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Hope I Don’t Get LOST!
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I Bumped My Head
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Flowers In The (playhouse) Attic?
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Heads Up
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The Ultimate Picky Eater
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Whose Kids Are These Anyway?
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Honestly Me
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Better
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Medicine Cosy
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Juggles The Clown

Hope I Don’t Get LOST!

I hate flying. I haven’t always. Back in the day, if someone said “Let’s jump on a plane!” I’d say, “How high?”…and not even care. Now I care. Hurling through the sky in a hunk of metal propelled by combustible jet fuel does not thrill me. I’m sure post 9/11 I’m not alone in this. It doesn’t help matters that my son said, “I sure hope your plane doesn’t crash like in LOST.” Crap. I’d be interested to know how many other people have developed an adult onset fear of flying? I’m pretty sure that the responsibilities of parenthood are the culprit. Anyway, I’m going to suck it up tomorrow and take these white knuckles on a plane to Vegas. I can hardly wait to spend some quality time with my best friend. Tiff and I met in third grade and have been sisters from other misters ever since. It’s hard living so far apart. I’m also excited to see my old travel buddies. In the ’90s Tiff, Lisa S., Michela, Paige and I backpacked through India and South East Asia together. There were LOTS of plane rides involved, and my knuckles remained flesh toned every time. Ahhh, to be[…]

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I Bumped My Head

Today DS came home with this sticker stuck to his shirt. With my trip to Vegas coming up, I’m thinking I should ask the school for a few to take along with me. Kidding (mostly). The safety policies and procedures at our local school are outstanding. (I say this both as a parent and as a teacher). With Avery going to the same school next fall I can only say….PHEW. When DS bumped his head on the playground, he was examined, I was notified by phone and he was “stickered” so everyone in the school and at home would be on the lookout for any unusual behaviour. Frankly, I’m surprised his actual head even made contact with the ground. Did I mention it was Crazy Hair Day?

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Flowers In The (playhouse) Attic?

  I love my brother. Not in a Flowers in the Attic sort of way, but a… Iamsoluckytohavesuchanamazingsibling kind of way. A few weeks ago my brother Michael and my niece and nephew came to stay with us during American spring break. I said it then and I’ll say it again, “BEST…VACATION…EVER” said oh so sarcastically. I am so sorry little bro. I truly wanted to show you a good time. Instead I ended up showing you the hectic hell that life in this house can sometimes be. Avery’s seizures started up again a few days after Mike and the kids got here and she had at least one every day while they were here. I was a bit of a wreck and took helicopter parenting to a new high. Also during their stay my dad was “packaged out” of his job (which turned out the be a GREAT thing. Early retirement couldn’t have happened to a more deserving guy. Love you dad), Mike got sick, my nephew sprained his ankle and I basically had a nervous breakdown. Goooooood times all around. So, they left for home a few days early. I can’t imagine why. I think I heard their tires screeching as[…]

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Heads Up

Look up. See that pitiful header? No! Not YOUR head. You have a perfectly nice cranium. I love your hair by the way. I mean, look up at the top of this blog. The title header is making me crazy. I can not get the damn thing to stretch (that’s what he said) or at least appear in the centre. Is that too much to ask? Is it?? Ok, I’m getting a little shrill here. I hate when things are off kilter. I feel at ease when things are fully on kilter. Is it really a big deal that the thing is off centre? It shouldn’t prevent me from continuing to write, especially since writing is therapeutic and calming. So the header’s a little askew. Big deal. Deep breaths. Shake it off. Just shaaaaaake it off… Bah! It’s no use. I won’t rest until my header is at it’s maximum length (again, that’s what he said). Any blogger experts out there who know what my problem is? (ahem, by that I mean my blog problem…)

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The Ultimate Picky Eater

Parents often complain about their child’s picky eating. It’s common and it’s SO frustrating. You go to great lengths to make a nutritious and delicious meal and your ingrate of a child tosses the whole thing on the floor. It makes me crazy(er). Avery is a picky eater to the extreme. On a pickiness scale from one to ten, she’s an eleventeen. I plan on buying this book asap -> Not that it will likely help much in our particular situation, but at least I’ll have some laughs while cleaning spaghetti sauce off the wall and using a Tide stick to remove a blackberry stain from the canvas mat of a painting in our dining room. True story. At three months of age Avery refused to nurse and we have struggled to feed her ever since.  She was hospitalized at eight months of age for “Failure to Thrive” and was scheduled for g-tube surgery on four separate occasions. Due to illness, the surgeries were postponed. We ended up canceling the last scheduled procedure and got lucky; Avery started eating enough by mouth on her own to get by with out the tube.  Three years later, Avery is still a skinny[…]

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Whose Kids Are These Anyway?

  Your children have the power to make you weep with joy and puff with pride. They also have the power to embarrass you beyond belief. Last week my daughter had an appointment with her cardiologist; a very nice man whose office Avery mistook for a playground. She was a holy terror opening drawers and slamming doors. The only way I could concentrate on what the doctor was saying was to hold her, bouncing her on my hip. This tactic did the trick until she decided to investigate down my top. Maintaining a serious conversation while a third party has a sticky hand wedged in your cleavage is challenging. Without warning my daughter grabbed my shirt and bra in an iron-like grasp and pulled them both swiftly to the side, giving the doctor an eyeful. I’m sure only look out of professional interest as the left side of my chest was exposed, which everyone knows is where the heart is located. I basically died. On our next outing we popped into the mall to check out the new spring fashions. While I was ogling a pretty floral skirt, Avery who was strapped into her stroller, reached out to fondle a[…]

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Honestly Me

Here are ten honest things about me… in no particular order 1. I’m sarcastic. Sometimes too much so. What? Like I’m the ONLY one? (See?) 2. My top left front tooth is a fakity, fake, fake. 3. I f*cking curse far more than a lady should. 4. I always imagined having three children. After Avery however, I chickened out. I sometimes mourn the baby that will never be. 5. I can’t do an accent of any kind to save my life, although to the chagrin of those in ear shot, I continue to try. 6. I have to say, “Drive safely” to anyone leaving my house AND I must blow a stray eyelash off my cheek while making a wish or something bad will happen. It’s exhausting controlling the fate of others let me tell you. 7. I like to be the one “in charge” at all times (number 6 makes more sense now doesn’t it?). It’s probably why I loved being a teacher. The teacher is always in charge. 8. I need a chemical peel on the backs of my hands. Why didn’t I slap on some sunscreen back in the day? Damn hindsight. Now I’m cursed with seventy[…]

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Better

My god I’m a useless sack of skin when I’ve had no sleep. Honestly. My brain don’t work so good. If I were smart, which I’m not, I’d go to bed instead of writing this. The thing is, I’m on “full alert” right now. Avery had two small seizures on Saturday and since she has a cold and is feeling unwell, I’m afraid that a “big one” is brewing. So I watch, with toothpicks propping open my lids. Last night, after going to bed at a sensible 12 am (see, told you I was dumb) Avery woke up at 2:45 am. And not just roused, but was UP and ready to rock, going full tilt until nearly 5 am. Being woken from sleep and forced to stay awake when your body is begging for rest is nothing short of torture. So today was a hazy blur. I went through the motions and managed to run some errands, get groceries and make new recipe for dinner. All pretty impressive considering my eyes were shut the entire time. When DS asked what was for dessert, I responded “Listen. Give me a minute. I’m doing my best okay?” To which he replied honestly[…]

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Medicine Cosy

I laughed when I opened the cupboard to dose out Avery’s meds for the day and discovered my husband had put one of the medicine bottles in a beer cosy. He reasoned that if one of us dropped the glass bottle the foamy sleeve would protect it. The irony of the statement inscribed on the cover did not go unnoticed however. I’ve been so consumed by the threat of seizures that I haven’t been focusing on the myriad of medical, genetic and developmental concerns. Now that we’re experiencing a bit of a reprieve ( six weeks seizure free), my attention has returned to researching and planning and of course, worrying. I know it’s futile to worry about the future and things which are out of my control, but with kindergarten looming, it’s hard not to fret. It’s also futile (and stupid) to make comparisons. I know this, but yet I can’t seem to help myself. I took Avery to a play date over the March Break and I was looking forward to a morning with three lovely girlfriends with whom I’d spent my last maternity leave. Our children are the same age and I’ve watched them grow from babies to[…]

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Juggles The Clown

It’s difficult being a juggler, keeping the balls and swords and flaming batons up in the air all at once. Lately, I’ve dropped most of the balls, been stabbed in the neck by an errant sword or two and my hair is currently aflame. It’s difficult being a parent on the best of days. Is my child eating well enough, gaining enough, drinking enough, pooping enough? Sometimes I just have enough of the enoughs. It’s difficult being the stay at home parent. I miss my job. I miss my old life. I feel guilty about that every day. It’s difficult making time to do the things that are not mummy related. To set aside the toys, to put down the dust cloth and to take pleasure in something that makes you feel like someone other than a cook/housekeeper/nurse/playmate/teacher/safety officer/mother. When I started this blog, its purpose was to document the birth of a home business – custom art for childrens’ rooms… PolkaDotGrove was a passion that both Sarah and I shared. She, because she is a true artist, in vision, talent and skill. Me? Mostly the vision part. I have ideas coming out the ying-yang. It’s the talent and skill[…]

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