Yesterday I heard the news that my friend's mom passed away.
I've known this friend since grade 7, and by extension I knew her mom. She was one of the moms who knew our names and was interested in what instrument we played and how we were doing at school. She was the mom who would see us 5 years after highschool graduation and remember our names and ask how we were.
I guess it was just something I took for granted. I still sort of expect all of my friends' parents to be alive and well. We are still (fairly) young. Many of my friends aren't yet married and don't have kids. In my mind that qualifies us as young. We aren't 30 yet.
So, it hit me fairly hard when I found out that this particular mother passed away. Even sadder was that on Mother's Day she found out she only had a few days to live so she went home and spent those few days with her family.
We've been through the passing of grandparents. I've held my friends' hands at the funerals and certainly cried on their shoulders when my grandfather passed away. But that is different. I guess when someone has lived a full life and they are older it's a little easier and a little more okay. But this isn't.
It's not fair that her mom got breast cancer and died.
And, it is sure making me appreciate my mom a little more.

Ta!

I HATE the word Ta!
I know there are much more things in this world to concern myself with on a daily basis, but the one thing that really bugs me more than most things is the word "ta"!
It's just a stupid word.
What does it mean?
It means nothing. To some people the word means thank you. It's a big one around my office, it seems. One person here (who happens to sit right near me) uses it in moderation. That does not bug me because I hear it from her once a month. But, I guess the word was a hit at some meeting because immediately people here started to pick it up.
Yesterday, for instance, I put a lot of work into something and I was rewarded with a "ta!" Just now I received an e-mail full of instructions and at the end was the word "Ta!"
Does that mean thanks? Then type thanks. Don't use some stupid expression.
I looked it up. It's some ancient British saying that does, indeed, mean thanks. But, I had to search a few online dictionaries to find that definition.
What confuses is me is why the word is also thrown at my son all the time - in the wrong context.
Strangers who do not know Matty use it instead of the word no. For instance, if on the bus he is touching someone's bag and they don't want him to, instead of saying "please don't touch" which would be totally fine with me they say "ta".
As if it's the nice way of saying no.
When my in-laws don't want him to do something they say "ta" as a precursor to the word "no." Matt just looks at them in complete confusion and usually keeps on doing whatever it is he was doing.
I see where he is coming from. I wouldn't listen either. It's a stupid word.
It's like saying some bizarre word instead of soother or saying the word "cheers" because the cool people do it.
Resist, I say. Resist.
Use the proper words. It will make our lives easier.
No is no.
Thanks is thanks.
End of story.

Finding my voice in the blogging wordl

I've been thinking a lot about finding my "blogging voice".
It's a really hard thing to find. I've read a zillion blogs lately- it's my new lunchtime activity (while eating all the healthy food I keep bringing). Some people have these short bite-size entries that you read in 30 seconds. But, maybe that is how they talk and correspond.
Others are a lot longer. They go on and one or tell a long story or get philosophical. I enjoy reading those ones a lot.
I'm beginning to find myself addicted to some to the point that if they don't post that day I get pretty annoyed.
But, I feel like I'm still finding my voice.
I didn't really plan to start this as a "mommy blog" because I don't feel that I have all that much to contribute. But, maybe I do.
I do know that nothing inspires me to write every day as much as Matty-Matt (his name for himself) does. I mean, it's just so fascinating to watch this child develop. I started journaling about him in his first year in this calendar Ginny gave me. Then I started to scrapbook and the journal entries soon overtook the pictures.
This is just the next logical step. I mean, there are so many cute things and it's so easy to forget them.
Am I a Mommy Blogger?
I dunno. I think so.

A visit to Starbucks - I think I'm finally learning!

Last week I decided to take Matt to Starbucks. We do this every so often since it's on our route home. I already knew a couple of things:

1) Don't order a hot drink when you have a stroller because hot drinks always spill
2) My son and straws are a lethal combination. Due to the aforementioned straw rule whenever I order a drink for Matthew at Starbucks I request it in a cup with a lid so that it at least keeps some of the milk in the cup.

So ... we went to Starbucks.

The Starbucks we went to does not really cater to the stroller crowd, and those that do have strollers have Bugaboos or the like. (Our stroller is the $19.99 Zellers special that Matt prefers over any other. I do too. It does the job much better than the expensive ones now in my parents garage).

Whenever I take Matthew out we call it "going for coffee." That's what I say when I meet my friends whether we are ordering lattes, tea or just coffee. And, Matty loves the term. He uses it all the time. For instance, if he is has a sippy cup of juice and I have a cup of coffee he says "mommy's coffee" and "Matty's coffee".

Given that that day was a particularly busy day we had to stand in line twice - once to order and once to wait for the chocolate milk and my passion iced tea lemonade (see rule #1). I was entertaining Matt by asking him what he was going to have to drink. He kept saying "Matty Matt have coffee". And I would say "yum ... coffee".

Finally, the woman behind me tapped, yes tapped, me on the shoulder and said "Excuse me, miss, but are you giving your son coffee?"

What almost came out of my mouth was an apology of sorts and an explanation that no, I would never give my child a cup of coffee. But something stopped me (maybe the memory of being tapped by a stranger who didn't even comment on how cute my child was!). I said to her the following:

"Yes, I sure am. It's what keeps us going all day."

With that I picked up my drink, picked up Matt's drink, handed it to him and said "here's your coffee" and walked out of the store.

Silly, but this is probably the first time I have just ignored that inner voice to be a perfect mom and was just myself. And, it was pretty funny.