Harvest Time!

These were so good--I wish I could have grown more of them.

I seem to only grow vegetables in miniature.

The world's tiniest cantaloupes

It's a good thing my family doesn't depend on my gardening skills to eat.  What you see here is about all I got out of my garden this year.  There was one more tiny zucchini that we ate, a few handfuls of cherry tomatoes and maybe two more handfuls of beans, but never enough to make a whole meal from.  Ants ate my potatoes.  Oh well.  I can try again next year, right??  Or maybe I should just let a CSA do my gardening for me next year.

One is Silver and the Other's Gold...

Isn't it funny how when two kids meet and they are the same height they almost always befriend each other?

Yesterday, after Matthew and I got home from a lunch date with a friend of mine, I wandered into the house and left Matthew playing outside.  He decided Ding Dong Ditch was a super fun game with the front door and I lost interest after two rounds.  I figured he'd come in when he was ready.  After a few minutes I heard him yelling and looked out the window to find him running circles around a little boy and his mom on the sidewalk.  These are neighbours of ours that I have seen around but have never formally met.

Matthew fixed that in a hurry.  Before we could blink, the two little boys moved from the sidewalk to the backyard where they happily amused themselves digging  a hole in a pile of dirt. (Why do I have toys??)  I shrugged and invited the little boy's mom into the back yard where we made small talk.  I told the voice in my head that was listing off my to-do list to be quiet.

 It turns out this mom and I have something in common.  Her little guy is 3 1/2 and doesn't speak yet.  She is navigating the therapy world.  She does have the added challenge that she is new to Canada and does not speak English very well.  I told her a bit about what we have gone through with Emmett and her shoulders sagged with relief.  Not alone anymore.  She hugged me.

By this point we had moved into the house.  Matthew and his new friend were just fine,  there seemed to be no language barrier between them.  The little boy's mom politely ignored the dirty dishes on my table and the messy counter tops. 

Two hours flew by.  We exchanged phone numbers.  I invited her to playgroup.  We said goodbye.

I am thankful to Matthew that he found someone that is almost my height to play with too.

*In the video you see American Girl Scouts Singing Make New Friends.  We sing it in Girl Guides in Canada too!  If you are a Guide, then I apologize for embedding this song into your brain for the rest of the day. 

Still on my Soapbox

I guess it is still anti-bullying awareness month so I can still harp on this a bit more.

I feel like we are fighting a losing battle sometimes.

This is an anti-bullying PSA that is aired on Canadian television from time to time:


This ad came across my Facebook feed this morning:

This ad used to make me angry and sad when I saw it on TV:


It seems that bullying is also ok if it means people are getting the best rates for car insurance as well.

So, bullying is OK if it is used to sell stuff?  Is this what I am learning here?   I think what I am actually learning is that I am happy my kid's exposure to hypocritical advertisers has been minimized by our cutting the TV cable seven years ago.  If we did still have TV channels you can bet your bippy that I would not sit idly by and laugh these ads off while my children watched them.  We would discuss them.  We would talk about why I haven't bought a pack of Juicy Fruit Gum in many years.

How do these ads make you feel?

First World Problems

Last week, the hot water tank that broke at Christmastime and was patched back together to prolong it's life, finally died.  Thankfully it went with a whimper and not a gush.  The pilot light went out and could not be re lit.  That was it.  So, at 8:00PM on a Wednesday night Richard struck out into the evening darkness to procure another heater.  Our handyman came over the next day to install it, but something happened so it never turned on.  The day after that a plumber was found who put everything to rights and hot water was restored to our house.

In total, I was without running water for 1/2 day and hot water for around a day and a half.  I was all prepared to feel sorry for myself when my Twitter feed lit up with facts about World Water Day while the handyman and his son were in my basement doing whatever handymen do down there.

What did I have to feel sorry about?  I knew the water was going to be turned off for a few hours so I filled my water jug, tea kettle and coffee maker up ahead of time.  A sticky boy was easily cleaned up with baby wipes after lunch.  The bigger kids and husband were all at school and work respectively where the water ran and toilets flushed.  When the water came back on but was still cold, I was still able to do laundry in my washing machine.  I heated up water to wash the dishes on my electric stove.  Not once did I have to leave my house and travel many kilometers to find safe water, nor did I have to light a fire to heat it up.

I do believe I am rather spoiled in my safe, cozy home.

All by myself.

All By Myself

As my regular readers know, we have a lovely respite worker that comes to our house one evening a week.  That evening happens to be cheap night at the movie theatre so Richard and I watch a lot of  movies together.  These past two weeks we have not been able to agree on a movie to watch .

Last week I wanted to see The Help.  Richard wanted to see Cowboys and Aliens.  Our usual tactic when this happens is to find a movie that meets in the middle somehow.  Since neither one of us wanted to see Final Destination 5 or The Smurfs in 3D, (or any of the other movies playing at the theatre) we couldn't find a compromise.  I REALLY wanted to see The Help.  Richard REALLY wanted to see the Cowboy movie.  The babysitter was coming any second.  We decided to go our separate ways at the theatre.  My movie was sold out when I got there.  I ended up buying a ticket for Glee 3D. (Glee is a guilty pleasure of mine).  

I felt a little strange while looking for my seat in a theatre that had only a couple of rows filled with teenage girls and their flashing cell phone screens, but once the movie started, it was pretty great.  It was quiet.  It was cool.  The music was super cheesy and fun.  I had a great time and felt relaxed and happy.  Glee will do that to a girl.  Not having a husband seething with resentment and rolling his eyes beside me made me happy.  I know he felt the same way not having a pouty wife sitting next to him at his movie.

This week we faced the same dilemma (Why is Final Destination STILL playing???? Gah)  Richard said that he would go see The Help with me.  I printed out our tickets at home and went to the theatre.  When we got there, the place was almost full.  We searched around for seats and had to ask random strangers exactly HOW many seats they were saving.  We found two orphan seats a row apart.  I sat down and as Richard made his way to his seat a cranky old lady threw her purse in his seat and said that was her spot (cranky old bags...why must you always be so rude?)

That clinched it for him.  He was not going to fight over a seat with an old woman for a movie he didn't really want to see anyway.  He looked up at me and said "I'm going to Conan.  I'll meet you in the lobby when your movie is over."  The women in my row laughed.  They know a long and stable relationship when they see it.  I watched my movie. (Wasn't as good as the book, but the stuff they cut out would have made the movie too long, I suppose.) He watched Fright Night and the teenager taking tickets let him in with his Help ticket and didn't charge him extra for 3D glasses. (Conan had already started and the teenager taking tickets pointed him towards the Vampire movie.  He was eternally grateful.)

Hopefully there will be a movie that we can both see coming soon, but until then, going to movies solo has not been as strange and pathetic-feeling as I thought it would be. 

Have you gone to movies by yourself?  How did you feel?

We're all in this together.

Today was Back to School Shoe Shopping Day.  A day I dread every year.  This year was extra fun since two weeks of fun and sun at Grandma's caused Emmett and Charlotte to both grow out of their shoes while away from home.  I had to buy them two pairs each.

We got to the mall bright and early to avoid the crowds.  We found both pairs of Emmett's shoes and one pair for Charlotte at one store, and then had to go looking at another store for one more pair for her.  (She is blessed with my very narrow heels so shoe shopping is turning in to a quite an ordeal for her, poor girl.)  On the way to the second shoe store we had to walk past a terrible store.  A horrible store.  The worst kind of store you can imagine.  A toy store.  Matthew bee-lined into the store and buried himself in the Thomas Train section.  I let him shop for a moment while I chatted with the sales associate (a friend of mine from Guides) while I mentally prepared myself for the melt down that would occur when I removed him from the premises for more shoe shopping.  As predicted, the melt down was spectacular. 

The melt down did not end in the shoe store, and was added to by a chorus of "I'm tired.  I need to rest.  I'm hungry." from Emmett as Charlotte tried on shoes.  Matthew's melt down got louder when I told him we would not be buying the Thomas umbrella he found in the shoe store that he decided to carry around.  My blood pressure rose ever higher.

While my kids were blocking the aisles at the shoe store a brave customer walked over to us.  She looked at me sympathetically.  She said to me "Back to school shoe shopping really sucks, doesn't it? Kids hate trying on shoes."  She even had a Thomas sticker in her purse that she gave screaming Matthew.  (She is another resident of the Island of Sodor.  If you don't know where that is, then you don't have a kid who is mad for Thomas in your house)

This conversation could have gone very differently.  There could have been dirty looks at my crying kids.  There could have been comments about my lousy parenting in hushed tones to her shopping companion.  She could have come up to me with tactless advice I am glad she took the high road.  We all need random strangers to help us out when we are deep in the trenches. I need to remember to be that random stranger more often.

We really are all in this together.

My little tadpole and finding my way.

Mom and Dad came for a visit this weekend. They come at this time every year because of a conference for emergency services workers that is hosted by my city. Dad is a fireman and a paramedic in training in addition to his day job of high school teacher. We also went out to dinner to celebrate their 33rd wedding anniversary.

We took the kids swimming at Mom and Dad's hotel and they had a blast. The kiddie pool was just deep enough that Char could crawl along the bottom with her hands and keep her head barely out of the water. Her legs and feet trailed behind her--she loved it. She really seems like a natural swimmer. The first time we tried to take her out of the water she wiggled away from my Dad and slipped right back into the pool like a little seal. She was exhausted by the time we could get eventually get her out and dried off. Once Emmett got over his initial nervousness we couldn't get him out of the water either.

In addition to all of that I managed to squeeze in a seminar on Sunday School teaching at a local church. I haven't written much about my new job on this blog because I am just not sure what to write. I am still feeling my way around this new territory. I am so unsure of myself and feel like I don't quite have a grip on my feelings yet.

The learning curve is steep. In addition to learning how to teach, I am learning a lot about a church I didn't grow up in, and am nurturing a newfound faith that I am trying to figure out.

I am teaching kids about God and Jesus and how to live a Christian life and feel like an imposter sometimes. I grew up in a home where talking about God and Jesus was frowned upon. It made you one of "them" (you know the ones...the people that knock on your door to ask you about your personal saviour and offer you brochures to their church, usually at a really inconvienent time.) We called ourselves Christians and went to church on Sundays--more often when I was younger. I was never involved in church life outside of Sunday morning. There was a Bible on the bookshelf, but I rarely saw anyone read it.

Now I have not one but two Bibles on my bedside table in different translations and a rosary that a kind friend made for me in the drawer. My kids were baptized in the church we were married in and that means a lot to me. I carefully chose their godmother because she is so special and she has a strong faith. The kids watch Veggietales and I sing The Butterfly Song to them.

I am not going to ask you about your Personal Saviour. I am not going to shove brochures in your hands that warn you of eternal damnation if you don't find Jesus. I am not going to tell you that you are going straight to hell if you tell me that you have been touched by His Noodly Appendage and have no interest in my church. I don't want to be one of "those". I might tell you about Family Fun Night or the craft I am thinking about doing with my students. I want to wear my faith with a quiet confidance. I don't think I am there yet.

Sometimes I wonder how I ended up here. I keep trying and I keep going back because my students are terrific and I am loving getting to know them. They trust me. I just really hope I am not letting them down.

I've been dumped.

By my hairdresser. She moved to Halifax, the salon closed down and she didn't tell me. How did I find this out? It started a couple of days ago while I was looking in the mirror at my limp locks and contemplating what to do with them. I even bought some temporary hair colouring mousse in vibrant purple.

Today I came to my senses and called my salon. An unfamiliar voice answered the phone. I asked for Tammy, my stylist, and the unfamiliar voice said "Oh she moved to Halifax and her salon is closed. There are a couple of stylists from that salon that now work here.(And they brought thier phone number with them)" Oh. Great. I need a haircut so badly I am now booked with "Jen" from the old salon. I don't know what she looks like or what my hair will look like when she is done with me, but I am getting pretty desperate. Not desperate enough for a grocery-store or Zeller's haircut, but close.

I have gone to the old salon for almost 10 years. This is almost like starting dating again after a divorce. Now I have to choose someone new to tell all my secrets to. I can't just sit in the chair and say "Make me look nice" and have her know exactly what I want. I am a little nervous but optimistic. I guess it was time for a fresh new start and I didn't even know it.

What is going to happen to the purple mousse? Well, I may just have to see what Char and Emm look like with fresh new hairdos too!!

Scardy Cat

I am a big scardy cat. I have a yellow belly, am lily livered and wear Nancy pants. There was a terrific windstorm blowing outside my window last night. Trees fell on cars. There were power lines and traffic lights down, a fire was started somehow somewhere in the city. A couple of roofs blew away. The DJ on the radio said winds reached speeds of 100 km/h at one point. All I know is that my house was shaking and making all sorts of grumpy groany noises. My bedroom shouldn't shake unless I have something to do with it. There is a partially broken tree branch dangling precairously over our car right now, as I am typing. I did not sleep. I guess I thought our house would fly away if I didn't sit awake asking God to protect us. Since there isn't really anything else I can do, keeping constant vigil is what I did. This is not the only time I have sat awake keeping our house from blowing away. I am quite afraid of thunderstorms and tornados. Before yesterday I would have said I am terrified of thunderstorms--that word is now reserved for windstorms. Hubby laughs at me. He slept like a log. I think Emmett would have too if he hadn't heard Char waking up. Her bedroom has a big tree right outside the window and the wind howled in there. Emm's room is in the middle of the house and was quiet and still--I know because I crawled into bed with him for a while. Our bedroom was the noisiest and scariest. Our partially completed porch stood tall and strong through it all--it is attached to our house and 12-foot concrete pilings. I have a feeling our house could blow away and the porch would still stand tall.

In addition to windstorms and thunderstorms ladders make me queasy and horror movies give me the heebie jeebies. (even the previews for them make my stomach lurch) I have a pathological, irrational fear of snakes of any size shape or form. I am not nuts about confined spaces either. Yep, I am a big scardy cat.

Ok, fess up: what are you afraid of?

Bridget Jones was here.

The nice mailman dropped a box on my doorstep this morning. What was in it? Why a special "slimming" slip to wear under a certain bridesmaid dress as well as a clingly floaty number I bought to wear to another wedding. It looks and feels like a sausage casing, but man, oh man, does it do the trick. I tried it on under the clingy dress and it looks like a whole new outfit. The dress just floats over the industrial-strenghth Spandex and my baby belly is perfectly smoothed out. My waist even nips in a little now. Hubby must never, ever see me in it. It is like the scene in Bridget Jone's Diary where she has to decide if she should look good in the dress by wearing the granny undies or if she should look good out of the dress with the pretty undies.

I am pretty sure I can still get lucky with my man either way. I think seeing me in a glorified girdle is less traumatizing than the time he saw me give birth and then was ordered into the bathroom by the midwife to make sure I didn't topple over in the shower. He had to help dry me off and wipe up the blood that was dripping down my legs and then put the giant pillow-sized pad in my undies and pull them up. Yep, I married a keeper.
Note to those readers who don't have children: sorry, that is the way it is after you give birth. It is not like they show on TV or the movies at all!! Oh, and hubby was not so helpful during the birth of our first--he had to leave during the whole pushing thing because he was going to hit the floor if he didn't. I still give him an "A" for effort--the poor guy is pretty squeamish on a good day.

Sorry for the rambling and tangents--this is what happens when you blog after having half a pot of coffee with breakfast.

The Politics of Pole Dancing.

As all of you in blogland know, I will be a bridesmaid in a friend's wedding this summer. I recently got an email from the Maid of Honour telling us that the bride thinks it would be super-fun if we took a pole-dancing class to celebrate her dwindling days of singlehood. I was very surprised. Clearly, I don't know this woman as well as I thought I did. We've been friends since our first meeting in fifth grade, mumble, mumble, cough ,cough years ago and I never thought she would want to do this--and we have done some pretty crazy things in the years we've known each other.

My first reaction was: "Ew, gross, I would never do that!" After some time to think on it I have formed a much more coherent opinion. I also talked to several of my friends about this party and found them very clearly divided on the subject. It seems there is no middle ground when it comes to pole dancing. Some of my friends were really interested and said that it could be fun and asked me why I didn't want to be sexy for my husband. Others were in my camp and wondered what would be in it for them. They didn't see this as something that would make them feel sexy at all. One of my friends, a certified feminist (she has the woman's studies degree to back it up) was actually nauseous. I could hear her gagging over the phone. I noticed the people on the "con" side of the argument were a little older and married a little longer than the ones on the "pro" side. Have the older women had less exposure to the media influences that tell us how to be sexy and what is sexy now? I doubt it. We all watch TV and browse the magazines in the checkout line. Are we more self confidant and secure in our relationships and therefore more resistant to falling for these unrealistic expectations? Perhaps.

I still stand by the "Ew gross" and raise it to a "Why do I have to try so hard to be sexy for my partner?" I don't believe it when people say that wearing uncomfortable lingerie and spike heels and swinging around on a large phallic object bolted to the floor is empowering, sexy and "for me" in any way. We are not celebrating our womanhood and being powerful and independent by doing something that is so clearly for men. I don't want to be sexy for my partner. I want to be sexy with my partner. There is a big difference in my book. Quite frankly, if I ever did try to swing from a pole my dancing would look more like the Elaine Bennis version of pole dancing, not the Carmen Electra variety.

What about those that claim there are fitness benefits to be had? If I want to strengthen my core muscles I will take a pilates class, fully clothed, dignity intact. If I want to dance to celebrate my femininity and womanhood, I will do so by bellydancing--an artform that celebrates the female form in all of its curvy powerful glory with no stilettos and large phallic objects in sight. As for being sexy with my partner as opposed to being sexy for my partner? Well, that stuff is none of your business!

I will go to the party, because I love my friend and am so very happy for her and her upcoming marriage. I will not dance on the pole. I will probably knit licorice thongs for everyone. I don't want to be a total party pooper --and undies made from candy are fun for all consenting adults.

Are you wondering what hubby thought of all this? He just laughed. I didn't marry a man who needs me to subjugate and demean myself for his enjoyment. We don't believe in spectator sports behind closed doors--we are full contact participants.

I'm back!

Well, it has been a while. What have I been up to? Quite a bit. Last week I went Up North to take care of my mother, who is very sick right now and no one knows what is wrong. She is waiting for tests and is slowly getting her strength back now. While I was there Emm and Char visited my Aunt, Uncle and cousins Down South. Emm ran outside on their acreage for two days and had a blast. Char was spoiled rotten--she got to snuggle between my aunt and uncle in their bed when she woke up at night. My aunt did the impossible and weaned Emmett off his bedtime water bottles. I really must send her flowers for that. My van took some damage when a tree jumped out into my mom's driveway--the driver-side window exploded all over me. Amazingly, I only ended up with a very tiny scratch. I got the pleasure of a 4-hour drive home with a sheet of plastic flapping in my ear since it was a long weekend and Richard wanted to replace the window himself when I got home to save some cash. The autobody shop guys Up North were super and vacuumed out my van and taped up the window and didn't charge me a thing.

I got home just in time to throw my bags in a corner and get ready for two Easter celebrations. Here are some pics from the Easter-egg hunt at Grandma Lynn's:

It was the first sunny, hot day of spring .
Char hates wearing a sun hat, but you can still see scalp through her hair, so she will just have to get used to it! Emm wouldn't look up at the camera until he had eaten all of his Easter eggs.
How nice that Grandma has a sandbox in her back yard!! (Emmett is still chewing.)
We all came home a little sunburned. (Where did I put the sunscreen???)

Sunday was spent with Grandpa W, Grandma Holly, Uncle Devon, Auntie Steph, Auntie Rachel, Nanny Mabel and Uncle Bill. (whew!) We had brunch, played in the park and ate pizza and birthday cake (it is Richard's birthday) Grandpa W and Uncle Bill put together Richard's birthday gift: a spanky bike trailer/jogger Emmett sat in it to eat his dinner last night. We couldn't get him out of it. We took it for a test drive today and the kids love it. I do to--you can pack a lot of groceries in the back and around the kidlets!!

We are not going to talk about what these past two days are doing to my Weight watchers journaling. I lost 4 pounds last week so if I don't lose any this week it won't be too bad. I am just hoping that I didn't gain. I am working very hard at getting right back on track.

In bridesmaid dress news, I sent my measurements in so that the dresses can be ordered. I got a call from a salesperson at the bridal shop. They wanted to ask me if, based on my measurements, I was PREGNANT and that they couldn't figure out what size to order me. What the F@#& is wrong with these people???? It is their job to know what dress to order. I cannot be the first woman in the history of bridesmaids to not have model-perfect measurements. I had to assure the twit at the bridal shop that I was losing weight and would be able to fit into what ever dress they ordered. Between having samples with ripped zippers and clueless salespeople it is going against everything I believe in to give my money to this store.
Note to those readers who have not met me in real life: I am not morbidly obese. I carry my excess weight around my waist. My arms and legs are relatively slender and since I have upped my exercise and dropped a few pounds I actually have muscle definition in my legs. My belly is just quite poochy. I had two babies 23 months apart--what do you expect??

Since coming home from my Mom's house I have been keeping myself busy re-organizing and purging my house of excess junk. I have quite a sizeable pile of stuff in my basement to give away. I am trying to decide if I should just donate my junk or if it is worth the trouble to have a yard sale myself. How much cute new clothing (in a smaller size) can I get for my old stuff?

Spring Forward.

To some of you, Spring Forward just means you have to remember to turn your clock one hour ahead or you will be the laughingstock at work on Monday morning. I have decided to take this term literally. It is time for a transformation. I want my outside to match my inside. I want to look at an outfit in a shop and think "Wow. That will look so good on me!" Instead of scrutinizing it for tummy-hiding abilities and reaching to the back of the rack to see if they carry it in a not-quite-plus-size-but-give-me-time size. I will be in someone's wedding pictures this summer--I do not want to be self-conscious in front of all of the cameras. I want to hold my head high and be proud of how I look.

I have joined Weight Watchers and now write down every morsel I put in my mouth and do math to see what I can have for a snack every day. How humbling to know , in black and white, how much one really eats. I have done this before, so I have vague knowledge about how to maximize my points, but I still have a lot to learn. I always feel a little hungry at this point, but I am waiting for my stomach to shrink and am guzzling down on lots of water (Crystal Light or lemon wedge optional) and filling my plate with lots and lots of steamed veggies at dinner every night. I have always liked vinegar on my veggies instead of butter, so I have a bit of a head start already. Why Weight Watchers when I know South Beach or Atkins gives almost instant results? One: My name is Not Jenny and I am a carb addict. I do not have time to chase small kiddies while detoxing from carbs. Two: I refuse to cook two dinners every night and hubby would shrivel up and disappear if I took away the carbs. Three: I don't need instant results I need lasting results. Weight Watchers is something I can follow for life without dieting myself into a kidney transplant later on.


My big challenge is making time and motivating myself to exercise. Thankfully the sidewalks are getting clearer and clearer and the sun is shining more and more, so the stroller will be racking up the miles once again. I have workout tapes gathering dust on the back of the shelf that I will be brushing off and using on not-nice days. I just have to make myself. I am a lazy person and I have exercise-induced asthma. I really have to kick myself in the butt to get off the couch and turn off the computer. The asthma is an easy excuse to stay put, but if I pace myself correctly and watch the weather I hardly have to use my inhaler at all. We even have recordings of a kid's exercise program by the BBC for Emmett--we could dance together. We will dance together.

I haven't picked a goal weight yet--do I pick what I really want to be, or what I think I can attain? (that is a three pound difference in my mind--those last three pounds can be a kicker) I have two more days to think about it--that is when I weigh in again.

Until then my first goal is 10 pounds--there will be no shopping for clothes until I lose 10 pounds. This is proving to be hard since all of the spring/summer clothing is coming out in stores, but what better incentive to count my points than being able to buy what I really want instead of what makes me look the least pregnant???

For the love of all that is good and holy...

... DO NOT ask a woman if she is pregnant!!!! I mean it! There is no good reason to. (Has anyone seen the shattered remains of my self-esteem anywhere?)

Have you ever had one of those days...

...Where you just feel like you are pretending to be whomever you are? That was me on Wednesday. I put on my little nurse outfit, threw my hospital ID and stethoscope around my neck, and I was playing dress-up at the hospital. I forgot how many kinds of tired there are and how many you can have at the same time until yesterday. Being a stay-at-home mom is hard, don't' get me wrong, but I never feel the crushing sense of defeat and failure at the end of the day that I do when I work at the hospital. Kids are pretty straightforward: first and foremost you just love them. Next comes food and warmth, then you can stimulate their little brains by playing with them or putting on a Dora video while you throw a load of laundry in the washing machine. Yep, I am bone tired by the end of a day with my kids, but I answer to no one. If I want to load up the v-v-v-van and go on little day trip, I can. If I want to sit in my PJs and serve ice cream for lunch, I can do that too. I forgot what a bureaucratic hell the hospital is (my Sunday shift was just a warm-up--there were no bosses or even doctors around on Sunday) Yesterday I was responsible for five patients and two student nurses while answering to my floor supervisor, charge nurse, the student's instructor and a bunch of doctors and surgeons (one or two for each patient). Truly dizzying after a year off and one shift to learn where things are. I don't wanna go back.

On a happier note, Emm and Char had a blast at the babysitter. The next morning Emmett grabbed my backpack and got ready to follow Richard out the door, just like the day before. He was really mad when he found out he had to stay home with me. I am glad things will work out with her.

We are going into the Big City to visit the Father-in-law and his family tomorrow. How bad would we look if we just dropped the kids off and checked into a hotel? Richard and I are wayyyy overdue for some alone time. Between the kids and our various other responsibilities, there has not been enough time to be a couple. I am tired of being too tired for him. I am tired of being in a rush and always keeping one ear open for a cry or the pitter patter of little feet that should be in bed. I want to run around naked and not care about how much noise we make. I have a two-hour drive to convince Richard we should do it. I don't think it will be too difficult. I know he feels the same way I do.

A few random thoughts.

I picked up a shift this weekend. I have not been to work in a year. In that year, my ward changed floors, underwent a major change in staff and restructured in layout and routine. I may as well be starting a new job. I am as nervous as I was on the first day of school. I don't even know where the supplies are (or the break room--the most important thing!) Thanks to this, my sleep has been crappy this week--I even had two kids who slept 12 hours (12 hours!) straight last night and I was up at 4:30, eyes wide open, listening to everyone sleeping but me.

We are saying goodbye to my beloved Cadillac. She passed her safety inspection today, so there will be a For Sale sign in the window soon. I am now driving this:

We call it The Dustbuster. Once I forget how luxurious and fun the Caddy was to drive, I am sure it will be great. I already like the fact that twenty bucks bought me half a tank of fuel (that would barely cover the bottom of the Caddy's tank). Surprisingly, it is shorter and narrower than the Caddy so it is a dream to park and fits well in our tiny garage. I have learn to be neater since there is not as much room in the back for cargo, so there is no throwing stuff back there to forget about. For the record, that is not my house and there is certainly no green grass outside my window right now--that pic is from the classified ad to sell it.

I feel a shift in my brain happening. I used to be so very insecure and worried about saying things to make waves. I never wanted anyone mad at me, so I was not good at speaking my mind and standing up for myself. Since the big 3-oh happened I have started to feel more confidant and sure of myself. I am caring less and less what people think and am much more concerned with cultivating quality, meaningful relationships than just making sure everyone likes me. I guess getting older isn't so bad after all.

I thought I was too young for this.

Wrinkles should merely indicate where smiles have been. by Mark Twain.

The most shocking thing greeted me in the mirror yesterday morning. It was my mother's face with my glasses and my (latest) hair colour staring back at me. Where did she come from? Why did she leave a smile line on my face?? Is this Mother Nature's belated birthday gift to me? Where can I return it?

I have very dry skin. It is prone to ashyness and dullness in the winter. This means I had a blessedly acne-free adolescence. I guess this also means my skin is more prone to premature wrinkling.

My mind raced as I contemplated this new development. What do I do?? I mositurize. I use proper facial cleanser in the shower. (The best way to strike fear and terror in a cosmetic salesperson's heart is to say you use body wash or "shudder" plain soap on your face) Is it time to see the doc at my clinic who has the nice syringes of Restylane and Botox in her office? Ok, so the last one was panic mode setting in. I did the next best thing. I went to the drugstore and bugged the lady at the cosmetic counter. Do I drink enough water? Not usually. Do I exfoliate? Not enough. Ok, so I have some work to do. I was impressed that the salesperson asked some fairly reasonable questions before trying to sell me stuff. Don't get me wrong, I did walk away with some new foundation with "anti-aging" ingredients and some concealer that I needed anyway. I needed both of those things, really I did! I also picked up an exfoliating cleanser so I can rub that wrinkle right off. At the counter was a bottle of anti-aging serum. The price tag said $200. That is my grocery budget for two weeks. What is in the bottle? Do people actually buy this stuff? Do you get your money back if it doesn't work? I think I will just drink more water.

Richard didn't notice the new addition to my face. When I pointed it out to him he squinted to see it. Hey, he knows which side his bread is buttered on, and the best way to continue having your bread buttered is to not point out that your wife's appearance is changing. I know it is more obvious than that because the friend I went shopping with said "Hey where did THAT [the wrinkle] come from??" Girlfriends can say that. Husbands can't. It's the law.

I think I like Mark Twain's words the best. I'm just going to keep smiling. (and drink water and exfoliate--I do have some vanity)

Do I look 30 to you?

Happy birthday to me. So far, just another day. I don't know what I was expecting. It seems like such a grown-up age. I certainly don't feel like a grown-up most days. A grown-up has their shit together, right? I feel like I may be getting closer, but it hasn't happened yet. Every year of my life gets better and better. I should be happy about another year coming, looking forward to everything that will happen. I am feeling kind of meloncholy. Hubby was so happy when he turned 30--he can hardly wait for 40. I want to stay 29 just a while longer. I like that number better. It looks better to me. I feel more 29 than I do 30.

Winter finally came.

Ahhh, February on the Prairies. Schools are closed today because of the severe windchill factors. If you go outside my door today you will be blasted with -45C (-49F) winds. Yeah, we are not going out today. I was listening to the radio this morning and the hosts were throwing boiling water into the air. It froze before it hit the ground. I'll have to see what tricks I have up my sleeve to keep an energetic 2 1/2 year old entertained this afternoon.

I have a drafty almost 100-year old house. My bedroom was COLD last night. I climbed under the covers and was taken back to camping trips where you try to lay as still as possible inside your sleeping bag in case you stretch out and find a cold spot. Hubby is a night owl and when he finally came to bed I warmed up. Thankfully the kid's rooms are warm. For some reason the heat does not make it to our bedroom. An old home quirk.

I am making progress on my Olympic sweater--I may actually make it to the finish line. I am having anxiety about running out of yarn. If worst comes to worst, Char's sweater will have cream-coloured sleeves instead of blue. I keep looking longingly at my balls of Kureyon--they keep asking when they can come out and play. I must not lose focus! My Snowflake yarn is calling to me too--there is a girlie pink or purple teddy bear in the yarn that wants to come out. This is the first time I have ever committed myself to knitting only one project at a time. Who knew it would be so hard?? I am not a knitting monogamist. I know very few knitters who are.

cartoon dora explorer knitting patterns

My first google hit.