We Interrupt our Regularly Scheduled Blogging To Bring This Announcement

I have been severely restricted in my blogging and online activities for the past few days. On Saturday, I was granted a "get out of jail free" card by my husband for the day. Okay, no, my family is not a jail. It's just every so often, I like to have alone time.

As I walked in the door, David asked me if I wanted the good news or the bad news first. (Note to self, never greet David that way again.) I'll give it to you in the order I got it.

Good news: Jake did not brain himself and require a trip to the hospital.

Bad news: Jake, who has acquired cord chewing as a new skill, pulled my laptop off the couch, narrowly missing his head.

The laptop, through some sort of inner workings miracle, still functions. My power cord, however, is somewhat mangled. A lot mangled. Beyond repair.

Now fortunately, David has the identical power cord for his Mac. Not so fortunately, he needs it at work, for work. Somehow my needing to blog and keep up with my internet activities have not convinced him to leave the power cord at home. And I have subsequently discovered how bad my battery is. Although it says I should get 2 hours of activity, it lies. I think I get 45 minutes at most. The cord costs about $100 to replace which is, to quote David, "worth more than your laptop."

Sigh.

And today, David is out of the house until 10pm...

HOW WILL I SURVIVE??!

Skip a 12 step program for Rockband. I need one for myself.

Orange Crush

Two months ago, Dave arrived home with Rockband. For the uninitiated, that would be Xbox 360's version of crack for the video game addict.

We have a drum set, a guitar and a mike, which despite my pleas, have never found an out-of-the-way spot. They have, instead, become fixtures in our living room, squarely in front of the TV armoir.

Needless to say, Dave has logged many hours on drums or guitar, learning to increase our family's fame and fortune by becoming the next big musical sensation. Okay, who am I kidding? It's pretty damned addictive. I've been playing too. I favour the guitar. David and I have our own band: The Def Tones. Yeah, we've taken it on the road. Played a few charity gigs. Increased our fan base. We rock. And can I say, between his metal stud collar and my purple mohawk, we look pretty damn good.

But lest it seem like this is an adult pursuit, think again. Nate loves it too.

Every day, he asks to play Rockstar and when we acquiesce, he drags his chair over to the drums, sets himself up, and demands Orange Crush. No, that's not his drink choice to quench the thirst of hitting the skins for 15 minutes. It's REM's Orange Crush. And he knows the words too. He sings along, "I got my spine. I got my Orange Crush." He's actually, not that bad. (If you've ever tried singing along with Rockband, you'll know how hard it is to do it successfully... ie avoid being booed off the stage.)

Here's Nate and Dave doing a set together. (Jake often participates by chewing on the cords, but that's another story.)



On Saturday, our Xbox 360 melted down. Nate has been repeatedly asking for Orange Crush, but with the Xbox reduced to a dripping mass of chemical goo -- that's how I see a meltdown -- Nate's had to go cold turkey. The withdrawal's been hard. We've all suffered the side effects, but the pleas of an addicted child are particularly hard to listen to.

It'll probably be another three weeks before we can get the hardware problem fixed. Anyone know of any 12 step programs out there?

To Blog or Not to Blog

I was reading Aimee over at Greeblemonkey today, only to learn that the mommy blogging world was in an uproar. Apparently, The Globe and Mail published this article which referenced two mommy bloggers I read on a regular basis. The comments on the G&M article are what astounded me. There are some vicious people out there who have launched attacks on Catherine Connors (Her Bad Mother) and Kelly Graham-Schere (Don Mills Diva) based on a somewhat sensational and poorly researched article. The comments were, to say the least, ill-informed and, naturally, anonymous.

These women have defended themselves eloquently on their blogs, and I would encourage those interested to read the posts. However, what it has brought up to me, again, is the vitriol people feel justified in spewing anonymously through commenting forums. One thing that David and I have said repeatedly about the online world is that it supports people hiding behind a veil of anonymity in order to abuse others.

In my opinion, if you don't like reading something, don't support it. If you hate reality TV, don't watch it. Personally, I love reading other parenting blogs. I find it to be a partial replacement for the no longer existent neighbourhood coffee group. Blogs are a new way for people to reach out to one another across huge geographical divides. And they are truly populist. Anyone can write one. Anyone can read one. Anyone can join the community. Heck, I remember my mom and Betty M. reading Erma Bombeck passages aloud to each other and howling with laughter. (Frankly, I didn't see why it was so funny at the time, but I'm sure I'd have a new appreciation for her now.) Frequently, I read a funny/topical/poignant blog post and pass it on to my husband or friends. Just as my mom and her friends did with Erma.

Since I derive a feeling of community from the bloggers out there, it bothers me to see others try to put them down through ill-founded insults. I could only hope to write as eloquently and wittily as Kelly and Catherine. And I feel sorry for those who cannot recognize their talents (and love for their families). But mostly, I feel sorry for those who do not have the courage or conviction to put their full, real names next to the opinions they spout so readily.

Hockey woes

The Canucks, as I'm sure you're all aware, didn't make the playoffs.

Since I am out of bloggy ideas for the day, since Backpacking Dad was going on about his famous hockey buddy, and since David had this post about his brush with hockey fame, I thought I'd pass the puck buck this morning.

After I've mainlined some caffeine, I may be back at you with something a little less sweaty, gritty, sporty.

Kids Can't Walk at 7 Months... Can They?

Are you familiar with yoga? I had a brief flirtation with it pre-kids. Ahhhh, those were the days. The ones when I used to do something physical every day of the week: running, yoga, pilates, weights, Ultimate Frisbee. However, despite the desire to get back into shape, I still haven't taken the plunge. Unlike David who ran a 10k this past weekend, I have been rocking the couch potato records.

Lately it seems, I've been surrounded by activity. David's running. Nate's biking, climbing, swinging, or swimming. Even Jake's getting in on the action. Because I swear to you, he's been doing yoga for the past week. Every time I look over, he's in the downward dog position.

Unfortunately, as soon as I grab the camera, he drops out of it and mugs for the lens. So I today I managed to get off a couple of shots, but they don't show his best form. It's at the end of the day and he's tired. His clothes are super baggy, so you can't see the line as well. But sometimes, he stands in that position for 2 minutes.

Okay, here's what he does about 30 times a day:



David saw him do it this weekend for the first time. His thoughts are not yoga. He thinks Jake's trying to walk. Now, this kid's been crawling since 4 months. But kids don't walk at 7 months do they? I mean, really, tell me it's not possible. 'Cause I'd much rather believe he's just destined to be a yogi when he's older. Please tell me this kid is not about to take off...

The Wiggles

Nathan seems to be more like David in temperament than he is like me.

Saturday, we planned a special date for Nate. We dropped Jake off at a friend's house and hit the Pacific Coliseum to see The Wiggles. If you're not a parent and you haven't heard of them, they are The Beatles for the under 8 set. If you are a parent and you haven't heard of them, I'd like to know how you managed that.

The first time we watched a Wiggles DVD with Nate, David and I cringed and left the room after 10 minutes. It seemed like one of the more painful experiences in our listening lives. But then, a few months later, we took a 4 hour car trip and Nate refused to have any other DVD in the portable player. We listened to The Wiggles so much, we knew which song was coming before it played. We knew all the words. We, *gasp in horror* found ourselves humming the songs spontaneously during the following weeks. We decided some of the tunes were a little catchy. Nate had made us converts.

Months ago, I heard The Wiggles were coming back to Vancouver, so I bought three tickets. I purposely didn't tell Nate too early because I didn't want him to get overly excited. Plus, telling a toddler about something a month in advance may as well be telling him five years in advance. Thus, I wisely kept the event to myself.

A few days before, we broke the news to Nate who seemed, well, non-plussed. But we put it down to the fact that he'd never been to a concert, so he couldn't be too excited, not knowing exactly what we were talking about. Over the days though, his excitement seemed to build.

Saturday morning finally came and David and I were definitely more excited than Nate. In fact, Nate was seriously subdued throughout the car ride, not even chatting up his usual storm.

When we arrived at the venue 30 minutes early (since I hate to be late for anything), we discovered there was lots of time for treats and building up the event. Nate got popcorn, fries and ketchup and part of a chocolate bar. I hoped the sugar wouldn't make him too over the top!

Finally, the show began and Nate... just sat there. Not a smile. Not a reaction. Nothing. Eventually David pulled Nate onto his lap and held his hands to clap, do some arm motions, etc. For this he did crack a smile. After a while though, he had had enough and sat back in his own seat, unsmiling.

I was gutted. Devastated. Why on earth was my child not ecstatic about seeing The Wiggles. Ironically, the entire audience seemed to be in a kind of funk and the toddler mosh pit was decidedly small. I started to feel badly for the Wiggles and clapped loudly and cheered them on. (Yes, I imagine I sounded much like an idiot.)

When the show was over, we walked back to the car where Nate promptly fell asleep in the backseat. Granted, I've since discovered that he's incubating a nasty cold. But I feel deflated. This was so much NOT the day I had envisioned. If it were me, I would have felt wound up for days. David says that he was like Nate as a child. Having a good time, but not willing or perhaps able to show it on the outside.

Meanwhile, I have driven David crazy over the past day and a half, asking, "Do you think he really had a good time? Why don't you think he seemed to enjoy it? What's WRONG WITH OUR CHILD?!" It's not the first time I've noticed that Nate has a hard time expressing emotions in an overt manner. Is there any way to change this?

In any case, I think I'd better start working on Jake now. I'm sure the Wiggles will be back in the next few years. And darned if I'm not going to get one kid like me out of the bargain.

Photo Friday

The boys would like to say:

"Don't forget to wear a hat in the sun."



"Get out and enjoy some family time."



"And spay and neuter your pets."



Okay. Maybe Chilco didn't wish for that. He might have said something like, "And don't forget to pick up the marrow bones at your local butcher shop." But sometimes things get lost in translation.

'Cause the Customer, You Know, Is Always Right

Wrong.

Today I took two tired toddlers to the mall. (Hey, alliteration and all!)

That's my story.

Kidding. Okay, let's start again.

I went to the mall to run a "few" errands, which means I go with a list of ten things to buy and hope to get through about one third of the list before I decide it is prudent to hightail it out of retail hell.

Jake has been needing some new sleepwear as his toes are threatening to poke through the feet of his sleepers. The first kids' store I hit was Please Mum (since I try to shop Canadian as much as I can) where they had a fantastic sale on. So fantastic that they did not have anything left in either kids' sizes. So I left to hit up Gap Kids.

Nate shouted, "Yay! Another kids clothing store! Let's run and see who can get there first mommy." (In your dreams. Of course he didn't. What BC Bud are you all smoking?)

Gap Kids had a shrine to sleepwear on the back wall, which suited me just fine. Until I noticed that there was nothing in Jake's size. Again. (Have I mentioned that my not quite 7 month old is in 12-18 month sizes? Yikes!) After simultaneously sorting through all 172 packages to find the two remaining sleepers in the correct size, and yanking Nate out of the middle of the circular skirt rack, where he was doing Lord knows what, I noticed the sign, "PICK any TWO and pay $17 EACH." (Ed. note: their caps, not mine.)

I moseyed on up to the cash register and saw to my relief that I was second in line. I hate lineups with kids in tow. We waited. And waited. And waited some more. It seems that the clerk, whose first language was obviously not English, and the customer, whose first language most definitely was not English, were deep in discussion over the finer points of her bill. Maybe she was shocked at our 15% tax rate. (Yes, you Americans read that right. 15%. I know, makes you wanna move right up here to Canada next month, doesn't it?) In any case, later, rather than sooner, it was my turn.

She scanned my purchases, and said, "Oh look. Theeese one, it is on for the sale."

I smiled, "Um. I think they both are."

"No," she shook her head, "Chust theeese one. Look."

"Uh, but your sign up there says I can buy two for $17," I explained as I pointed to the sign whose caps were clearly visible from 40 feet away.

She froze. Obviously, I had rocked her world to the core. At that moment her supervisor walked by the till and some frantic whispering ensued, both of them spinning from the register, back to look at the sign, then back to the register. Finally, the supervisor spoke very loudly, but without making eye contact with me.

"Just hit override and type in $17.00. Obviously people just don't understand that sign. We'll have to take it down." And she turned abruptly on her heel.

(Good news folks, I now represent "the people".)

Now, I have an honours degree in English Literature. I have suffered through studied James Joyce, Walt Whitman, Ishmael Reed. I figured I had deconstructed that sign to the max. Apparently not.

Let's hope the university doesn't start calling to tell me they're taking back my degree.

(Ed. note. And no, there was no fine print like "Applies to sale items only.")

Hey mom, I've been thinking.




Maybe we should return these PJs. Do you think they make my butt look fat?

We Interrupt Our Regularly Scheduled Programming

to bring you this brief announcement:

Am sick.

Back tomorrow.

Hopefully.

And now I'm off to go do this:

Let the Sun Shine In, Meet it With a Grin

Vancouver is a bad, bad place. It sucked me in, deceived me, and when it was too late to pull out, showed its true colours.

The first year I lived here, I don't think I saw a day of rain for three or four months. The next three years were equally glorious. Winter was confined to some rainy days from November to February. But it was sunny, flowered, mild, blue-skied for so much of those three point five years that I began to think I had died and gone to heaven, and no one had told me.

Then, once I was good and truly settled in, the rains came. And stayed for one and a half straight years. We had, perhaps, four days of sun. Total. Just to tease us. Just to remind us of what we once had.

And we collectively decided that we had a permanent case of SAD.

David started having an affair with California, and left me frequently for business trips down south.

However, this past weekend, it all changed. The sun came out all day, both days. Vancouver kissed and made up with us. And everything's all right again with the world.

Here's what happens when the sun shines:

Playing is more fun,


there's more spring in our step,


more oomph in our crawl,


lollipops taste better,


and days end peacefully.

If I Knew This...

I am so excited! All you sophisticated bloggy-types can laugh up your sleeves at me, but I was just tagged for a meme by McMommy over at The McMommy Chronicles. I feel like I've just been initiated into the bloggy fold. But enough about me. 'Cause I have to write more about me. (Whoo hoo! I love this meme thing already.)

Okay, so I am tasked with revealing "Five Classes I Wish They Would've Taught in School." Alrighty then. In no particular order:

1. Finding the fastest line at the grocery store.
This is not to be confused with finding the shortest line at the grocery store. Without fail, I end up in the line where the clerk is one or more of the following:

- in training,
- looking for a new BFF amongst the customers,
- telling a story about every item the person is purchasing,
- suffering from carpel tunnel syndrome in both wrists and can't lift anything heavier than a lemon,
- busy flirting with the bag packers,
- practicing zen meditation between swipes of the barcode across the scanner.

2. Crying like a true star.
Whenever a sad movie, important event, or marital spat (not that we ever fight) crosses my path, I would love to be able to shed a beautifully formed tear down the apple of my cheek to be brushed away by the delicate flick of a manicured finger. You know. The way it happens on TV. Instead, I am a messy crier. My eyes well up, my lips start to tremble and my chest constricts as big heaving sobs are wrenched from me. I usually have to use the backs of both hands, my sleeves and whatever else is available to sop up the torrent of salt water and snot that rushes everywhere. Yeah. Attractive ain't it.

3. Learning to burn the candle at both ends.
I now know why smart people have kids in their 20s. When you are in your 20s, you are used to going without sleep. That's what university or college is for. Party all night, get up early, go to class, cat nap (hopefully not during class) and then party all night again. (Mom, dad, are you reading this? That wasn't me. Just my roommates.) But then you cruise into your mid 30s and, well frankly, you get used to a solid 7 (or if you're me, 9) hours of shut eye. And then you get blessed with babies who think sleep is an evil thing meant only for the weak. I calculated it the other day. Since I had Nate just over 3 years ago, I'm owed 652 hours of missed sleep.

4. Acquiring Photoshop skills through osmosis.
A few years ago I bought a dSLR (digital camera with interchangeable lenses). But, I found that my black and white photography skills didn't translate well to the digital world. I had to learn to see colour all over again. It's almost three years later and I'm still dissatisfied with my straight out of the camera shots. I've been told that Photoshop can help me. So, I acquired it, installed it on my laptop and opened the program. Then I yelped in horror, jumped two feet back from the laptop and refused to open the program again. A week ago I broke down and bought Photoshop CS2 for Dummies. I have been sleeping with it under my pillow. I figure in about 3 more sleeps, I'll have that little piece of software conquered.

5. Learning how to let go.
I recently discovered that there aren't really 32 hours in my 24 hour day and I can't accomplish everything I might want to. So, I am learning to let go of a couple of things and embrace a new reality. Here's the truth about a few things you might be struggling with:

- dust bunnies provide hours of entertainment for 6 month olds;
- dog hair clumps on the carpets provide additional snacks for 6 month olds;
- discarded jackets, blankets, art work, random socks, old newspapers and dog blankets in your car provide additional cushioning should you ever be in an accident;
- dirty dishes on the counter are a celebration of the meal your family enjoyed together.

Boy, all this talking about me was a lot of fun. I should do it more often!

According to the rules, I am to tag 5 other bloggy-types I'd like to get to know better. So,

Shawn from Backpacking Dad

Jen from Amazing Trips

Kittenpie from Life of 'Pie

Heather from Life in Jirkaville

Barbara from Barbara's 366

you peeps are up!

Friday's Photo

While I know that some bloggers are doing the Wordless Wednesday posts, I am going to start my own tradition: Friday's Photo.

Okay, Wordless Wednesday sounds a bit better and I might just gravitate towards it because I am nothing if not a lemming and if all my friends jumped off a cliff, yes, I'd probably be right there in the middle of the pack.

But for today humour me.

Here is my Friday Photo. Tell me this doesn't just make your heartstrings zing!

My Son Has a Crush

Recently, we moved to a new house and in a somewhat backwards situation, the owners rent the house to us and live in the suite. This can be explained somewhat by the fact that houses in the most popular areas of North Vancouver are over a million. So the young couple who owns the house can't afford the mortgage.

But I'm not here to tell you the story of housing and its (in)affordability in the lower mainland. Instead, I'm here to tell you how my husband's heart was broken.

Brian, for my son, is Bob the Builder personified. He wields an axe (this guy chopped about 8 million cords of wood last month in the backyard), he climbs tall ladders (to clean the eaves, fix the gutter downspout), he mows the lawn with a power mower. In short, he is the object of my son's affection.

When Nate hears a car door slam, he runs to the side door yelling, "Is Brian home?!!"

And as soon as Brian does come back, Nate throws on his plastic yellow Bob the Builder hat, runs outside, and with a shy, "Hi Brian" proceeds to follow him everywhere, proudly announcing, "I'm supervising, mom." I'm pretty sure he doesn't realize that supervising places him hierarchically above Brian. He just thinks that he is participating in whatever Brian is doing.

My husband first noticed Nate's crush on the weekend when Nate brushed us all off to see what Brian was doing in the yard. We had to wait until Brian was done mowing the lawn before we could drag Nate away from the house.

I'm sure that Nate will get over his crush soon enough. But for now, I think my husband's heart is just a little sad.

I'm Not Above Hawking My Kids For Free Time

As a stay at home mom (at least for this year), it's important to find ways to get rid of your kids for a short period of time find stimulating activities to promote their development.

So flipping through the North Vancouver rec guide for the spring/summer, I found a great Wednesday activity: circus school. Okay, so Motherbumper might have freaked me out a little bit with her latest post's picture, but I'm still sending him.

Today is day one. They promise trampolines, trapezes, and a few other essential skills. I figure by the end of the classes, Nate will be good enough to stand on a street corner and busk. The curiosity factor alone will net me enough money to buy a latte or two.

Now if I can only find a monkey suit and an organ to grind, I can set up Jake beside him and make enough for a muffin too.

I guess David's entrepreneurial spirit is starting to rub off on me too!

Homework... Modern Day Evil?

As the parent of a 3 year old, David and I have started the discussion about schools. Where will Nate go? What programs do we enroll him in? Should he be in daycare of preschool? When he goes to kindergarten, what will be be looking for in our local school, or private school, or separate school, or independent school? (What is an independent school, anyway? I have yet to get a satisfactory answer to that question.)

Living in Canada, I have to say that we are generally blessed with a fairly robust public school system. Yes, it has bumps and bruises, but generally speaking, kids fare well. And, for those parents who wish, there are any number of other options.

Recently though, schools have been in the news over a recent Canadian study which effectively said that homework, in the primary grades (K to 6) is not particularly effective and might even be harmful to a child's development. As a result, the Toronto School Board is considering imposing limitations and/or bans on homework for these years. Here in Vancouver, local talk radio shows and newspapers are taking up the cry, "Should we ban homework in schools?"

As a former high school English teacher I listened to the debates with interest. Frankly, I don't remember having homework in grade school. I'm sure I did. But I can comment on what a headache homework was when dealing with 120 high school kids a day. Now, there's no way you can teach an English class (or many other subject areas) without assigning homework. That being said, unless you can offer feedback on it, it often becomes a meaningless exercise.

When I think of my sons' school futures, I have many hopes and many anxieties. But strangely enough, worrying about homework in kindergarten wasn't one of them. I was more worried about things like Will he make friends, or stand in the corner picking his nose all day? Will he be the paste user or the paste eater? Not, Will my 5 year old be able to successfully locate and spell all the Canadian provinces and create an interpretive paper mache model depicting his feelings on being a Canadian. (Okay, a little hyperbole never hurt anyone.)

Ah this parenting gig. I have so much to look forward to. Now where are my flashcards...

Are Aquariums PC?

We get our fair share of them. Rainy days that is. Today is one, but more palatable after a full week of sunshine and nice weather.

On rainy days, I need to pull out my arsenal of "things to do". Something that went over really well with Nate a few months ago was the Vancouver Aquarium located in Stanley Park. We went again today and I brought my camera along to grab a few shots.



But here is my dilemma. Is an aquarium the same thing as a zoo? I hate zoos; philosophically, I think it's cruel to take animals out of their habitat and throw them in cages for our viewing pleasure. I know there is the argument that they are endangered, they need to be bred, they have no habitat left, etc. But still, I can't see how a bear living in a cemented enclosure with one tree to climb, or a lion located near the 49th parallel is very happy, or healthy.



So by patronizing an aquarium, am I doing the same thing? The Vancouver Aquarium, somewhat to its credit, says it will not be acquiring any more animals who do not need help or rehabilitation. Still, it remains a bit of a moral grey area for me.



Conscience aside, Nate absolutely loves the "fish place" and I'm sure he'll want to go back again.



And who knew jelly fish could look so good.

Spring Has Sprung

I absolutely LOVE spring. It has been too long in coming to Vancouver... roughly 24 months I think. Seriously, we have been in rain for two years straight, and it has started to affect everyone's mood. But this week has been sunny and *warm* and the kids and I have been taking full advantage, spending a huge amount of time out of doors.

(We still go outdoors when it rains, because it's Vancouver folks. If you didn't go out in the rain, you'd be indoors for a serious portion of your life.)

Today we went to our favourite haunt: Ambleside Park. Because the dog was off with the dog walkers, it was one less thing I had to contend with. Good thing too as everyone was a bit chilled from the wind off the water. We didn't actually walk that far.

But here's a glimpse of our day.

Nate hit the slides first:



And then the swings, which, like his mama before him, are hands down his favourite thing to do:





Meanwhile, Jake idled nearby in the stroller. I think Jake would rather have been outside on the swing, but it was too windy. I tried to pull down the cover so he could see and still be, somewhat, part of the action:



Nate then hit the walk for a little cruise. Note the style and flair of the matching bike, helmet and sunglasses:



We wound up the day with a trip to Starbucks for the best deal on the planet, a $1.00 kids hot chocolate with whipped cream and red sparkles. Nate has a system. Eat the whipped cream with a spoon, then drink down the rest with a straw. Nothing is allowed to interfere with that order.







Did we have a good day? What does this face tell you?

Pavement, Meet Chin, Chin, Meet Pavement

Easter weekend we bought Nate a two-wheeler. And in one weekend, he learned how to ride the sucker.

Okay, okay, don't get ahead of yourselves there. He learned to ride it with training wheels. But that's saying a lot. Considering that it is a whole other pedalling motion and that there is braking to consider (pedalling backwards). And the bike weighs about three times what his tricycle did.

So today we decided to take a little trip down to Edgemont village: Nate on bike, Jake in stroller, dog, well, dog left behind in the house. There's only so much that one woman can take on.

Nate biked the whole way to the village, all around the village, hit up his favourite stores, and then decided to head back home.

Home is the challenge. It's about 90% uphill which means that I had one hand one the stroller (uphill mind you, uphill), one hand on Nate's handle bars and both eyes scanning the busy road.

As we approached an intersection, I was trying to get Nate's cycle over to the little wheelchair dip... you know, where the sidewalk meets the roadway? As the stroller started going the wrong way, I reached to grab it with both hands and somehow, Nate steered into the driveway of the house near the corner. Next thing I knew, he was over the handlebars, head first. There was a moment of silence where I thought, hmmm, maybe he didn't hurt himself.

And then the silence was broken.

As I hurriedly put the brakes on the stroller and picked up Nate, there was a little screwed up face and blood everywhere. Head wounds bleed copiously, and I had nothing with me to sop up the blood and assess the damage. Even my coat was leather and useless for that. I tried using my hands and within moments looked like an extra in a horror movie... both were coated bright red. And that seemed to be adding to Nate's freak out.

I wrestled Nate out of his coat and simultaneously tried to soothe him, mop up the blood with his coat, and see if he'd bitten through his lower lip. As blood was pouring from inside and out, I thought it a very real possibility.

While this was going on, a man emerged from the house, climbed into his car and sat there, waiting for me to clear everyone out of his way.

Is it just me, or is that weird? My instinct would be to ask if I could help. I remember when I was a little girl and running home, I tripped on the curb and skinned both knees very badly. A neighbour saw me, came out of her house and carried me home, bloodied mess and all.

Eventually, I got everyone home. I even convinced Nate to get back on the bike since he wouldn't have to walk up the big hill. By the end of the next three blocks, he was pedalling merrily up to the house. He's a braver boy than I would ever have been at that age.

Here, is photographic record. I'm sure the bruising will get worse over the week. But don't worry, I won't start a chronical for you.