Saturday, 28 April 2012


No no no, don’t get excited, Kalani doesn’t have a brother or sister arriving anytime soon. 

Sometimes this makes me immeasurably sad.  I’d love for Kalani to have a sibling to grow up with.  To share experiences with.  To play with/confide in/fight with.  To have someone to turn to when Dan and I have to be put into a home etc.

BUT - having children is really hard work.  And sometimes I just can’t imagine how much harder it would be with a second one.  Some days I can’t even cope with 1 child.  How would I manage with 2?

I’m one of those mothers that were ridiculously happy to go back to work.  To put their child into full-time daycare (even though I’m still wracked with guilt every day that he goes there) and go to a place where I can speak to adults, drink a cup of tea without interruption and go to the toilet without an audience.  I know there are people out there who like to stay at home with their children, but I just assume that they have heavenly powers that I don't have.

So, the thought of having another year off as maternity leave, looking after a new baby and Kalani (since there’s no way we could afford to keep K in daycare) fills me with horror.  

Anyway, we’ll see what the future brings, but I think that we might have to encourage Kalani to create a few imaginary friends since they may be the only other children that will ever live in our house.

Apart from my husband.

Hee hee - just kidding.

Sort of! ;)

Friday, 20 April 2012


When you have a child, you lose some level of self-consciousness/dignity.  After all, you’ve let umpteen people look ‘down there’ while you delivered your baby, and even if you had a c-section, you’ve probably still experienced quite a few people prodding, poking and looking at your bits.  

It’s not that you don’t have any dignity left, it’s just that you forget about it for a while.

Or so I thought.

A few weeks ago I took K to the doctors.  While we were there I needed to go to the loo, so in we both went.  While I was sitting on the toilet, K started to open the door (it’s one of those button-press door handles, that pops open as soon as you pull the handle down) which opens out into the doctor’s waiting room.  

Me: “Kalani. KALANI. 
Come and have a look at this, erm, interesting piece of toilet paper over here.  
Stop opening the door and Come. Over. Here”.  

So thankfully I managed to divert his attention long enough to quickly finish and button up.


Then last weekend we went to Walmart.  Once again I needed to go to the toilet so off we went.  This time we went into the handicapped cubicle (it was 9am on Sunday - there was nobody else in the store - handicapped or otherwise).  Bad move!  Handicapped cubicles are large.  Too large to grab hold of your annoying little Houdini when he wriggles under the door (touching all the masses of gross, germy yuckness on the floor) and escapes.


Me: “KA. LA. NI.  Come. Back. Now.”
Kalani: Opens door to the toilet next to mine (which I later saw had stuff in it still!) and calls out “Oooohhhhh”

I finished up VERY quickly and ran out of the cubicle with my tights down and skirt up still (luckily the toilets were still empty) and yanked Kalani out of the neighbouring cubicle so hard that he yelped.

So what’s the point of this story?

Make sure you’re wearing nice knickers whenever you take your toddler anywhere with you.  Also, you might like to think about some grooming.  Just in case.

Tuesday, 17 April 2012


Last Saturday was an important day for me.  You might know it as the 100 year anniversary of the sinking of the Titanic.  I know it as the 1 year anniversary of the day I almost died.

Now I won’t go over the details again because you probably already know them (and if you don’t you can click here to read about it), but I wanted to share how I’m feeling about this.

Really good.

Really really really good.


Ever since I wrote everything down and shared it with you, I’ve stopped thinking about it all the time.  Before that I thought about it every. single. day.  But now I don’t.  I won’t think about it for a week, and then suddenly I’ll remember.

Now this could just be a coincidence, it could be that time is making me forget.  Or it could be because I wrote it all down.  By sharing the experience I’ve stopped being so consumed by the memory of it.

Isn’t that great?  

So I’m thankful to be here.  And I’m so thankful that you’re all here too.

Thanks for reading poppety-poo’s
I loves ya
I do
I do 
I do 

That’s right - I’ve taken up poetry.  It's good isn’t it? ;P

This photo doesn't have anything to do with any of this.  It just makes me really happy.

Monday, 16 April 2012

Old Duderoonies

Today is Dan’s birthday.

Today he turns 40.


It seems so old.  So amazingly old.  But it’s not really.  Well, not now that I’m going to hit that ages in a few years too.

When I was at boarding school, I guess I was around 16 or so, my grandparents and cousin took me out for the weekend.  My cousin (Carol) was around 24.  She seemed ancient.  I remember thinking it was strange that she wasn’t married with children by then, since 24 was soooooooooooo old.


*pick myself up off floor*

For me 24 came and went and I still felt young.

30 came and went and I still felt young.

35 came and went and I felt a lot older, but that’s probably because I was pregnant and in the risky category of ‘old women having a baby’.  I think that’s what did it actually.  I was classified as an ‘old mother’.  Eeek.

Now, to be perfectly honest, I think that this whole mothering bizzo would be a lot easier if I was 10 or even 5 years younger.  I’d handle the lack of sleep a lot better, and may possibly have a little more patience (or perhaps not - I’ve never been very patient).  

But on the other hand, I can’t imagine having had kids when I was younger.  I just wasn’t ready.  I needed to live, and to travel, and to experience, and to party, and to be selfish, and to just do whatever I wanted.

So I may be hitting 40 soon, and I may be one of those mum’s that waited to have their kids.  But I’m glad.  I’m an old mum and I’m proud.

Word.  Or whatever it is that you youngsters say.  

PS - I can’t wait to embarrass Kalani with my totally out-of-date dude-speak. 

Friday, 13 April 2012

Worst. Mother. Ever.

I feel like the worst mother in the world.
Last Sunday I mangled K’s finger in the car window. We were driving along and it got a little chilly (in Newfoundland?!?!) and so I used the automatic window control to put up K’s window ... without realising that he had his finger in between the window and the door of the car (probably wondering what this ‘fresh air’ stuff was).

He screamed. There was blood everywhere. Well, only on his finger, but it seemed like a lot of blood! I lost the plot and had a mini hysterical breakdown. You know the kind? Big body wracking sobs and that feeling that you’re about to throw up everywhere (particularly since I’d just tried to suck the blood off K’s finger before I realised that his nail was hanging ½ off).

Anyway, Dan’s father drove us to the hospital. He went very very fast. So fast in fact, that we were pulled over by a policeman. I tried to explain that Kalani had hurt his finger and it was paramount that we get to the hospital asap since he was obviously in a lot of pain. Of course Kalani was so interested in this car with flashing lights that had pulled up next to us, that he forgot to cry and scream (which he’d been doing pretty constantly since I’d first squashed his finger) and instead serenely stared at the policeman who was giving us a lengthy lecture about the dangers of speeding. Argghh.  

Finally we made it to the hospital where Kalani stopped crying and started dancing instead. Obviously he’s not going to be scarred for life by this event. Several hours, one x-ray and one cleaned and bangaged finger later, we were sent home.

Kalani’s nail will probably fall off, but a new one will grow and this will just end up being a distant memory for him (if he remembers it at all).

I still feel crazily guilty, and from now on I’ll check, double-check and then triple-check all finger/hand locations before putting up the windows in the car. Luckily we live in Newfoundland, so the chance of us needing to put the windows down again are pretty slim. ;)

Living Out Of Suitcases

During the last 5 weeks we’ve been having our bathrooms renovated, and so have been staying out with Dan’s parents in CBS.

That’s 5 weeks of long commutes (long for us anyway), a limited number of clothes to choose from, looking after Kalani by myself and constant stress about Kalani falling down the stairs/getting into the cupboard with the chemicals in it/getting into the dresser that contains the ‘good’ china etc. etc..

It’s also been 5 weeks of regularly having a dinner ready for us when we get home which is so nice and something I could easily get used to.

5 weeks of amazing views out over Conception Bay - the current view includes an iceberg that’s floating around out there.

5 weeks of TV (I’d get TV just for HGTV - that channel is made for me).

5 weeks of Kalani getting to know his grandparents a lot better, and his grandparents getting to know him (and all his screaming, yelling, 2-year old loveliness) a lot better too.

And it’s been 5 weeks of Jazz having great walks out along the oceanfront each day.

So while I can’t wait to move back into our own house, it’s also been a nice stay-cation type holiday and I return to our house slightly reluctantly.  I’ll have to start cooking again!

Monday, 2 April 2012


A few weeks ago, just after we'd moved out to Dan's parents place (temporarily), I was trying to get K to sleep.  Not surprisingly, given that we were in a strange room in a strange house, he just wouldn't close his eyes and go to sleep.  

Someone (I think my Mum) had told me that she'd Aum'd to her children to soothe them (Aum is that sound you make in yoga - some people spell it Om (  

Anyway, I was desperate to get him to sleep, so I tried it.

Me: "Auummmmmmmmmm"
Kalani turns around and looks at me.

Me: "Auuuummmmmmmmmm"
An impish expression appears on Kalani's face (which seems to be becoming his default expression)

Me: "Auummmmmmmmm"
Kalani: "mmmmmmmmm" 

Me: "Aum ..."
Kalani: "mmmmmmmmmm" (giggles)

Me: "Aumm ....." (giggle)
Kalani: "mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm" (laughs)

It ended with Dan coming into the room to take over the 'get Kalani to sleep' duty, to find both of us in fits of laughter.

So it didn't have the desired effect and he didn't go to sleep straight away, but it was a lovely joyous moment and made me truly happy.


For a while now I've been practicing yoga at home.  Obviously I don't just do yoga by myself - that might give the impression that I knew what I was doing... which isn't the case.  No no no, I youtube yoga.

I set myself up on my new, very sticky yoga mat (which not only helps me stick to it, but also helps all the cat and dog hair in the house stick to it too) with the laptop on the floor in front of me and I try to stretch myself into a better body.

I subscribe to 2 excellent channels.  One has been around for a while, and I not only love the instructor, but I love love love her accent too - her name is Esther and you can find her here.  The other is a local instructor who I discovered (along with the rest of St. John's) a few years ago when I was pregnant - her name is Melanie and you can find her here.  She has an excellent accent as well :)

Anyway, so a few times a week I yoga away with one of my instructors and I think, "Yeh, I've got this.  I'm a yogi.  I look good".

Then one day I saw what I looked like when I was in Warrior 1 (which is a pretty basic pose) and very nearly gave up.  Unsurprisingly I look nothing at all like my instructors - I look like an elephant/octopus morph, but with more lumpy fatty bits.  *sigh*

Anyway, I will persevere.  Every night (or every other night if I'm being honest) I will continue to force my body into stretches and contortions and impossibleness.  I may never be perfect, I may never achieve the effortless grace that many others achieve, but I will enjoy having some time to myself in which to stretch, breathe and relax.