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Andrea Mulder-Slater

Andrea Mulder-Slater

After the storm (photo)

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There's just something about kids and puddles. Mine would sleep in one if I let her.

Daily Snap - 07.07.12 | by Andrea Mulder-Slater

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

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Full Moon Baby

by Andrea Mulder-Slater When I was 8 months pregnant, my husband and I were given the hospital tour. “The maternity ward,” said the nurse in a singsong voice, “is a wonderful place to be.” She showed us the birthing areas, the shower room and the nurses’ station, complete with flowers and chocolate bon-bons on the counter top. “It’s never very busy here,” she continued, “so you are pretty much guaranteed a private room and that way, mom, baby and daddy can stay together and be comfortable.” Reality is such a bitch. I went into labour on Monday afternoon. My daughter was born on Wednesday night. I don’t fancy doing anything that feels good for longer than one, maybe two hours – tops, so needless to say, being in labour for 48 hours was not on my bucket list. By the time it was over, everyone involved was elated, and exhausted. My parents – now proud grandparents - drove home to their beds while Geoff, the newborn and I were taken to our room – a

Calcium pills should never be swallowed at night

by Andrea Mulder-Slater Lately, between the full moon , Tim Roth and the endless stream of creative thoughts and dark imaginings that regularly occupy my mind, sleeping has been near impossible. For more than a week I've been working on five or six hours at best - when I'm lucky. This wouldn't be an issue except for the fact that when I get less than eight to thirteen hours of rest a night , I become paranoid and obsessive... far more than usual. To be clear, it's not that I can't sleep. I just can't sleep at night - or, when it's appropriate to sleep. Case in point. We were driving back from the city (Jan and the 3 year old in the backseat, Geoff and I in the front, a thousand pounds of hardwood for the new house in the truck bed) when I conked out - head titled back, mouth wide open - right in the middle of a conversation with Geoff - who was (fortunately) in the driver's seat. Could've been a far more eventful trip had our seating position

Sight Unseen

By Andrea Mulder-Slater When I make a painting, I am either looking at something (a landscape, a coffee cup, a house…) or - in the case of my abstracts - I am thinking about a place (the ocean, the forest, the city…). However, the inspiration for the Sight Unseen series came from a very different place.

FALLING. YOU'RE DOING IT (and other things) WRONG

by Andrea Mulder-Slater When I was a kid, I broke my wrists. A few times. In fact, I was so good at collecting casts in the emergency room, I once fell and sprained my left wrist while my right arm was wrapped already in plaster. Falling off a chair, scratching my back while jumping into a pile of leaves and slipping on a pillowcase while running down a hallway are just three of the ways I wounded myself when I was between the ages of 5 and 7.

Novocaine - fun. Metal probes - not fun.

by Andrea Mulder-Slater My dentist looks like a big screen film star. His teeth make a "ting" sound and light shoots out of his mouth when he smiles - just like in the movies. Okay, maybe I just imagined that last part. Either way, I prefer to see as little of my mouth doc as possible, after having fallen for the " Really, the Novocaine needle will hurt more than the procedure, so let's just skip it, shall we? " trick more than once. Yet, every six months I dutifully make the trek to his office and willingly subject myself to the torture of a teeth cleaning. It's a ritual my husband thinks is borderline masochistic and completely avoidable. He's convinced the dentist tried to kill him once (or twice). His solution? Just don't go. No, not my mouth - but you get the idea... Me : Today is teeth cleaning day. Geoff : That's nice. Me : Don't you feel sorry for me? Geoff : I have to lift and nail 4000 sheets of plywood onto the r

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