You know you're a mom when...

Your lasagna is packed full of hidden vegetables. ha! Poor kid never knew what hit 'em.

Let's make some lasagna, eh!

Get your stuff together. The good thing about lasagna is that there really is no wrong ingredient. I'm always intrigued by what other people put in their lasagna. Forgot what's in their medicine cabinet, check out someone's lasagna to really discover some things about them. Beef, chicken, turkey, tofu, whatever floats your boat. Me, I'm a classicist, I go for Beef. I like to throw in some spinach, mushrooms, garlic, onions. Again, pretty classic. Here's where I go indie - I also throw in some pureed cauliflower and turnip. Yum! And the best part is, you would never know they're there. Sneaky sneaky. My mom was also renowned for adding in some tofu, and using spinach noodles and her lasagna was delicious. Like I said, you can't really go wrong.

Get yourself set up. Throw some tomato sauce in the bottom of your pan. I used jarred sauce. I have no shame.


This is important. Eyes front people. Oven Ready Noodles. There is no other


Start by browning your meat. Once cooked, throw in your onions and garlic. Don't forget the spinach, cauliflower and turnip!


Now get this - I add a twist. I put in some...wait for it, wait for it...cream cheese. Oh yes. Oh HELL yes. creamy goodness. trust me, do it.


Put in a layer of noodles. It doesn't have to be pretty, trust me on this one. The only thing that's important is that they overlap. just go wild.


Throw some more sauce on top. The noodles need the moisture. And I like tomatoes.


next, add half the meat mixture. Spread it out. Lick your fingers.


More sauce. yes, more.


Noodles. Again. Lasagna is all about the layering. Otherwise it would only be, what, spagetti? BO-RING!


Guess what...more sauce!Then Add the other half of the meat. Just pack 'er in

Tease your son with the glorious cheese.


Now add another layer of noodles, sauce and top with your delicious decadent cheese.


GLOOORIOUS!


Mmmm MMmm Mmmmm

Dare I follow the heards?

The abundance of Valentine's sentiments and preparations has made my own lack of such things glaringly obvious...at least to me.
There are no red hearts strung artistically from my windows, chocolate of any shape or form baking away in my oven, and perhaps my worst offense is that there is nary a scrap of racy lace any where in my house, let alone close to my unmentionables. I know, sad, isn't it?

Or is it?

There is no lack of lovey-dovey cuddling going on in my house, as the bubble post will contest to. And as there are still snowmen and Santa Claus' strung artistically in my windows, I really don't have room for pink and red hearts. Any and all chocolate would go directly to my ass, and I can only assume my husband would be anywhere from indifferent to regretful about that situation. And as for racy lace...that's just not my style. I'm not subtle. My style would be more a show and tell slide show of my trip to Brazil if you know what I mean, *wink wink*.

So where does that leave me? I'm not a valentine's scrouge, yet I'm not about to fart cupids either. There's got to be a middle road for people like me. And perhaps there is. Without family to babysit for a romantic night out, or in, my Valentine and I will have to make do with a family celebration, and then savour the moments after the fruit of our loins are asleep and we have time to breath. I may even bust out some craft paper and crayons and make him a little something-something. But even if I don't, I know that he knows I love and appreciate him. And then in a few years when my almost-three year old can understand what valentine's day is, I'll be motivated enough to take down santa and replace him with hearts and cupids. I mean, you can't go wrong when there's chocolate involved, right?

Parlez-vous Francais?

I do, I do!

And thanks to our brand spanking new house, so will both my kids, as they will follow in their awesome mother's footsteps and be enrolled in French Immersion.

French...what? ha, not the first time I've got that response. French Immersion is just the coolest thing since sliced bread. Since cellulite cream. Since the silver bullet...err, I mean Magic bullet. yes. French Immersion is that cool.

It's a program where kids are immersed (haha, great name, eh?) in french from kindergarten on wards. All day, every day, every subject, is taught in french. Even gym. yes, I'm serious. Even indoor recess was in french. And you know what? young kids pick up french like you would not believe. And then if they are anything like me and my brother, use it to torment their parents by talking about all the cool things kids talk about, and parents are none the wiser. man, it rocked. It was like, the best thing since sliced bread. Since cellulite cream. Since the silver bullet...err, I mean Magic bullet. yes. French Immersion is that cool.

I have my 14 years of French Immersion education to thank for many of the best things in my life. My first job - as a french camp councellor. Then my first adult job, working for the provincial, and then federal, governments.
I have my 14 years of French Immersion education to thank for many life long deeper than deep relationships.




3 of the 5 bridesmaids at my wedding were Frenchies.


Aj, one of my blonde bombshell best friends, is a fellow Frenchie.

I can still count more a dozen or more of Frenchies, people I have know since before I could spell my own name (and let's face it, Smith wasn't that hard) as friends. Being Frenchies gave us a bond for life.

Being a Frenchie made us different, and that different forged a bond stronger than any I ever saw in any "normal" classes. Our poor teachers - if we liked them, we were very very good. But if we didn't...ouie. Sorry teachers :/
It was us, against "them". "Them" being the English kids, the "English muffins", the normal kids, the ones who just weren't as cool as us Frenchies. Interestingly, I married one of those "English muffins". But that's only because he was a fellow band geek, and we can't all be perfect.

I can't wait for my kids to start french immersion and hopefully have the same amazing experience in it that I did.

Except unlike me, they won't be able to use the french against their parent. Cause that's me, and I OWN that trick.

Where's my bubble, dammit?!

*psst*

I heard a rumour.

A rumour that said that some people out there have, get this - personal space.

*swoon* *thunk*

ouch, my head hurts. I guess I just couldn't handle the idea of having...*choke* personal space. That would be, like...wow. Sitting by myself on the couch? Peeing without an audience? Peeing with, wait for it, wait for it...the door CLOSED! A shower, alone! A lap in which to eat my dinner (err, I eat all my meals at the kitchen table, of course. right. sure.). Two legs which I can move without little hands grabbing at my pant legs.

man. oh man, that sounds like puuuure heaven to me. I love my little rugrats more than life itself, but the temptation to have a personal space bubble for just five minutes is a bit overwhelming!

You know what really chaps my...um, butt? The kids are in bed. Hello bubble, right? no. not quite. We also have two cats who think that our laps are their own personal beds.

I am ready for my bubble now, thanks!

In denial

Mr. Man... is almost three

I am definitely not ready to have a three year old, so let's pretend it's not going to happen for a very very long time, m'kay?

thanks.

But...there's more. Mr Man's got bit of a hurdle to go before he gets the coveted "birthday cake", the one he has been talking about since last year's birthday. Mr. Man is scheduled for a surgery called a pyeloplasty surgery, which in english means that they need to go in and remove a blockage in the tube that connects his kidney and bladder.

It's in a week and a half.

And I am doing everything in my power to pretend it is not going to happen.

Now that I've explained why for the next week and a half I will NOT be thinking about a certain something happening on the 23rd, here's a picture of a turtle



Don't you just love random pictures of turtles?

No?

Oh, well then here's a picture of Mr. Man in all his winter-y goodness.






Better?

Thought so!

i *heart* faces week 5!

Yes, me harties, it's time to walk the plank! Ahoy! Buried Treasured! Arrrr...

um...yeah. Sorry. Pirate Baby was rubbing off on me there for a minute. ok. right.

It's I *heart* faces contest time again! woot woot! If you haven't already checked them out, check em out!



This week's theme is "Silly". Good thing we are a silly bunch!

I *heart* faces kids


I *heart* faces adult

Meet Pirate Baby

Being the proud new owner of a "Magic Bullet", i've been on a bit of a baby food making kick. Which is ironic all in itself since my 10 month old baby girl refuses any and all food.
But we won't go there.
We won't go there because you do not need to hear about the puke fests that result from any attempt at getting a spoon into her mouth. No you do not want to hear about it. It's bad. It's curdled. It's STANKY. and...huh, guess I just told you about it, eh? sorry. my bad.

Considering her disdain of spoons, we've also been doing a bit of what's called baby led weaning - basically offering bit size pieces of food for her to self-feed. She licks to lick the food, which given her tongue size isn't actually all that surprising. yet there is no food in mouth.

But I digress,

During my bullet food making marathon, my son decided that I needed some assistance. Assistance in the form of his little people pirate, affectionately known as "Pirate Baby". Allow me to introduce you to Pirate Baby. World, Pirate Baby. Pirate Baby, World.
There, now we are all friends.


Now if that wasn't a discombobulated post, I don't know what is!