Safety First

Well, I asked for it and I finally got it.

The safety gates are up at my house, helping to prevent our son from falling down the two sets of stairs that are in our house.

Unfortunately, it does give our house that jail-like feeling, which is helped by our son, who grabs hold of the bars and shakes them.

It has also created a hazard for my already-accident-prone stepdaughter. Of course it doesn’t help that she is now trying to climb over the gates rather than opening and closing them.

The reason? She says she has a hard time getting them closed. I do understand. With my benign tremour, I, too, have a hard time closing the stupid things, however, I think it is more difficult to leap over the gates than to take the time to open and close them properly.

It must be hard for AD as well as I hear a lot of “Omphs” and “Ahhhhhs” as her short legs don’t carry her all the way over.

The safety latches have also been troublesome.

You hear a lot of cursing as we yank on the cupboard doors, expecting them to open the whole way only to catch on the latch and open an inch or two.

Oh yes, we are baby proofed, or as much as we can do in our house, and no one is happy.

Happy Birthday To You

Happy to my stepdaughter, AD, who turns 19 today.

A has gone from a cute little girl, to a moody and selfish pre-teen to a beautiful young lady, who makes me smile and often laugh out loud.

It’s an exciting year, for A, who is waiting to hear if she is accepted to York U’s Glendon College and is waiting to apply for residence. It doesn’t seem that long ago that I left the shelter of my parents’ place to go to college. It was one of the best times of my life.

I am so excited for A as she starts a new path and am looking forward to hearing the adventures she has along the way.

Happy Birthday, A.

Cellphone Laments

Everyone laughs at me.

For years, I have enjoyed short spurts of work - a text saying “Pls pick up milk” or “I will be home soon” or phone calls discussing the day’s happenings.

About two weeks ago, my world changed.

I started working harder than I have my entire existence. Not only was I making more calls (while listening to loud music and teenaged laughter), but the texting became fast and furious, with one after the other coming both into and out of me.

I was then pulled out at a rugby game and the real laughter started.

“Is that your cellphone?” a boy asked.
“No,” was the short reply. “It’s my stepmom’s. Pathetic isn’t it?”

Then the group of people started to laugh at me and make comments about a donation to a museum.

I may not flip open or have a slide-out keyboard. I may not be able to surf the Internet or take pictures or play music, but I am able to have conversations and send text messages such as “I love you” and “I miss you” just as well as those fancy new phones.

So there.