emmamcdonnellATshawDOTca. Details, details.

Go to sleep Daddy

I know you are dying to see how adorable my 2-in-one-month-old is. And not only is she cute, she is bossy. Note how she pushes her dad's head towards the end. Bossy.


Go to sleep from Emma on Vimeo.

Holy crap! When did my voice become so ear piercingly annoying? I hope this isn't how I normally sound.

I couldn't have said it better myself.

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

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

At one point Karens says this:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A is for age: 34

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

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

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

E is for essential item you use everyday: Toothpaste.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

S is for status: Mother.

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

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

W is for worst habit: biting nails.

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

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

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

Too many with 16.

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


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

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


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


Sophie with reindeer ears on.


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


"Mmmm...nanas!"


Mini train at the International Children's Festival.


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


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


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


Saoirse hanging out under the not yet decorated Christmas tree.



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


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


Sophie playing in the princess castle.



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



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


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


Saoirse sleeping on the sofa.


a newborn Sophie.


Sophie at about 6 weeks.


Saoirse's 2nd birthday. Blowing up balloons.


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


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


The Christmas tree. Dec 05.


Saoirse, hidden amongst the stuffed animals.


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


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

Who told Liam he was allowed to grow up?

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

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

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

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

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


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


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


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


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


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

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

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

Politically Incorrect? *EDITED* *AND AGAIN!*

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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