*accident prone*

I've been feeling pretty gross these past couple of days. I actually had the worst cold/flu thing of my LIFE this weekend (I promise, Im not being dramatic this time!) and it was horrible!

Mostly because with 2 small girlies, the

re's no such thing as 'sick days' :O(

Even though I have Lee, my incredible knight-in-shining-armour...the girls still need me to help them. Help them get juice, help them go to the bathroom (diaper-changed in M's case), help feed them, snuggle them when they're tired...like I said, no such thing as sick days.

BUT today I woke up pretty much back to normal, I mean I'm still pretty out of it, but I can function, which is HUGE compared to my invalid self this past weekend *shudder*

Today, my lovely U.K. family decided to celebrate Thanksgiving today because there's an american in my family and I'm Canadian, not to mention 2 more americans in my extended family (The Gills) and we love turkey!

So feeling much more human (as I was) I decided to make cinnamon buns for our celebration today.

Before I got started on my baking, I went to the bathroom, which is just off of my kitchen (washed my hands, promise!) and came back out to SLIP on some juice on my kitchen floor!

As I'm going down, all I can think is 'this is just gonna hurt SO bad!' and it did.

Have you ever hit yourself on something SO hard that you thought you were going to throw up? That's how this felt! I smashed my knee on our unbelievably hard tiled floor and cried. Seriously. I cried so hard.

(it's all red and swollen right now, I'm thinking bruise tomorrow)

And then I heard something behind me - M. She started crying too! My sweet little 11 month old had witnessed the whole thing and was so shocked and scared that she started wailing!

So I had to take quite a few deep breaths and calm myself while I pulled M into my lap and proceeded to calm my poor shaken babe.

I bum-shuffled to the couch with her craddled in my lap (I seriously couldn't walk) and snuggled her until she fell asleep.

Here's the thing: I swear I'm always doing these ridiculously clumsy things! Or careless...

I hit my head on EVERYTHING.

I get things in my eyes.

I slip and fall.

I get my fingers caught in stuff.

I constantly stub my toes.

I mean, is there a point where you just grow out of this stuff? And if there is, haven't I passed it yet?

Apparently not. :O(

What about you? Do you ever have stupid 'clumsy' moments? Please share them with me and help nurse my sore knee (and ego) back to health, hehe!

*creepy men and all those joys*

Before you read my 'stalker dad' case, you have to understand that I have boundaries and am used to the Christian community where people respect my boundaries. I love getting hugs, holding hands, people playing with my hair or rubbing my back, I'm a physical contact kind of girl. But I have boundaries, put in place to make sure that I (or others) never get inappropriate with my affection. I think it's healthy. My body is not my own, it belongs to my husband. And because the majority of my friends are Christians, I've never really had any problem, never felt like people/men were crossing a line with their affection for me. They respect my marriage and my boundaries and I respect theirs.

With knowing that, I launch into my story...

K started school in September, and if you follow me on Twitter or are friends with me on Facebook, then you know that the first week or so was not pleasant and that saying goodbye to K and leaving her at school made me and Lee feel like the absolute WORST parents in the world! While struggling through the first week of school with K, I met 'stalker dad'. He was dropping his daughter off at school and started talking to me when I brought K up the stairs to her school gate. This didn't freak me out because even though we've all been taught 'NEVER TALK TO STRANGERS' the exception (for parents) is at their children's school gate. Everybody talks to everybody.

'Stalker dad' asked me if it was K's first year and I replied it was, saying that she was struggling a bit but getting better by the day at coming to school. He told me about his little girl and how she was doing with school and how he was proud of her. I told him I was definitely proud of K but that it made me a bit sad to see her growing up so fast to which he proceeded to rub my back!

I turned to stone.

He kept rubbing! I squirmed out of reach, pretending to say goodbye to K one last time before retreating down the stairs and to the safety of Lee's side.

It freaked me out that I JUST met this man and he was rubbing my back BUT he has an accent and is from another country so I thought maybe this was just a cultural difference, after all I've come up against a few myself.

So even though after the back rubbing incident I saw him looking at me each time Lee and I dropped off K at school, I tried to shake it off, afraid that I was being judgemental.

Then, one morning I went to the gym and who should happen to be there, walking down the street, towards me? 'Stalker dad'!!! Waving and smiling! Luckily, my gym was between us, so I waved and then ducked into my gym as quickly as possible.

He hadn't come and talked to me since our initial intro but I still kept seeing him stare at me.

K had a party last Saturday that I took her to. At this point I had decided that if 'stalker dad' talked to me, I was going to be nice, not a total freak, and talk to him like a normal human being. I really felt like even with all of the staring, I had misjudged him and I hate that!

He was at the party, working the barbecue. But other than the polite 'Hi, how are you?', he didn't talk to me. Again I felt him staring at me but since he didn't come and say anything, I decided it was just me being paranoid and got over it.

Monday, I went to the gym again. I had a good workout and came back out to my car and saw a red car parking in front of mine. As I reached my car, the owner of the red car was getting out of his and I'm sure you already know who the driver was. S.D. ('stalker dad') There was no avoiding it. I HAD to talk to him. He started the conversation and at first it was polite chit-chat about nothing really. Found out he used to live in the U.S. and moved over here because his wife (his WIFE!!! seriously.) was from Wales. Blah, blah, blah . . . then he told me that he had been meaning to talk to me every time he saw me but that he didn't want to talk to me while Lee was around because he didn't want Lee to think he was coming on too strong and get the wrong idea . . .at this point I'm thinking 'Um, weird, but maybe he meant to say something else and it came out wrong' . . .he kept talking to me. The conversation lasted for 20 mins at least, and I also found out that he goes to my gym and that if we ever go to a kids party again, he's going to stay with me the whole time, making sure I'm social and enjoying myself (uhhh...???) :O/

Trying to ignore the overwhelming urge to bolt, I continued the conversation, mentioning Lee as often as possible. Then he started telling me that he had been watching me. He had been watching me at the kids' party on Saturday and was struck by how beautiful I am. (Sarah, run.) He told me that he had seen me dropping my daughter off at school and always thought I was beautiful. (Sarah, what are you doing, get into the car!) He told me that while watching me at the kids party that he was at WITH HIS WIFE, he found himself drawn to how stunning I am. (RUN, RUN, RUN!)

I stood there in completely shock! All I could do was mumble 'thank you' which seemed to only encourage him to continue saying these things! He told me that he hopes I didn't mind but that he'd be telling me how beautiful I am from now on, but not in front of my husband, he'll only come talk to me when I'm on my own.

I finally managed to squeak out that I needed to go, so he put out his hand and I took it to shake. But he pulled me in and gave me a kiss on my cheek that was shockingly close to my lips! I got in my car and drove home, trembling the whole way!

I'm kind of scared. Scared to go back to my gym, scared to drop K off at school alone...I'm thinking about switching gyms but is that silly?

Am I being paranoid? Unreasonable? Am I judging this man unfairly? Help me out! Give me some perspective on this situation, please!

*me and him (my version)*

In my life there have been a few men.

Gross and pimply - Oh! And one guy named Ken!

These unwashed boys have come and gone,

For my vision of Prince Charming they never outshone.

Then at the ripe old age of 18 years old,

My man walked in, worth WAY more than gold!

'But when will he notice me?' I said in a huff,

As my man wandered around and strutted his stuff.

And then an idea! It came rather quick!

To make sure that I was my man's only pick!

A skirt over my trousers(pants) was sure to impress,

And make me unique and stand out from the rest!

I can tell you today that my plan has succeeded!

My friends, never flirt any more than is needed.

My job here is done, my story's been told.

I'm glad I have my Lee to grow wrinkly and old :O)

*TRUE STORY*

*hysterics at the gym*

(WARNING: This blog is a bit long, I'm sorry. But worth it)

I *try* to go to the gym Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays.

As most of you are aware (unless you're like me and forget what day it is!), today is Monday. I went to the gym.

I take my iPod along to the gym so I can drown out the rather annoying music that

blares at me from the t.v.s. Lately I've been listening to Mars Hill Church podcasts and Jesus Culture.

Today I put on a Rob Bell (Founding Pastor of Mars Hill Church) podcast and settled into my workout routine. The majority of the podcast was fantastic and thought-provoking. The last part of the podcast, Rob decided to use 2 examples of letters to accentuate the point he was making. Completely unaware of what was going to happen next, I listened on.

Perhaps some of you have heard of the infamous 'Seat 29E' and the

letter that was written sitting in this seat. For those of you who haven't, here's what the letter says:

Dear Continental Airlines,

I am disgusted as I write this note to you about the miserable experience I am having sitting in seat 29E on one of your aircrafts.

As you may know, this se

at is situated directly across from the lavatory, so close that I

can reach out my left arm and touch the door.

All my senses are being tortured simultaneously. It’s difficult to say what the worst part about sitting in 29E really is?

Is it the stench on the sanitation fluid that is blown all over my body when the door opens? Is it the whoosh of the constant flushing? OR is it the passengers asses that seem to fit into my personal space like a pornographic jig-saw puzzle?

I constructed a stink-shield by shoving one end of a blanket into the overhead compartment – while effective in blocking at least

some of the smell, and offering a small bit of privacy, the ass-on –my-body factor has increased, as without my evil glare, passengers feel free to lean up against what they think is some kind of blanketed wall. The next ass that touches my shoulder will be the last!

Putting a seat here was a very bad idea. I just heard a man GROAN in there! This sucks! Worse yet, is I’ve paid over $400.00 for the humour of seating in this seat!

I am picturing a board room. Full of executives giving props to the young promising engineer that figured out how to squeeze an additional row of seats onto this plane by putting them next to the LAV.

I would like to flush his head in the toilet that I am close enough to touch and taste from my seat.

Does your company give refunds? I’d like to go back where I came from and start over. Seat 29E could only be worse if it was located inside the bathroom.

I wonder of my clothing will retain the sanitizing odour . . .what about my hair! I feel like I’m bathing in a toilet bowl of blue liquid, and there is no man in a little boat to save me.

I am filled with a deep hatred for your plane designer and a general dis-ease that may last for hours.

We are finally descending, and soon I will be able to tear down the stink-shield, but the scars will remain.

I suggest that you initiate immediate removal of this seat from all of your crafts. Just remove it and leave the smouldering brown hole empty, a place for sturdy/non-absorbing luggage maybe, but not human cargo.

I was doing some ab crunches while chuckling to myself at this point. There were 3 other people in the weight room with me, glancing over at me, but luckily (for the most part) I was keeping my laughter in check.

Then Rob continued with this:

Dear Mr. Branson

REF: Mumbai to Heathrow 7th December 2008

I love the Virgin brand, I really do which is why I continue to use it despite a series of unfortunate incidents over the last few years. This latest incident takes the biscuit.

Ironically, by the end of the flight I would have gladly paid over a thousand rupees for a single biscuit following the culinary journey of hell I was subjected to at thehands of your corporation.

Look at this Richard. Just look at it: [see image 1, above].

I imagine the same questions are racing through your brilliant mind as were racing through mine on that fateful day. What is this? Why have I been given it? What have I done to deserve this? And, which one is the starter, which one is the desert?

You don’t get to a position like yours Richard with anything less than a generous sprinkling of observational power so I KNOW you will have spotted the tomato next to the two yellow shafts of sponge on the left. Yes, it’s next to the sponge shaft without the green paste. That’s got to be the clue hasn’t it. No sane person would serve a desert with a tomato would they. Well answer me this Richard, what sort of animal would serve a dessert with peas in: [see image 2, above].

I know it looks like a baaji but it’s in custard Richard, custard. It must be the pudding. Well you’ll be fascinated to hear that it wasn't custard. It was a sour gel with a clear oil on top. It’s only redeeming feature was that it managed to be so alien to my palette that it took away the taste of the curry emanating from our miscellaneous central cuboid of beige matter. Perhaps the meal on the left might be the desert after all.

Anyway, this is all irrelevant at the moment. I was raised strictly but neatly by my parents and if they knew I had started desert before the main course, a sponge shaft would be the least of my worries. So lets peel back the tin-foil on the main dish and see what’s on offer.

I’ll try and explain how this felt. Imagine being a twelve year old boy Richard. Now imagine it’s Christmas morning and you’re sat their with your final present to open. It’s a big one, and you know what it is. It’s that Goodmans stereo you picked out the catalogue and wrote to Santa about.

Only you open the present and it’s not in there. It’s your hamster Richard. It’s your hamster in the box and it’s not breathing. That’s how I felt when I peeled back the foil and saw this: [see image 3, above].

Now I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking it’s more of that Baaji custard. I admit I thought the same too, but no. It’s mustard Richard. MUSTARD. More mustard than any man could consume in a month. On the left we have a piece of broccoli and some peppers in a brown glue-like oil and on the right the chef had prepared some mashed potato. The potato masher had obviously broken and so it was decided the next best thing would be to pass the potatoes through the digestive tract of a bird.

Once it was regurgitated it was clearly then blended and mixed with a bit of mustard. Everybody likes a bit of mustard Richard.

By now I was actually starting to feel a little hypoglycaemic. I needed a sugar hit. Luckily there was a small cookie provided. It had caught my eye earlier due to it’s baffling presentation: [see image 4, above].

It appears to be in an evidence bag from the scene of a crime. A CRIME AGAINST BLOODY COOKING. Either that or some sort of back-street underground cookie, purchased off a gun-toting maniac high on his own supply of yeast. You certainly wouldn’t want to be caught carrying one of these through customs. Imagine biting into a piece of brass Richard. That would be softer on the teeth than the specimen above.

I was exhausted. All I wanted to do was relax but obviously I had to sit with that mess in front of me for half an hour. I swear the sponge shafts moved at one point.

Richard…. What is that white stuff? It looked like it was going to be yoghurt. It finally dawned on me what it was after staring at it. It was a mixture between the Baaji custard and the Mustard sauce. It reminded me of my first week at university. I had overheard that you could make a drink by mixing vodka and refreshers. I lied to my new friends and told them I’d done it loads of times. When I attempted to make the drink in a big bowl it formed a cheese Richard, a cheese. That cheese looked a lot like your baaji-mustard.

So that was that Richard. I didn’t eat a bloody thing. My only question is: How can you live like this? I can’t imagine what dinner round your house is like, it must be like something out of a nature documentary.

As I said at the start I love your brand, I really do. It’s just a shame such a simple thing could bring it crashing to it’s knees and begging for sustenance.

I'm more than chuckling at this point! I would've been full on laughing but I was stifling. But there's something about stifling laughter that makes it louder and much more noticeable. I started to make strange animal like sounds and at one point, I snorted. Yes. That was me.

One lady left the room. The other 2 guys that were left just kept looking at me like I was insane and should be committed which made me laugh harder! Because here I am in the middle of a gym, trying to lift weights with my quads and I'm laughing! And here are these 2 guys trying to do sit ups and push ups looking partially annoyed and partially scared for their lives! Because of ME! HA!

I finished my workout and got out of there as quickly as I could but there was no more stifling. I laughed all the way down the street to my car.

Wow. Working out is fun :O)

*a handful of pee*

*It was cold (but not as cold as toilet water normally is when it hasn't been peed in) and I found myself fighting back the urge to throw up as I fished around in the pee-ful toilet bowl for K's soother.

And I'm thinking to myself . . .'4 years ago this wasn't what I did.'*

Here I am, sitting on my couch in my dressing gown/house coat waiting for my clothes to dry (yes, it's laundry day) with CLEAN hands and finally a story worth blogging :O)

It all started when K woke up this morning and decided it was a day to be difficult. She didn't care whether or not it was Lee's turn to sleep in or not, he was GOING to get up for breakfast. Then when eating her breakfast, K decides she wants a gummy bear (we have kids vitamins in the shape of gummy bears). Since she views them more as a treat than a vitamin, I used it to bargain with her, 'eat your breakfast first and THEN you can have a gummy bear'.

Like I said, K was being difficult today and burst into ear-piercing screams that would make any dog run and hide.

'I WANT A GUMMY BEAR NOW!!!!!!'

And this continues for about 10 minutes until I see her holding herself the way kids do when they need to go to the bathroom. So I picked my sweet red-faced, tear-stained, messy-haired first born babe up in my arms and carried her up the stairs to the bathroom where she continued to scream at me while I sent her on the toilet to do her thing.

I don't know what she drank the night before, but she'd CLEARLY been holding it for a while because the floodgates opened and out came a waterfall of liquid! And K is still screaming. And still peeing. And then I see the soother in her mouth . . .and it looks like it's close to falling out of her gaping mouth and I start to feel myself sweat, just a bit.

I'm eager for K to finish going to the bathroom but like I said, she must have drunk loads and wasn't going to stop any time soon, but I could see the soother tipping precariously out of her mouth!

Then all of a sudden - PLOP! - it was in. And K was STILL peeing! And I start to go through my options.

Option 1. Is it possible to flush a soother down the toilet? Probably not.

Option 2. Ask Lee to make the decision as to what I should do and therefore placing the responsibility on him and not having to deal with it myself, but he didn't get to sleep in this morning.

Option 3. Make K fish it out. That felt a bit like child abuse

Option 4. 'Mom up' and get it out myself. And so I did.

And it was gross and felt completely wrong and I really did want to throw up. But I got it out and washed it and washed my hands.

The grossest part? When K tried to stick it BACK in her mouth after I fished it out! AHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!

I asked Lee to sterilise it while I mentally blocked the image of my sticking my hand in pee water from my head.

If anyone ever says that being a mom is easy I will DARE them to stick their hand in pee water. Be warned.

Oh, and my girls' soothers really get around.