Attempt at a first post.

Two stepkids, five cats, one husband heading for Alberta in a couple of weeks. Our island men are leaving in droves, eyes on the oil money to be made out west.

A little introduction, I guess - this is my first attempt at blogging, so I'll likely trip and stumble around here.

my other half - almost eight years ago, a single father hired me to babysit his kids. Please note the 'single' there - the looks I sometimes get when I forget to add that one little word. *grin*. Fell for the kids, fell for the dad, the rest is - not history, as the expression goes, but life, love, and learning how to accept that sometimes professional wrestling *is* worth watching. A quiet, shy, and extremely smart guy, Blair won me over with his love for his kids and fondness for 80's television shows. He's spent the last four years working as a shipper/receiver at a hardware store in town here; last night he was offered a similar position with a large mining company in Alberta. My pool-playing, cross-stitching (shh, he'd growl if he knew I told you that), rabid Maple Leafs fan of a husband (commonlaw, but the hearts don't care) is leaving in a couple of weeks. There may be five cats in this house, but no amount of fur curled up on the bed is gonna be able to replace him. *wail*.

(step)daughter - 11 years old today, where did the time go?? Everyone asks that, but it truly seems to have gone by faster than it should have. A bit small for her age, Cindy is a whirling twirling bundle of energy with a big heart and a fondness for furry critters and all things musical. She sings, plays the drums (celtic drumming), folds, flips, and throws herself around in gymnastics class, and at the moment she's taken with the idea of getting a pet snake. After 5 years of public school, Miss C is now homeschooling, something that will no doubt get a lot of its own ramble in this blog. :-P

(step)son - 9 years old this past October, Mr. Christopher is a walking demonstration of how challenges should be met - shove on through and don't forget to laugh at yourself. ;-) .. I think his method is right on and wish that I could carry myself in the same manner more often. See, something went awry when Mr. C's biological mother was carrying him; his brain did not develop in the way that it was meant, nor did his eyes. Mr. C is blind and has, as the medical professionals like to word it, "global developmental delays" - they've also tagged him with not-quite-a-diagnosis terms like "autistic like behaviours" (basically, they can match him up with some of the criteria but not others), "sensory issues" and a few other little piles of words. This is not who Mr. C is though - he doesn't define himself by his disabilities, nor do we. Mr. C shares his sister's energetic way of slamming through life, though he hasn't quite the patience that she does for the inevitable crashes (Christopher is the king of a well placed meltdown), has a wicked sense of humour and can find the funny in anything - including that upside down bowl of kraft dinner in his lap (independence can be messy!). Talkative as all get-out, he's never short of a story to tell and can charm the stinger off a bumblebee. Mr C. is still attending public school (second grade) - we're looking at this as we go and changes may come in the future.

{my (step) in brackets - I've included this for clarity in this first post; most of the time I don't bother with that addition. They may not be my children 'biologically', but they are in the heart.}

Myself - Can I just skip this part? :-P ... Okay, I'm 30 and not fond of that, I have rocks on my dresser and a tank awaiting a betta fish, and yes that is my banana seat bike in the basement.

With us live five tumbling balls of fur and one large goldfish - he had a buddy for a while, but he ate him. Or something - a friend told me that goldfish don't eat other fish, but I think someone forgot to tell Spiffy that because there was only half of Cola left one morning.

The felines, in order from oldest to youngest - Claire, Moly, Angel, Max, and Toby. Five bundles of fur, each with their own personality and attitude. Did I mention attitude? Yes, I guess I did. *meow*.

We all live in a yellow submarine rented rowhouse type thing - former military housing. Bit crowded with all of the bodies and fur, but it works. Wish it wasn't do darn expensive though.

We're also buried up to our noses in snow at the moment. Oo0Oo sharing my snowballs.