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Andrea Mulder-Slater

And then, there was drywall...

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by Andrea Mulder-Slater

No, really.

house under construction

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All text (& some images) copyright Andrea Mulder-Slater; Don't take my stuff without attribution

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The Intruder

“Lemme out! Lemme out! Let. Me. OUT!!!” My 6-year-old was shrieking as she madly fumbled with her seatbelt in a desperate attempt to flee the vehicle. She, my husband, mother and I, had just returned to our car, parked on a small town street. It was late - past 10pm - and the sounds of the post-symphony gathering we had just departed, covered the damp grass like a blanket. As my husband helped my daughter into her booster seat, my mother spotted something scuttling up one of the black sweaters I had elegantly draped over the front passenger seat headrest (in case of a late July flash-freeze). Because the flickering streetlight on the corner provided a less than satisfying glow, the only opportunities to see inside of the car, were during the brief moments when the doors were ajar. “There,” my mother urged, “A tail.”

An Open Letter to My Feet

by Andrea Mulder-Slater Dear feet, I’m sorry. I mean, here we are in Florida and there you are, completely and totally naked. But here’s the thing. I forgot your warm-weather shoes at home. In the closet. As you know, our exodus from the snow-ravaged north was rushed (what with the back-to-back storms heading our way) and as a result, so many things were left behind. My favourite black Capris, that cute sunhat I ordered online, the poolside read I had picked out specifically for this trip… All of it, forgotten. In the cold. So here we stand, on this gorgeous salty beach, next to my happily barefoot daughter. Exposed.

Pierce my kid's ears? No Way!

by Andrea Mulder-Slater Paige didn’t go to my school, but we rode on the same school bus and we shared a bus stop. Paige didn’t have a home-haircut. She went to a salon and smelled of hairspray. Paige didn’t wear t-shirts and jeans. She wore blouses and slacks. Paige didn’t have a pool that had to be deflated and dismantled at the end of the summer. She had an in-ground, indoor swimming spa. But most of all, Paige had pierced ears. Read the rest at the Yummy Mummy Club... http://www.yummymummyclub.ca/blogs/andrea-mulder-slater-the-art-of-childhood/20150901/i-wont-pierce-my-daughters-ears

Your Mom, Only Better (Dutch Maternity Nurses)

by Andrea Mulder-Slater The hour-long drive home from the hospital where my daughter was born was fraught with danger. First, there was my perineum (if you have to ask, you just don’t get it). Then, there was the night sky, which meant that for the first time since her birth, I was unable to keep constant watch over my infant. The bumpy road and unfamiliar sounds and smells led to the overwhelming realization that I was in need of another painkiller and had exactly zero experience keeping a miniature human being alive.

Stoned and spiked (photo)

When you live in a construction zone, you find odd things in your yard. I've become somewhat obsessed with PicMonkey and so - because love is not enough - I've decided to issue a challenge (to me and me alone). The challenge is to post a photo a day from here on in. Until I die. Or until I lose interest. This is the first day of the rest of my life. Daily Snap - 06.24.12 | by Andrea Mulder-Slater

Blog Archive

2021 6

2020 3
2019 2
- June 2019 2
2018 2
- February 2018 1
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2017 8
2016 7
2015 33
2014 18
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2012 70
2011 40
2010 24
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