wow, how time flies.

i love my watch. rob bought it for me for my 29th birthday, it was the perfect gift. up to that point i had an old digital watch that you could put different velcro bands on....it looked better than it sounds...well, not really. anyhow, this new watch was a silver plated swiss army with simple numbers (i can't stand roman numerals, i am not italian and i do not live 500 years ago!) on a simple white face, with simple hands. simple is the theme. nothing fancy about it, well except it does have the date too. love this watch. as a teacher, it is a great watch to help students learn how to tell time, they would often tell their folks they wanted a watch "just like miss gibbons'." wow, i was finally the envy of someone! since it is waterproof i could wear it in the shower, ocean wherever. if i did take if off for some reason and forgot to put it on before leaving for work, i would feel totally off kilter all day-i would often have to borrow a student's watch just so i wouldn't drive myself crazy! i had to know the time, how would i survive if i didn't know the time??

now as most woman would attest to, time is very important in the land of pregnancy especially delivery. gotta time those contractions, gotta know how long it will take to get to the hospital, gotta time the breathing. timing is everything. and of course, when it all happens, you must know the exact time your child enters the world and takes that first breath (12:37 am and 4:07 pm thank you very much!) once you and the babe make it home, you must time how long the baby feeds on the left, then the right. what time she pooped, what time she peed....again, time time time!

however this changed in one of those early days when i noticed a little mark on my newbie's back..."omg, what is that???" maybe she is allergic to the baby soap we use, maybe the detergent is causing a reaction ....no wait, is that mark in the exact same place my arm rests when i am holding her? oh no, could it be that my watch is causing that mark??? omg i am a terrible mother. my own need for time is causing my child to develop a hideous scar that will surely limit her choice in suitors later in life. ok get a hold of yourself (remember i said it was the early days and i was VERY sleep deprived.) why not just remove the watch? i can wear it later, when i am going out (when is that again??).

for over 3 years i didn't wear my watch. i timed things the old-fashioned way. sun is up, breakfast time! high pitch cries, feeding time! sun setting, cuddle time! who needs a watch to dictate these things??

christmas this year brought many thoughtful pressies and lots of fun. hubby passed me a little gift that i slowly opened. it was a box from a local jewellers and inside was a beautiful new watch. immediately i realized that my girls were a little older and that my watch would no longer catch them or mark their skin. my hubby asked if i liked the watch but knew by my face i wasn't as excited as he thought i would be. "it is great, thanks". that was all i could muster. it was a very thoughtful gift and one that any other recipient would be grateful for. but that watch was a reminder that my girls were growing up and i could wear a watch again without fear of marking their tender skin.

so, it is now a few months since christmas morning and i still don't wear a watch. i did return the watch rob bought me and received a store credit. i decided to get my swiss army watch cleaned and tidied up so that it could be counted on to get me through the day as any good watch should. it is sitting on my bedside and will continue to do so until i decide the time is right. whenever that will be.

"pressing" issue

ok, i have always been the person that must iron her clothes. always. i have had people comment on this and must admit i pride myself on it . doesn't matter how busy the morning is or how casual the shirt, it must be ironed. now, i can also say i have never ironed any of rob's clothes, this need for crispness is only on the clothes i wear...ok and some of the girls' stuff too. now with all that said, yesterday i had a "wth" moment in regards to my needs being met.

on the spur of the moment i sent rob an email to see if he wanted to meet me at a local restaurant for dinner with the girls. he agreed it was a good idea and we aimed to meet at 5:30, plenty of time for me to grab deirann and get to the restaurant on time. as i wound up the day and started to tidy my desk, i happened to glance down at what i was wearing....oh god, i have become a makeover show's dream.

every morning i get up and have a shower-it is my coffee, i must have one everyday. i then throw on some sweats and head downstairs to start the day. wait, rewind....throw on some sweats??? what??? you can't iron sweats....when did this happen?

as i reflect on the last few months i realize that my favourite small appliance has been rarely used. to further emphasis my point, the ironing board, which used to be a more important piece of furniture then the tv, is in the linen closet....with dust on it. oh god.

i am lucky enough to work with my sister-in-law and brother-in-law in their home doing admin work etc for their business. i used to tease my sister-in-law about the stretchy pants she would wear to "the office" everyday and although a little envious, i couldn't imagine wearing comfy clothes day in and day out. i would certainly miss my pants and skirts and collared shirts right?

ok sis, i see your stretch pants and raise you an old sweatshirt with stains that even gil grissom and his posse wouldn't be able to identify!

so back to yesterday. now, the normal person would think, "hmm ....perhaps i have time to go home and change before meeting the love of my life, you know, put something a little more dressy on, like...jeans(!)" but i am not normal, no i am a problem solver with limited time. so i think , "hmmm....perhaps sis-in-law has a pair of black stretchy pants i can borrow, yeah that will do the job!" now lets assess the situation, i am wearing a white tshirt (for those of you who know me, you are not surprised), blue socks, blue sweat pants and a blue zipped hoodie, my footwear is what i have lived in for 6 months, my merrells. note that i am all in blue, that is what "putting an outfit together" these days means for me. so off i go to see what sis has to offer. my choice is a bright coral nike zipped hoodie "to redirect the eyes " or some capris...it is winter here in southern ontario. hmmm...things aren't looking good. Luckily, in the back of the closet is an off white sweater that may helped things out. looking at it i am surprised how long it is "it is from when i would wear leggings"....get the idea? so on it goes. did i mention i am 5'11 and my sis-in-law is about 5'4??? "well,if i simply push the sleeves up it will work"- again a problem solver at work.

so taking a quick look in the mirror i think "hey not too bad"...wait a sec...have i been walking around with my hair like this all day?

now, i am quite lucky to have pretty healthy, brown hair that occasionally sprouts a grey hair once in a while to remind me that i am approaching 40. it is wavy, manageable, you know, simple. i do make an effort to dry it but with a 15 month running around during my three minute"beauty routine" in the morning, i usually only get the front done, the part i see. i figure, hey who looks at the back of my head anyways? oy, i should-what a mess. however as the day goes on i usually end up putting it up with an elastic in a messy bun/cat toy sorta thing. i am not sure what look i am going for but it is certainly not the one that greets me in the mirror.

what happened to me...where did my need for crisp cotton shirts and cuffed pants go? when did everything get replaced with sweats? aren't sweats meant for working out...in a gym...but isn't it funny that most people who wear sweats are the people who have never set foot in a gym....myself included. the people i know that got to the gym wear tight fitting, lycra outfits from lulu fruitbowl not the old cotton ginny ones i possess. ok back on track.

i don't know how to describe my style. i guess classic/preppy (i LOVE white shirts-any style- chinos, cardigans) and usually shop for LL Bean, Bass, Columbia, Ann Taylor...that sorta style. however, sitting here i can't think of the last time i bought a piece of clothing for myself...or had to handwash something. i am a very low maintenance girl who lives for burts bees lip shimmer and a redsox cap, but how much "lower" can my maintenance go? i mean, can i wear my pjs to work? is that acceptable?

i think i need an intervention.

so next time we bump into each other, please do not give me the once over look...there is nothing you can think that i haven't already, just be happy that i made it out with clothes on. and if you know someone in need, i know where you can get a great iron and board for a good price...or maybe we can just swap for some stretchy pants?

How a Kind Gesture and Two Timbits Cost Me My Daughter's Friendship.

Before I had kids, the gifts I would give to the little people in my life were often noisy, messy, big...you know, the ones the kids love but the parents glare at you for giving. Bubble making machines, fire trucks with real sirens, little drums and even harmless balloons usually topped the list. I would often laugh and say,"Come on, they're only young once." Boy how things have changed - yesterday I was on the flipside of that equation.

So let me set the scene:

Happy three year old finishes her Irish dance lesson and leaves the studio to put on her coat.

Enter kind Irish dance teacher: "Here Devin, have a balloon."

Enter crazed mother who regrets eating those two Timbits at 4:00 that surely slowed her down just enough to cause her not to intercept said balloon.

"Thank you Miss Dance Teacher." Damn I was too slow and couldn't get to said balloon first-but gotta admit, I did raise a polite little girl.

"Look Mummy, a PINK (had to be her favourite colour didn't it?) balloon for me!"

"Wow, Devin, you're so lucky." If looks could kill, that dance teacher would have been attacked by a bunch of shillaleigh wielding leprechauns that would have made Tanya Harding look like Tinkerbell.

So off we head to home.

"I love my balloon Mummy."
"The balloon needs a seatbelt on Mummy."
"Shhhh Mummy, I am listening to the balloon"

You get the idea.

New scene.

We make it into the house, no problem. Devin introduces the newest member of the family to Nana, Daddy and little sister Deirann.....little sister Deirann who loves all things round...and pink...and belonging to big sister Devin.

Can you see where this is going?

Now I do proudly share the fact Devin is by far the most generous child...perhaps human I have known. She will happily share everything and anything with everyone and anyone...even pink balloons.

"Here Deirann you can play with it too." For a few minutes we enjoyed a scene Charles and Caroline woulda died for in Walnut Grove: lots of giggling, running (ok waddling by Deirann) and attempts to catch said pink balloon. The pinacle of childhood memories. But alas the planets can only stay alligned for so long...and 3 minutes was all she wrote.

"Deirann, can I have my balloon back?"
"Nooooooooooooooo." Did I mention Deirann can say two words-"no" and "thank you".
"Deirann, please may I have my balloon?"
"Nooooooooooooooo. Thank you."
My little problem solver took it upon herself to take care of the situation by yanking said balloon outta little sister's hands.

"WWWWWWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" cries young Deirann.
"I didn't do nothing, it is my balloon and I wanted it back, she did it...." Devin-future defense attorney.

It took a few minutes but we eventually settled Deirann down and redirected her to another toy while all the time reminding Devin to stay clear of the fireplace while playing with her new pink friend.

"Devin, watch out for the fireplace."
"Look out for the fireplace Devin!"
Devin! Move away from the fireplace!"

"WWWWWWWWWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" cried young Devin when said balloon is finally yanked out of her hands by her Daddy.

"Daddy-sob-took-sob-my-sob-balloon-sob!!!"

This end of the world sobbing continued for the next 12 minutes. All the way up the stairs, into the bedroom, while the pajamas were put on, as the teeth were being brushed and as Devin was finally put into bed.

"You-sob-and-sob-Daddy-sob-aren't-sob-my-sob-friends-sob."

When I finally made it downstairs, 55 minutes after arriving home from Irish dance class, 1 hour and 10 minutes after that kind teacher gave Devin the newest member of our family, I flopped on the couch-exhausted. Somehow I had lost my first-born's love over a pink balloon. And somewhere not too far away, an Irish dance teacher was probably enjoying a cuddle from her daughter....while I sat alone. Feeling sorry for myself, I got up to pour a much-deserved glass of wine only to stumble and step on ......wait for it..........


......one pink balloon.



That popped.

I REALLY shouldn't have eaten those two Timbits.

So to all those kind folks out there who love to give the noisy, messy and big pressies to the little people in their lives- please, please, please ask the little people's parents first.
And to all the parents of the little people in my life who I have given the noisy, messy and big pressies to in the past- please, please,please accept my appologies....and don't laugh too hard next time you see me....at Tim Horton's.

counting sheep

What I would do for a good nights sleep....I would give away the green grass and give away the sky, oh hell I would even give away my alligator pie! I swear the girls look at each other during supper and have some secret code that indicates which one is going to be up that night. Now don't get me wrong, I do enjoy those 3 am cuddles, knowing that we are the only two up in the house and enjoying the stillness and warmth but you know, those cuddles could be enjoyed at say...5:30 pm or even at 6:37 pm...but come on, does it always have to be in the middle of the night and always when I am just getting to the good part of the dream, you know, the part when George Clooney realizes that I am his dream girl, sweat pants and all? Ah but alas, I do remember the small print on the manual that came with both babies stating "it is the responsibility of the owner to tend to all needs of the product at all times..." damn I should wear my glasses more often. Is it wrong to want to slip a little sleeping pill into the last bottle of milk before bed?? Not that I would....just wondering......zzzzzzzzz.

Pen to Paper...?

So, my first entry...what to say? I guess why a blog? I had one a few months back but after our last computer crashed in Bermuda I found I never have/take the time to write anymore-makes it very easy to lose sight as to who you are. I figure for now I can put a few thoughts down in this alternative "pen to paper" since one offspring is always running off with my pens while the other one is eating my paper. Now be warned, I like to talk and when there is no one to interrupt me....watch out! These entries may be long, and will often be missing capital letters and proper grammar....blame it on too many hours marking students' work!

So for those who I have shared this with, welcome!