tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37025400467168156382024-03-13T23:38:20.839+02:00Angel's MamaBlogging is how I share the luuuuuuurve.Theresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14187089876317175889noreply@blogger.comBlogger132125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702540046716815638.post-6016040551739409022009-06-13T13:01:00.005+03:002009-06-13T13:06:20.177+03:00Mom of the Year<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Oo7mjj1Z1dQ/SjN5QFEyCbI/AAAAAAAAAP4/RRaW2rhAeBg/s1600-h/DSCN2375.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Oo7mjj1Z1dQ/SjN5QFEyCbI/AAAAAAAAAP4/RRaW2rhAeBg/s400/DSCN2375.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346750499766012338" /></a>Yes, that is a plastic bag... on her head. Inches away from her respiratory equipment. The same kind of bag that often comes with a lil clause printed somewhere ''This is not a toy. Suffocation Hazard. Keep away from babies and small children.''<div><br /></div><div>But she found it and voila! a hat!! 18 months old and already a Cutting Edge Fashion Designer, ahead of her time!!</div><div><br /></div><div>Who wouldn't be proud?</div>Theresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14187089876317175889noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702540046716815638.post-59099842650625342242009-06-12T13:23:00.003+03:002009-06-12T13:32:41.542+03:00I am a mother<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Oo7mjj1Z1dQ/SjItcfTWvQI/AAAAAAAAAPw/FEv5Owb8Afs/s1600-h/CIMG2244.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Oo7mjj1Z1dQ/SjItcfTWvQI/AAAAAAAAAPw/FEv5Owb8Afs/s320/CIMG2244.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346385675104468226" /></a><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(64, 64, 64); line-height: 17px; font-family:'Lucida Grande';font-size:11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px; ">I am a mother.</span></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(64, 64, 64); line-height: 17px; font-family:'Lucida Grande';">I kiss the boo boos to make them better. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(64, 64, 64); line-height: 17px; font-family:'Lucida Grande';">I hardly ever get more than 4 hours of solid sleep. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(64, 64, 64); font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; line-height: 17px;">I don't remember my last manicure.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(64, 64, 64); line-height: 17px; font-family:'Lucida Grande';">I know the importance of bubbles and balloons.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(64, 64, 64); line-height: 17px; font-family:'Lucida Grande';">My clothes are comfy and often stained. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(64, 64, 64); line-height: 17px; font-family:'Lucida Grande';">I never forget Teddy. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(64, 64, 64); line-height: 17px; font-family:'Lucida Grande';">I make the night safe and warm. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(64, 64, 64); line-height: 17px; font-family:'Lucida Grande';">Nothing I own is actually mine. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(64, 64, 64); line-height: 17px; font-family:'Lucida Grande';">I need to develop the patience of Job.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(64, 64, 64); line-height: 17px; font-family:'Lucida Grande';">My heart is million times bigger than I knew it could be. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(64, 64, 64); line-height: 17px; font-family:'Lucida Grande';">I am a mother.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(64, 64, 64); font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; line-height: 17px;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(64, 64, 64); font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; line-height: 17px;">What about you?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(64, 64, 64); line-height: 17px;font-family:'Lucida Grande';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(64, 64, 64); line-height: 17px;font-family:'Lucida Grande';"><br /></span></div>Theresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14187089876317175889noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702540046716815638.post-5958741132358871852009-06-12T13:05:00.004+03:002009-06-12T13:40:38.577+03:00Bling Bling!!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Oo7mjj1Z1dQ/SjIpy8TmvZI/AAAAAAAAAPo/Na_bPuUCs6A/s1600-h/charming+award.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 163px; height: 160px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Oo7mjj1Z1dQ/SjIpy8TmvZI/AAAAAAAAAPo/Na_bPuUCs6A/s200/charming+award.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346381662800756114" /></a><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(64, 64, 64); line-height: 17px; font-family:'Lucida Grande';font-size:11px;"><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(85, 85, 68); line-height: 18px;font-family:tahoma;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><a href="http://www.thingsivefoundinpockets.blogspot.com/">Nan</a> The Beautiful and Great Writer, Friend and Mama gave me some Bling! YAY for me :) Thanks Nan :) She thinks I'm charming! Indeed. Well that makes at least one person ;-)</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(85, 85, 68); line-height: 18px;font-family:tahoma;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(85, 85, 68); line-height: 18px; font-family:tahoma;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">This award is given to the writers of blogs that “are exceedingly charming. These kind bloggers aim to find and be friends. They are not interested in self-aggrandizement. Our hope is that when the ribbons of these prizes are cut, even more friendships are propagated. Please give more attention to these writers. Deliver this award to eight bloggers who must choose eight more and include this cleverly-written text into the body of their award.”</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(85, 85, 68); line-height: 18px;font-family:tahoma;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(85, 85, 68); line-height: 18px;font-family:tahoma;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">The trouble is, I don't have even 5 peeps to give it to that haven't already gotten it... far less for 8.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(85, 85, 68); line-height: 18px;font-family:tahoma;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(85, 85, 68); line-height: 18px;font-family:tahoma;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">But I do have one. </span><a href="http://blessednationranch.blogspot.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Janelle</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> is an old school friend. We weren't that close in school, from what I remember, but we have formed a friendship now. Albeit based on reading each others blogs. But a friendship nonetheless. And i'm guessing that's kinda the point of this one. So Here Ya Go </span><a href="http://blessednationranch.blogspot.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Janelle</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">! This one is for you :)</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(85, 85, 68); line-height: 18px;font-family:tahoma;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(85, 85, 68); line-height: 18px;font-family:tahoma;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:16px;"><br /></span></span>Theresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14187089876317175889noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702540046716815638.post-80959711358208139142009-06-10T12:30:00.005+03:002009-06-10T13:11:50.859+03:00The world according to toddlersFirstly, this post is more for me... as a way of recording what I don't want to forget. But come to think of it, isn't that the point of many mommy blogs? So to anybody reading this: Hello! This might be boring.<div style="text-align: center;"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Oo7mjj1Z1dQ/Si-Ev7ddhvI/AAAAAAAAAO4/r6zOa3y9ntA/s200/DSCN2335.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345637241662047986" /><br /></div><div>The Angel took her time to talk. I hear its common with bi-lingual babies. Or maybe she just had other more important things to work on. But now that she has started, it seems that there are new words every day. Many of them need decoding, but so far, it hasn't been too hard for me to figure them out. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Oo7mjj1Z1dQ/Si-EwPShQLI/AAAAAAAAAPA/1pNYCrveFZY/s200/DSCN2343.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345637246984863922" /><br /></div><div>The cuteness factor of this would be improved 50-fold with a video, but so far, it seems that a Hollywood future is not in the cards for lil Miss Angel. As soon as I grab it, she stops talking and wants to dismantle the camera instead. Engineering maybe?? Or Photography?</div><div><br /></div><div>So here is the world she lives in:<img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Oo7mjj1Z1dQ/Si-Ewm1eG5I/AAAAAAAAAPQ/uPxbGFmleEk/s200/DSCN2338.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345637253305473938" /></div><div><ul><li>Apod - Ipod<br /></li><li>Twee - TV<br /></li><li>Pudah - Computer<br /></li><li>Min or Miny - Milk<br /></li><li>Tikki, Mow - Kitty. Our cat died a little while ago, and she really misses him. We hear this a lot.<br /></li><li>Ohh Ohh - Dog<br /></li><li>Peen - Plane<img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Oo7mjj1Z1dQ/Si-Evs6EfLI/AAAAAAAAAOw/x1oQVDi7VwI/s200/DSCN2319.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345637237755509938" /><br /></li><li>Boo boo - Bubbles<br /></li><li>Ann - Hon (Me or her dad)<br /></li><li>Annie - Honey (Me)<br /></li><li>Whee - Slide</li><li>Peetee - Pretty (flowers)<img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Oo7mjj1Z1dQ/Si-FJ7WxqHI/AAAAAAAAAPg/vt9wNYRiFZg/s200/DSCN2299.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345637688310605938" /><br /></li><li>Apu - Apple<br /></li><li>Some - Can I have some please?<br /></li><li>One! - Ok, how about just one then?<br /></li><li>Boo - Ball or bowl. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Maybe they are the same thing to her?</span></li><li>Pee pee - I just peed on the floor.<img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Oo7mjj1Z1dQ/Si-FJkh2t2I/AAAAAAAAAPY/mvpgGq7HtLI/s200/DSCN2318.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345637682183059298" /></li><li>Dude - Juice</li><li>Cow - Cow or clouds</li><li>Moon - I want to look at the Baby Einstein / Baby Gallileo video.</li><li>Nee - Horse</li><li>Dodo - Can I look at Dora the Explorer?</li><li>Padah - Specifically the one where she sings Itsy Bitsy Spider.</li><li>Tuck - Help! I'm stuck!<img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Oo7mjj1Z1dQ/Si-EwfC3N9I/AAAAAAAAAPI/4_IoDV2ctk8/s200/DSCN2324.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345637251214161874" /></li><li>Bak - Let's go ride my bike.</li><li>Bikki - It's time for biscuits!</li><li>Tee - How about some cheese? Or sometimes she wants a sip of my tea. The whole ''Its hot'' thing didn't work, Nan.</li><li>Coookie - I give you 3 guesses what that one means ;-)</li><li>Daddy - Teddy. </li><li>Ata - Aitah (Thank you, in Estonian)</li></ul><div>And some others... but I don't want to bore you too much. Nap time is almost up, and if I don't get some laundry done, tomorrow will be a nekkid day. Not that I mind, but the neighbours might.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ciao bambinos!</div></div>Theresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14187089876317175889noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702540046716815638.post-80435355480919701232009-05-21T10:50:00.003+03:002009-05-21T10:52:32.523+03:00Reply to Tash :)<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: 13px; ">It has been forever and a day since I wrote anything here. An email from Tash resulted in a reply which turned into this post. Thanks Tash!!</span><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: 13px; "><div><br /></div><div>I'm good! The weather is mostly nice, so I'm outside with the Angel for most of the day digging in dirt and other fun things. I've discovered that I love gardening! Since I now have a huge back yard, I am Mrs. Farmer. Apple Tree, cherry trees, lettuce, coriander, strawberries, blueberries, sunflowers and other pretty flowers whose names I don't know, but they looked pretty in the pictures on the seed packs. If they would only grow, it would be great. I'm really hoping that I see some rewards for my efforts in summer. It is still a little early to see anything much.</div><div><br /></div><div>The Angel is great too. Talking now, non-stop; real words, not just sign language, in her sweet little baby voice. Mostly english, with the occasional estonian word here and there. Running and pushing along on her tricycle. And of course being very very dirty. If there is a patch of mud within a 2 mile radius, she will find it. She seems to be allergic to staying clean. Normal, from what I hear. Although everybody else's child always looks clean around here.</div><div><br /></div><div>We're going to visit Prague and Portugal during summer! There is a possibility of us moving to Prague for the Funny Dude's job... nothing concrete yet...just an idea. So we're going to check out the city. And a friend's seaside apartment in Portugal was an opportunity not to be passed. Yay for Europe and easy traveling!</div><div><br /></div><div>And we have ducks! Well we don't own them, but they took up residence in a pond behind our house. So a couple times a day they come up to my patio looking for their meals, knocking on my door if I don't see them. They are quite lucky this isn't Trinidad. I love a good curry duck.</div><div><br /></div><div>So between a busy toddler, a garden that always needs work, ducks, and a Funny Dude, I have almost no computer time. And that's fine by me. I have all winter for that.</div><div><br /></div><div>Today is rainy, and we're inside. I'm typing this with my Angel on my lap, helping herself to my boobs. No signs of that stopping anytime soon. We both still love it too much to let it go :)<br /><br /></div><div>And that's about it! I'm sure there are other things that happened, but I just can't remember now. Spring 2009 has been really nice. Friends have been coming by regularly because, as city dwellers, they think I live in the country... seeing as I have a backyard and all. Fun times :)</div><div><br /></div><div>I don't know when next I will update here, but you are all in my thoughts. Your emails to check up on me have made me feel so loved!</div><div><br /></div><div>So take care guys and gals! Enjoy your summer!!</div></span></div>Theresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14187089876317175889noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702540046716815638.post-62113852841431497992009-04-22T14:24:00.001+03:002009-04-22T14:25:50.421+03:00Because we humans are an amazing and beautiful species :)<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre; "><object width="560" height="340"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/7EYAUazLI9k&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/7EYAUazLI9k&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="560" height="340"></embed></object></span>Theresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14187089876317175889noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702540046716815638.post-31716353671658723802009-04-18T11:52:00.004+03:002009-04-18T12:19:42.361+03:00I want to remember<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>I want to remember your tiny hands... how the curled in my palm when you were a tiny babe, how they hold mine now as we walk in the grass.<div><br /></div><div>I want to remember how your soft curls tickle my nose as you sleep on my heart.</div><div><br /></div><div>I want to remember how we danced on our wedding day.</div><div><br /></div><div>I want to remember the way your eyes light up when you smile at me.</div><div><br /></div><div>I want to remember how my heart bursts when I look at you.</div><div><br /></div><div>I want to remember you purring, curled up into my neck, kneading my shoulders.</div><div><br /></div><div>I want to remember how you looked at me when I told you I was pregnant.</div><div><br /></div><div>I want to remember how you made the world exciting when I was a child.</div><div><br /></div><div>I want to remember how grateful I was that you were here when I became a mama too.</div><div><br /></div><div>I want to remember how the sun feels on my face after a long winter.</div><div><br /></div><div>I want to remember that I love you.</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Oo7mjj1Z1dQ/SembCSpoScI/AAAAAAAAAOo/bp2Uq_WHkTs/s1600-h/Wedding+Pics+-+Dr.jpg"><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Oo7mjj1Z1dQ/SembCSpoScI/AAAAAAAAAOo/bp2Uq_WHkTs/s320/Wedding+Pics+-+Dr.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325958498010810818" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px; " /></a><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; ">Inspired by <a href="http://naturalparentingcenter.wordpress.com/2009/04/18/i-want-to-remember/">The Natural Parenting Center</a>.</span><br /></div>Theresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14187089876317175889noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702540046716815638.post-53453366933355354592009-04-10T13:01:00.002+03:002009-04-10T13:06:32.264+03:00She said it best.I had a fight this morning with Hubby. We were both idiots. Both angry. Both frustrated. Neither of us listening to the other. Each screaming like a baboon. Only perhaps baboons are more civilized. <div><br /></div><div>We screamed in front of the Angel. This hurts me.</div><div><br /></div><div>But there is a blog I read almost everyday. I really try not to miss it. It keeps me on track when I get lost... which is often. It reminds me when I forget. And I suck at playing Memory. She wrote something a little while ago that came back to my mind once I had stopped screaming and arguing in my head.</div><div><br /></div><div>Here it is: <a href="http://naturalparentingcenter.wordpress.com/2009/04/02/i-choose-you/#comment-206">I choose you</a>.</div>Theresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14187089876317175889noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702540046716815638.post-25175911481366325352009-04-08T11:08:00.004+03:002009-04-08T11:47:47.038+03:00I am trying not to be a prude.I grew up Catholic. And with that comes all the hang-ups about your body, which they will tell you is a beautiful thing, that God made it in his image yadda yadda yadda. But at the same time, if you show it to anybody, or let anybody touch it, other than your spouse, or touch it yourself other than when you are having a shower, and then ONLY for cleaning, you will burn forevermore in the pits or fire and brimstone.<div><br /><div>Talk about sexual repression... I tell you!<br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I also went to a Catholic all-girls school. We had private showers after gym. There was none of this ''girls showering together and walking around naked'' thing that I saw on American TV. We didn't even let our panties be seen by the rest of the class.</div><div><br /></div><div>Then I became a young woman, and the consequences of this repression came out in full swing. No pun intended. But the mental hang-ups remained, coupled with the whole ''I'm Fat and don't have perfect boobs'' thing that you get from watching TV and reading Cosmo. This resulted in WONDERFUL self-confidence and body image.</div><div><br /></div><div>Anyway, I moved to Estonia three years ago. A HUGE part of Baltic culture is the Sauna. You might have seen that Britney video where she is writhing seductively in one of them. Naked, of course. Because that's how you do sauna. Naked. With other people in there too. All naked. But they aren't writhing like Britney. At least not from what I've seen.</div><div><br /></div><div>I'd managed for the most part to avoid getting nekkid in front of anybody other than hubby, until last week. You see, I started taking the Angel to the pool... to swim (duh). And there are no private showers at the pool. Only those prison-break types. On my first day, I was surrounded by so many naked bodies, that my eyes went into shock. In my bikini, I <strike>showered</strike> let water run over me and kept my eyes glued to the floor, looking up every so often to marvel at these women who walked around in a myriad of sizes, shapes, textures. Not so many different colours though. Estonia ain't exactly cosmopolitan. But I couldn't get over how they just walked around letting it all hang out! Shocking!! How could they do that??</div><div><br /></div><div>I had to try it! I would face my fears. Because I am brave and strong and eat my vegetables. Besides, if these old women, with the flesh and scars of life could do it without a care, then my 30 year old body could do it too. I'm no pin-up girl, but what I've got ain't that bad. And besides, it's mine, right? It keeps my baby and husband happy. It looks cute enough in jeans. And it's MINE! I ought to be proud of it. Not ashamed. Every dimple, stretch mark, sag, bump, and lump. Mine, mine, mine.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I'm still trying to convince myself here.</span></span></div><div><br /></div><div>But I did it. The second time we went swimming, I took it all off in the showers. And kept my eyes crazy-glued / evo-stuck / nailed / to the floor. Several deep breaths included. I was in and out in seconds. They probably thought I was a little mad. While they scrubbed each others backs. The next time wasn't so hard. I looked up. Stayed a bit longer. And each time it got easier. Now! Heck, I'm in the sauna, chilling, well maybe that's a poor choice of word. I'm in the shower, the locker room... without wishing the floor would open up and swallow me.</div><div><br /></div><div>What a big deal over NOTHING!!!!</div><div><br /></div><div>It helps of course that I don't know anybody there. That helps Big Time. There's still some work to be done.</div><div><br /></div></div>Theresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14187089876317175889noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702540046716815638.post-12831870833821820932009-04-04T14:46:00.005+03:002009-04-04T15:23:27.052+03:00Sometimes I totally get my ideas from other people.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(85, 85, 68); font-family: tahoma; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; ">I stole this from <a href="http://thingsivefoundinpockets.blogspot.com/2009/03/meme.html">Nan</a> who got it from somebody else. Finish the sentences... or not. It is totally up to you ;-)<br /><br /><br />1. My partner is... on the couch. He is napping while the baby naps. Smart fella.<br /><br /><br />2. Maybe I should... go help the kids unpack groceries, vacuum, do some laundry, have a nap. But naaaahh. I haven't blogged much recently for whatever reason. And now I have some time, combined with a tiny dash of inspiration. This dynamic duo has been in seriously short supply recently. So I'm taking advantage.<br /><br /><br />3. I love... my family.<br /><br /><br />4. People would say that... I can't sing for shit, but I've got great energy on-stage!<br /><br /><br />5. I don't understand... politics and money.<br /><br /><br />6. When I wake up in the morning... the Angel says ''Ann... Some''. She thinks my name is Ann. And she just learnt to say ''Some'' :)<br /><br /><br />7. I lost... my way in Riga, Latvia once and ended up walking in a dark, deserted street. A pizza delivery guy gave us directions to where we wanted to go, but, of course, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">I knew better</span>! So we spent a couple hours walking around, still lost. Then we found a highway? and took a taxi. The driver took us to where we wanted to go... about 5 minutes away from the hotel we were staying at. Hubby doesn't let me read the map anymore.<br /><br /><br />8. Life is... full of sunshine, except in Winter. I'm so happy that Spring is here!!!<br /><br /><br />9. My past has taught me... that I can be a real idiot sometimes.<br /><br /><br />10. I get annoyed when... there is no toilet paper, and sometimes when people see things on the floor and just step over them and keep walking. The second one is only really annoying when it happens at home. I wonder if they know that the magic clean-up-shit fairy doesn't live here? I wonder what would happen if I started doing the same thing?<br /><br /><br />11. Parties are... even more fun when you don't have to wake up at the ass-crack of dawn the following morning.<br /><br /><br />12. I wish... there was no more money, politics, state lines, or religion.<br /><br /><br />13. Dogs... are a lil more work than cats, but more fun.<br /><br /><br />14. Cats... can be pussies.<br /><br /><br />15. Tomorrow... I'm going swimming at the pool with the Angel!<br /><br /><br />16. I have a low tolerance for... empty toilet paper rolls still on the thingy, and empty cartons in the fridge.<br /><br /><br />17. If I had a million dollars... I would probably spend it.<br /><br /><br />18. I'm totally terrified of... roaches.<br /><br /><br />19. I'd rather be... chilling on the beach.<br /><br /><br />20. My vice is... herb. but shhhhhh.</span>Theresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14187089876317175889noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702540046716815638.post-36328338645961383852009-04-01T10:45:00.006+03:002009-04-01T12:13:18.619+03:00Once upon a time there were some ducks.<img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Oo7mjj1Z1dQ/SdMdknvbvTI/AAAAAAAAAOY/cMg8mcBWKjk/s320/DSCN2162.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319628099835116850" />They lived under a bridge nearby. We had some old bread, because we didn't eat it all before it went and expired. And some people don't think that eating old bread is a very good idea. So we decided to give it to the ducks. <img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Oo7mjj1Z1dQ/SdMdknVmS8I/AAAAAAAAAOg/msatBiqkh5k/s320/DSCN2163.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319628099726756802" />Because they aren't so picky about their bread.<br /><br /> So we went to the bridge and threw it for them. <img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Oo7mjj1Z1dQ/SdMdkeBVSiI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/TLKCva6mJ4s/s320/DSCN2165.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319628097225837090" />They seemed pretty happy about the whole thing, until we ran out of bread. Then somebody else came along with more bread, and they defected. <img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Oo7mjj1Z1dQ/SdMdkHrEfxI/AAAAAAAAAOA/p-nf3I5g_i8/s320/DSCN2166.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319628091226881810" />No loyalty I tell you.<div>We went sledding instead. Because that is what you do when your ducks defect.<img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Oo7mjj1Z1dQ/SdMdkAnhGKI/AAAAAAAAAOI/AZdYcnThmSM/s320/DSCN2171.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319628089332930722" /></div>Theresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14187089876317175889noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702540046716815638.post-53552991520596178172009-03-10T21:43:00.004+02:002009-03-10T21:47:04.451+02:00I am blessed<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Oo7mjj1Z1dQ/SbbDr1rDvjI/AAAAAAAAAN4/Dm0z-ntFNvA/s1600-h/DSCN2093.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Oo7mjj1Z1dQ/SbbDr1rDvjI/AAAAAAAAAN4/Dm0z-ntFNvA/s400/DSCN2093.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311647968439549490" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Oo7mjj1Z1dQ/SbbC_m2xfSI/AAAAAAAAANw/p_PVfSQsuHQ/s1600-h/DSCN2093.jpg"><br /></a>Theresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14187089876317175889noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702540046716815638.post-83822093557576453602009-03-10T12:48:00.005+02:002009-03-10T13:47:36.875+02:00Does being a libran make you bi-polar?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Oo7mjj1Z1dQ/SbZTTuwPL6I/AAAAAAAAANo/F87ZCh3cpoc/s1600-h/Image024.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Oo7mjj1Z1dQ/SbZTTuwPL6I/AAAAAAAAANo/F87ZCh3cpoc/s320/Image024.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311524408963051426" /></a><br />Cobwebs cobwebs cobwebs. Chez moi in bloggy-land, chez moi in Elbonia-land.<div><br /></div><div>I kinda realized that our happiest, funnest, sweetest, most stress-free days, the Angel and me, are the days when I don't do jack-shit other than just BE with her. Building snowmen cuz the snow won't bloody quit. Watching Dora sing Itsy Bitsy Spider 25 times in a row. Exploring the back yard. Playing football. Playing Bouncy on the air-mattress... etc etc etc. You catch my drift.</div><div><br /></div><div>So now the floors are sticky and dusty with little dried spots of somethingorother, much like the table. There is a pile of laundry up to my elbows, which quite possibly explains why I can't find my favorite drawers. Our diet is based mainly on sandwiches or throw-it-in-a-pan-and-stick-it-in-the-oven gastronomical<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">delights</span>. Forget blogging! <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">And</span> I have a child who is deliriously happy... AND... wait for it... dramatic drum-roll... <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Sleeping through the night</span>!!! (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">The black-out blinds? Maintaining routines and schedules? More fresh air? Who knows!</span>)</div><div><br /></div><div>Yes folks. My nights have returned to the land of <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;">mostly</span> uninterrupted sweet sweet slumber. A mere (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">???</span>) 15 months post-partum. I now know what 6, 7, 8, even <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">9</span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">hours</span> of solid sleep feels like!! It was a hazy, misty memory. And damn you Gods if you even THINK about taking that away just cuz I blog about it. It is MINE. You can't take it back. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">na na nana nah :-P</span></div><div><br /></div><div>To celebrate I went out to shake my booty and got shit-faced instead with little or no actual booty shaking. And then spent most of the following day semi-comatose, jacked up on Mc Donalds and Coke (the black, fizzy, overloadofsugarandcaffeine one.) But it was SO WORTH IT!!! I had SO MUCH FUN!! Caps and exclamation points should be all over the place with the amount of fun I had. I yapped my gums to anyone within earshot for as long as they would listen before they would find somebody else to rescue them and take their place. It was probably really really obvious that I don't get out much. hahahahaha. sigh. Too bad. It will take a while for the whole ''i don't see people'' vibe to work it's way out of my system.</div><div><br /></div><div>If only I had a trusted baby-sitter... then Hubby and I would be able to get shit-faced TOGETHER, instead of taking turns. In time. In time.</div><div><br /></div><div>I just realized this post is polar-opposite to my last one which was all sob sob poor me. Who remembers that I'm a libra?!?! </div>Theresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14187089876317175889noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702540046716815638.post-54481825292268288812009-03-02T13:33:00.004+02:002009-03-02T16:38:27.897+02:00Sometimes...... I wonder how it is that I can forget how much I love and adore my beautiful baby, my Angel, and shout at her.<div>... I feel like the worst mother in the world.</div><div>... I worry that she will hate me.</div><div>... it makes me cry.</div><div>... I don't know what takes over me, and I get mean.</div><div>... I worry that I might, one day, hit her.</div><div>... I am afraid.</div><div>... I understand how my mother felt.</div><div>... I fear that my baby will feel the same way I did.</div><div>... I feel guilty too often</div>Theresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14187089876317175889noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702540046716815638.post-52594660585701365942009-02-25T19:40:00.002+02:002009-02-25T19:44:01.735+02:00Because I just can't get over it.This is my last carnival-related post... I promise... until next year anyway.<div><br /></div><div>It is finally over, and I have survived again. Year 2. Please let there not be a Year 3. Please. Pretty pretty please with glitter, sequins, beads, and fancy feathers.</div><div><br /></div><div>This was my favorite song for this year. It didn't win any competitions, but I could totally see myself swaying on the road, wining up and down and all around to it. Sigh. My living room had to do. C'est la vie.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre; "><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/-8GlVrNecNk&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/-8GlVrNecNk&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object></span><br /></div>Theresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14187089876317175889noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702540046716815638.post-91982292392058895352009-02-24T20:34:00.003+02:002009-02-24T20:35:57.826+02:00Trini Carnival Live on the internetsIf you wanna see a lil something of what it is about click <a href="http://www.tvchannelsfree.com/watch/5912/CTNT-World---CNews.html">here</a>.Theresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14187089876317175889noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702540046716815638.post-80004282935843547632009-02-21T11:54:00.002+02:002009-02-21T11:57:30.078+02:00It is Carnival weekend.ˇ<div><br /></div><div>And I am... </div><div><br /></div><div>I am...</div><div><br /></div><div>Sigh.</div><div><br /></div><div>I AM NOT MISSING IT NEXT YEAR!!!!</div><div><br /></div><div>Now I'm going to hide in a (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">well-routined and scheduled</span>) hole until it is over. Apparently the Angel likes routine and schedules. At least <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">she</span> will be happy.</div><div><br /></div><div>WAAAAAHHHHHHHH ;-(</div>Theresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14187089876317175889noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702540046716815638.post-18470879145604934702009-02-17T20:55:00.004+02:002009-02-17T21:05:08.361+02:00Live and Learn # 37654ˇ<div>She fell asleep today with relative ease. No long crying and raging. No tantrums. Just a few lil grumbles at nap time, but nothing to write home about.<div><br /></div><div>So what was it? The moon? Weird unknown illness? Growth spurt?</div><div><br /></div><div>It would have been so much easier on both of us if I had just let her be, instead of trying to control. I always remember too late that when she behaves like that, there is a reason, and that I need to just accept and go with the flow.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">''Struggle or stress is a sign that the ego has returned, as are negative reactions when we encounter obstacles.'</span>' - <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Eckhart Tolle, A New Earth</span>.</div><div><br /></div><div>One day I will remember in time.</div><div><br /></div><div>But why oh why could I not have read that ONE line a few days ago?? Why did I have to read it today, AFTER she had already fallen asleep peacefully. The book has been sitting on the couch untouched for days.</div><div><br /></div><div>Maybe it was a test. Well guess who didn't ace that one! As usual. My teachers will not be shocked.</div><div><br /></div><div>Live and Learn.</div></div>Theresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14187089876317175889noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702540046716815638.post-35689292224850638662009-02-16T15:20:00.003+02:002009-02-16T15:59:04.528+02:00I know it's OK to cry... but REALLY.ˇ<div>Every nap time, every night, during the night, mini melt-downs during the day, every time I try to cut a vegetable or wash a plate. Jeez Louise.</div><div><br /></div><div>What am I doing wrong????? Or worse, is she sick? I'm not seeing any real symptoms of anything. Does constantly pulling your toes count as a symptom?</div><div><br /></div><div>Nap time and bed time, which used to be so sweet, have turned into a struggle that leaves both of us in tears. I know she is tired. The yawns, eye-rubbing and I'm-not-hungry-but-i want-boobs are not classic ''Let's PLAY!'' signals.</div><div><br /></div><div>I decided to have the bedroom fitted with black-out blinds. And I think I'm going to stop the nap-time and bed-time stories which just seem to excite rather than calm. We read a million times a day anyway. Maybe bath-time should be in the morning too. Today I played <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WIXuRwCTs44">this</a> just before nap time and it seemed to help, a bit. Crying was a few short squawks rather than 45 minutes of banshee. I never thought I would say this, but 'Thanks, Brahm and Kenny G'. It made me cry too. What can I say, I'm a bit topped up on stress, and crying comes easy.</div><div><br /></div><div>So is music what I need to soothe this restless <del>beast</del> angel? Lawd how I wish she could talk and tell me exactly where my idiocy lies. Although, maybe not. I probably have many many years of that ahead of me.</div><div><br /></div><div>Reading through some other parenting blogs today I realized that at no point in time over the next rest of my life will I be worry free. There will always be SOMETHING to throw me off balance. Not like I was particularly balanced to begin with. As a Libran, balance is something I seem to be eternally seeking. Note that I said seeking, and not finding. I thought scales represented balance. Although, now that I think of it, they are usually drawn kinda off-kilter, right? Sigh. Great. Firetrucking great.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ok, nuff ranting 'bout nothing important.</div><div><br /></div><div>Center, breathe deeply, relax. Ommmm.</div><div><br /></div>Theresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14187089876317175889noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702540046716815638.post-12790083213336744142009-02-13T11:04:00.003+02:002009-02-13T11:24:20.849+02:00I am an artist too.ˇ<div>Isn't parenting a creative process? It requires that you think about things that you never thought about before, in ways you never thought about them. You try to get those feelings out, in positive, enlightening, uplifting way. Wanting to do good by your child. To help polish the rough stone that is your baby, and release the beautiful jewel that you know is inside.<div><div><br /></div><div>And it is daunting.</div><div><br /></div><div>There is the constant fear of failure. Of doing it wrong. Of others not liking what you are doing, or have done. There are critics everywhere. </div><div><br /></div><div>There is the confusion when it is not going how you think it should go.</div><div><br /></div><div>but maybe thats the problem.. the thinking.</div><div><br /></div><div>Maybe I'm not letting it flow.</div><div><br /></div><div>And i'm restraining the creative gremlin that wants to come through me.</div><div><br /></div><div>It is not all me. It is greater than me. I am the pipe line through which it will flow. I need to be open and connected.</div><div><br /></div><div>Art is meant to uplift humanity. So are people. The Angel is a people. So am I.</div><div><br /></div><div>I just need to keep showing up; to do my part. Keep her safe, fed, warm, loved... and allow the muse to work on the rest. The parts that I dont know. It takes more than me to do this right. I am a part of the whole.</div><div><br /></div><div>Thanks <a href="http://psychicgeek.com/grace-the-fifth/">Witchypoo</a> and <a href="http://www.schmutzie.com/2009/02/keep-showing-up.html">Schmutzie</a> for this inspiration. Check <a href="http://www.schmutzie.com/2009/02/keep-showing-up.html">Schmutzie's post</a> for your own inspiration.</div></div></div>Theresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14187089876317175889noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702540046716815638.post-18461505927731619402009-02-12T20:11:00.007+02:002009-02-12T21:02:12.400+02:00Let it never be said that I am totally thick-headed.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Oo7mjj1Z1dQ/SZRyJsSRrFI/AAAAAAAAANQ/RM_refuNcfg/s1600-h/DSCN1894.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 256px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Oo7mjj1Z1dQ/SZRyJsSRrFI/AAAAAAAAANQ/RM_refuNcfg/s320/DSCN1894.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301988172154121298" /></a><br />Life with my beautiful Angel has been a bit tricky, to put it mildly:<div><br /><div>Crying that I don't understand but know is all my fault; </div><div>Nap and sleep times that have gone to Mars and back with nary a hint at routine;</div><div>Night-time wakings that I'm sure are not due to hunger seeing as most websites seem to agree that a 15 month old should not need to nurse overnight anymore;</div><div>Days like roller coasters that swing from heart-melting love and fun to heart-breaking screeching and despair.</div><div><br /></div><div>Then I find this <a href="http://www.picknicksbrain.com/schedules/toddler-schedule/">website</a> that says most toddlers do not actually outgrow their need for 2 naps until 15 - 18 months. And that taking them down to one nap too soon will result in a cute but energy-draining mini-grouch. </div><div><br /></div><div>DING goes the light bulb in my head. So <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">that's </span>why she fell asleep in the grocery shopping cart yesterday at 11; and today in the stroller too. I thought she was over her 2 naps MONTHS ago, and had her fighting it out (literally) until after lunch. (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Can you tell here that I don't get out much, seeing as it took sooo long for me to realise this??</span>)</div><div><br /></div><div>Over-tiredness comes in many shapes and forms, from almost permanent attachment to my boob to long sessions of tears, tears, tears.</div><div><br /></div><div>And I have been living a confused life with a cranky child unnecessarily for several months now. Poor little thing. Lawd how she must have wanted to throttle me.</div><div><br /></div><div>BUT! Thanks to the Internets, I have found salvation. Fingers crossed that tomorrow is a new and better day.</div><div><br /></div><div>It made me realize though, that my initial refusal to ''schedule'' her as a little baby did more harm than good. I was so determined to 'follow her cues', that I became completely reactionary. That might work okay-ish for a newborn who simply sleeps when she is sleepy, but isn't such a good idea for a busy little thing who no doubt prefers lego to letsgoliedown.</div><div><br /></div><div>Live and learn.</div><div><br /></div><div>That's what I should really call this blog. Live and learn.</div><div><br /></div><div>And I found a <a href="http://www.wholesometoddlerfood.com/">cool website with great, easy toddler recipes</a>. Enjoy!</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Sidenote about the sleep website:</span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; ">They have lots of advice for babies of all ages, so go check it out if you have any little ones. Unless you know all that already, in which case... Why didn't you tell me?? I might not have listened anyway. I'm an idiot like that sometimes. I guess I found when I needed to find it. Ironically I did ask for help today. I sat, close to tears myself, with her crying in my lap, looked up at the ceiling and pleaded ''Help me please. Help me to do this for her. Help me to do it right. Help me. I just want her to be happy.'' And TA DAH! Within 2 minutes of being online I found that website. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"> Thank You Ceiling. I really really appreciate it.</span> So you really should check it out. It was divine intervention.</span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>Theresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14187089876317175889noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702540046716815638.post-40410896334815919822009-02-09T15:40:00.003+02:002009-02-09T15:48:06.650+02:00Cuz I have shit-all else to say<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(85, 85, 68); font-family: tahoma; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px; "><div>Thanks <a href="http://www.thingsivefoundinpockets.blogspot.com/">Nan</a> for this one:</div><div><br /></div>The Rules:<br /><br />Answer these questions, USING ONLY ONE WORD! Copy and change the answers to suit you and pass it on. It’s really hard to only use one word answers. Be sure to link to the person you received it from!<br /><br />1. Where is your cell phone? dunno<br />2. Your significant other? office<br />3. Your hair? wet<br />4. Your mother? far<br />5. Your father? away<br />6. Your favorite song? Soca<br />7. Your dream last night? House<br />8. Your favorite drink? water<br />9. Your dream/goal? Presence<br />10. What room you are in? Study<br />11. Your hobby? Reading<br />12. Your fear? Absence<br />13. Where do you want to be in 6 years? there<br />14. Where were you last night? here<br />15. Something that you aren’t? dead<br />16. Muffins? yum<br />17. Wish list item? heat<br />18. Where you grew up? Trinidad<br />19. Last thing you did? typed<br />20. What are you wearing? dress<br />21. Your TV? Off<br />22. Your pets? hairy<br />23. Friends? real<br />24. Your life? happy<br />25. Your mood? cool<br />26. Missing someone? lots<br />27. Car? black<br />28. Something you’re not wearing? drawers<br />29. Your favorite store? Bookstore<br />30. Your favorite color? red<br />33. When is the last time you laughed? breakfast<br />34. Last time you cried? post-labour<br />35. Who will resend this? Dunno<br />36. Favorite vacation? sunny<br />37. One person who emails me regularly? Nalini<br />38. My favorite place to eat? Trinidad</span>Theresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14187089876317175889noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702540046716815638.post-33041307981596947202009-02-03T21:23:00.007+02:002009-02-03T22:23:44.928+02:00To boob or not to boob<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Oo7mjj1Z1dQ/SYinSSgD7KI/AAAAAAAAANI/Ozehr6Tzn3c/s1600-h/DSCN2014.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 282px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Oo7mjj1Z1dQ/SYinSSgD7KI/AAAAAAAAANI/Ozehr6Tzn3c/s320/DSCN2014.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298668894247185570" /></a><br /><br />The Angel is 14 months old now. She is no longer a baby, although I know she will always be my baby, and I've been thinking about weaning recently.<div><br /></div><div>I know that a lot of people will think that I deserve an award for having breast-fed for so long. But I also know that it is normal and natural for toddlers to nurse until they are at least 2. It is apparently a cultural thing to wean them early.</div><div><br /></div><div>But as much as I still mostly enjoy the tender sweetness of holding my baby to my breast, I also at times don't like having my clothes yanked and my chest clawed. And how I wish the night-time feedings would end. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">(That being said, the current 1 or 2 night-time feedings is MUCH better than what we were dealing with up to 3 short weeks ago. ''Tears and Tantrums'' ... it saved my sanity.)</span></div><div><br /></div><div>It is such an intimate experience, breast-feeding. </div><div><br /></div><div>I never expected it to be so emotionally charged. I remember the devastation and grief I felt in the early days when I thought that I did not have enough to feed her. Although that reaction could just have been the hormones I was roller-coaster-riding on after she was born. It was a short-lived issue anyway. Soon enough I had sufficient milk to feed someone sitting clear across the room. </div><div><br /></div><div>Then there are those moments when she smiles up at me, without letting go of course, and my heart bursts. And most recently, the michelin-man legs and toes that end up in my face are just so yummy. She is quite flexible.</div><div><br /></div><div>I'm trying to encourage more ''loves and hugs and kisses''. Less boob needed for those. Same sweet smiles in return. And there is always some kind of food or drink within easy reach. She still seems to want the boob though. I guess she just isn't ready.</div><div><br /></div><div>I don't want to end up doing it out of anything other than love though.</div><div><br /></div><div>I started off so gung-ho on letting her wean for herself... whenever that would be. In keeping with my determination to be a Perfect Parent. HAHAHA. What a warped notion. I failed to be that from day one! Now, I'm praying that she won't still be nursing when she is two. I wonder how many more of those parenthood-humility-moments I have in store. Countless I'm sure.</div><div><br /></div><div>Its a good thing this book doesn't run out of pages.</div><div><br /></div>Theresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14187089876317175889noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702540046716815638.post-89075906988605986772009-01-30T19:32:00.003+02:002009-01-30T20:21:12.383+02:00The Ganges and The Nile<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre; "><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/9r6mM_QgxtI&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/9r6mM_QgxtI&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">The Ganges and The Nile</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre;">David Rudder</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre;">Once upon a time there was a magic island,</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre;">Full of magic people.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre;">Let me tell you a story</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre;">'Bout their pain and their glory, oh yeah.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre;">Many rivers flowed to this naked isle</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre;">Bringing fear and pain</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre;">But also a brand new style.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre;">And of all these rivers that shaped this land</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre;">Two mighty ones move like a sculptors hand.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre;">And today those hands, across the land, man, they're still landscaping.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre;">And there's no doubt we go work it out, there is no escaping.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre;">As the river flows there are those who would change its passage.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre;">But every common man got to under-stand up and send a message.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre;">So put up your hand if you understand now.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre;">Come.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre;">See how we moving, watch how we grooving</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre;">See how we step in style.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre;">One lovely nation, under a groove</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre;">The Ganges come meet the Nile.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre;">Them boys with the hidden agendas, and the mind-benders,</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre;">People done take in front.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre;">Various smart men, and politicians can come along if they want.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre;">Cus the people got the power, and the glory.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre;">See how we float in style.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre;">See how we moving, watch how we grooving.<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre;">The Ganges has met the Nile<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre;">Differences, there will always be.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre;">So let you be you, and I'll be me.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre;">That's the damn ting self that makes it sweet.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre;">Brother bring your drum, lewwe start to beat.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre;">Don't mind them politcky politicky politicky politicky politicians.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre;">And with their politricky politricky politricky politricky situations.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre;">We done jamming and we jamming and we jamming and jam cus we know the story.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre;">Let them fight if they want in this land of a different glory. (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">i might have this line wrong</span>)</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; white-space: normal; "><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre; ">So put up your hand if you understand now</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre; ">Come.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; white-space: normal; "><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre; ">See how we moving, watch how we grooving</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre; ">See how we step in style.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre; ">One lovely nation, under a groove</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre; ">The Ganges come meet the Nile.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; white-space: normal; "><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre; ">Them boys with the hidden agendas, and the mind-benders,</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre; ">They will always do their do.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre; ">Various smart men, and politicians, dem could come along too.</span></div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; white-space: normal; "><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre;"><br /></span></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre; ">Cus we moving with the power, and the glory.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre; ">See how we float in style.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre; ">See how we moving, watch how we grooving.<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre; ">The Ganges has met the Nile</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; white-space: normal; "><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre; ">See how we moving, watch how we grooving</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre; ">See how we float in style.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre; ">One lovely nation, under a groove</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre; ">The Ganges come meet the Nile.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre; ">Them boys with the hidden agendas, and the mind-benders,</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre; ">They will always do their do.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre;">But now that we holding hands, trudging to the Promised Land</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre;">Them could come along too.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; white-space: normal; "><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre; ">Cus we moving with the power, and the glory.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre; ">See how we float in style.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre;">One lovely nation, heading to salvation.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre;">The Ganges come meet the Nile.</span></div></span></span></div></span></span></div></div></span></span></div></span></span></div></span></span></div></span></span></div>Theresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14187089876317175889noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3702540046716815638.post-68544801953032778972009-01-29T15:12:00.002+02:002009-01-29T20:28:05.700+02:00Dollar WineI know you have been dying out which soca song could possible be known all the way over here in Elbonia. Seeing as soca just isn't what you think of when you think about this country. Vodka, snow, Russia... sure. Soca? Not really.<div><br /></div><div>So imagine my surprise when I found out that a song from my home country was a BIG HIT over here, and also apparently on Disney Cruises.</div><div><br /></div><div>There is a special dance that goes along with it, of course. Like all good soca, there must be dancing instructions for the audience:</div><div>Cent : Shake your hips to the left</div><div>5 Cent : Shake 'em to the right</div><div>10 Cent : Push the booty back</div><div>Dollar : Thrust it forward like a dog humping your leg. No kidding.</div><div><br /></div><div>Enjoy today's workout!</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre; "><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/QUQ_nZSJ6g8&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/QUQ_nZSJ6g8&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object></span><br /></div>Theresahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14187089876317175889noreply@blogger.com1