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.

A Pretty Cool Mom - My Sister

When I think of all the moms who inspire me, the first that comes to mind (other than my own mother of course) is my sister.
Becky is two years older than me and my complete opposite.
When we were growing up we were never the sisters who argued over who got the pink dress and who got the blue one because we never chose the same thing. We argued over a lot of stuff, just not over the same things.
When we grew up we were very close but very different. We had many of the same friends, but the people who went to me for encouragement and enthusiasm went to my sister for a listening ear. I would be the person to start singing karaoke and she'd be the one dancing in the audience. In highschool she'd illustrate my stories while I'd edit her art history project. We later studied Journalism and Interior Design at the same university.
It should come as no surprise that our parenting styles are completely different.
My sister is a suburban mom. Both of her daughters were very much planned. Becky's life is an exercise in order. Her house is always clean, her girls are always clean and they are really very quiet. She invents games with them and takes them on discovery walks where they make up stories.
Her kids are good. They are the children that teenagers want to babysit and who delight the seniors when we visit our grandma.
Becky has more patience than I could ever imagine having. She doesn't get angry or shout at her children. She pretty much just lets it roll off her.
I am her complete opposite. My son was a surprise, and there never was calm in our house. we live in Toronto and he is in daycare. I wish my house were cleaner, Matthew gets dirty in abot 2 seconds and he is most definitely not quiet. We take Matt to visit my Grandma after a dose of Motrin (for teething of course) or when he is in an unusually subdued mood. Even then he seems to do some crazy thing to disrupt the order at the seniors complex.
I couldn't love my sister or her children more. Becky is my best friend and my inspiration. She is the mom I wish I could be but know I am not. And, the best thing about her is that she loves me for who I am.
When I told her I wanted to go to work because staying at home was too much for me she babysat Matt while I went to interviews. She encouraged me and reminded me that I was doing the right thing.
She has listened and been there for me more than most people could ever be. She is the person I can call when I need to cry - the person I can tell anything to no questions asked - the person who knows that if I call excited about something to just pretend it is the coolest thing she has ever heard (and she gets these phone calls at least twice a week).
She deserves the happiest Mother's Day ever!!!

Mother's Day - My friend Ginny

With Mother's Day coming we hear a lot about the mothers we love the most. So, for the next couple days I am going to post about some mothers who are special to me. Today is my friend Ginny.

Ginny lives in my building. Before Matthew was born she and her husband were the "couple on my floor with the cute kid." (Mackenzie is now 3 and a half). I said hi when I saw them and that was pretty much it until I was in my third trimester and I noticed that Ginny, too, was expecting.

One day we started chatting in the elevator and realized that our due dates were close. And, our crazy property manager Andrew (A Filipino-Chinese man who sings Abba and always tells us that he would be on Broadway if it weren't for his hertiage) was pretty determined that we should be friends.

Not too long after that both of us gave birth - Lindsey was born on April 2 and Matthew was born on April 6. Neither of our births were picture perfect. We both came home from the hospital sore, tired and sleep deprived. (I think that is like most parents). And, our husbands returned to work on the same day. I sat in my condo crying and Ginny sat in her condo crying. And, then she did something that changed our lives. She got herself and her kids dressed (how is beyond me) and came and knocked on my door.

I opened the door to this woman with her kids and she simply said "Hi. I'm Ginny. How are you doing?"

The truth was, I was awful. I didn't know the first thing about being a mom, I was scared and tired and sore and trying to keep it all together. I intended to say "Fine thanks for asking" but instead I looked at her, burst into tears and didn't quite know what to say. I didn't have time to be embarrased because she looked at me and started to cry too.

It was a scene that I will remember forever.

We decided to have coffee that day, and from then on we were fast friends. We got to know each other and our kids really well. We discussed everything from the merits of Baby Einstein videos to the finer details of our relationships. We laughed together a lot, and we cried together too. We shared post-pregnancy clothes, recipes and even toilet paper! Throughout the first few months of my son's life she made me feel like I wasn't crazy, and that more importantly I was a good mom. When I went through the struggle of formula vs. nursing she was the person who called me to say that giving my child formula was not evil, but offered to take me to the breastfeeding clinic if I needed to go.

To me, Ginny is the friend that every new mom needs to have. I often wonder if I could have made it through the first few months without her. She kept me sane and kept me laughing. she still keeps me sane and keeps me laughing. I don't know what I would have done without her.

The Prunes

The other day I had a doctor's appointment and one of the main things that came out of it (at least from my perspective) is my need to lose weight.

Two years post-partum is beyond long enough to be holding on to baby weight. So, I decided to buckle down, sign up for Weight Watchers and lose some weight. I've started going to the gym again, and of course I have to watch what I eat. We also threw out all our junk (or put it where only Mike can reach it) and I went on a healthy food shopping trip. Our cart was loaded with things we should be buying anyway like fruits, veggies and whole grains. And, for some reason I decided to pick up a container of prunes.

Why? I have no clue. They just struck me as healthy. I know they are because when I worked at a senior's residence they were a big hit. Actually, we served stewed prunes and this other dish which was a mixture of prune juice, apple sauce and all-bran. It sat in the fridge all night and many people ate it at breakfast. Seriously. (To digress for a second - this was an active living complex not a nursing home)


So, I decided that I too should hit the prunes. Afterall, in 2 years I will be 30.

They aren't so bad. Actually, prunes are a pretty yummy snack -- in moderation. The only problem is that Matt thinks they are the best thing in the world. I have never seen a child eat a food like this. When I ask him what he wants he has actually swayed from asking for chocolate milk - he just wants prunes.

Last count tonight was 12 prunes. Truthfully, I don't think any of my seniors would have eaten 12 prunes in one sitting. Maybe they knew better.

Thank God that tomorrow is Friday and Matthew is in daycare. It may be a messy day.

Boys!

I never know what is going to happen when I drop Matt off at daycare.

Some days are really easy - he runs in to play. This usually happens when a) the teacher who he really likes is there because he knows she will let him help her move the toy cars outside or b) when one of the other little boys arrives at the same time and he is too distracted to care that I am leaving.

This morning we were off to a pretty good start (with the exception of a bus temper tantrum where he climbed out of the stroller). We made it to daycare in good time, it was a beautiful day, Matthew ran and hung his coat in a cubby.

And, then the teacher told me there was something she wanted to talk to me about. The topic - Matthew likes to play with his "pee-pee".

I am well aware of this. Believe me. I've talked to the doctor about it, my friends about it, and his old daycare about it. The general consensus is that Matthew is a boy and this is what boys do. According to my sister's friend this will go on for many years. Yikes.

But, I didn't quite know what to say. Maybe that's because his old teacher who discussed it with me was much closer to my age, and to us it was so incredibly hilarious that we couldn't finish the conversation. We discussed duct-taping the diaper so his hand wouldn't fit in, but that's about where the conversation ended. It just seemed much too funny at the time to worry about.

And, it still is.

I told his teacher (who has been teaching toddlers for many years) that I'm sticking with the philosophy that this is natural, for the most part I'm ignoring it, unless he is in public and then I will say "all done". Really, what else is there to do?

I guess she was annoyed. But, whatever. There are much worse things than a boy discovering his boyhood. After all, boys will be boys!!!

My Monkey

This is Matthew with Hippo and froggie. We love Hippo and Froggie. It's amazing how many of Matt's favourite songs they sing! They are also apparently quite tasty. Our friend Stef bought them for Matt. Actually, her mom bought her Froggie and Matt inherited him.


At his 2nd birthday! When I showed people my "cake" at work they called me Martha Stewart. Funny. Anyone who knows me outside of work would not use this word to describe me.

Oh how I love a Garage Sale!

It has become a Saturday morning routine for Matty and I to go garage saling while Mike sleeps in. This works well for us -- Mike gets the sleep he enjoys and I have the freedom to purchase whatever I can. Not only am I on a limited budget since I have to use cash, but there is also no proof of exactly how much I spent.
Last weekend officially marked the beginning of the spring garage sale season!
It was a slow start, but we did manage to find a couple of cool toys.
So yesterday morning Matt and I were ready and raring to go by 7:45 am. (all seasoned garage salers know that you should be on the road by 8 am.)
And ...
It was a bust. We passed about 2 garage sales and they both sucked. By this I mean they had no toys for Matt, interesting gadgets for me or the ever elusive designer purses that I am determined to find. Nothing even remotely matched anything on my top 10 list of garage sale items this year.
Today was a different story. Matthew and I were en route to Toys R Us (Fridge Phonics was on sale and we have wanted this forever). We happened to see some garage sale signs, and of course I turned and went to explore.
It was definitely worth my while - I found the number one item on my list of summer garage sale buys .... a Little Tykes race car bed. This is the coolest thing ever, and I have wanted one since I knew I was going to have a little boy. Thankfully Matt was just as excited as I was. The woman was willing to negotiate her price and we finally got the bed.
Not quite.
I just assumed that the bed would fit in my car. I brought Matt home and came back to get the bed. It was a little heavy, but I managed to get it all the way to the car by myself. when I went to put it in the car I realized that there was no way that I would ever accomplish this.
I set out to take the bed apart. I dug through the junk heep that is our car and found several tools -- all of which were Matthew's. (I also found wine, some clothing, some fossilized food and lots of toys).
Luckily the owner of the home came to my rescue and spent a good half an hour with me taking the bed apart.
Two trips home later the bed arrived, Mike assembled it and Matthew has a race car bed.
Pictures to follow. This thing is really cool :)

Commuting with a Toddler - Reasons to Love and Hate Public Transit

I can't decide if I love or hate public transit (the TTC).
I love that it is convenient since we bought a condo with bus stops at our door. Sadly that does not make me enjoy the bus or the subway or the wait in between the two or the fact that there is no consistency to the schedule.
I am okay with all of that. But, throw a toddler into the mix and it can be a recipe for disaster or an incredibly fun trip.

Yesterday, not so fun. The subway leg of the trip went well, but the bus was too sunny and horror of horrors I had his black sunglasses not the Thomas sunglasses and a full out temper tantrum ensued. He managed to climb out of the stroller, flip it over and throw himself to the floor in the midst of a completely packed bus.

I finally understood the story of Moses parting the Red Sea. Everyone just sort of seperated so he could sprawl out and scream.

I managed to pick up the stroller, most of our belongings and my screaming child fairly quickly and tried to avoid all glares of the annoyed passengers. The other funny part - due to a juice incident at daycare Matthew was wearing a very girly yellow flowered shirt - lovely. That was a long bus ride.

Somedays, though, it's a different story.

Like last week when we rode the bus with a man and his guide dog. Matt was in his glory when the dog licked him and had everyone on the bus laughing. ("I sing to Doggie" and "I love you Doggie" over and over. It was really adorable). And, there's one bus I regularly catch where a very kind gentleman always offers me his seat, even when there are several other empty seats. It's very nice.

So I guess there is good and bad!

Post #2 - For lack of a better title

I'm posting again after several months because I have a renewed interest in blogs (did everyone know my favourite author, living that is, has a blog?) .

But I actually do have something to talk about my life.
I've been volunteer writing for the Cancer Society. I had a great idea for a story - and I pitched it to our communications group. Anyway, long story short, the people I interviewed for the story had a really amazing story to tell and it went from being a little side bar in the paper to being on the cover.
Heres the link.
http://www.haltonsearch.com/hr/ob/story/3476302p-4016316c.html

You will notice one thing ... my name is spelled wrong. I am Laural - not Laura!!! (sidenote: I am constantly asked why I named Matthew something so popular instead of something unique. This is one of the reasons. I love my name, but hate that no one takes the care to get it right).

Stick with me - I will write more often.

Laural

My first post

I know I am way behind the times only starting a blog now.
But, I am intrigued. And, I can only imagine how many people are fascinated by the mundane details of my everyday life.
So, we will try it and see.
Mostly I would like to do this so that everyone can see pictures of Matty :)
This is our latest picture - Matty at the beach.
By the way - I made Mike step out of picture. We didn't let Matt go into the water on his own.