Last Night I Had the Strangest Dream

Lately I've been experiencing some pretty weird dreams - from being romanced by Dexter Morgan to discovering I could clean the entire house in a day (yeah - that was a GREAT one!), to chasing down bad guys and shooting them with a pellet gun. It's pretty safe to say I'm not dreaming in any one specific genre.

But last night was just plain weird. I was in a parkade with Harvey from TMZ and we were talking about the latest in the Lindsay Lohan saga. Stimulating conversation really. Until I happened to look down to the level below us.  

There were my boys, screaming and running from the biggest Python I ever saw. My youngest daughter was not that far behind the snake - chasing it with a big pair of scissors. She was running with scissors!

I started to chase after them all, but you know how in dreams you just run and run and run but never go anywhere? Yeah. That happened. Long story short, the boys were swallowed whole and my daughter used the scissors to make bangs in the back of her hair.

I looked at Harvey, he looked at me - and we both started laughing hysterically.

No wonder the kids try to choke me to death every night at bedtime (click on the link below if you are wondering what the heck I'm talking about).

Bedtime Ritual

Sigh. Maybe tonight I'd better skip the tequila shot at bedtime.

On the upside, my children can be thankful that they don't have the mother in my dreams. 


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Would You Do This??

First off, a huge thanks to @LeoPare for bringing this hot new trend to my attention. I have been considering getting a new tattoo for a while; however am kind of tired of following the crowd with respect to body art. I think I might break free of those societal chains that bind me and go for it! I mean really, who wouldn't want a bagel head?

Not sure what I'm talking about? Then you HAVE to read this:

Bagel Head

Ok, ok . . . I know what you're thinking. I thought it too. That thing looks more like a donut than a bagel to me. Like one of those honey glazed ones at Tim Hortons . . . yum. In fact, when I look at that girls forehead, I just get plain hungry.

I decided that I probably wanted to kind of get an idea of what this might look like on me before taking the plunge. I dug through all my old photo albums, desperately trying to find the picture of me when I had Mount Vesuvius waiting to erupt on my forehead; however no luck. I can't believe I threw that picture away! Oh well, hindsight is 20-20.

I then tried to find a photo editing program I could use to enlarge my forehead. So far, I haven't been able to find what I'm looking for. If you have any suggestions, I would sure appreciate it.

Today, I opened the mailbox and was thrilled to discover that my new driver's license had arrived. Turns out, the picture shows what I would look like if I were to have the bagel/donut under my chin . . . hmmmm . . . not as flattering as I thought it might be. Definitely better stick to the forehead . . .

On second thought, after having looked at the pictures again, I've decided to keep putting those donuts exactly where they belong . . . on my a$$. That's where they seem to automatically go when I eat one, so why break a trend? Plus, at $0.89, it's a heck of a lot cheaper!

Have a fantastic Thanksgiving peeps!


Want to add a sip of Gin & Tonic to your day? Follow me on Twitter at   Follow @GTMothersSoul

Marco . . . . Polo????

Today I had the pleasure of accompanying my mother to the hospital so she could undergo some surgery (she did great by the way) . . . of course this necessitated parking in the above ground lot near the entrance.  When we arrived it was very early, therefore there were several spots to choose from. I kind of felt like a kid in a candy store - there were so many spots - which to pick, which to pick?  I finally settled on a pull through spot near the cross walk. Mentally high fiving my good luck, I placed my ticket on the dash and headed in to wait with my Mom.

A few hours later, I decided to go home while I waited for her procedure to be completed.  Because I didn't want to leave any of her valuables behind, I brought her purse with me.  I walked across the cross walk and looked in the space where my car should be . . . unless it somehow morphed into a spanky red Explorer, that car wasn't mine. Apparently, my car decided it would be great fun to play a game of hide and seek. I can only picture myself as I wandered aimlessly through the parking lot - a purse on each arm and my hair all unruly from getting up so early this morning. I'd holler out "Marco" every once and a while as I rapidly pushed the panic button on my keys, but my car wasn't giving anything away with respect to its location. I walked in one direction, then the other, and pretty soon I felt like I was going in circles - probably because I was. A guy in a truck stopped and asked if I needed some help - I told him unless he said Polo, there probably wasn't much he could do.

Finally, I walked back across to the main entrance of the hospital and then back to the parking lot in the hopes of finding my vehicle that by now I had assumed had either been stolen or towed.  I reached the end of the crosswalk, looked up, and there was my car. Right.There.In.Front.Of.Me. Sigh.

I returned later that afternoon to a lot FULL of cars. I drove round and around the lot, seeking that ever elusive spot. Finally I located one and pulled in. I climbed out and looked around, carefully noting my location. There was no way we were playing that game again when it was time to go home!

Several hours later I went to go home. That damn car hid on me AGAIN. Even with hardly any cars left, it still took me several minutes to find it. A few shouts of "you're getting warmer", "cold, cold, freezing", "you're getting hot" would have been helpful - but no dice. 

Turns out if I had walked to the lot that I parked in, I probably could have found it faster. I climbed into the car and thanked my brain for giving me a little taste of just how much fun memory loss can be. Sigh.


Want to add a sip of Gin & Tonic to your day? Follow me on Twitter at   Follow @GTMothersSoul

Put your Hood Up

A few years ago, my oldest daughter was studying up to get her Learner's Permit. She read through the book and completed numerous online tests in an effort to prepare herself for her trip to the Registries Office. 

Unfortunately, her first time taking the test didn't quite work out as planned. Not to be deterred, she came back home and began doing some more practice tests online. I'm not sure why, but I decided it would be fun to try one of these quizzes as well. Let's just say it didn't work out so well.

I'm not sure why I thought I would pass. If I'm honest, I would admit that the only reason I got a driver's license in the first place was because my twin sister went first and passed, and the lady at the Registries office felt guilty about only one of us getting a license. It worked out well for me - although apparently I was still a bit challenged by the rules of the road.

During one of their visits, her Grandma started quizzing her on the various topics in the book. The conversation went kind of like this:

G: What do you do if your car breaks down while you are driving?

E: Pull off to the shoulder and put on your hazard lights.

G: Good answer. Is there anything else you might do?

E: (thinking) Maybe call for help on your cell phone?

G: Yes, you could do that. Anything else?

E: No, I think that's it.

G: You could also put your hood up.

E: (puzzled) what?

G: Put your hood up to signal you might need help.

E: Oh. OK. But what if you aren't wearing a hoodie that day?

Yes, it's nice to know that she got her driving smarts from me :) In the end, she did get her permit - and eventually her license. And, when I cleaned out her car as a surprise one day, I was glad to see she had three hoodies in the back - you know, just in case.

It's always good to be prepared.

Need a little sip of Gin & Tonic to get through the day? Follow me on Twitter at   Follow @GTMothersSoul

I Did It!

For those of you who are new to my blog and missed out on my previous post regarding this, please click the link below to get up to speed before reading further . . .

Pardon Me, I Think My Brain Just Farted

So, Sunday September 9th was the big day - the moment I had been training (hahahaha) for. Surrounded by my trainer, bootcamp buddies, cousins, and about 900 other people I didn't know, I lined up in the middle of the start chute and wondered what exactly I was thinking when I set out to give this 'gift' to myself. 

The race started - and soon I was being not so gently persuaded to move in different directions in order to let the throngs of actual runners behind me pass. Frankly, I wasn't in a hurry - it's not like that bottle of gin I had waiting for me at the finish line was going to go anywhere.

About 1 km in, I felt like I was getting into a groove. "I can do this", I thought to myself as I ran beside the little old lady that probably had great grandchildren. She was inspiring - imagine, being that old and running in a 10k race? At 1.5 km I had a change of heart when sweet little grandma took off in a burst of speed and was never to be seen again. Seriously, some people are such show offs.

Not willing to give up, I kept plodding away wondering if a water station was ever going to be in sight. In all honesty, I wasn't very thirsty - I just wanted an excuse to stop for a few minutes and not feel guilty about it. 

As I ran, I became aware of someone running behind me - someone with very heavy feet apparently because all I heard was clomp! clomp! clomp! It was super annoying, so I tried to pick up my pace a bit in an effort to maintain what little sanity I had left. Yes! Soon the water station was in sight. I slowed to a walk as I approached, only to hear clomp! clomp! clomp! behind me. Sonofa! I grabbed the water and kept going as fast as I could - so much for taking a break!

At about the time the race left the streets and moved onto the trails, my stomach decided that the food I had eaten the night before wasn't appropriate and tried to launch a full on revolt. Given that I had passed the port-a-potty a kilometer earlier, and my desire to not s*#% in the woods, I gave it a stern talking too and told it to suck it up. Surprisingly, it listened - and soon I was feeling good again.

7 km, 8 km, 9 km - only 1000 meters until the Finish Line! "I'm almost there", I shouted excitedly (inside my head of course), as I ran across the swaying bridge.

Suddenly, my insides twisted. I started to sweat. I prayed that this wasn't happening. I felt like the chick in Bridesmaids, running across the road, trying not to s(&* herself. I slowed to a walk, clenching like I had never clenched before.

I came around a corner, and there was a perky volunteer who I swear had been paid by my trainer yelling "C'mon - you only have a bit left - run! run! run!". I briefly considered leaving a little present in the middle of the road as a reward for her enthusiasm but decided against it. Besides, clomp! clomp! clomp! was coming up from behind fast - and there was no way Ms. Heavy Foot was going to beat me to the finish line.

So I started walking super fast running. Faster and faster, around the corner - and there in front of me, the big FINISH LINE banner, waving in the breeze. I did it! I did it! I did it . . . and I started hyperventilating because I was trying so hard not to cry. Yes, I was quite the sight stumbling across that line - butt cheeks clenched tighter than tight and taking a thousand breaths per minute. Somehow, none of that mattered - because I had finished. Finally.

The next day, I announced my retirement. Running is not my thing. I'm more of a sit on the sidelines and drink a gin & tonic while other people run kind of girl. 

Unless of course, I'm being chased by Zombie's. Through an obstacle course. I'm going to have to briefly come out of retirement for that one. Anyone care to join me?

Forty and Fabulous

Originally this post was to be titled 40 and Don't Give a *^&%, but lets face it, 40 and Fabulous is a bit more ladylike - which I should probably strive to be now that I'm getting up there in years.

Now I know I'm not the hottest 40 year old on the planet - that sadly is someone else's destiny . . . but I think I'm pretty darn fantastic.  Apparently my youngest daughter does as well. In honour of my birthday, she drew a picture of me decked out in my very best.

If you look closely, in  addition to rocking the box dress, I have successfully pulled off the very fashion forward combination of bright pink eyebrows and green blush. Topped off with some super red lipstick and dangly earrings, I am a force to be reckoned with - and let's be honest - not everyone can rock this look the way I do. This, my friends, is the confidence that comes along with turning 40.



Only a few short months ago, I had a completely different image. My daughter and her friend, obviously astounded by my beauty, were inspired to capture it with marker.

As you can see I was still relying on plain jane pink blusher, and apparently, in an effort to look more like Angelina Jolie, had stuck my mouth in the vacuum one day in order to achieve beautiful, full lips. Thankfully I've outgrown this strange habit. I particularly like the focus on my ample nipples cleavage. Indeed, before I had kids, they really did rest just under my neck - seems like they fell to my belly button overnight. Sigh. The good old days.


Not to be outdone, Ben also proudly pulled out the very special drawing he had made of me at school the day before. 

Not gonna lie . . . I sometimes wonder if he has the eyes of a fly . . . and I worry that he will never pass art. But that's my boy :)

Night all :)


Want to add a little Gin & Tonic to your day? Follow me on Twitter at   Follow @GTMothersSoul

Goodnight Little Angels aka For Goodness Sake, GO TO SLEEP!

Seriously! Tonight is one of those nights where I would rather be doing just about anything other than putting the kids to bed. They are tired. They are cranky. I am tired. I am cranky. Quickly falling asleep would be a win-win for all involved. So why must they torture me?

It's Thursday night. Premiere night for The Big Bang Theory and Grey's Anatomy. Even though we have a TV outside of their rooms I am not falling asleep on the couch during either of these shows. Instead, I have suffered through the Nature music station offerings for the past hour because frankly, I didn't think the Classic Rock station would help them relax. As I type I am squirming in my seat listening to the waves roll in and out and willing my bladder to 'stay strong' because any sudden movement might trigger the panicked chorus of 'Mom! Where are you going?!?!'. I've already had them all jump out of bed and rush to my side while I did my business once tonight - no sense in having a repeat performance. Sigh.

Please tell me this doesn't just happen in my house - surely everyone else's kids assume that the minute they fall asleep Mommy & Daddy are going to make a run for it to goodness knows where. I could only wish to have somewhere exciting and thrilling to sneak off too - frankly finishing the dishes and making school lunches doesn't really rank very high up there on the 'I can't WAIT to do this list'. Especially when I'm tired. And cranky. 

Silence. Sweet, sweet silence.

I peek in their rooms and see them sprawled out on their beds, slight smiles on their little faces. Such precious babies of mine - I could watch them for hours. And suddenly, I'm not cranky anymore. 

So I will finish the dishes, and make the lunches, and maybe grab a couple jello shots out of the fridge because I didn't have dessert tonight. 

And then I will crawl into bed, grateful for the blessings that are my children.