April 15Th

After playing in the backyard with his older brother a bath was in order... mud was EVERYWHERE!!

April 14th

wondering...

My gym in on a fairly busy street in downtown Toronto... it has a lot of clubs and restaurants that guys tend to take their dates on... now that spring is here I tend to not be bracing myself against the cold so I have the chance to look around, people watch while I walk. I notice that couples will be walking to what is clearly a dinner date and almost always the guy is wearing jeans and a hoodie, while the girl is wearing heals, nice sexy little dress or top with some tight pants and sexy boots. She often has her hair done, make up on and is walking with confidence because she knows she looks good.

My question is, why don't the guys get dressed up anymore for dates? Do we not rate a guy making an effort for us anymore? When did it become okay (outside of high school) for a guy to take a lady for dinner wearing jeans and a hoodie?

Just wondering...

April 13th Photo

This little angel is the winner of the "Cutie Contest' that Horizons held during February to lift away the winter blahs... the shoot was today and it was great! She is a doll and so easy to work with.

April 12th Photo

 (a little late but it was a late night...) This is going to be harder than I had orginally thought, and it's day one (and a half technically)... this shot was taken during Kalebs nap and Josh and I's 'quiet' time. We were playing peek boo... lots of fun!

New Project

Okay - I have decided that from now until the 12th of May (one month) I am going to post a picture a day... a picture that interests me, moves me, captures my imagination or just happens to land before bedtime and I have had taken a picture today... so keep your eyes peeled for the shot of the day. :) I am excited!!

This of course won't change my blogging, it will just be an added bonus (if of course you can call it a bonus).

It's still morning... I don't have one yet... unless you want a shot of my coffee and messy kitchen... so hold your horses and check back later ;)

See you soon!

Why God created the coffee bean...

Josh's day - Breakfast, TV while Mum gets ready, Crafty creations, park, lunch, outside for an hour in the backyard, painting, snack, water play in sink, back in the back yard, dinner, playtime in playroom, bath.

Kaleb's day - Breakfast, TV while Mum gets ready, Hang out with Mom during Crafty creations, eat snack, park, lunch, nap, snack, TV time (quiet time) backyard, dinner, playtime in playroom, bath.

Mummy's day - get kids ready for crafty creations, get kids in car, drive to crafty creations, drop Josh off, entertain Kaleb for an hour, pick Josh up, drive home, clean kitchen up, lovingly give kids to a friend for an hour while I fold and put away all the laundry, make lunch, clean up from lunch, put Kaleb down for nap, get Josh to play outside while I do paperwork for Horizons, get Josh cleaned up after his playing in the muddy backyard, get paints out so he can paint, throw in another load of laundry and bring up the new pile to fold and put away, clean up the paints, get sinks ready for 'water play' (ie, clean up from paints), get Josh re-dressed, give him a snack and dry up the messy wet floor in kitchen, clean and organize desk and kitchen cabinet while Josh watches word world 2x, get Kaleb up from nap, get snack and milk for him, put dinner on, put kids in back yard to play, work on Blog, finish paper work and booking new clients, finish supper, call boys to eat, fight them through supper over wether or not they will sit and eat at the table, throw the food at the dog, or just generally not want to eat, clean up both kids from supper, send kids to playroom to play, clean kitchen, put away supper, quickly tidy playroom, get bath started, supervise bathtime, get boys into pj's, read two stories, sing one song and make sure both kids have monkey, and tigger... turn off lights and go back downstairs... clean up living room, get into gym clothes, Tim comes home, say hi, walk to gym, work out, enjoy de caf on the walk home, talk with Tim for half an hour, go to bed... do it again tomorrow...

So, you ask why I like coffee? It's not about liking it... it's a fact of life. God created the coffee bean for mothers and nanny's.

welshprincess75's photostream

welshprincess75's photostream on Flickr.

Yesterday I tried something new... and I had the best time learning EVER! What a high! Food and Flowers! Two great things! God is good... it was all him this time! I had no idea what I was doing and had to pray all the way to the shoot that I would figure it out! :) Thank you God for a fantastic shoot!

Learned or Innate?

Josh has never until now been interested in colouring or crafts of any kind, I had thought that he just wasn't interested in the creative arts so I didn't push it, regardless of my own standing as an artist. I figured he was more his Father than me, and my hopes would lie in his brother. However, this past two weeks I have seen him develop an interest in painting, and colouring. He will sit and colour for an hour at a time, and his painting is done with patience and it would seem a detail to colour. He dips his brush carefully into the paint and he gently touches the paper, careful to stay on the paper or today it was a wood picture frame. He scribbles yes, it's not a clearly defined picture, but then let's go to the MOMA for an afternoon and stare at the dozens of other 'scribble artists' shall we? Is he the next big thing to strike the art world? Maybe not, but it caused me to wonder something that I have always sort of wondered about. Is art an innate thing that we have or don't have or is it something that can be learned? I would have said that you can't teach artistic style, that you can teach the mechanics of it yes, but can you train an eye to see something artistic? I am not sure, I haven't ever been sure. Photography is an art form unto itself in that anyone can pick up a camera and take pictures, claiming it's art BUT is it really art? You can teach them how to work the camera, teach them about composition and balance and light but can you teach them to look at the world and see art in the tiny details that God has created? The raindrop on a leaf? The mud on your kids boot? The light hitting the fence in just the right way? Is it just a picture without the feelings, without the emotions that are caught in the picture when taken by an artist? What makes one an 'artist'? I don't know but I would like to know and I would like opinions on the matter.

Travel

Breathes new life...

Spring is one of those seasons that gets into your blood and makes it come alive after a long winter, it breathes new life into you and opens your eyes to new possibilities, new hopes and dreams. Tonight, walking home from the gym the rain fell, tapping out a rhythmic beat off the lid of my Tim Horton's coffee cup lid; not the beat of war drums in the distance but a happy little beat that would start the dancing in a tribal celebration. It was warm, and though I was soaked I barely noticed it, instead I allowed the water to drip onto my cheeks and clear away the winter blues, the fresh sent clinging to the inside of my nostrils had me humming and smiling despite the wet sweater and jeans.

Now, don't get me wrong, there is something to be said for Winter. That first snowfall, when you were little and would run to the window in the morning and see blankets of white that begged for your footprints, and snow angels, forts and snowball fights. When you opened the door, the usual hustle and bustle of the city has been dampened by the puffy mounds of white fluff that is buffering all noise. The fat snowflakes that fall at night, while you sit by a warm fire, the kind that fall onto the Christmas lights and melt on the red and green glass. The feeling of coming in soaking wet, fingers cold and nose dripping, after playing for hours in the cold wet snow fort you made with friends, only to be enveloped by the warmth of the house, your mother holding a cup of hot chocolate with two puffy marshmallows melting into a sticky foam that your lips couldn't wait to lick. Yes, winter can be magical. However, winter is a little like snowboarding for the first time, you strap the board on, anticipation flooding your veins, you are flying for the first time in your life, snow beneath you, sky above you and the wind at your back. You feel amazing... then you add a touch too much pressure to your right toe (or left, or heal it doesn't matter) and that natural grace you had only moments before is gone (along with your dignity) and you are now tumbling down a mountain, arms flying in all directions, snow getting into your nose, mouth, and worse, down the back of your neck. You land in a heap in a giant pile of hard snow or maybe it's a tree, and everything hurts for days. This is winter. Wonderful for a moment and painful for days.

So, you see, this is why I love spring. This is why even the rain is so welcome, because it means that new life is coming, for me as well as bulbs, trees, and all other living creatures. The air is fresher, the streets cleaner, people are happier, project smile gets more smiles, I sit in the my kitchen, windows open and I hear the kids in the school yard a few streets away, and all of it tells me that I can come out of hibernation now. I can breathe again, I can get my hands dirty in the garden, I can feel the warmth of the sun on my back, I can see the pink come to my children's cheeks as they race down the slide, or play with their dog and the ball, or simply race around just so happy to be outside!

Polaroid Fun

NEED HELP!

Yes, this is a picture of a clean house...
however, the boys had been out with
Daddy ALL morning for it to get that way!
(just saying)

Ever tried to wash the floor with a 3 year old running around? I had thought it would be a good idea, while Kaleb was napping to wash the floors so that they would dry by the time he wakes up. I normally do this enormous job after the kids are in bed so that I don't have kid marks in the floor. However, I want to go to the gym tonight, so I thought if I do this now, then I can leave for the gym as soon as the kids are in bed...

MISTAKE! Did you know, that to a three year old, the best thing in the world is dancing on floors that are shiny from being freshly washed and not yet dry??

What about folding the laundry? Tried that with two kids around? For every article of clothing you fold and put in the basket, two are pulled out and tossed at a brother...

Loading the dishwasher?? Well, that's impossibly dangerous with Kaleb about... the first thing he goes for, every single time, is the knives, the sharpest one in the basket!

Forget spring cleaning, or sorting through the house and decluttering... I can't do my daily chores!

So my question for other Moms out there... How? When?

Some commercials just suck!

We have all seen it, the commercial where baby wakes up in the night with a fever, and Mom steps off the magazine cover and into the crying baby's bedroom, not one hair mussed to ease the fever away with Tempra or some similar drug, lullabyes' and snuggles...

(insert sound of record skipping here) - WHAT?! What planet do they live on and when can I move??

3:00 am wake up calls by a feverish child are a little more like this here on planet earth...

*crying baby - You wake up, listen, hoping against hope it's just a one off, that it was a nightmare or the 'ghost' cries that most mothers hear in the night at some point or other. Then the second cry comes, then more until finally you have no choice but to investigate, thus leaving your warm cozy bed and attempting to find your way in the dark to the room with the source of the tears. Your hair (if it's anything like mine) is a virtual nightmare of curls and tangles, your eyes puffy from lack of sleep, the clothes on your back resemble more your husbands old Tshirt and some pj bottoms than any pretty night gown on some dumb commercial...

You open the door and the tears stop instantly, you reach into the crib and tiny hot hands reach up for help and comfort. You heart picks up just enough to know that even if you deal with this, sleep is not going to come again for a long time. You pick up your child in your arms, touch your palm to his forehead and cringe at the heat radiating off him.

Then, and this is the dangerous part, you walk through the dark house and start down the stairs holding your sick child carefully, but it doesn't negate that you are sleepy, the house is dark and who knows what toys and obstacles have been left on the stairs from the night before. You find the medicine in the cupboard, administer it to him, give him some water, cuddle a little bit, and then make the deadly trek back up the darkened stairs. You move down the hall, whispering softly that it's time to go back to sleep, and you pray silently that it will be that easy. You move the child over the crib and you feel his little body tense, you hear the whimpers and you know that if you put this child down he will wake the house with his screams, so you cave and pick him back up. He settles again, thumb in mouth, head on chest, he's sweet, but he's also the only thing standing in the way of you sleeping right now.

You finally realize that the only way to sleep is if you continue to cuddle him in your own bed, so at the risk of grumpy hubby you walk down the hall and back into your room, you try to ever so quietly crawl into bed and get comfortable with baby straddled over you (and a giant tigger shoved in your nose). It isn't long before you realize that the sleeping child beside you snores more loudly than your husband and that if you remain this position you will cramp up long before morning. You shift, a tiny bit at a time, trying desperately not to wake the two people now sharing your bed. You find a spot, at the edge of the bed, the one spot on the bed with no blankets, and you figure it's better than nothing so you cling to that spot for your life.

It's of course at this point that your sweet, poor sick child begins to thrash around, kicking, punching, pulling hair and in every other way imaginable make your hope of sleep fade into a memory. You lie there, praying for patience, praying that deep sleep will come for you both, silence comes and you think your prayers were answered, but then a little voice in the night starts to chatter away.. 'Mama, Dada, doggie'. Yes, that's right, the meds have kicked in, the fever has reduced and your poor sick child has become a happy little toddler who gets to sleep with Mum and Dad for the night. You stick it out a little while, in hopes that sleep will really come, but then the child who so desperately wants to stay awake and enjoy this one on one time, starts pulling your hair for attention, hitting you in the head to wake you up (I honestly believe they think we are sleeping). Finally you decide to risk the screams of anger as you put the child into his crib once more, realizing that you can't not sleep at all and still deal lovingly with a sick child. You scoop him up, leave your bed again, walk through the dark hall again, open the child's room again, feel the tension in his body immediately, and then it happens, you lay him down, talking quietly to him and before you can finish the sentence there are screams of rage emitting from this child that should wake all of Toronto, let alone the sleeping brother in the room next door. You gather your resolve and leave the room, quietly closing the door and making your way back down the hall to your own room. By this time your husband is awake, but only through a miracle of God is your eldest still happily dreaming. The screams for only 15 minutes or so but it feels like eternity in the middle of the night, you ask yourself a million times if you should go, if he has thrown his Tigger overboard, if his fever is back up, (the stress of this 15 minutes has your heart rate elevated so high that you can probably skip tomorrows work out). Then, slowly the screams become a touch quieter, and ever so fewer until finally silence again settles over the house again. You hear the snores of your husband beside you, and you lie there. You know that tomorrow morning is just a few precious hours away, naps impossible, you close your eyes and pray for sleep.

When the morning comes, in too short a time, you come down the stairs to see two cute and happy faces staring up at you as if the night before had been a bad dream. coffee is the only thing that will fix what you are feeling, and then the news comes on, or some other morning show and they show you a tempra commercial, with a stunningly beautiful blond mother, cuddling her sweet but sick child in her arms, then placing the said baby so gently into the crib, then they show a shot of the sweet sleeping baby.

Yup - only strong coffee will fix what you are feeling.

Ever wonder what a ball in the face looks like?

This is what it looks like to be the victim of a ball in the face
(just in case you were wondering)
not as terrible as one would think is it?!

Lost my favorite victims this morning...

Through the years this day has been license to do the insane, it's given me permission to wake my father in the wee hours of the morning on a Saturday to tell him his boss called and needed him as soon as possible at the office, and then waiting until he was dressed and almost out the door before yelling 'happy April fools'! It allowed me to wake my parents to tell them that our car had been hit by a drunk driver in the night (made plausible by the amount of drunks that dropped in to the store across the street to satisfy the munchies and nicotine habits on the way home from the bar on a Saturday night). It gave me permission to add salt to every water jug on the tables at the castle where I lived, and to not feel sorry when I took our head finance guys' desk and moved it in it's entirety out of his office.

The beauty and fun of April Fools is lost on so many, the sheer joy of 'punking' people. Throwing firecrackers into the rooms of friends and then watching the looks of shock and panic that come over their faces, only to end up in fits of laughter together when it was all said and done (after running for my life first of course), spending a great amount of time carrying large logs into their rooms, dressing them and using them to scare said friends as they walk in the room in the dark. The sheer bliss of telling your boss that you just dropped almost all of the eggs in the koolhaus on the same day you are supposed to make the dreaded kaiserschmarrn, just to see that look of panic on the mans face as his mind races to come up with another meal plan for 150 people.

It has been typically my parents who have suffered most in this crazy tradition of tormenting, it's of course their own fault, it was their genes that gave me this need, this desire to wreak havoc on people for the sheer joy it brings me. When I was 19 years old I made two phone calls on April 1st (won't mention the year for fear of those actually willing to do the math). The first was to my parents in Stoney Creek, Ontario. I told them that I had been proposed too and that I was seriously considering accepting it, and needed their advice... Dad passed the phone to Mom who passed the phone to my sister, it seemed they didn't find it quite as funny as I did.  The second call was to my friends parents, at the time the Austrian law about tourists were changing, and we could no longer just leave the country for a day and return as a tourist again, but now we were being forced to get visas. This meant that most people from Europe had to go home and get the visa from their home countries and the debate for North Americans was on, seeing as the distance was great most of us wouldn't have been able to return. So, back to the second call to my friends parents. We had our baker (an Austrian who spoke very little English) call his parents and start talking in German, saying on our names in English, then my friend got on the phone and said in a slightly panicked voice that we were being deported and we were being detained at the airport until our flight, we were allowed only one call so if they could please call my parents and arrange to get us from Toronto, we were unsure how we would get them our flight info. We then had the baker yell some more in German in the back ground, and we listened as his parents fired off a string of panicked questions. We didn't wait too long, just long enough for it to seem real, then we couldn't contain it any longer and giggles erupted as we told them the truth. Relief served as protection from their wrath, but only for so long.

This morning I made a sad discovery... my parents now expect it, my Mother said to my Father, 'you better call Laurie before she calls us'... and thus, when I phoned them with my joke of the year I had them for only a second before my Mother clicked in and said 'is this an April Fools joke?'... ahh... it's a sad day indeed. I need to find new victims for my games!