Andrea Mulder-Slater

by Andrea Mulder-Slater I first saw the word babymoon printed in a guilty-pleasure - trashy magazine - along with photographs of a bikini-clad celebrity gallivanting in the sand during a pre-labor getaway with her pelvic affiliate and her diminutive ankles. It's kind of hard to ignore the concept, what with circulars like this shoved in every other newspaper.    But here's the thing. The babymoon trend has me feeling completely unconvinced. I’ll be honest here. When I was pregnant, the furthest thing from my mind was cherishing together time while experiencing a romantic fling on the beach - or anywhere for that matter. Reason being,  I was far too busy working out the logistics of ejecting a small-but-mighty organism through a part of my body I hadn’t been able to get a clear visual on for months. Between my ever-expanding feet, my wildly indiscreet chest and my puffy reality-television-star pout, I was more concerned with just trying to appear human while I was

by Andrea Mulder-Slater Yesterday I called my local Walmart store to see if it was open. Walmart is always open, just like gas stations, amazon.com and that guy named Slippy who sells acetaminophen at cost. Still, I felt the need to call because I am philosophically skeptical. Unlike Slippy. I held the phone to my ear. There was no ring – only some muffled noises somewhat reminiscent of the sound a cocker spaniel makes when he licks a goldfish. I’m only guessing here. As so often happens to me, I was dialing out, while - at the exact moment -  someone else was doing the same. Only, the man on the other end was not aware of this phenomenon and instead thought I was his wife. Or God. Whichever. I on the other hand, grew up in the country - with a party line - so hearing confused strangers on my telephone line is nothing new to me. ME : Hello? Is anyone there? Voice : Margaret? Is that you? ME : Are you at Walmart? Voice : How did you know I was at Walmart? ME : I ca

by Andrea Mulder-Slater My husband and I were in London, waiting to board the Eurostar train to Paris. We were happy to sit - after making it through customs - and with the pause had a chance to scan our travel mates. Some were sleeping. Others were reading newspapers. A few were deep in conversation with imaginary cats. One gentleman in particular was doing all three at once. My husband offered to get me a snack in an effort to help ease my fears of traveling deep beneath the English Channel with potentially delusional companions. He returned within seconds. "Show me our tickets," he hissed. " Why?" I questioned, " Are we at the wrong station? Did we come on the wrong day? Are we going to train jail?" " Just show them to me, will ya?" I did, and from there, our trip took an exciting turn. We had First Class tickets, which meant we would be fed during our journey and possibly secluded from the masses. Wh

by Andrea Mulder-Slater The telephone rang. Geoff picked it up... Geoff : Hello. Caller : Yes, hello. My name is Steve. I am calling to you to let you know your computer is broken. Geoff : That's amazing . Caller : Yes. We have scanned your computer. It is full of viruses. I will help you remove the viruses. Geoff : (silence) Caller : Sir? Hello ? Geoff : What is this about again? Caller : Viruses. Geoff :  I'm not sick. Caller : Your computer sir. Your computer is full of viruses. Geoff : That's impossible. Caller : But, we have done a scan on your computer. Geoff :  I don't have a computer. Caller : You don't have a computer? Geoff : No. Caller : But, everyone has a computer. Geoff : I don't. Caller : (silence) Geoff : I have a tractor. Caller : (stunned silence) Geoff : My tractor is broken. Maybe you could help me fix it. Caller : I. Um. I'm not sure I understand what you... Geoff : It's the front tir

by Andrea Mulder-Slater I've been stockpiling the funny stuff in my head, but in the meantime, have a peek at my latest post for Today's Parent magazine. It's all about creativity folks... http://www.todaysparent.com/free-toys  No, really.