Monday, August 24, 2009

Ignorance is bliss. And so is a good nap.

You know, ten years ago I was convinced I had special powers.

I had this gift around kids. I could easily attract the attention of children. Just with a glance. New born babies would look at me and smile. Children would come up to me and strike up a conversation without any fear or shyness. I honestly thought I was "chosen to have children". I loved kids. I taught kids dance when I was growing up. They adored me for that one hour class and hung off my every word. The parents and children showered me with complements and gifts, telling me I was soooooo special. I knew I would be the best mother and that motherhood would be a breeze for me because of my incredible connection with every child I met.

In my twenties I swore I would never end up like those so called "mothers" on the streetcar
who looked liked they hadn't showered and were giving their sweet precocious children an over the top reaming out for not sitting on their butts. (I mean really pick your battles lady. You wanted kids not china dolls).

I remember always asking my girlfriend, when she was going to stop letting her kid sleep with her and her husband, and when she was planning to stop breast feeding him. He was two for crying out loud! GROSS!

I talked to all my other twenty-something friends about this behavior and we all agreed the kid was doomed to be a total tit loving momma's boy. He'd never have a chance. She’d ruined that little boy and never ever would I do any of that crap. It's so damaging.

So it's no surprise that with all it's infinite knowing, the almighty Universe said "I'm gonna bitch slap some reality into this cocky child know-it-all."

I quickly realized I had no natural instincts with a child. None. Let alone a newborn.

Those kids I thought I had a connection with were
probably shocked by my over-sized features. I was like a circus freak they couldn't stop looking at. Oh and that cruel un-showered mother on the streetcar? I make her look like Mother Theresa cuddling a dozen 6 week old puppies in one arm while blessing orphanage with the other.

Lastly, I sleep with my daughter in her bed while my husband sleeps with the other one in our bed. Every night. And you know why? WE ALL SLEEP!

AND I'm STILL breastfeeding a two year and eight month old child.

I am living proof that if you judge you will be schooled.

So learn from my pain and keep your negative thoughts to yourself and your mouth shut.

Or there will be a shit storm.


Saturday, July 11, 2009

A classic Hamilton treat, Wheels Chocolate chip buns!!!!

Okay I've been asked for the chocolate chip bun recipe recently because I bragged about how good my 1st. attempt was on Facebook.
So for my Hamilton homies it's a lot of work but TOTALLY worth it !!!!!!
I don't have a pic right now BUT I will bake a batch and post asap.
Let me know if it's close Hammer heads.

The roll part,

Makes 30.
1/4 cup warm water (115 degrees)
2 packets (1/4 ounce each) active dry yeast
1 1/2 cups warm whole milk (115 degrees)
1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, melted, plus more for bowl and pans
1/4 cup sugar
2 1/4 teaspoons salt
3 large eggs
6 to 6 1/2 cups all-purpose flour (spooned and leveled), plus more for work surface

1. Place water in a small bowl; sprinkle with yeast, and let stand until foamy, about 5 minutes. In a large bowl, whisk together milk, butter, sugar, salt, and 2 eggs. Whisk in yeast mixture.

2. Using a wooden spoon, stir in 6 cups flour, 1 cup at a time, until you have a soft, shaggy dough (if necessary, add up to 1/2 cup more flour). Turn dough out onto a floured work surface; knead until smooth and elastic, 5 to 10 minutes. Butter the inside of a large bowl; place dough in bowl, turning to coat. Cover bowl with plastic wrap; let stand in a warm spot until dough has doubled in size, about 1 1/4 hours.

3. Butter two 13-by-9-inch baking pans. Divide dough in half. Roll each half into a 15-inch rope; cut each rope into 15 1-inch pieces. Press each piece into a disk, then shape into a ball. Arrange dough balls in prepared pans. (To make ahead: Wrap pans well, and freeze, up to 2 months.) Cover pans loosely with plastic; let stand in a warm spot until rolls have doubled in size, about 1 1/4 hours (2 hours more if frozen).

4. Preheat oven to 375 degrees, with racks in upper and lower thirds. In a small bowl, beat remaining egg until blended; brush onto rolls. Bake until golden brown, about 20 minutes, rotating pans back to front and top to bottom halfway through. Let rolls cool 15 minutes before serving.

Divide dough in half. Working with one half at a time (keep the other half covered with plastic wrap), roll dough out to a 16-by-10-inch rectangle on a lightly floured work surface.
Spread 4 tablespoons butter over dough, leaving a 1/2-inch border all around.
Spread 3/4 cups of semi sweet chocolate chips (more if you want or less if you're disciplined).

Leave a border around the filling so it doesn't seep.
Starting at a long end, roll up dough like a jellyroll; with a sharp knife, cut crosswise into 12 equal pieces.
Place buns, cut side down, in prepared pans.
Cover pans loosely with plastic; let stand in a warm spot until doubled in size, about 1 1/4 hours.
Preheat oven to 375 degrees, with racks in upper and lower thirds. Bake buns until golden brown, 25 to 30 minutes, rotating pans back to front and top to bottom halfway through. Let cool 15 minutes.

Chocolate icing recipe (use your fav or this one)
2/3 cup butter.
4 cups powdered sugar.
3 to 5 tablespoons milk.
1 teaspoon vanilla.
1/2 cup unsweetened cocoa.

In large bowl, cream butter until light and fluffy.
Blend cocoa into creamed butter. Gradually add powdered sugar, beating well after each addition.
Add milk and vanilla. Beat until blended.
(From the recipe book "Cake Decorating for the first time"by Jaynie Maxfield)

Wait until buns are completely cooled to spread the chocolate icing over the pan of rolls. Then add the icing glaze over chocolate iced rolls.

This is Paula Dean's cinnamon white icing glaze recipe.
4 Tablespoons of butter, 2 cups of icing sugar, 1 teaspoon of vanilla extract and 3 to 6 tablespoons of hot water. Mix butter, powdered sugar and vanilla, add 1 tablespoon at a time until glaze reaches desired consistency. Then eat it and send me love!!!!!

Sunday, July 5, 2009

My Million Dollar Invention!

Okay, I love my kids.
I REALLY love them.
I craft with them, I dress up with them, I play dollhouse, camping, we read, write, draw, bike ride, bake, swim, dance, garden, tea party ... you get the idea.
There are times however when I just need to take a dump without the bathroom door swinging open and being hurried along because somebody is going to pee her pants.
Yes we only have one bathroom and yes it's very third world country of us.
I also would like to take a bath without some tiny person swinging that same door open and insisting I play with their bath toys.
I'd like to read a couple of pages from a book or go on facebook or start and finish a cup of tea (before it gets cold). Watch a WHOLE movie without pressing pause 26 times. Ok, if a movie is out of the question, how about one segment of Oprah. Just one segment!

Well folks I've come up with the solution every mother on this planet has been waiting for. A product that let's you have "your time" and no one can get near you.
You can still hear and see those precious offspring but maintain your own personal space. Your little slice of heaven that you can call your own.
Ladies, I give you... The Mommy Crate!
Only 69.99
Wine not included.

Thursday, June 18, 2009

A Dog's Life

Last week I had the unpleasant task of saying good-bye to our family dog.
Norman had been with us for almost 12 years. My husband and I got him as a wee little 5 week old puppy early on in our relationship and he became a major part of our lives and eventually our family. He traveled with us, lived in multiple homes with us, welcomed our two daughters into the home, protected us, loved us and occasionally annoyed the hell out of us. Just like any good relationship does.
So as my husband and I lay with him on the floor of the vets examination room telling him how much we love him, (Norman, not the vet) ((although the vet is pretty cute)) my thoughts were racing between how much I love this dog…how much I will miss this dog…and how will I explain to my 5 year old daughter what happened to this dog.
Our oldest daughter had grown to LOVE Norman. Called him her brother. (Clearly from my husband’s side) And although we had been laying the ground work for a while that Norman was getting old and having some health (cancer) issues and would die one day, this was still going to hit her hard.
Once the deed was done and I was able to fight back the tears for a few minutes, I sat her down and delicately explained that Norman had died. She exploded into tears.
Heart breaking! How will she ever get over this? How will she grasp the concept of life and death at such a young age? Such a huge issue for such an innocent little girl.

And then, through her wailing and tears she sobbed, “Can we get a Chihuahua on Saturday?”

I think she’ll be just fine.

Me on the other hand…

R.I.P. Norman.


Wednesday, May 20, 2009


Can't...walk...Can't... sit...legs...!!!
Damn... you... bodypump.

Oh look cake!

Monday, May 18, 2009

Hate is a strong word.

We think saying the word "hate" is worse than dropping the "f" bomb in our house. My five year and eight month old (yes it makes a difference until you're about 25 years of age) says "BAD WORD" whenever anyone says it and you would swear she had tourettes at my in-laws house because "hate" and "stupid" fly around like flies on shit in that house. Annabelle's eyes are always bugging out of her head at us every time she hears it.

I started working out at the gym around the corner from my house because being naturally thin seems to be a part of my past. I guess making homemade chocolate chip cookies and chocolate chip buns and anything with chocolate chips isn't helping either.
So today I took part in my very first "body pump" class.
I used REALLY light weights so as not to cripple myself leaving me couch ridden for a week.
That would be bad. I'd have nothing to do but eat more chocolate chip things which would defeat the purpose of working out to begin with.
Vicious circle.

Alisha was the class teacher. Great energy, clearly very fit and spoke often of her 20 month old child.


At one point in the warm up with my teeny tiny weights I almost passed out and the only reason I didn't was because I talked my way out of it.

Inside voice: "If you pass out with only five pound weights by your side even the old lady beside you will point and laugh. Suck it up!!!"

I'm scared of how I'll feel tomorrow, but I'm terrified about how I will feel in two days.
Second day always kills and I'm sore eight hours after the class!
So...I hate Alisha. If you're reading this Alisha, I'm sorry. Annabelle if you're reading this? Mommy said a bad word. But the mean mean Alisha almost made mommy barf.

I hate you so much Alisha...that I'll come back. You know why? Not for washboard abs or because I want t run a marathon. I'll come back because I want to eat chocolate chip things and I don't want to have a heart attack. That's it. I will take your class and try my best not to blurt out...

bad word!

Erin zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Sunday, May 17, 2009

Speed Reading...PLEASE

It takes a village to raise a child...and a PVR to make sure you don't miss your favourite shows!

Wednesday, May 13, 2009


I never EVER thought I would be like "those" women who whip out their boobs in public and feed their child. I thought as a childless judger, they had bad timing. They were clearly not in touch with their childs feeding schedule and then would just selfishly think it's their right to just expose themselves and make the world look at busting milk bag.
Really, boobs are not at there prettiest when they are mad with milk.
They're monsters really.
I'm surprised my newborn girls weren't terrified by the swollen eggplant coming at their face.
Really nobody wants a woman to take it out and feed her one month old baby because it's not a pretty Pamela Anderson porn boob. It's less Playboy...more National Geographic. It's a monster boob with a nipple the size of a dinner plate and as brown as a well done steak.
I also was not gonna breast feed for a long time.
Maybe one year. Tops.
I'm a not tit witch.
Get the job done, do your duty, then feed them a sandwich.
Well the first one I breast fed for 18 months and she bit me twice. The first time I screamed. The second time she was done.
I'm still breast feeding my second one. She's 2 years and four months.
I know!
She loves the boob. I mean she LOVES the boob and I'm too tired to ween her. She loves the boob so much I was sleeping with my back to her and in the middle of the night I heard "boobie...boobie". My shirt was up and I 've got this mole on my back...
Yes that's right. She tried to latch on to my mole. Suddenly I was a thrity-eight year old woman with a back nipple. That's how much she loves the boob.
And you know what? I let her. I was so tired I let my child latch onto my back mole nipple. I thought this might work. I could give the ones in the front a break.

Oh and I feed her public.
And I love the looks of distain from the twenty-year-old high heeled childless judgers.
They'll get their turn.


Saturday, May 9, 2009

another single mom shout out

Oops, I forgot to mention another very cool single mother, my high school friend Jen who has two kids and just got her nursing degree this month.
I'm thinking of teaching an exercise class if there's time...

Mothers Day

Mother's day is tomorrow so, before I go on...

Mom I love you and thank you for being my angel here on earth. I keep trying to do right by you. My kids deserve the love and endless patience and support you gave me.
You made it look easy.
Way too easy.
I the hell did you make it look so easy!?

I still want to snuggle with you and share the ups and downs of my day because it makes me feel so safe. Nothing I could ever do would stop you from loving me.
I feel like I picked the best woman to be my Mom and every day I'm thankful.

Okay Happy Mother's day to all Mother's out there. We all deserve a day to have breakfast in bed, to not do laundry, to go to the gym, to get some cards and/or flowers and/or chocolate.

About once a week when I'm in the shit, I think "I don't know how single Moms do it?"

So to all my single Mama's like Mel at the drop-in centre who is raising her son on her own, is incredible at her job, who is positive and supportive to each and everyone of us and loves our children, I say thank you.

To Maia who lives in N.Y. and has two lovely kids while performing eight shows a week on Broadway in "9 to 5" and has the most incredible outlook on life, thank you.

And to my friend Stacey-Lea who suddenly became a single mom to two kids (nobody died, just a mid-life crisis) and runs her own business with the energy love and passion that would put most people to shame, thank you.

I am in awe of your strength and I am honoured to call you my friends.

To you ladies I say Happy Mother's day.

I will never complain again.
(for the rest of the day)


Sunday, May 3, 2009

Sometimes It's A Crappy Job

My two-year-old was in the tub and about 10 minutes into her bath as I was setting up the towel for the drying process I hear "Mama Poop Out! Poop Out!" I turn around and there is my angelic little girl being circled by a dozen of her own poop balls like a hungry pack of lions on a frightened baby gazelle. She had this look of horror on her face. The expression of the weak one in the herd that had wandered away from the pack. That poop didn't look all that happy either.
I quickly snatched her from the fecal clutches and called my husband. He rushed in, assessed the situation, considered his options, and took the clean toddler to diaper and get ready for bed.
I was left with the shit soup.
I had no idea how I was going to get the crap out. Oh did I mention there was three dozen bath toys amongst the dump. MOSTLY squirt toys.
I thought about using a spoon to scoop the poop, but anytime I'd eat a yogurt after the clean up I would inevitably think "is this the Poppy poop spoon?"
Or what if we had guests over and they needed a spoon for their tea or coffee? Shit spoon roulet.
So...I used my hand and scooped 9 mini dumps out the tub and into the toilet.
It actually wasn't that bad. I mean, she's my kid, right? This is family poop.
It's like when you have to pick up after your dog on your daily walk. When it comes out of your dog it's second nature to clean it up, but when you're forced to pick up an annoynmous doggy dump you're gagging all the way through it.
Mind over matter.
If that had been my nephew's crap I would've passed out. And that would be totally acceptable because he's not mine...and he's thirteen.
Erin zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Tuesday, April 28, 2009


Sometimes I don't have time to pick up these...

because I'm busy making these!


Sunday, April 19, 2009

Fart Breath

A couple of days ago I was rushing to get my oldest daughter out the door and to school on time. I live around the corner from the school. (You know where I'm going here) I can get up at 6:30 a.m., have everybody's snacks packed, clothes laid out the night before and still, I am barely getting her to school on time. What is it? What's wrong with my game plan? Well for one thing my two year old, like clock work, takes a big dump between 8:30 and 8:45 a.m. so almost every morning her poop throws a stench wrench in my schedule. I'd leave it and come back home and change her, but nooooo. When we get to school she wants to walk around, and then everyone sees and smells the tennis ball crap in her pants at which point the judgmental looks from moms are hurled at me like daggers wrapped in wet wipes .
Anyhoo, this particular day Annie was wearing her long coat and because of the buttons on it we ended up being face to face for a minute.
She said to me, shoving her chin into her neck to get as far away from me as possible, that when my perfume...blended with my smelled like a fart. Or maybe it was Poppy's diaper.
In my defense, everyone gets breakfast before 9:00 a.m.except me. I get to have a cup of tea that was hot but had to be consumed cold because somebody always needs something so the tea has to wait. So cold tea breath is not an uncommon occurrence.
I told Annie I was really hungry and was in a hurry so to kill two birds with one stone I ate Poppy's poopy diaper. That's what Mum's do. Eat on the run.
I thought I was being funny and clever.
She just wanted to know why I would kill two birds.

Wednesday, April 15, 2009

What Does He Know?

Every now and then my husband will come home from work and listen to me complain about how crazy the kids were and how lonely I feel and how I can't stand the mess, and his response is generally "I know babe, I know babe".

This is not the correct response.

The correct response would be "Come here, into my arms"...he holds me close and then says... "Go upstairs and relax. I'll take the girls to the park and you can do something on your own. Then I'll make dinner and CLEAN UP without letting anything soak over night in the sink, walk the dog, fold the laundry and put it away."

To say "I know" means he has experienced the last 5 years of dealing with the pee, poop, snot, tears, glue, soggy cereal, screaming, poop, biting, brushing, cleaning, not sleeping, knots, rain, snow, shopping, bathing, breakfast, lunches, dinners, laundry, poop, gymnastics, jazz, tap, ballet, acting, gym, birthday parties, drop in centers, play dates, barf, politics, blood, doctor appointments and more poo.

I think this misunderstanding started when I got pregnant and I overheard my excited husband tell people "WE" were pregnant. We? The last time I checked it was my body that was a human petree dish and he was just toasting his buddys and bragging about how potent his swimmers are. So I took him aside and explained that "We aren't pregnant. I'm pregnant. Just like I don't go around telling people we're going bald. Get it? Now get me some food, and buckle in for a few years of mood swings!" My already pastie white husband turned a lighter shade of pale.

So here we are now greeting each other at the end of the day, stepping carefully as we listen to each other retell our days adventures at the office or here at home, both thinking we have the harder of the two jobs.

But that's for another blog!

Friday, April 10, 2009

I'm Freak'n Tired !!!

I used to sleep. I love sleep. If it was legal I would divorce my husband and marry sleep. I would sign an iron clad prenup for sleep if it asked me. I would swallow for sleep. Yep. Yes I would.Children don't let you sleep. I am not the same. I'm angry and impatient and rude. I used to smile and laugh and now I drink as much caffeine as possible and I'm shaky and the verge of violent. I'm starting to become paranoid because of the lack of sleep. I'm sure that I have given up my entire career and personality and speaking in full sentences to look after children for 14 hours for the REST OF MY LIFE and the house will always be a dump even though I haven't peed in 9 hours because I haven't stopped cleaning.I love it when my sister (who doesn't have children.....yet) says "I'm tired". I want to punch her in the throat. I know D.I.N.K.'s (double income no kids) can feel sleepy but yesterday at 5:00 in the evening I had to talk myself out of barfing because I was so tired. I had shaky legs and was losing my voice by eight..... then I made dinner and did laundry.I'm seriously going to join Lava Life and date Sleep.... or maybe just have internet sleep...zzzzzz

Thursday, April 9, 2009

Wednesday, April 8, 2009

From the mouths of babes

My two year old has hit her speaking stride. Everyday she's got new words...well words only her mother can figure out. Okay after we spend twenty minutes playing charades.

"Moley"she says. "Mole?" I ask. "Nooooo" (with a slight key change at the end). "Moley" she says. "Goalie?" I ask. I'm reaching because she has never seen a hockey game ever. "Noooooooo" she says, "MOOOLLEYYYY" like I 'm deaf. "Ohhhhhhh I got it" I say "MONKEY!!!!" "Nooooooo" (and key change) "I don't know baby, I just don't know", feeling like a total failure. And then she says "it okay Mommy me know don't too...cake."

Dr Sears can tell us how their brains function but he can't tell us how to understand what the hell they're saying. It's like I'm trying to understand a very sloppy drunk "Nell".

Okay, I need a nap.
Erin Keazzzzzzzzzzzzz...

"Observation of the day"
Clint Black and George W. look very similar...although on Celebrity Apprentice Clint seemed controlling, chauvinistic and not that bright. Wait a second.

"Song of the day"
"Rock Me Right" Artist: Susan Tedeschi Album: Just Won't Burn

"The Deal of The Day!"
Price Choppers has Crispy Mini's on sale for $1.25 a bag.
WHATTTT!!!!!!!! First bag was gone in 5 minutes... good thing I bought five of them and good thing I don't have 25 minutes to myself.

Tuesday, April 7, 2009


My name is Erin and I am a loving mother of two beautiful sweet little girls.
Well...most of the time I'm loving. And most of the time they're sweet.
Actually, you could probably draw a direct correlation between when they're not sweet and when I'm not loving.
Here's a glimpse.
Been there?
Tell me about it.
No...literally. I want you to tell me about it.
(more to come)