Hello
all. I'm taking a little vacation from the blog for the week.
I'll be back next weekend for sure. Your assignment: go play
outside.
I
expect a full report re: any frivolous activity you may have
undertaken. :)
Cheers,
andrea
<thursday
july 10, 2003 - 3:50 p.m.>
Yesterday
we took a little trip to the Secret Garden aka Maplelawn garden
on Richmond Road. Every once in awhile I strap the kids in
the chariot and I pull them, or should I say drag, the whole
contraption along for several kilometres until we reach our
destination.
With
my legs shaking and a funny-sounding wheeze accompanying every
outgoing breath, I am often left feeling like a used towelette
at a busy KFC. When I travel this way I am pulling about 80
lbs. behind me. Two kids, the chariot, whatever things we're
bringing with us... this all adds up, and takes its toll on
me. (Hopefully, it's taking the biggest toll on my butt.)
I
keep reminding myself that there are some people out there
who pay big bucks for this kind of fitness regime, albeit
in a more hip and climate-controlled environment. That doesn't
make it much easier.
It
was pretty hot yesterday. Much to the girls disappointment
the rabbits kept in their shady hiding spots. The chipmunks
failed to materialize. They had clearly taken a holiday from
their usual mooching of nuts and raisins from the passersby.
We
were the only wildlife.
While
we were there a group of women from a nearby office came out
for a walk. I couldn't figure out whether they were out for
a social stroll or bent on some kind of calorie burning. The
pace of their stride and of their banter made me think that
fitness wasn't their goal.
The
funny thing was that every time they did a circuit of the
garden Sarah would accost them and show them her dress, or
something else, like some
crabapples she had collected.
She
had no shame. For a toddler of this age the words "lookit
my dress" results in the audience seeing her belly, her
diaper and everything else. In other words, Sarah flashed
everyone at every opportunity.
She
clearly enjoyed the attention. Who wouldn't?
"Oh
what PRETTY curls!"
"I love your hat!"
"What big blue eyes you have!"
"Oh what a lovely dress you have!"
If
only everyone could be this complimentary to one another.
I think we could finally find some peace in this war-torn
world of ours.
As
the girls raced around I took the opportunity to browse the
gardens.
Many
of the plants are labeled. This is good news. I like to know
what I'm looking at. There are some prettylittleviews
there.
I
nearly laughed out loud when I saw this
one, and how it was tagged. We have this thing all over
the garden. It grows in any soil, in sun and shade, in wet
and dry. The only way you could get rid of it is to douse
your flowerbed with kerosene and strike a match. But that
poses some other problems.
Yesterday
Emma was pretending that crocodiles were chasing her. We were
in the backyard. The grass was the croc-infested water. The
sandbox, upon which she was standing, was her safe haven.
She
pretended to dip her foot in the water. She said something
about the nice girl crocodile.
"How
can you tell if the crocodile is a girl?" I asked.
"Because it has eyelashes," was the matter-of-fact
response. She continued. "If you go close to a boy crocodile
it might bite you, but if you go close to a girl crocodile
it won't"
Where
does she get the eyelash idea from? Walt Disney, where all
female animal characters have exaggerated eyes and eyelashes.
Of this I am certain.
<
8:31 a.m.>
This
very second there is a crew of construction works drilling
at the sewers directly in front of my house. In fact, they
are on our front lawn, within a few metres of our front window.
It is so loud in here I can hardly hear myself think.
It
started while we were having breakfast. I thought Sarah was
going to have a heart attack, she was so excited. She loves
construction.
But
then she went to the living room window. She held up an old
nerf ball and hit the window with it, and yelled, "STOP
IT PEOPLES!"
Ten
minutes of the noise and she's tired of it already.
Better
update to come later today... when I can THINK!
Ten
minutes of the noise and she's tired of it already.
