Going by just The Muppet Show (not including Sesame Street characters) here is the list (in no particular order) of my 5 favourite Muppets and why.

Scooter – The Gopher – What can I say? I love the underdog. I love how Kermit never takes him seriously and only gives him what he wants because Scooter’s uncle owns the theatre. I also love that Scooter’s suggestions are usually pretty good. Oh, and I love that his eyes exist only in his glasses.

Floyd – The guitarist with Electric Mayhem – Why? Because he’s awesome. I’m surprised a cloud of smoke doesn’t follow him around. I love his hippie, drug-induced personality, dude!

Fozie Bear – The Comedian – I don’t really know why. His jokes aren’t usually that funny, but there’s just something about him that I like.

The News Anchor – The News Anchor – Because he takes a lickin’ and keeps on tickin’.

Robin – The Nephew – Because he’s so darn cute. He’s always trying to be bigger or older than he is. I really like him in a much newer Muppet production so it might be skewing my perception of him just a bit.

What about you? Did you watch The Muppet Show? Who were/are your favourites?

I can’t get in to the details too much. It’s just too hard, but I needed a place to tell the world what a loss this is.

My Poppa was a good man. He was one of the best I know. He loved everyone. It didn’t matter what you’d done or how lost you were, he loved you.

He had a great sense of humour both about the world and himself.

Poppa also loved technology and embraced it when so many people younger than him were apprehensive of it. I was really impressed that in his 70s my Poppa started taking computer classes. He had email and a printer and he loved getting pictures of my nephew (he wasn’t able to use the computer once my son came along, but I know that he would have printed off every picture I sent him if he could have). He also got a cell phone with a qwerty keyboard before I did.

My Poppa kept a record of everything. If you wanted to know how much a haircut cost in 1950 or a loaf of bread in 1965, he could tell you.

Babies – the man LOVED babies and they loved him. I lost count of how many kids at the church he was “uncle” to. He would make himself look like a fool for any baby. He didn’t care who was watching, making that baby laugh was all that mattered.

These are just of the few things that stood out about my Poppa and I know these things don’t seem like much, but to me, they are only a small part of what made my Poppa great.

He was an amazing man and I miss him.

2. The Sleepover Friends – http://www.amazon.com/Pattis-Luck-Sleepover-Friends-No/dp/0590406418

3. Gummi Worms

4. Swiss Chalet French Fries

5. Batman – although, anyone who knows Sweet P will know this one isn’t entirely random. I do hear his name about 100 times a day.

I was outside tonight weeding the front garden and watching the neighbourhood fireworks. There was some families a few doors down with some young kids. Every time a firework would shoot out I could hear the kids counting. It made me smile.

When I was younger we had a huge backyard. Every family gathering was held at our house. The parties with fireworks were my favourite.

Dad would fill the wheelbarrow with sand and keep the hose close by. He’d stick the fireworks in the sand a step away (we always had fun trying to watch him run away in the dark).

He’d light them and we’d count. The higher we got to count the better the firework. The more we liked it. The best thing for us as kids was the burning school-house. Dad would call out to us and we’d all gather around the wheelbarrow to watch that sucker burn. We would yell and cheer until there was nothing left.

Sparklers were also a favourite. Writing your name in the sky – how could that not be awesome? When I got to be a preteen the name of the boy I “loved” always got his name written too.

Life has gotten so busy lately that it’s been a long time since I’ve been anywhere with fireworks. Now that Sweet P is getting older, I hope that these are traditions that I will pass on to him. That one day he’ll be weeding his front garden and hear children down the road counting fireworks and smile, remembering the family gatherings and firework shows of his youth.

Sweet P is growing up so fast that it seems he’s already starting to not need me for things. He has become Mister Independent. This poem takes me back to the early days, when he needed mommy to sleep. When I was the most comfortable pillow.

I didn’t know Lucy Maud Montgomery wrote poetry, but I am so glad that this poem was one of hers. I like it so much that I feel the need to share it with you.

The Way to Slumbertown

 If we could go to Slumbertown
within a new moon boat,
How Splendid it would be
across a magic sea to float.

With silver oar and mast of pearl
and sail of old moonbeams,
Until we drop our anchor
in the Harbour of Fair Dreams.

If we could fly to Slumbertowm
upon a white moth’s back,
What fun ‘twould be to follow
on the whispering breezes’ track.

Away above the fleecy clouds
and o’er the sunset bars,
Until we lighted softly
on the Land of Evening Stars.

But after all, the surest
and the safest passage there
Is by the way of mother’s arms
and mother’s rocking chair.

We pay a kiss for fare,
and then we shut our sleepy eyes
And drift before we know it
to the Coast of Lullabies.
~L.M. Montgomery

Last week was one of those weeks. It was a week filled with anger, sadness, fatigue and regret.

Most of last week’s badness revolves around change. I hate change. Change is scary and I just don’t like it. Why can’t things stay the way they are? Why can’t things continue to go smoothly? Why is it that other people’s decisions are able to make me feel that crappy? Why do changes in other people’s lives make me regret the changes I’ve made in my own life?

I am however, also an optimist. I have to be or I’d go crazy. I have to believe that this week will be better; that things will get straightened out; that other people will stop making changes that, while good for their family, ripple the change down to us. I have to believe that…

It was absolutely heartbreaking to see my little guy in that much pain. I’ve never seen him so sad. All he would do was cuddle and hold his arm. He’s still too little to communicate with words, but there was no mistaking what was wrong.

He was jumping on the bed and fell and bounced onto the floor. It happened so quick there was nothing we could do.

We took him to the walk-in clinic at our Dr’s office building where our family doctor happened to be working. Let me tell you – my little guy has a good memory. The last time he saw our doctor the dr. prescribed needles and checked his ears (Sweet P hates the ear checker) and Sweet P remembered. As soon as the doctor walked in Sweet P started screaming even more and tried to escape. How do you convince a 20-month-old with a very sore arm that the doctor isn’t going to hurt him and there won’t be any needles?

Well, there were no needles, but there were x-rays. I wasn’t allowed to stay in the room (something about one parent and trained professionals only) so daddy had to do his best to comfort him and hold him down at the same time. He was a trooper though and they were able to get clear, useful pictures.

So, with a diagnosis of a green line fracture and a prescription for nothing more than Tylenol, we were on our way.

Surprisingly, the whole visit only took 2 hours. Not bad given the circumstances.

He and daddy went for the 1 week follow-up yesterday and everything is looking good. The swelling is down and he’s using his arm no problem. Sometimes he still grabs it after a fall, and even cries a little, but for the most part he is his normal happy, jumpy self who won’t be jumping on the bed for a very long time.

I’m still eating like crap. I haven’t lost any weight. My house is still a disaster (renovation/redecorating wise). I’m still pretty much a hermit. I think too much. I worry too much. I apologize too much. Sweet P spends too much time inside (in my defense it is dark by the time we get home and have finished dinner). I don’t keep in touch with my friends. Finances are still completely disorganized. I continue to stay up too late…

As you can see the list of improvements is long and my progress is short.

I wish I knew a way to get motivated. I wish I had more time to care of myself and Sweet P better. I wish I knew a way to worry less and smile more.

At first 5 km seemed like a daunting distance. How the heck was I going to walk 5 km? But, it wasn’t too bad at all and totally worth it.

We are Max’s Marchers. We march for my Poppa (grandfather). He has Parkinson’s and we thought it was time to do our part; To help him and to honour him. He was very touched by the gesture and we’re hoping he will be able to attend this year’s walk.

It’s March and we’ve already started thinking about fundraising ideas, but I’m having trouble thinking of things. We are planning a rummage sale, but that doesn’t seem like enough. I’m thinking of maybe turning it into a rummage/craft/bake sale. Do you think that would work? Do you think we would make enough to be worth it?

We did it so last-minute last year that we didn’t raise nearly enough (I think we managed just over $500 between the 5 of us) and are really hoping to double that this year. We have acquired 2 new teammates and I’m setting the team goal for $1000 (maybe I should tell my team ha ha). That’s doable right?

So here’s where you come in. I am open to any and all fundraising suggestions. Full ideas, or ideas on how to make our rummage/craft/bake sale a HUGE success.

Thanks in advance!

Why is it that days like today seem to be coming more often? Days where we’re running late, forget Sweet P’s toque and forget my gloves (stupid Canadian winters). Yup, we had all three this morning. Oh, and did I mention that Sweet P was standing at the front door crying his heart out when I left him at daycare this morning? Yup, felt like Mommy of the year this morning.

I know he will be fine – we found a spare toque and once the groggies wore off, he would have calmed down – but seeing him so upset breaks my heart. I can take comfort that the work day is almost over and I get to pick him up soon. If today is the same as most days, I will hear his laughter at the doorbell long before the door opens. I know he’ll have had fun and learned lots. He’ll hand me his daily sheet and run away from his boots and coat, having forgotten my abandonment this morning.

I love that he is so willing to forgive me. I love his smile and his laughter. They are the things that help me get over the heart ache of leaving him there in the first place.