Let's do the time warp, again.

I like all kinds of music, but I mostly have two channels: oldies and modern rock. Oldies are good to sing along to, clean the house, work, listen in the car with the kids. Modern rock I love for hard beats, edgy tunes. You know, modern rock like Nine Inch Nails, Pearl Jam, The Tragically Hip, hey...wait a second.

Where exactly did I lose a decade of my life? Ok, to be fair, the Hip are still around and awesome, but if I look at a list of my go-to songs, I realize that most of them are from over 10 years ago, a lot over 20. What happened? Did I step through a worm hole and disrupt the time-space continuum? Did I watch too much Star Trek? Apparently, I've just been a mother for the last 10 years. Losing track of the little things to take care of other little things.

I assume the next time I wake up will be when the kids are in university. Mumford and Sons better still be popular! Help me catch up. What's in your Walkman? ;)

Tat's all, moms!

Since I knew they existed, I've wanted a tattoo. I love the idea of body art and expression. [Even if right now, I seem to be expressing my body's love of medium double doubles.]

A few years ago, after many years, pregnancies, and discussions with my husband, I finally took the plunge. I was ready. But what to get? And where?

I knew for sure I wasn't going to go for anything "girly". No roses on my ankle, or unicorn on my butt. Puh-lease. When I was a teenager I wanted a scorpion with its tail wrapping itself around my breast. Yeah...if I had gotten that, it would definitely be hidden now! So, what design did I want permanently inked on my body. I briefly considered getting my husband's name tattooed accross my back Black Dagger Brotherhood
style, but recalled that I was a sensible woman. What is the one constant that would never change. Ever. My kids. No contest. But how? Their faces? Names? Hand prints? I decided for a little whimsy that included my penchant for all things ladybug. Something that was uniquely mine, just like my little beasts.

Design: check.
Tattoo artist: check - one of my girlfriends had a trusted artist: Boris. I trusted my friend, and I liked that work she had done by him.
Body part: not so fast, Mama.

Where, where, where? My shoulder? No. Legs? Ridiculous. Face? Come on. I realized it needed to go on the trunk of my body. Somewhere I could see it and appreciate it, so not on my back or bum. Boobs? Absolutely not. That leaves only one area, my friends. Somewhere on my belly or hips. I figured, with such a wide expanse of canvas, surely there would be a few square inches to spare for a little art.

Picture this: I'm lying on the table in Boris' work room. My dress [don't wear a dress to get a tattoo on your abdomen - knowing is half the battle] is rucked up around my waist. Professional Dr. Boris [it helped me to imagine I was at the doctor and this was a routine shaming] is peering at my belly, poking and prodding and muttering things like "hmmmm...maybe it can fit there....no...too many...this might...no....what about..." and so on and so forth until I asked exactly what was going on. He told me he was trying to find the best place for my masterpiece. I pointed to an area near my left hip. He answered with a cryptic "Too many." Too many what?

Stretch marks. 

How ironic that I wanted a tattoo to represent my kids, but I couldn't get it because of the number of stretch marks acquired due to creating said kids. Did you know that you can't get a tat over stretch marks because the skin is too thin and will break? Neither did I.

Boris the Magnificent did find a place [gee, thanks] high up on my flank and all went well. It took about half an hour of pinching pain, but the result was exactly what I wanted.

My Tattoo [and stretch marks]

Two little ladybugs, with vines and tendrils that make up the years my bugs were born. Can you see it?

Do you have any body art? Are you given any flak about it?

Top 5 Mom-Specific Business Skills

So, you're not sure you've got what it takes to run a business? Are you just just a mom? [What a terrible thing to say!] I've been a mom for over 9 years, and a business owner for over 6 years. In yesterday's post I promised a list of skills that moms have in spades. There are definitely many, many skills you need to run a business, but here are my...

Top 5 Mom-Specific Transferable Skills:

1. Multitasking Prioritizing: Chances are, you can change a diaper, wipe a spill, pull up a child from the floor, talk on the phone, check your text messages and prevent a building block tower from collapsing seemingly all at the same time. We all know this is impossible, since we only have two hands, yet it happens. The reason for this is that we know how to prioritize. We know what needs to get done first, even if it's in rapid-fire time. This translates well to business when you wake up in the morning and you know there are 17 activities that must be accomplished and you need to decide which one to do first.

2. Patience: We've all gone through the stages of reading the same book every night for 63 weeks. Singing the same song over and over again. Answering the same questions every day. We may not like it, but we do it knowing that the stage will pass and we will be rewarded. This is the same for standing in line waiting for permits. Dealing with suppliers. Answering the same questions from customers over and over again. Keep at it. As long as you're doing something that is of value to someone, your reward will come.

3. Salesmanship: If you've ever had to convince your child that broccoli is the superhero of the dinner plate or that sweet potatoes are "just like candy!" and succeeded, you will do well in sales. If you've ever extolled the benefits of bathing more than once a week and had sweet-smelling success, you can make it in the business world. You know that the benefits ["Broccoli makes you strong!"] outweigh the features ["Broccoli has lots of vitamins!"] and that's what sells.

4. Empathy: You understand your kids. You understand that their feelings are just as important as yours. They have thoughts and ideas that are worth sharing. When you put forth the effort to understand them and function on their level, without being condescending or patronizing, you both have a rewarding experience. You must do the same for your customers. They have a need that you can fill. If you can understand what that need is and how you can serve it [not sell it], you will gain their trust and their business.

5. Saying "NO": This would seem to be an easy one for moms. I can say it a thousand times a day and not blink an eye. "Can I have cupcakes for breakfast?:" No. "Can I leave off cleaning the table tonight?" No. "Can my sister and I hit that wasp nest with a baseball bat?" No. See? Easy peasy. How does this translate to a business skill? It's important to know that it's okay to say no to demands that are beyond what you can offer. "I didn't want to pay that much. Can you do it for less?" No. "I need 75 of your products for tomorrow morning, can you deliver that by 8am?" No. "If you do it for free, I'll tell all my friends. It'll be really good advertising for you." No. Like with kids, you pick your battles. Think about whether a request is reasonable, and if it's not, or doesn't fit in with your vision, then it is okay to say no. Your business will not collapse because of one "no". And it won't collapse after 50 or 100 times either.

Do you agree with these as the "top 5"? What are your top 5 skills?

October is small business month!

That's right. October is "unofficially" known as Small Business Month in Canada. It's a time when small businesses are recognized and highlighted in their communities for their accomplishments. In my city, we have a Small Business Enterprise Centre and they go all out. Last week it was a [free] series of lunch and learn sessions. I attended Wednesday's networking and marketing session. Fab as usual. I also took a "Pledge to Proper" which means that I will work to accomplish a goal [hold a grand opening] that I set out, within the month.

Owning and running your own business is such a satisfying, if at times daunting, undertaking. Doing it with kids underfoot is just short of insane, but not impossible. It can be done. Sometimes the steps you need to take are not quite as big as other business owners, but that's when you remember that little people can't keep up with you unless you're going at their pace, and you wouldn't want to lose your little people along the way.

There are so many programs, networks, and support groups out there for women business owners and even specifically mom-run businesses. Most of these resources are free - you just have to look for them. If you're wondering whether, as a mom, you have transferable skills that would help you own and run a business, tune in tomorrow when I'll share my top mom-made transferable skills.

Do you have a small business? Are you considering starting one up? Share your website in the comments!

5-Minute Cleaning: Results

So... remember when I was talking about my 5-minute plan, and how I was hoping to keep it up for a month, or at least 2 days in a row. Well, I clearly didn't account for this weekend when I had 5 major cake orders, a wedding to attend and the bridal shower of my best friend, for whom I am the matron of honour. Yeah, so that whole 2-days-in-a-row thing didn't quite work out as planned. However, being the ever-positive soul that I am, I will focus on the fact that I did manage 2 rooms. Yippee! 

I don't want you to be scared when you see couple of the following pictures. No, my house wasn't hit by a freak, indoor whirlwind. No, we weren't ransacked and robbed. And no, we weren't attacked by a herd of angry wildebeests. This is just your standard after-school ridiculousness. 

My front hall: 

I feel a little queasy looking at this!

 Note the Man's sandals, artfully posed as if walking out the door, the papers that are seemingly thrown out of backpacks with disgust. Half a bathing suit. (?!?!?!) The 50lb box of kitty litter. *shudder*

After 5 minutes:

Not a terrible job.

Yes, the kitty litter was still there (it has since been removed) but only because I could not carry that thing down the stairs. I can carry a 50lb kid up to bed, but this box did not elicit the same feeling of love from me. 

Cringe-worthy: 

I want to say it looks worse that it really is, but it really is worse than it looks!

Is it sad that I couldn't find a clear place to put my "Before" text? 

After 5 minutes:

Hey! There's a floor!

So, here's the scoop again: yes, I truly took only 5 minutes to clean. I obviously didn't do a deep-clean, but I also tried not to "stash and dash". I gave myself an additional 5 minutes to put things back in their proper places if they didn't belong in the family room. [If you're wondering: no, we don't have a tv.]It's not perfect, but at least if someone pops in, they won't immediately start offering condolences and apologize for dropping in at such a trying time. 

I think the most important success factor here was two-fold: First off, I set the timer for only 5 minutes. Secondly, I gave myself permission to stop once that timer rang. I knew that once it went off, I could move on to the next project, or if I wanted to sweep (which, crazily enough, I did!) I could.  That truly is the key. Normally I think that if I'm going to do it, then I better do it perfectly, or why bother with it at all. But even a little bit can make a huge difference, and perfection can come later [read: never]. It's pretty amazing how much I can do in just 5 minutes!

What can you do in 5 minutes? Have any cleaning tips for me?

5-minute plan: Why is my house so messy?!?!

Want a quick tour of my house? Well, come on in....
If you look straight ahead, you'll see the empty boot tray, right next to several pairs of kids shoes scattered around the foyer. Try not to trip. The closet seems tidy enough, but only because it's easier for sweaters to be dropped on the floor underneath their hooks.
Continue with me through the hall where you'll find a bag of flotsam that was rescued from the floor of the car....Look to your left, please. That's where the living room used to be. If you look closely, you may even see a sofa....
Oooh! Take a quick glance up and to your right and you'll notice a Barbie doll on the stairs next to an Air Hog racer that's been separated from it's controller. Rare indeed!

I could go on, but you may start feeling nauseous. I know I do.

So, why is my house so messy? I guess the easy answer is: because I don't clean it up enough. Simple, right? I just don't understand how it can go from one toy left out over night to a thousand toys taking over the whole house. Where am I losing those precious hours? What's happening? It just gets so overwhelming at times and now that I'm working outside my house, I feel lost.  I've said it before: I am not a good housekeeper. I know this, but I have not made this transition well... I need a new plan. [Not that I had any plan before.]

This is the new plan: 5 minutes.

Everything starts with small steps. I can do something for 5 minutes. 5 minutes in each room. Eventually it should accomplish something, right? Here are the rooms in my house that need attention:

Front Hall

Family Room

Dining Room

Kitchen

Upstairs Hall

Main Bathroom

Girl's Room

Boy's Room

My Room

Laundry/Storage

Basement

Secondary Bathroom

Why, yes. That is every room in my house. :-) If I were to do them all in 1 day, that would mean a total of about one hour cleaning. You'd think I'd be able to find an hour. Frankly, I'd rather do anything else rather than clean. So, I'll shoot for 2 rooms a day to start. 10 minutes won't kill me, right? That's the goal for this week. I'll just keep the rooms on rotation. If I manage to do more than 2 rooms in a day, then that's a bonus! Can I keep this up for a month? a week? 2 days in a row? We shall see. 

I'm almost afraid to put up before and after pictures. No, I'm afraid of putting up the before pictures for fear of having my house condemned. (Okay, I may be overreacting a bit.)

I know I'm not the only person in the world in this situation, but I certainly feel that way. Anyone else been here before?

Word on the street - Toronto

On Sunday, after dropping off The Man at the airport, and drowning our sorrows in a cup of fruitopia, my sister suggested that we check out the Word on the Street festival at Queen's Park. We decided to take the subway to avoid the mayhem that is parking downtown.

Riding the Rocket like a pro already.

What is Word on the Street? From their website:

The Word On The Street's Exhibitor Marketplace offers festival-goers a window into the Canadian literary scene, presenting everything from the largest publishing houses to the smallest niche magazines and everything in between. We also feature a World Food Market at various locations throughout the festival.

There was so much to do and see, it was almost overwhelming. My sister and I, both logophiles, could have happily spent all day there listening to speakers and authors, and browsing all the new and used book stands. However, it's a little difficult to do that with a couple kids in tow. The Boy is a great reader already and goes through 5-7 novels a week [We love our library!] but wasn't all that interested in seeing or talking to authors. The Girl, even less so. The KidStreet seemed geared more towards the younger set, not the 7-9 years that I am currently dealing with. So, while I secretly wanted to wait around to see the Polkaroo, the Kids wanted to grab some pad thai (but only because the hot dog line was too long).

This series is next on our to-read list!

We did manage to score some sweet swag though, including free books! Woo hoo! We got some books signed by the authors too. There were new books being given away every half hour, all along the festival route. it was pretty amazing. I picked one up for the Man about a woman's adventure along the Bruce Trail. Again, my sister and I would have waited happily in every line, for every book, but it just wasn't possible with the Kids. We collected buttons, pens, a bag, book marks, more buttons and even book lights!

One of their favourite booths was the Science Centre (to which we have memberships that are worth every penny). Here's the Boy getting his mind blown by the power of reading:

His head isn't really that big. :)

All in all, a great day walking around Queen's Park circle. The trees provided relief from the light showers and one downpour that we experienced - not nearly enough to dissuade the book lovers of Toronto!

We'll definitely make a note to head out again next year.

Daddy-Leaving Blues

Sunday morning, at the crack of ridiculous, the alarm went off to wake The Man and I. I had to have him at the airport by 8:30 (or so I thought) for him to catch his flight to Orlando where he's attending some conference or other.

Turns out, when The Man told me the night before: "Oh, I think we should leave the house around 8am", what he really meant was "If we don't leave the house by 7:45am I'm going to start getting really twitchy and nervous and start snapping."

So, after a 7 second shower, I race downstairs to discover that he was kind enough to make me a breakfast sandwich [2 pieces of untoasted bread with a leftover breaded chicken strip - I honestly don't even know where he comes up with these things] but he's pacing uncontrollably. Piling everyone into my car he informs me that we don't have time to move his car back into the driveway, I'll just have to do that when I get home. Okay. At the top of the street, we realize that he didn't have his sunglasses. No time, no time to turn back the 200m. Fine. Time? 7:58am.  [Behind schedule! Behind schedule!!]

Normally, on a day with regular traffic, it can take about 30-45 minutes to get to the airport. Shocker: on Sunday morning, not so much. He got out of the car at 8:16. *8:16*. :/

Then came the tears. Not from him, or me, but from The Girl. "Oh, Tata!! Don't leave me!!" and so on, and so forth. I peeled her away and strapped her into the car, but I couldn't manage more than a peck on the lips for him. I was a little too stressed. And I feel kind of guilty for that. Mainly because I know that he's a nervous traveller. I should have been prepared for him to act the way he did. I'm sure I'll make it up to him when he gets back, because I already miss him.

However, less sappy: having to comfort the kids who think that 4 days away from Tata, is akin to an eternity. What's a mom to do? This:



Yep. I took them to a McDonald's with a play area and got them a juice. :)


Slides cure all heartaches for kids.

Come home soon, Tata. We miss you.

Practical joke?

I'm not going to say that I'm obsessed over my age. My friends might say I have a major slight problem with growing older, but they would be wrong. I can't help it. And I think that anyone who says that they have absolutely no issue with their advancing age is lying. I will follow that with the fact that I do not miss my younger years. I don't try to act like I'm twenty, because I'm not. I simply appreciate the present. I've never wished to be younger, and I've never wished to be older. SO.....

....what the hell is this????

Which joker decided to subscribe me to this magazine? Because it sure wasn't me! This was was how my after school shuffle went down:

After picking up the kids from school, I cart them over to the grocery store because I have to buy some supplies for dinner. Pulling into the driveway I notice that there's a bag peeking out of the mailbox. Ooh! What could it be!? Before I can check, I have to make two trips lugging various backpacks, computer bags, purse, groceries etc from the car and into the house. Then, lo and behold: yay! A new magazine. Hmmm...I've never heard of this one before, and I certainly didn't subscribe, but there's my name and address. Let's take a look. "MORE: for grown-up women with smarts, spirit, style." I guess that could be me. Oooh! Salma Hayek. She's pretty. "Why her forties are her favourite decade." Ha! "Look better with age" Hmmm. "Caring for aging parents". Okay... Let's look inside:

"Easy on the knees workout"

"Anti-aging beauty awards"

"Osteoporosis action plan"

WTF?

Yep, it's a magazine for old ladies mature women. Or supposedly for women over 40. I am not over 40. I'm not even close. Well, I'm kind of close, but I've still got a few years left. Here's the kicker though. I DIDN'T HATE IT! It's a decent mag. I appreciated the advertising not displaying grotesquely thin children to peddle their wares.[Did you know that there's such a thing as a purse with an illuminated interior!?]  The articles are engaging, if not completely relevant to my situation. And frankly, I'm not sure it's all that relevant to most women in their 40s either. I have friends who have long passed that age threshold, but they still have young children. They, like me, are still reading parenting magazines, not wondering how to support adult children who have moved back home. We're still concentrating on getting them through grade school. 

So, thanks, but no thanks. If this magazine was sent to me by a well-meaning friend, then I say: not yet, friend. Not yet. If it was sent by a misinformed marketing company, then I'm not surprised.

While I usually read articles online, and get most of my information there, I do like the shiny new feel of a magazine. When I do read hard copies [at the library!] I read Canadian Living, Canadian Family, Chatelaine, Today's Parent, the occasional Martha Stewart Living and various wedding magazines to keep up on trends for work. 

How would you feel receiving this type of mag in the mail, unsolicited? Am I over-reacting [again]?

How to make easy deviled eggs.

As part of my food offering for my father's toga party, I brought deviled eggs. I was asked for my "recipe" so many times that I thought I'd post it here:

Ingredients:
Eggs
Mayonnaise
Fresh Chives (optional)

Also:
Medium sandwich bag
Large star tip (optional)

1. Boil your eggs for about 10-15 minutes. Let cool completely.

[I boiled them the day before I needed them and put them in the fridge overnight.]

2. Slice each egg in half, vertically. Remove and reserve the yolks in a medium bowl.

3. Store the empty halves in a deviled egg holder or tray. 

This tray has holders that are actually ice packs. It holds items cool for 4-6 hours: perfect for picnics!

4. Mix in mayo to taste. Use a fork to mash it all together.

I started with about 3 tbsps for 15 yolks, but ended up using about 1/2 cup. Add a little at a time until it's as creamy as you want it to be. 

5. Cut a hole in the corner of a sandwich bag and insert a large star tip. 

If you don't have a star tip, just cut a 1/4" hole in the corner of the bag.

6. Fill the bag with the yolk mixture. Zip the top of the bag!

7. Squeeze out the yolk mixture into the waiting eggs. Add sprigs of fresh chives as garnish.

You can mix it up as you'd like. Try using salad dressing, adding paprika or other spices. I like to keep it simple. 

Do you add anything else to your deviled eggs?

Party Weekend!

It's raining, it's pouring and Mr. Puss is snoring.

I missed posting yesterday, but I have a good excuse reason: I was still recovering from a super busy party weekend. (That usually works with your boss, right?)

My cousin celebrated a milestone birthday on Saturday night. There were about 60 guests. She and my aunt made their home into a "sports bar" to reflect my cousin's love of sports. Jerseys were hung from the ceiling with care, there was a beer tent in the back yard, amazing food and of course, a cake provided by yours truly:

Hockey Jersey Cake

We all came dressed in our favourite team jerseys or colours. Anyone who didn't come dressed appropriately was given a choice of several t-shirts from my cousin's collection. All in all, a very good time. 

Following that revelry, we had to wake up way too early on Sunday morning to set up for my father's birthday. Also a milestone: 60. He loves a good party, and this year he asked for a Roman/Gladiator-themed bash. Naturally, we obliged. If there's anything everyone knows about our family, it's that we love themes and dressing up. Come Halloween, we usually go nuts [this one notwithstanding]. So, my sister, my brother, my mother and I set the stage. We hand-delivered scroll invitations instructing guests to come in their finest Roman vestments for the celebratory Games and we were not disappointed:

Toga!

 We all wore gold leaves in our hair, and even the smallest baby was dressed in a mini toga. Golden [chocolate] coins were given to the victors of each of the games. A scale model of the roman Colosseum was built by my brother to hold a massive fruit bowl. [Yes, we do go that far.] We ordered a roasted pig, which was delicious, by the way, in addition to all the other food we brought along to the park. And, naturally, the cake. Because every birthday needs a cake:

Roman Temple Cake

Good times. Good times. Salve!

Back To School! Yippee!

Yesterday was the first day of school and the most exciting day of summer (for me)!

If you've been following my instagram, you may have noticed that the girl and I have been trying to find a pretty back-to-school hairdo. In our interweb travels we discovered the aptly named http://www.cutegirlshairstyles.com/. Each hairstyle has a video attached with easy instructions. After watching and then doing, I felt like a pro. Here are a few of our experiments:

Waterfall Twists:

Cage Braid:

Winner: Bundle of Braids

To be honest, I preferred the cage braid, but after a few hours it was crazy. In our trials we did the bundle of braids with a french braid head band to control her fringe, but she didn't want that on the first day of school because she wanted to cover up a huge mosquito bite on her forehead. :(

My two bugs on their first day of school:

The long and the short of it.

I realize that some people may read this post and wonder if I am being serious. I am.

A little back story if you will: my parents are Italian. As in, born and (mostly) raised in Italy. I was born and raised in Canada but with a very pronounced Italian heritage. My husband is decidedly neither, having immigrated to Canada 11 years ago. Now, whether this situation is more culturally- or foodie-based, I'm not sure, but I'm willing to bet it's at least a bit of both.

We had about 5 or 6 ripe tomatoes coming off our vines a couple days ago and I decided to make pasta with fresh, cut tomatoes that had been lightly sauteed in some olive oil with garlic, salt and basil. I put the pot of water on to boil and went to through the pantry to search for the pasta I wanted. So I searched, and searched, and finally had to accept that I had NO long pasta. None! There was rigatoni, penne lisce, penne rigate and even pennine, but no angel hair, or spaghettini, spaghetti or even linguine!! How had this come to pass?? Where did I go wrong in life to bring me to this point?

My husband doesn't understand this part of me that needs to match the sauce to the pasta. *Yes*, it does make a difference to the taste. He did not agree that it would be prudent to run to the store to get a long pasta, when we have at least 3kg of pasta already in the pantry. He doesn't understand that those should be reserved for thick and chunky sauces, not thin ones!! Oh, the humanity!

It was with sadness and not a little bit of disgust that I dumped 450g of rigatoni (no.20) into the pot. (Later I noticed that I had fusilli hiding on a different shelf. Even that would have been better!) As I brought the finished dish to the table I wondered if my kids would even eat the slop. They did. So did the Man. So did I. I gagged a little on the first bite, but quickly recovered. It turns out that it wasn't as bad as I thought. However, I stand by my original belief that the sauce must match the pasta! Off to the grocery store!

My recipe for fresh tomato sauce to be used with a long, thin pasta. :-)
2-3 tbsp olive oil
2-3 cloves garlic, minced
3-4 large, fresh, ripe tomatoes
10 leaves fresh basil, hand torn
Pinch of salt

1. Heat olive oil over medium heat for a minute. Add garlic.
2. Meanwhile, over a bowl to catch juices, roughly cut up tomatoes. Pour cut tomatoes and accumulated juice over oil and garlic. Add basil and salt. Stir.
3. Cook for about 5 minutes or until heated through, but tomatoes are still red, not orange. Pour over your favourite cooked, long, pasta and enjoy.

LadyBird At Home? At Work? On The Job? On The Move?

I don't know anymore. When I started this blog it was because I was at home a lot - as a housewife, with the kids, with a home-based business. Sure, it seemed like I was away from it more than I was there, but it was definitely the central hub of my existence. Now, with the kids going back to school (both full time), and with the new work studio I find that I'm only home for hours, sometimes just to sleep. So much so, that I've been seriously considering hiring a cleaning service.
Is there something wrong with this picture?
I still define myself as a mother and wife first, then a business owner. I still plan to sit on the PTA. I still attend book club and now Scrabble club too. I still take the kids on outings, to their friends, to birthdays, to lessons. But am I still "At Home"?
Am I focusing too much on this? Do I need one more thing to obsess over?
If it were anyone else I would say they were just finding the transition from SAHM or WAHM to WOTHM ( is that even a thing?) difficult. But I am not just anyone. I am unique, aren't I? Is there anyone else in this transition phase out there?
*LadyBird At....

WW: Sunday Afternoon Relaxing With The Family

Our most recent excursion out on a side trail of the Bruce Trail: Mono Cliffs.

>

Mr. Puss

Yep. That's *Mister* Puss to you. And me. And most especially to the Girl.

A long, long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, I made my kids a promise. They'd been asking for a pet since they could talk, but I had always put them off by saying it was not sanitary to have a pet in the same place where food is being prepared for others, and until my cake business was elsewhere, we could have nothing bigger than a sea monkey. The promise: "As soon as I get my own shop, we may get a pet." *sigh*

Good news: I moved into the shop in May.

Slightly less good news: the instant my mixer claimed a new postal code, the kids started in on me. "but you SAID we could!!!"

And so began the half-hearted attempts at looking for a new pet, which we quickly narrowed down to a cat ("Are you sure you guys don't want a goldfish?") for it's independant nature and lack of daily walking needs.  The looking online: "I don't know guys, there's a cat available in Vancouver, but it's about a week's drive from here..." They caught on about a month in, and so off we went to the city pound to see which lucky beast would be adopted.

I was somewhat horrified to note that to adopt an adult cat, it was well over $100. Kittens were the same, but came with a $40 voucher towards spaying or neutering. Not much when you consider that this costs in the $350 range. Hmmmm...this cat business was starting to seem a bit much. Sadly, we couldn't agree on a feline that day, so I suggested we sleep on it for a few days (weeks, months...)

Now, allow me to make a note here. I love cats. I've lived with cats almost my entire childhood and adolescence, right up until I got married, and we couldn't keep a cat in our first little apartment. It's just that, at the time, it seemed like the responsibility of pet ownership was just one more thing I'd have to add to my already overflowing plate.

My sister knew of our search, and of our criteria. The Girl's: that it be cute, fluffy, wonderful and the bestest friend she could ever have. The Boy's: playful and orange. The Man's: looks and barks like a dog. Mine: short hair, litter-trained, indoor, smallish, healthy, cheap. Enter Mr. Puss, the 5ish year old, black short-haired, trained, indoor, neutered, and best of all, free cat. His owner had to find him a new home ASAP because his new flatmate was deathly allergic. Yay for us. No, really. Yay. My sister put us in touch with his last family, and before you could say "Did you clean the litterbox today?" we had ourselves a cat.

The Girl is besotted. It's Mr. Puss this. And Mr. Pussy that. And oh, my sweet little pussy. Oh. My. God.

She wouldn't dream of changing his name and was horrified when we suggested it. Do you know how many diminutive forms of Mr. PUSS are available and how it sounds when a 7-year old little girl is squealing in public about how soft and squishy her little Mr. Puss is?

What can we do? It's been a month now, and we're all rather used to it, but every now and then a stranger will give her strange looks. (Yes, she still talks about him in public.) I know that in a few years she'll probably figure out why we wanted to change his name and I'm not sure it'll be as funny as I think when she does realize it. But in the meantime, I'd like to keep her innocence for as long as possible.

The Girl insisted on riding the cat on the carousel at an amusement park recently.

I'm baaaa-aaack...

Oh, dear blog, where have you been all my life? More to the point: why have I neglected you?

To be blunt I offer this: I have been ridiculously busy. Starting December of last year, I completely redesigned my business website (www.dolcezzacakes.com),  began actively planning to grow my company, attended networking events, signed a lease for a new cake studio location, renovated the space and moved in. Then came wedding seaoson which shows no signs of slowing down. And that's just work! Between the Boy's Nutcracker rehearsals and regular 2x/week ballet classes an hour away, my co-Chair on School Council went back to work full time leaving me with a bulk of work that was just too much at times (not complaining! It is what it is!), plus the standard rounds of family functions, funerals and sliding in a week in Orlando (yeah!), that brings me to my next point:

Not enough time to sit and compose a post at the computer.

However, now that I have the blogger app, this should be much easier. Hopefully! This is my first mobile post and time will tell if it's the last.

Here's a test pic:

Our new cat, Mr. Puss and my latest cake. Not related. :-)

What about you? What'cha been doing? Have you tried the new blogger app?

Out of the closet....and onto the floor!

Do you want to know the easiest way to get something done? Do it yourself. Or....as in this case, I threatened to do it myself. 

A little background: 7 or 8 years ago, my uncle and father did us the favour of installing tiles in our entryway. Right into the closet. However, they didn't rip out the original floor, but lay the new tile over it. This resulted in the track for the sliding closet door being raised. So raised, that it wouldn't allow the doors, when properly installed, to slide. I was promised that it would eventually loosen up. If not, it could be fixed. In the meantime, I should leave the right door in place (because it couldn't be moved anyway!) and the left door could swing freely from the top - but don't pull on it lest it smash down on a small crawling child or the like. Easy peasy. Especially since I'm super organized.*

Fast forward several years and 2 kids later and this is what happened every time someone needed something from the closet:

 EVERY SINGLE TIME.

Something had to be done. I decided that I wanted a proper closet door. One that swings on hinges and everything. One that didn't threaten 7 years of bad luck every time it was opened. The Man nixed the idea based on cost and "too much work". We had to work with what we had. Fine. I could do that. I asked my father (he's a construction superintendent) to bring me home an angle grinder with a diamond blade. [That's what google told me to use.] I was going to cut through the tile to make more room for the lower track. How hard could it be? The websites said I only needed that tool and some duct tape. When I explained what I needed to both my father and the Man, I could hear the fear in their responses. Frankly, I was a little put out that they thought I wouldn't be capable of doing this. But I also acknowledged that my plan was working. After all I had to think of the greater good, and this wasn't it:

My father said he would come on Sunday to fix the door. So I got to work with the second phase of my plan. That is, to declutter the front hall closet. I only left the essentials, gave away most of the shoes, boots and coats that could do better in someone else's closet and stored out of season items under the stairs in the basement. There was now even room for guest coats in there! Imagine!

Much to my surprise*, when my father arrived on Sunday, he had brought an actual door for me. He said that he was more concerned that if I broke the tiles that he would have to replace the floor and hanging a door would be much less work, especially since he already had a door that was leftover from a renovation job. He uninstalled the old sliding doors and tracks, put up a frame and some drywall close to the ceiling and installed the [new-to-me] door. The whole process took about 90 minutes. 90 minutes.

I can now open the door and see all the contents of the closet. This is a big deal! I go look at it 6 or 7 times a day and smile. I open and close the door, just because I can. I can't even begin to describe how happy I am about it. That may make some people think I'm crazy.*

*Not really.

WW: Christmas is coming...