The Wheels on the Car Go Round and Round...

So finally at the age of 37, I got a brand spanking new car.

Up to this point I have happily driven "used" cars and loved them. I have had a VW GTI (it was the car that my husband pushed when it broke down, the first time we met-ah my knight in shining armour...well actually cowboy boots, tight jeans and a baseball jersey...but hey it was the 90s!), Honda Accord (I gotta say I LOVE driving standard), Honda Civic (we sold it when we moved to Bermuda), Mazda 323 (it POURED water out of the passenger's side/glove box when we took corners to fast...oddly it was not an option we were looking for) and Subaru Impreza ( a GREAT car that we sadly sold when we left de island). Since returning to Canada we have had a Honda Accord that belonged to Rob's mum and an Acura MDX that his sista lent us for 6 months 'til the lease was up. Looking back at my list, WOW that adds up to 28 wheels plus the 2 scooters we had over the 10 years...making it 32!

After test driving many a brand and style we settled on a 2009 Hyundai Santa Fe AWD, it was the one with the most leg room within our price range. We figure we will have it for a while, or as I put to Rob "We will have it until you at least 50 years old!"...that didn't go over so well.

The next question was colour, and that discussion went like this:

"So what colour do you think Dev?"

"Pink!" exclaims Devin.

"I don't think they make it in pink Dev..."

"Why? All pretty things are pink...butterflies, bubblegum, flowers, babies..." Good point, but no luck.

"How about red and white?" suggests Devin.

"Hmmmm...red and pink....why?"

"Well it is Santa's sleigh? Red and white would be just right."

.......?????..........huh?

"Santa's sleigh....?" I ask.

"Yeah, you said we were getting a 'Santa Sleigh' and his is red and white..."

I sooooooo have to work on my pronunciation, " Sorry Devin I said a 'Santa Fe' not a 'Santa Sleigh'........."

Man the look of disappointment on her face.

Anyhow, we decided...well actually we didn't "decide" as much as we were limited to black or "maybe willow blue (who names these colours???) if it is available but we won't know for 4-6 weeks" explains the saleswoman....ok, so black it is!

The car was delivered to the house after dinner last Wednesday. After a quick cruise around, getting all the bells and whistles pointed out and demonstrated (I LOVE satellite radio!!) the keys were passed over and the Bakers headed out for a quick cruise.

"It is so shiny!"

"Ohhhhhhh look at all the buttons!"

"Can I drive?"

"Can we sleep in it and look at the stars all night long through the hole in the ceiling (aka sunroof)."

No these were not Devin's comments....they were mine.

I never really got all the fuss over that "new car smell" but gotta admit, when that smell is your car...it stinks good. I enjoyed cruising around the next day and was thankful that it was warm enough to even have the windows open...yup, a good purchase indeed.

Being Thursday, it was my afternoon to pick Devin up from school since Rob has his afterschool shift. I collected my folks to bring then on a little drive and surprise Devin.

Arriving at school I was greeted with a sleepy little girl who wanted a cuddle, not the usual "MMMUUUMMMMMMYYYY!!!" followed with a NFL knee hit. Hmmmm...maybe she is still a little tired...she is kinda pale now that I look at her....oh I should really trust that maternal instinct.

I buckled Devin in and started the journey home. I had to take the QEW since the new 407 transponder has not arrived yet. No biggie, it wasn't rush hour yet, so we may only need to tack about 10 extra minutes on our commute.

"Grandma isn't our new car nice?"

"Look at the hole in the top Grandpa."

"Mummy I love our new car."

"Mummy I am thirsty."

"Mummy I have a tummy ache."

Oh oh. Once before on this same commute, Devin had a "Mummy I have a tummy ache" moment that quickly changed to a VERY messy issue within minutes.

Crap. I am in the fast lane at the exact spot where the QEW and 403 meet...could I be in a worse location?


"Hey Mum," I casually ask Grandma as I try to get over to the far shoulder, "Do you see a plastic bag in the back anywhere?" Meanwhile my hands are starting to sweat...please don't throw up, please don't throw up.....

"No, nothing back here," oh oh, not the response I wanted to hear.

"But here Devin, you can use my purse..." You gotta love my Mum, nothing phases her. Absolutely nothing.

My Mum did her best to quickly empty her purse of its contents but sadly Devin's little tummy decided to do the same thing....all over her carseat, pink poncho that she made in school and of course....the new car.

Oy vey.

I gotta say, for a three year old, she is a trooper. She sat in traffic for 35 minutes soaking wet.

"I frewup in the new car."

"Its ok Devidoo as long as you feel a little better."

"I frewup all over my pretty pink poncho."

"Don't worry Devin, we will clean it all up."

Now, I know I may seem like a heartless mother making her sit like that until we get home but let me plead my case...this is the child who changes her outfit if she gets a little splash of water on it when washing her hands, or some mulch gets stuck to her dress when she is playing outside. If I made ANY attempt to change her, there would be no earthly way I would be able to get her back into "that" carseat to get her home. So it was either sit in the carseat covered in you know what or sit in the car, clean but with out a carseat.....you see I am actually a very loving mum concerned about her well-being.

When we finally arrive home, I helped pull the soggy little noodle from her seat while trying to assess the damage.

"Ok, let's get you inside to change and for a quick bath..." I turn around to find my bashful three year old buck nude in our driveway...man that was fast!

"Um...Dev...let's get inside....." before the neighbours start to wonder about the nudist colony across the street!

"Look Mummy an ant...do you think he would like to see the mess I made?"

"Um....no I don't think so." I scoop her up and carry her inside while my mum (God bless her!) collects the soggy poncho, shoes, shirt and pants.

After a quick bath and some warm clothes I venture out to see the damage.

Hmmmm...not too bad. My Mum (once again, God bless her) cleaned up most of it leaving me just to get the little "bits" and the carseat.

At this point I realized all the excitement over a new car was silly. I mean it is just metal and rubber, it doesn't provide life, it doesn't laugh at silly jokes, and even those seat heater aren't all that exciting. No, a car is just a means from getting from A to B.....leather seats on the other hand are the GREATEST creation. Ever. All hail the inventor of wipeable, easy to clean leather seats. Yup, sliced bread ain't got nothing on seats that are forgiving to frowup.

I stood back and took one final look. Yup looks pretty good. So what if the car is only 22 hours old, as long as Devin is ok.

The next day after making sure tummies were feeling ok, Devin,Daddy and Deirann headed to school. A few minutes later, I headed out to work and jumped into the car. Hmmmm....I am sure this is NOT the new car smell I was expecting! Nothing a few bottles of Febreeze won't cure...and open windows....and maybe a nose plug.

Anyhow, off I go to start my day... singing at the top of my lungs in a Jerry Maguire kinda way.

I do love my new car...stink and all.

Eggs anyone?

So let's return to the scene of the crime....see Feb 6th for those of you who forgot.


Thursdays are Devin's Irish Dance Class days, I should probably call it "Devin's Skip, Roll Around and Do Nothing That The Teacher Asks Class"...but that would deserve a whole blog of its own...so on with last Thursday....


I decided that I would take both girls to the class since it would be "easier" than having to return to my folks' place to collect sweet, darling 17 month old Deirann at the end. My mum was helpful as always and offered to come with us to the class, but of course I declined since she had the baby most of the day....oy. ....I shoulda taken the offer.


We finally get to class the usual 5 minutes late (no matter what I do, when I leave, I am ALWAYS 5 minutes late for this class...drives me nuts). I start getting the offspring outta the car when Devin asks if she could bring the coloured Easter eggs she had made earlier with Grandma into the dance class.


"No Devin, you can't." Short, simple, answer.


"Ok I will bring the basket too." Did she not hear me? Does she attend my husband's class on selective hearing??


"No Devin, eggs are not a good idea in a dance class. They will get jumped on, squished and then what will we do??" All the while I am trying to get her to come out of the car.


"My teacher is going to be so excited to see them!".....?....really, does anyone actually hear me when I am talking out loud...cause if not, I will just keep my comments to myself and share them with the other little voices in my head instead.


"Devin, get out of the #$%! car NOW and leave the @#$% eggs inside, can't you do as you are told!!!!!"



No I did not really say this to her, but boy did I want to!! Instead she got the filtered version: "Devin, please get out of the car now so we can go inside. Hey I think Deirann is going to beat you getting out of the car!"...when in doubt, throw in a little competition, motivates the laziest of 'em don't it??


Devin finally got out of the car and reluctantly left the basket of eggs inside. She stood patiently and quietly by the wall as I got her dance shoes, water bottle, and baby sister ready.


"Ok, let's go, wow you were fast, you beat Deirann! Good jo......."


There stood little Miss Devin soaking wet for the knees down. She found the tap on the wall and decided to play.


"Mummy my feet are cold and wet...."


Count to ten...count to a hundred...just don't get angry....


"Well, I guess you can wear your dance shoes home after class." Happily she skipped into the studio while I trudged behind hauling everything else. Oh sometimes I miss when all I carried was my Burt's Bees chapstick and a smile on my face....


Once inside, I put Deirann down and helped Devin get her (brand!) new wet shoes off and put her dance shoes on.



Oh oh.


"Oh dear Devin, looks like I messed up and brought to left shoes that are different sizes...." How did I manage that??? "But you know, what a funny thing you can wear, everyone will love it!"....little white lies are ok to feed your kid right? They are like the 5 second dropped food rule.

"Nnnnnnnnnnooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!"


"Come on Dev, slip them on, no one will no even notice."


"Nnnnnnnnnnnnooooooooooooooooooooooo....." Followed with a very dramatic flop on the ground that many a Hollywood actress wastes money on acting coaches to learn.


Lord, give me strength.


At this point, I am getting a little hot since they crank the heat in the studio, and notice that about 8 parents are sitting comfortably on their chairs watching all this play out with the "Oh, been there, girl, and so don't miss it" look on their faces...


Insert other Dance Teacher's voice: "Ummm, excuse me, but there is a toddler in my tap dance class that is running around. Does she belong to anyone out here?"


Oh good lord, Deirann. I totally forgot about her. God that therapist's bill is going to be big later in life when she needs to talk about her childhood.

"Yeah she is mine, I will come get her."

Buddha, give me strength.

"Devin, come one, you go in with 2 wrong shoes, or bare feet. You choose."

"Nnnnnnnnnnnoooooooooooooooooooooooo!"

Now at this point, if I was one of the audience members sitting around on the chairs, I would quickly help out any struggling mother who is clearly over her head and needs a hand. But apparently the mums sitting around me, were enjoying the entertainment a great deal and did not feel the need to help.


So off I dash down the hall to grab Deirann and carry her back kicking and screaming to where Devin is lying.

"Ok Dev, let's go home. I am done." Gotta pick your battles and this ain't one of 'em.

"Nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnooooooooooooooooooooo!"

Out pops Miss Dancing Teacher in her cute little dancing outfit, " Hi Devin, you ready to come in?" If she offers her a balloon I swear I will kill her.

"OK! Come on Mummy I waiting for you to put on my shoes. Look Miss Teacher, they don't match! Isn't it funny??"......are you kidding me?

Luckily, one lady who had been watching all this decided that I had suffered enough and offered to help Devin put on her shoes while I struggled to hold on to Deriann...it would be easier to hold onto a greased pig.



At this point we left the car about three minutes ago but it was by far the longest three minutes of my life.

"Mummy, where's my hair elastic? I MUST have one for class, Miss Teacher says so." Yeah, does Miss Teacher say it is ok to drink during daylight hours too, cause I'd love her if she said yes.

"Here Devin, let me put your hair up. Deriann sit." Ok so the the therapist's bill will also cover why we give the baby one word commands like she is an animal.

ZZZZZZZIIIIIIINNNNNNGGGGGG....THWAP.....WAAAAAAAAAAAAA! The hair elastic snaps in my hand/Devin's hair, "zings" across the room and "thwap" hits Deirann on the cheek. You can figure out the last part on your own. Add "why my parents beat me" to Deirann's therapist's bill.

Finally young, River-Dancing -wanna-be Miss Devin enters her class and I drop to the floor to play with the basket of toys and give Deirann a little much needed attention. She on the other hand, has other ideas. We spend the next 25 minutes running into the other studios with Deirann providing a little interpretive dance of her own. When I would finally capture her and drag her out from the classes, she is NOT a happy camper.

At the end of the class, Devin comes skipping out as happy as can be.

"That was fun Mum, everyone liked my shoes!" Good, a little silver lining is always welcomed.

"Great news Dev, well let's head home and tell Daddy. Come on let's see who can get ready first..."

"My shoes are wet, I am not putting them on."

"Fine, wear your dance shoes."

"No those are for wearing in the dance class only."

I can feel the eyes behind me and hear the snickers already.

"Well barefoot it is my love."

"Nnnnnnnnnnoooooooooooooooooo." Honestly, I feel like the Truman Show, where are those stinking cameras?

Suddenly my brain flashes back to that math question in grade school about getting a duck, fox and bag of corn across the river. Ok, how can I carry a 24 lb greased pig, a 40 lb shoeless-leprechaun and accessories to the car? Anyone...?

Thank God, or Buddha, hell even thank Muhammad, but thank some deity for Wii Fit and the fact that I have developed some upper body muscles that allowed me to carry all the above to the car somewhat gracefully and without dropping anything...or anyone.

I popped Deirann into her carseat while keeping Devin right beside me on the truck of the car-no need to repeat the water tap incident.

Hmmm...something smells kinda funny. Oh poor Deriann, got change that diaper when I get home.

Run around and pop Devin into her seat.

"Wow, really gotta change that diaper," I think as I lean in to buckle Devin.

"Mummy...can I bring the eggs into show Miss Dance Teacher now?"

The eggs. I forgot about those. I meant to hide them in the front seat before Devin saw them but somehow, I forgot....

Lord, they STINK! And I blamed poor Deirann on the smell....oh that therapist's bill is going to be a doosie!

"Nope, sorry Devin we are heading home." So glad we live close to the Studio cause that was a LOUD, STINKY car ride home.

When we finally get home and I deposit two girls in their grandparents' arms (Rob's folks came for a visit that I of course forgot about) and drag the contents of the car inside, I'm met with "So, what's for dinner?" It is 6:55 pm...hubby has been home for OVER an hour ...without kids....and suddenly can't decide on dinner on his own? I am busted.

"Eggs!" I bark and start to laugh.

Hmmm....I wonder how much my therapist's bill will be?

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!