The Top 10 Things I Hate About Shovelling Snow: (in no particular order)

1. The sweating
2. Snow that sticks to the shovel
3. Bits of driveway that stick to the shovel
4. The sweating
5. Steamed up glasses
6. Neighbours who stand around chatting as they watch you clear not only your driveway, but also your decrepit elderly neighbour's driveway
7. The drowned rat 'do i'm always sporting by the time i'm done
8. The sweating

Yeah, i realize that's only 8, but i'm too tired from shoveling to list anymore. So sue me. ;)

Lauren Rose

Eleven years ago tonight, I was in labour. Lauren’s birth was the only one of my three that occurred without any jumpstarting. I was induced with Will because he was 10 days late, and I was induced 2 days before Emma’s due date because she was bound to be late like the others. As a side note, all of my kids were born on a Sunday, and all on or around some kind of holiday weekend. In actual fact, Lauren’s birthday technically fell on a Monday, since she was born on the stroke of midnight. But whatever. We were just glad she wasn’t born in the van. Because she almost was.

I had been to my OB on the Friday, 10 days past my due date. He gave me the good news that absolutely NOTHING was going on, and said that he’d bring me in to induce me on Monday. So I spent Saturday and Sunday doing the nesting thing, washing everything in site and making sure I had everything I was going to need. On Sunday night I even took my stroller apart to clean it, and it was about then that I realized that the cramps I’d been feeling for an hour or so were actually contractions. I told Darren that I thought maybe I was in labour, and he of course wanted to go to the hospital immediately (about 25-30 minutes away). However, I figured I had time to finish my laundry, and so I just kept hollering “THERE’S ANOTHER ONE” every time I had a contraction. I can still remember him saying to me “That couldn’t have been another one already…it’s only been about 10 minutes since the last one”, and I said “BELIEVE ME WHEN I TELL YOU THAT WAS A CONTRACTION”.

Long story short, we eventually got on our way, after first dropping Will off at my parents’ house (and picking up Kimberly). I remember sitting at a red light across from the hospital and noticing that I was shaking. I said to Darren and Kimberly “hmm…I think I may be further along than I thought”. Uh, yeah. I got wheeled around to Labour and Delivery while Darren did the registration thing in the ER, and when the nurse examined me, she said “oooh, you’re 8.5 cm. Won’t be long now!”. I said (foolishly) “I’ll still have time for my epidural, RIGHT?”. Ha. My water broke about 20 seconds later and everything went into overdrive. Poor Kimberly had the door slammed in her face and my father-in-law had to run and grab Darren from the ER so that he wouldn’t miss it. And the whole time, I was lying on the bed saying “uh…I don’t think I can do it without the drugs. How about some Demerol, even?”. They pretty much ignored me.

Fortunately, Lauren popped out after a push or two, and all was well. It’s so funny to us that Lauren didn’t wait to be induced, but came all on her own. That is so totally her personality. She has always been a go-getter type. She wanted to do things all by herself and was tying her shoes before her 4^th birthday. When she was tiny, she had definite ideas about the clothes she wanted to wear and would put together some fairly mind-boggling ensembles. She’s never been particularly shy, and I have some hilarious video of her sitting on the stage at Will’s nursery school graduation. He didn’t want to sit up there, and so she seized the opportunity when I was looking the other way.

Lauren is like my right hand. If I need something done, she’s the person to ask. Quite often I’ll be scrambling to finish some work in the morning, and Lauren will get up and get herself ready for school, and then she runs around and pours cereal for the others and helps Emma get her snack ready, brings agendas to be signed, etc, etc. She’s sweet and affectionate and nurturing and hilarious. She loves to play Rock Band with Will, and still plays babies and barbies with Emma. She has her huffy, snit fit moments, and we have had to outlaw any trading of personal belongings between her and Emma, since it inevitably leads to a knock-down-drag-out when somebody won’t trade back. But she really is a fantastic kid.

I love the promises God makes in Isaiah 43, and my prayer for Lauren is that she will always know that she is the Lord’s:

But now, this is what the LORD says—
he who created you, O Jacob,
he who formed you, O Israel:
"Fear not, for I have redeemed you;
I have summoned you by name; you are mine.

When you pass through the waters,
I will be with you;
and when you pass through the rivers,
they will not sweep over you.
When you walk through the fire,
you will not be burned;
the flames will not set you ablaze.

Isaiah 43:1-2

(The first picture of Lauren is from kindergarten...if my scanner was working i'd have put up a baby picture. How cute was she there, really? The others were taken within the past year.)

Cardboard Testimony

Several times as I've come down the off-ramp at the Kennedy Road exit from the 401, there has been a young guy standing at the intersection with a piece of cardboard in his hands. You've probably seen something similar. The face is different, but the same sad story is on the cardboard: NO JOB. NO MONEY. WIFE AND KIDS TO SUPPORT. Or something along those lines. A cardboard testimony, of sorts.

A few months ago, my sister sent me a video on Facebook, and I watched it again just the other day and was moved by it all over again. Real church people sharing their cardboard testimonies...who they were before Christ, and who they have become because of His grace. I love the honesty of it. I think we spend so much time trying to hide things from people, giving the impression that we have it all together. I know do it.

Here's the video. Go ahead and watch it. I'll wait.



We don't all have dramatic testimonies, like being a meth addict or a cancer survivor. But we are all the same because we need Him to change us. I saw myself in some of those testimonies, and it made me wonder what I would write on my own piece of cardboard. This is what I came up with:

WEAK FAITH
GOING THROUGH THE MOTIONS

and on the flip side:

SEEKING HIM

What would yours say?

Meet the Teacher

Tonight was our Meet the Teacher BBQ at school. Is there anyone who really looks forward to these evenings? Don't get me wrong...it's not that I'm not interested in meeting the teacher, or seeing how the kids are doing so far. They're always so proud to show us their classrooms, and to introduce us to their teachers. We like that part. We don't mind squatting on the grass to eat our burgers, and we've learned to dress properly for the always steamy book fair in the library.

Basically, we just get somewhat irritated by the other parents. You know the ones, right? The keeners who nab the teacher for 15 minutes, even though the classroom is FULL of parents waiting to talk to her. Or the ones who holler at each other across the library while about 80 of us sweat all over our purchases in the the checkout line and listen to them discuss what shirt Connor was wearing in the photo montage. But this is not a post about that. So i'll stop there and do a little shamless bragging, instead.

It was a pretty good night. The teachers had nice things to say, and the kids are all doing great work, so we were happy. I was feeling a little sheepish about meeting Will's teacher because of a project he finished a week or so ago. Each student had to design a coat of arms, complete with a family motto. Will had asked for our help with the motto part, and I had laughingly suggested "Better out than in". Well, guess what he used:

Yep. We're all about bathroom humor around here. I laughed at Will's friend's motto, which was "What could possibly go wrong?".

Will also did an assignment about himself called "I am". Darren and I really liked it, because it was witty and smart, and totally him. I liked it so much that I decided to share it with you:

I am

I am smart and funny
I wonder about gravity
I hear everybody talking really loud-ish
I see myself as an engineer
I want unlimited food and video games
I am smart and funny

I pretend to play guitar
I feel hungry all the time
I touch invisible stuff
I worry that Pluto will randomly explode
I cry when I cut onions
I am smart and funny

I understand Santa isn't real (sob)
I say good shows shouldn't be cancelled
I dream that I'm super strong and can beat everyone up (even Arnold Schwarzenegger)
I try to push myself wherever possible
I hope I get good marks on my report card (wink wink Miss P!)
I am smart and funny

This is Lauren displaying the autobiography she's been working on. So cute! The work displayed on the wall in the background included some more info about each kid, including their goals and dreams. Lauren had put down that she wants to be a teacher one day, which didn't surprise us. But what did surprise us was the section called "My Hero", which turned out to be US. She said that we always protect her when she gets scared and we help her with her everyday problems. Sweet, right?

This is a painting Emma did about home. The caption says "A house is a safe place and a cozy place". I love it . I like how she has really, really long legs in the picture. (I think the little short person next to her is her friend Omer. He made the little cutout person, and she stuck it on.) Emma's goal for the month in her classroom was to chat less. hahaha!

A highlight of the night for me was when one of the teachers mistook me for a student! Okay, he was probably just beeing nice and in all likelihood needs glasses, but still! I'll take it. =)

Hold the mustard.

My friend Michelle says that we are the Sandwich Generation...people caught between their aging parents and young children. And I have to say quite frankly that that is how I feel a lot of the time...caught.

The past few weeks have been exhausting. The kids are back at school and are starting piano lessons and swimming lessons and Tuesday night church stuff, and all of that makes for a busy week. But then you factor in a few appointments for the parents, to say nothing of taking them to the ER, picking up prescriptions at the drugstore, doing their grocery shopping or updating bankbooks (all of which we have done in the past 7-10 days), and you have yourself a whole different ballgame. Mom really hates to drive now, and Dad has told me that he actually doesn't like to drive with her. (Apparently Mom likes the outside lane A LOT, to the point that she's driving on the shoulder from time to time.) So I have become their designated driver and official senior-citizen-hauler to their various appointments. Except that sometimes it fees like I'm out with my kids, rather than my parents.

Yesterday Dad had pulmonary function tests here in Oshawa. So I had to go out to Bowmanville and pick them up, and then bring them back in for the appointment. I dropped them off at the entrance and gave them specific instructions about taking the green elevators down one floor. I dashed off to park the car, telling them that I would meet them downstairs. When I found them in the waiting room, I was relieved to see that they'd made it, and asked whether they'd had any trouble. Turns out they had been up to the floor where the babies are, and then somewhere else before finally making it down to the basement level WHERE I TOLD THEM TO GO.

So we're sitting in the hall waiting for Dad's turn, and Mom keeps making references to what we did when we were here last time, and whether this was the same place we went to the last time, etc., even though Dad and I kept telling her that we hadn't been to this place before. She finally says "Well, I'm sure we HAVE been here before, because that door (pointing at it) looks VERY familiar to me!" At which point I was fed up and said "Maybe it just looks familiar to you from when you saw it 5 MINUTES AGO when you were taking a grand tour of the place."

But then we're finally done and on our way out. I tell them that I will run on ahead and get the car and then meet them at the MAIN ENTRANCE. I say to Mom "Follow this green line to the blue elevator over there and take it up ONE FLOOR ONLY. Then go around to the main entrance." So of course, I end up sitting out front waiting and waiting and waiting for them. After zipping around to the other entrance to make sure that they weren't waiting at the wrong door, I come back just as they are coming out the front doors. I asked them where they'd been and Mom said "Where HAVEN'T we been?". Appparently they rode the elevator for a few minutes, got off again in the basement and then somehow managed to make it to the main floor, and eventually to the front entrance. I'm exhausted just thinking about it all over again.

Two minutes into the drive home, and Mom gets her keys out...jingle jingle jingle. We still have a stop to make along our 20 minute ride home (jingle jingle jingle), but let's get those keys out so that we're ready to unlock the front door the instant the car rolls to a stop in the driveway. Here's something you should know about me: I have a really low tolerance for fiddly noises like that. You can ask my kids...we have coined the word fissiling, as in WHO THE HECK IS FISSILING THAT PLASTIC BAG BACK THERE???

I don't know which was worse...the jingle jingle of the keys, or Mom psyching herself up to change her PIN number at the bank (our last stop before home). Every 2 minutes, I'd hear some variation of the following:

"OK, so I just say to them (jingle jingle jingle) that I need to choose a new PIN number for my card."

"Yes, Mom."

"And then I just choose my password." jingle jingle jingle

"Yes, Mom."

Lather. Rinse. Repeat. OH MAN. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry or just grab those keys and hurl them out the window.

I love my parents dearly, and I realize that getting old can't be much fun, especially when you lose your independence. Dad would love to be able to drive himself wherever he needs to go, and to have the energy and abilities that he used to have. Mom has a whole anxiety thing going on that we haven't figured out yet, and she doesn't want to do a lot of the things she used to do. So I find myself talking to them like I do my kids...reassuring them, comforting them, encouraging them, and occasionally nagging at them to stop their squabbling or put on their seatbelts. Some days, the sandwich seems like a nice turkey with mayo, lettuce and tomato on a yummy croissant. Other days it's more like the one I found in Will's lunch box last week (left there since the end of June)...green and fuzzy and totally gag-inducing. I guess I'll settle for somewhere in between.

I'm Back!

Well! That was a hiatus and a half. We had a bit of a wild ride this summer, and I had absolutely no energy left for blogging. The cousins came for VBS and stayed for 2 weeks in July, which is always a good time. I spent the week after they left trying to catch up on some work and get myself organized before we headed to Syracuse at the end of the month for Sam’s birthday.

We got to Syracuse on the 24^th, which is when things started getting hairy. Within an hour or so of arriving at Kimberly’s house, Darren said “hmm…I’ve got a real cramp” and he pointed at his lower abdomen. I said “GOOD LORD, IT’S NOT A KIDNEY STONE, IS IT?” (like the kind, compassionate person that I am). He said “oh no, I don’t THINK so”. HA. Within 5 minutes, he was doubled over in agony, and we were on our way to the hospital. We had travel insurance, but I was uptight anyway because I was immediately envisioning all kinds of huge problems…like he wouldn’t be able to pass the stone, or maybe the morphine wouldn’t work, or it would be obstructed and maybe he’d need surgery, etc., etc. I’m basically a “the glass is bone dry” kind of person.

Fortunately, after about 10 mg of morphine, an x-ray and 2 ½ hours at the hospital, the pain eased off and we were able to go home. But now I was worried about how the week would shape up. The kids and I were planning to stay for the week, but Darren was heading home on Sunday because he had to start work at a new job on Monday. I did not at all feel good about him driving home by himself…what if the stone started up again? However, he passed the stone on Saturday, and I felt that I could safely let him go home while the kids and I stayed. We said PHEW! GLAD THAT DRAMA’S OVER.

So Darren left on the Sunday. On Monday morning, Emma told me that her tummy hurt. You have to understand, she says this quite a bit. So I told her that probably she was a little constipated, which is my usual response. She didn’t seem too bad during the morning, but as the afternoon went on, she was obviously not feeling well. She threw up at dinnertime, and Kimberly, Richard and I said “ah…stomach flu”. We entertained some less than charitable thoughts about Richard’s sister and brother-in-law for a few minutes, thinking that their kids had brought the plague to the house on the weekend.

I was up with Emma all Monday night. And I was anxious. Something about it didn’t seem right. At about 3 or 4 am, I was googling “kids green vomit”, but surprisingly, there was not a lot of pertinent information. On Tuesday she seemed better. She didn’t have a fever and was able to keep down crackers and ginger ale. But at dinner time, she told me her tummy really hurt A LOT when she got up to go to the bathroom, and when I took her temp, she was 100.3. To make a long story short, I googled symptoms for appendicitis, and after calling Darren and our travel insurance people AGAIN, Kimberly and I headed to the ER.

What a night. Even now, it’s a big blur, but some of the things that stand out in my mind include the image of Emma’s little face, so pale under her tan…Kimberly bribing her to drink the CT contrast stuff for her x-ray (“just 5 more sips Emma, and then I’ll let you sleep for 10 minutes”)…trying to catch even a few minutes of sleep while leaning on a hospital laundry hamper type thing…steeling myself to use the hospital bathroom (blech)…Kimberly and I cleaning out our purses at 1 am, and finding the whole process inexplicably hilarious…shivering in my lead vest with a combination of anxiety and cold while Emma had her CT scan at 1:30 am…my enormous sense of relief and dread at hearing that she did in fact have appendicitis…and Kimberly and I squeezed into an oversized chair, trying desperately to get some sleep before Emma’s surgery (no such luck).

It all felt very surreal. Emma went for her surgery at about 7:30 Wednesday morning and was very brave as they wheeled her down the hall. I really don’t think she had too much of a clue about what was going on. Kimberly and I went and got some really crappy tea from the cafeteria and then cried in the waiting room for a while until Emma’s wonderful doctor came in and told us that the surgery was over. Her appendix had ruptured, so she was a pretty sick little girl and would wind up being in the hospital for a week on IV antibiotics.

It feels like this one event took over our whole summer. Our annual camping trip had to be scrapped because Emma had to take it easy for the first 2 weeks after she was out of the hospital, and couldn’t do any lake swimming for the rest of the month, anyway. She really didn’t feel 100% until about the last week in August. And by then it was time to get organized for school.

I still feel like I’m trying to catch up and get into the fall routine, and yet the other day when I was driving to school with the kids, I felt like the summer hadn’t even happened…like this has just been the longest school year EVER. This post certainly has been long enough, so I'll post my Emma-in-the-hospital pics separately. Thanks for stopping by!

Pics from University Hospital

These are some pictures we took while Emma was in the hospital. Blogger would not let me do what i wanted to do with them, so they are just chucked on here in a row. I have to figure out how to do what i want to do with my pictures on here! For now, i'll put a little commentary about the pictures under each one.




This was how she was for the first few days. SO EXHAUSTED. We were able to cheer her up with some stuffed animals, however. Bebe even made a trip to the zoo to get the red panda you see in this picture!




Even hugging the stuffed animals didn't always help! She loved the Pink Google that Aunt Eness and the cousins had delivered to her from the gift shop. She basically sat holding her "stuffies" for the first few days, watching the Disney Channel on the TV over her bed. Let me just say that if i never again see another episode of The Wizards of Waverly Place, it will be too soon.





Will hogging the big (and only semi-comfy) seat in the room. This would be the chair that Kimberly and I crammed into in an attempt to get some sleep before Emma's surgery. Needless to say, we had no luck whatsoever. This is actually a pullout, where i slept (or Darren did) each night.




Lauren had the right idea. Why sit on an uncomfortable chair when Emma's using less than half of the bed? One of the thousands of interns/residents/doctors that came by to check Emma out at regular intervals saw the girls sitting together on the bed and said "Oh, are they twins?".




Up and around! For the first few times she was up, Emma walked all hunched over like a little old man. She didn't enjoy the getting up and moving around part because she felt dizzy and had more pain. However, we dragged her and her pole down the hall to the playroom at the end of the hall and played games of hangman on the chalkboard.




Discharge day! We were SO excited to be getting out! Sammy and Bebe came to pick us up, and Sam got to share the wheelchair with Emma. He looks a little anxious because the male nurse who had wheeled us out to the parking garage had just popped a bit of a wheelie with the chair.

Little Will

Will is 13! His birthday was yesterday and I had started a post, but I didn’t get a chance to finish it and put it up. Better late than never!

I can’t believe I have a teenager. I can still remember him as a baby. He was such a great baby. He was so sweet and placid. He had the tiniest little cry that sounded like a siren, and when Kimberly heard him cry for the first time, she said “Oh how CUTE!! Make him do it again!”. He ate, he slept and he pooped without any fuss whatsoever…well, at least until about 10 months of age, at which point the dark days of constipation set in. That’s a blog post in and of itself.

Will was a great talker, and we tormented him endlessly by asking him various things every time we turned the video camera on. What does Pooh say? What does Tigger say? Can you say SHOW ME THE MONEY!!??. He was very obliging, for the most part. He had a very cute little squeaky voice, and even now when you call our house and get our voicemail, you can still hear the outgoing message he recorded for us when he was 3. It was just too cute to erase without somehow saving a recording of it. I guess we should get on that.

I love this picture of Will. It's his Grade 1 picture, and we were thrilled with it when he brought it home. It's cute, with the little sippy cup ears and no missing teeth yet. And then I examined it a little closer. What is THAT on his shirt? It looks like an alligator or something...On close inspection, I discovered that it was in fact an alligator-shaped booger. Yep. Why use a Kleenex when you can just grab a handful of your shirt? I wish I could say he's outgrown that nasty habit...

Boogers aside, he’s growing up to be such a great kid. He has a fantastic sense of humor and makes us laugh on a daily basis. He works hard in school (honour roll all year!) and on his piano (most of the time, Carol!). He’s responsible and considerate and a very good big brother to Lauren and Emma. He’s also moody, inappropriate (tard props!), antagonizing and snarky at times, but he’d be boring if he was Mr. Wonderful all the time. I love seeing him grow and mature, and I love that I can still see the little boy he was just yesterday. At least, it feels like it was just yesterday.

A long time ago, I got some good advice about praying for our kids the way Paul prayed for the Ephesians. So this is my prayer for Will:

...I couldn't stop thanking God for you—every time I prayed, I'd think of you and give thanks. But I do more than thank. I ask—ask the God of our Master, Jesus Christ, the God of glory—to make you intelligent and discerning in knowing him personally, your eyes focused and clear, so that you can see exactly what it is he is calling you to do, grasp the immensity of this glorious way of life he has for his followers. Oh, the utter extravagance of his work in us who trust him—endless energy, boundless strength! Ephesians 1:15-19 (The Message)

The MRI

Last week it was blood work, and this week it was an MRI. I was a little nervous about the MRI because Emma has a tendency to be somewhat claustrophobic. One year, she climbed into the box for our artificial Christmas tree and the 2 cardboard lids closed her in and she SCREAMED. Huge panic attack. Another time she had a spaz because she somehow locked herself into the bathroom and couldn’t get out. So I was a little unsure of how she would feel about being slid into a relatively small tunnel.

When the booking person at Sick Kids called to talk to us about the appointment, she recommended that we at least try to do it without sedation. It takes longer to get an appointment if your child has to be sedated because they only do those during regular business hours, rather than during evenings or weekends. We definitely wanted a sooner appointment, so we decided to just prep Emma well ahead of time and see how she did.

Our check in for registration was at 8:30 pm, so we dropped Will and Lauren off at Ken and Lynn’s and gave ourselves plenty of time to get downtown. We haven’t been to Sick Kids for a long time (thank goodness), and we weren’t 100% sure where it was, and how the parking would be, etc. We made great time and had a chance to walk around a bit and check the place out. What a beautiful hospital! As terrible as it would be to have a sick child, you couldn’t ask for a better environment. Everything is so cheery and bright, and there are so many amenities. The main floor really doesn’t look anything like a hospital at all.

So we sat and had our snack from Tim Horton’s and chatted about things until it was time to go. We headed down to the MRI department, where we filled in a couple of forms and Emma changed into her hospital nightie. She quite liked it and was interested in taking it home, although she wasn’t too keen on the back of it being open. We passed some time in the waiting room doing some reading and looking at pictures on daddy’s pocket PC, and then Emma decided to give her penguin an MRI.

Emma was finally called for her scan at about 9:15 or so. The MRI room was quite cold, so after she lay down on the stretcher part of the machine, she had a blanket tucked around her (and her penguin) and she was strapped in. She had to wear a big set of headphones because the MRI machine makes so much noise, and then there was a helmet-type thing that went on over top. (I told her she looked like a Storm Trooper, which she thought was funny). There was a mirror on it so that the technician would be able to see her face and make sure she was okay throughout the test. I sat in the room with her and sported a big pair of headphones too. I nearly jumped out of my skin when the testing started. It’s not one long test, per se, but a number of pictures being taken in succession. Each one can take anywhere from 30 seconds to 4 minutes, and the patient has to be perfectly still throughout. Emma did her “sleeping beauty” thing for almost a whole hour! That’s a LONG time for a little kid to lie still. Heck, it would be a long time for me to lie still.

I asked her afterwards if she had been afraid, and she said she was a little bit nervous, but mostly her back was sore from lying on the stretcher thing. I saw her smiling a couple of times, and when I asked her what had made her smile, she said that some of the noises had sounded like farts. It doesn’t matter what the situation is…my kids will find bathroom humor in it somewhere!

I think we're done now, in terms of investigations. Emma has an appointment with the pediatric neurologist in September, and we hope to hear good things there. We're just trusting the Lord with her every day. She's really been quite oblivious to all the worry, and in fact has enjoyed having "her own" doctor. Her biggest concern about the MRI was whether it would show that she had a small brain. (how embarrassing, right?!) :)

Our Trip to the Lab (warning...some gross content :)

My Saturday started early this week. Because of the medication she’s taking, Emma has to have blood work periodically to monitor how much of it is in her system, and to make sure that it’s not having a negative effect on her liver, etc. My plan was to get to the lab right when it opened, since a) Emma would be STARVING, with it being fasting blood work, and b) she couldn’t have her medication until after the blood work had been done. However, it took us longer to find a parking space than I had planned (basically because I was too cheap to park in the paid lot and had to scout around for a free meter), so we ended up getting there after they’d been open for about 10 minutes or so. Even still, I figured (foolishly) how many people are going to be needing blood work on a Saturday morning?. HA! The waiting room was packed; old people, young people, nervous and possibly pregnant people, and of course, some odd people (like the man who was wearing his slippers).

We took a number and had a seat. We were #57, and they were serving #38, so I figured we had a pretty good wait ahead of us. I don’t think an hour has ever passed so slowly. A series of brief videos kept looping the whole time we waited, so feel free to ask me about conserving water, how to support a newborn’s head, and the alarming symptoms of a stroke. The longer we sat, the more I got grossed out about the waiting room and the probably horrific levels of bacteria sitting on every surface. People were coughing all over the place, but even worse were the people who had to provide urine samples. At one point, there were about half a dozen people sitting in the waiting room with steamy little specimen bottles; some with damp paper towel around them. Blech.

The one that really got me was the teenager sitting near us. The poor guy had some pretty bad acne, which is unfortunate. However, it’s probably not a good idea to pick at the spots. I happened to look his way just in time to see him pick a spot on his forehead, examine his fingernails and then casually dispose of whatever he found there…on the floor? on the chair? Who knows where it went? I had one of those “I just threw up a bit in the back of my throat” kind of moments.

But finally, it was our turn. Emma was a trooper and only cried a little bit. She was easily won over by a couple suckers, a finger puppet and the promise of a hashbrown from McDonald’s. Thank goodness we don’t have to have blood work done again for a few months. I’m not sure my stomach could handle it.

Overheard

For the most part, Lauren and Emma play well together. We laugh at they way they dictate scenarios to each other, and how they oblige each other. Usually, one will say “Pretend your girl said…” and immediately the other will have their girl say the required lines. The “girls” can be baby dolls, barbies or even stuffed animals, but there is a recurrent theme of boyfriends and going on dates.

Here’s one I overheard recently (keep in mind that Emma is doing the talking for both her Girl and for the boyfriend):

Emma’s Girl’s boyfriend on phone: Do you want to go on a date?

EG: Where are you right now?

BF: In an important meeting. Want to go on a date?

EG: SURE!! Where should we go?

BF: How about McDonald’s?

EG: Ok see you there!

Lauren to Emma: Is your girl going on a date?

E: Yep. Is yours?

L: Yep. Where’s your girl going?

E: To McDonald’s.

L: Hmmm…my girl doesn’t want to go there because it’s not very romantic. People barf there.

E: Where is YOUR girl going?

L: Swiss Chalet

EG to Boyfriend on phone: Maybe we should go somewhere else…

BF: Where should we go?

EG: I’m not sure…somewhere with romantic music. (Lauren in the background: SWISS CHALET!!)

EG: How about Swiss Chalet? Or, I know…how about Montana’s? They have romantic rodeo music there.

BF: Okay. Pick you up later.

Maybe we could suggest a new marketing concept to the Burger King People to try and woo customers from McDonald’s…something like We can provide better ambiance and less barf. I’d also be interested in hearing what romantic rodeo music sounds like.

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This is not at all related to the post above, but I had to put it in because I thought it was funny and I don't want to forget it. Emma came in from school just now and told me that she had had a great afternoon. I asked whether she had any homework, and she told me that she didn't. She said "We had Mr. Gerrard today, and he was GREAT! Even though he IS missing a toenail on one of his toes". I'm sure that Mr. Gerrard would be thrilled to hear that he's a competent teacher, even though he's deformed.

The Week in Review

I love June, I really do. September has a whole back-to-school-cool-weather-apples-and-burning-leaves thing that I love, but the winding down of June is nice, too. Swimming lessons are done! Clubs are finished! No more choir! Only 8 days of school!! Will is almost finished with piano. He has one more lesson on Monday, and then he does his Grade 2 exam on Friday. We went to his recital on Thursday, and he did great! Apart from finishing one of his songs in the wrong octave, he was quite pleased. I told him that I didn’t remember how it was supposed to end (having tuned it out at home after listening to months of practice), and probably Mrs. Churchill would just think he had taken some creative license (haha!!).

Here he is at the recital. (Actually, we cheated and took this picture afterwards, so that we could get a decent shot). Fortunately, you can't see the monster grass stain on his pants that I didn't notice until he pointed it out to me, 2 minutes after we arrived. Argh!



In addition to being presented with a nice certificate and some cool sheet music, Will was also given this award! (i just noticed what a crappy job i did taking a picture of this! Excuse my somewhat lacking photography skills). It says For excellence and achievement in piano study 2007-2008.


He was thrilled with it, and has scoped out a place in his room to hang it up. To say thank you to Carol for being such a wonderful teacher, Darren and I made this:



Although I know it was not quite as professional a job as these people would do, we were happy with how it turned out. And the bottom line is that it tasted good. How can you go wrong when you dip something in chocolate? I think we probably ate as much fruit ourselves as we stuck in the arrangement.

That’s been our week. One other thing I did yesterday was to order one of these for Emma. I’ve been thinking it would probably be a good idea for her to have one, and when I was looking around online, I discovered that there is a federal program called No Child Without. Basically, the program provides 24 hour MedicAlert protection to all elementary school aged children who need it. I’m hoping we won’t need it for long, but it will certainly be great to have it for the time being. Emma was quite excited about the whole thing, so it probably won't be difficult to get her to wear it all the time. It will probably be a bigger challenge to make sure that Lauren doesn't wind up wearing it. That girl's BIG into bling.

Malapropisms

I think my kids consider themselves fairly grown up, but occasionally they do or say something that makes me sigh with relief that they really aren't as sophisticated as they think they are.

A while ago we somehow got talking about natural disasters at the dinner table. (Hmmm...natural disasters at the dinner table sounds like someone laughing milk out their nose or burping the alphabet. Let's just say we were discussing earthquakes, tornadoes and the like.) Darren and I were sharing what limited knowledge we had on the subject, when Lauren said "I wonder if salamis are as dangerous as hurricanes". There was a pause, during which Darren and I grinned at each other across the table, and then I said "Oh, I DEFINITELY think that a hurricane is more dangerous than a salami". I was then going to set her straight (very kindly, so as not to make her feel foolish) when Will jumped in. "WHAT?? SALAMI?? NOT SALAMI....IT'S TSUNAMI!!! HAHAHA!!! SALAMI!!!" Sweet boy. Lauren was a little annoyed until I told her to ask Will what an uhlcar was.

But the best one I've heard in a while came today. Emma and I were lounging around this morning, talking about things we want to do, when she mentioned that she'd like to see a movie. I asked her which one she wanted to see and she said "Well, it's called...umm...oh yeah! The Narnicles of Corinthia." OH MY GOODNESS DID WE LAUGH!! All day, every time I thought about it, it would make me laugh all over again, especially because she didn't see what was so funny, initially. So with all due respect to Mr. Lewis, around here we will refer to his great literary work as The Narnicles.

Dead fish, dead fish, red fish, new fish!

Last night at bedtime, Emma came rushing upstairs to tell Darren that Quickster (Lauren's goldfish) was behaving strangely. He was kinda lying on one side, alternately drifting around the tank and coming up to the surface. An executive decision was made to send Quickster on his way, and so he was peacefully ushered into the hereafter. Forgive me...two fish funerals in 24 hours has made me wax a little poetic.

So today after school, Darren and the girls went fish shopping and this was the result; a betta fish. Apparently these fish require very little in order to survive and thrive. In other words, they're perfect for us! I don't want to give the impression that we aren't good pet owners. We've managed to keep a cat alive for 18 months, after all. Sure, she had that whole over-grooming problem and was missing a lot of fur for a while, but still. We never forgot to feed her or anything.

I'm not sure that a name has been settled on for this fish. Darren asked the girls what they were going to call it, and Emma said "RED!!". (It's not really clear in the picture, but the fish is red). Darren suggested that they think about it some more (!), and a few minutes later, Lauren suggested that they could call the fish Rouge. Hmmm...I sense a theme here. They had also considered Speedster, as an homage to the deceased, but that was rejected for reasons unknown. I'm personally holding out hope for Benny, but I guess we'll see.

Emma thinks that the fish seems quite happy in his new home. I get the feeling that this fish doesn't have the chirpiest personality. He stared back at me quite brazenly when I was taking a picture or two of him, and I got the distinct impression that he was scowling at me, as if to say Get a good shot? How about you get me out of this frickin tupperware?

In other news, I should mention that Will is fine and dandy, by the way. He hasn't been mentioned in a few posts now, and I wanted to alleviate any concern that he had dropped off the face of the earth. During one conversation I had with him today, he shared some thoughts with me about Rose The Crossing Guard. He noted that she always wears at least 2 coats, and always has sleeves on. I pointed out that most coats do, in fact, have sleeves. Otherwise they would be called vests. He said that even in the warm weather, she always has her arms covered up. I said "So, what's your point?". His point was that he thinks she has some sort of bionic prosthetic arms that she snaps on, and she doesn't want anyone to know about it. I'm pretty sure bionic prosthetic arms are a prerequisite for most crossing guards, right?

One down, one to go?

Yep. Speedy croaked sometime last night or early this morning. I know he was alive around midnight or so last night, because I checked on the girls before I went to bed and both fish were moving around the tank. I also chased Inky out of the room, as I wasn't entirely sure what her intentions were. I noticed that the can of fish food was on the floor, so obviously she'd been investigating around the tank and had knocked it off. Poor Speedy probably had a stroke, seeing Inky's nosey black face stuck up against the side of the tank.

I have to say that I'm not surprised that the fish didn't last the week. Who knows what kind of shape they were in when we got them in the first place? I doubt the pet shop was prepared to give away dozens of their best fish out of the goodness of their hearts. Combine that with a couple of adults who have little or no knowledge about the appropriate care of fish and you have a fish funeral in the making. For instance, did you know that you really shouldn't keep fish in a fish bowl? Did you know that the general rule about tank size is that you need 1 gallon per inch of fish? We did not know these things.

Darren and the girls came home on Saturday with a very cute little fish tank. It had a purple lid and pretty purple stones and a cute little plastic tree. The orange fish looked very happy in their new home. Except that they were breathing funny, I thought. I said to Lauren "Hmmm...have they always breathed like that?". They seemed to be gulping non-stop, which did NOT look normal to me. Lauren looked at me with great compassion (evidently heartbroken that I have lived for almost 40 years without any knowledge of how gills work) and then explained to me how fish breathe. So I let it go, not wanting to alarm her, but I did tell Darren about it. He wondered if maybe the fish were just stressed about moving from the bowl to the tank, and we decided to wait and see what went on.

In the meantime, I googled some stuff (I think that half of what I know, I have learned from the internet). Probably it would have been a good idea to have googled calculating tank size for goldfish prior to the trip to Walmart. It turns out that the fish were likely doing the weird gulping because they were looking for more oxygen. Whoops. I shared my findings with Darren, and we decided that we would probably have to get a bigger tank. We figured we'd look into it early in the week, what with Monday being a holiday and the stores all being closed. Too little, too late for Speedy.

So this morning before school, an impromptu flushing funeral was held for Speedy in the downstairs bathroom. I'm not sure if any words were spoken over the Bowl (Darren handled the event), but I do know that Emma asked for prayer at devotions this morning. Oh dear. Here's hoping Lauren's doesn't bite it anytime soon.