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It’s pouring rain outside. That means I am writing this while offline and hoping at some point here is enough of a lull to hit the “publish” button.

When last we left our intrepid heroine, we were prepping for a field trip to a historical village. Does anyone else have trouble sleeping if they know they have to get up the next day at a certain time? I guess it’s part of my deep-seated fear of being late (which usually turns out fine anyway).

Emma and I got ourselves ready and out the door quite leisurely, and met our homeschooling group in the parking lot of the local mall. We co-ordinated a bit of carpooling, some snack pickup, and then we were all off again. It was just me and Emma in our own car, as unbeknown to her my mother was meeting us there.

After an hour’s drive down the highway, we took the turn off and didn’t see anyway. I went up to the regular gates.. and they were locked. Weird. Met another mom in the parking lot of the tourist information area and eventually we figured out where we had to be. Inside the entrance pavillion, we all met Emma and joy of joys - Emma found another family with two girls her age! They instantly became bestest friends forever, and would also be in our group. This is double-awesome because unlike the Miramichi group we left that had 6 girls all Emma’s age, this group is 80% BOYS in the 2 to 15 range.

I was a bit antsy as I tried to let people know my mom was coming, was not here yet, and oh by the way, Emma’s doesn’t know and we can’t let her overhear. Our group had to get going, so I let the lady at the desk know that one more person would show up and she looks a lot like me.

We had just settled in our historic house and they were starting the presentation when… *knock knock*. I opened the back kitchen door I was leaning against. “Hi Mom,” I said “Way to make an entrance.” When Emma saw her she went, “MAM! I’M SO GLAD YOU’RE HERE!”, swept her up in a big hug, and half the parents went “awwwwwww!”

Mom did a writeup of the actual educational parts. She helped the kids and I sort of wandered around. It was a really good time, and if you ever have the chance to do something like this, even if it seems expensive, it is totally worth it. I’m biased though, as I love this place and would work there if I could. The employees all dress in character and act like the original homeowners.

(I kept saying “Let’s party like it’s 1899. It rocketh.”)

The boys and girls had been separated, as that was what life was like back then, so when they came together to share information, on Emma’s turn told them her finding in what I call her Announcer Voice, and one of the moms leaned over and said she did a really good job at public speaking.

Our group was done first, Mom and Emma were hungry, so we left. Mom was buying lunch, what could I say? The rest of the group was staying there for a picnic lunch, which me missed, so I’m going to have to make sure we go to the next whatever we have, as there’s a few parents I’m getting to know better.

Even if there’s a whole bunch of stuff we don’t agree on.

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Oh Lord, what hath I wrought? I set it all up for her. My mom, Mam as she is know around here, has One Mother of a Blog.

All stories are, unfortunately, true.

(don’t forget to subscribe to her RSS feed. She’s just getting started…)

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So yesterday, I mean Tuesday - was my mom’s birthday and I completely forgot to at least call her. Not really forget, mostly I remembered at the wrong time to actually pick up the phone and call.

I mean, I did call on Sunday because she never called me like she does at 11am on Sunday mornings, so I humphed and fretted and broke down and dialed the phone (okay, pushed buttons) and when the call as answered it was not my mom but Carl telling me she had gone out shopping, the nerve of her, and when she called me back later she said Carl told her I was putting all the stuff she ever gave me into the dumpster so I said yes, yes I did.

Then Tuesday came in a flurry of activity because I had to make it at least look like I got some work done in the morning, and we all had to be ready to leave at lunch time and go down south to the big city, drop off Ron at the doctor’s, do some shopping meet up with A & K for dinner, head on home again, check on clients and answer a few emails, then zip back into the local town and head on to the fair because it was Loonie Night (all rides $1) in the spitting rain and darkening skies, with the big lure for me being all the pretty lights to take pictures of, then to fall into bed exhausted, tossing and turning in the humidity, only to get up and seemingly do it all over again, the phone ringing the emails flying, client emergencies, digging around servers, and going to my happy place, keeping insanely busy on the anniversary of my grandmother’s death where we just try not to think of it really, and then I remember I still haven’t called my mother let alone blogged and I remember I have a couple links to pass on to her anyway and might as well post them so here you go.

*whew* Yes, my days have been like that again. Again or still, I’m not sure.

So! Happy Birthday Week to my mom, who took the whole week off and is probably headed to my house right now to see if we’re okay.

Here’s a new blog I found that posts pictures and commentaries of cake disasters. I had to go read every single post, until I got to the one that started it all, which I know I sent my mom the link to when it hit the internet, and she had to call me and tell me how funny it was.

Also, because I have some real estate clients and I like the house market, I read this blog about really bad house listings. Especially the really bad pictures to go with them. (Good thing I read fast.)

Here’s to another year. Try not to pee while laughing.

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The backstory: Regular readers will note that in a month or less, it will be my birthday. Given that I am spoiled, there is usually some discussions of what I want people to get me. No, not YOU, my family… who just happens to read my blog anyway and you get to put up with it.

At any rate, yesterday I finally realized what I wanted - no, needed and I sent my mom the following email.

I know what I want for my birthday! An MP3 player. As long as it’s NOT an ipod, it should do the trick. I don’t care how much it holds, what color it is, or whatever. Don’t get the cheapest one you can find either. Getting one from Staples would probably be your best bet.

It’d make me REALLY HAPPY!

Now, some things to note:
- my old mp3 player died on me and we’re too “poor” to get another one. By poor I mean I wouldn’t dream of spending $30-$50 dollars on myself if the kids or the house needed something first. DUH.
- I can’t use an iPod on my Linux computer. Also, I don’t want to.
- my Mom is notorious for finding good deals. Sometimes she find great deals on stuff we actually want or like or can use.
- note the effective use of Mommy guilt. (making me happy)

Her reply?

What type of wrapping paper do you want?
Do you want to pick out or card or should I?

So I wrote back,

I think you can handle that part.

Can’t you just feel the love?

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I made her a card, not just because I’m cheap, but every time she saw my ATCs and the winter cards I made, she’d want one. Of each. So I broke down and took twenty minutes to pick out just the right elements and papers.

I also made the turquoise blue glass bead bracelet, on stretchy cord.

Earlier, I had sent her a card, because I send the very best. I wanted her to feel all warm and gushy over the joys of rasing children. That’s why I picked this one.

So then she came over to get her stuff, drop off newspapers, and stuff the kids full of chocolate.

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It is good to be Queen! My incredible husband Carl has been the perfect handmaid during my convalescence. Orange pop, fresh pineapple, the daily newspaper and day lilies… what more can a woman ask for. Despite the 5 star treatment, I’m bored out of my mind. I tried quilting however the rapid eye movement causes my check to smart.

Thank you so much for all your good wishes. I thought of posting a pic of my surgery but your imagination would be better. The actual lesion was tiny; the surgery however runs along my nose from the corner of my eye down to my nostril. I look like a cross between a hockey mom after the fight and Gil from Finding Nemo fame. Though Emma reminded me Gil’s scar was on the side of his face, not his cheek. Andrea volunteered her butt if skin grafts were required but the surgeon declined the offer; generous though it was.

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