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The Life Changing Magic of Keeping Nature Out of Your S**t

by Andrea Mulder-Slater

I opened the bottom - right hand - cupboard door to look for the colander because those olives weren’t going to rinse themselves.

A hand mixer, several plastic bowls, an electric can opener and a package of millet (hastily placed after our arrival the night before) greeted my eyes with nary a colander in sight. I crouched down to get a closer look and as I peered into the darkness, something caught my attention. It was dark, it was brown and it was alive.

At least, it used to be.

My mom and I laid it on the stove top to get a closer look.

This is Richard, the palmetto bug. Richard is was huge. May he (and his detached leg) rest in peace.

It wasn’t the first time we’d encountered palmetto bugs while on vacation in the southern US and by the way Floridians, you can call them what you want but a cockroach is still cockroach.

Morning Math: The Worst Math of the Day

by Andrea Mulder-Slater

There were two lines at the Tim Hortons kiosk - one for those ordering bacon, bagels and specialty drinks - and another for the rest of us.

As the young man behind the counter handed me my tea, I began digging through the giant expanse that is my purse. Gloves. Princess stickers. Altoids. Chocolate bar wrappers…

I was one customer away from my place at the cash register when I remembered the leftover taxi fare change in my pocket.

When I looked over the railing, I could see that it was turning into a busy morning in the hospital so I was glad to have arrived early. I was tired, but anxious to find out if my mom would be able to come home after a frightening 38 hours involving a blood transfusion.

“One fifty-five, please.”

The girl behind the counter watched my money land on the counter. She began to scoop it up and then, she stared at me.

Why are Dutch Moeders so Damn Happy?

by Andrea Mulder-Slater

I'm a Dutch girl. And so, when my editor at The Yummy Mummy Club recently asked if I would share my feelings on a Washington Post article suggesting that my people (specifically Dutch moms) are the most relaxed in the world.

I did, and here's how it went...

I’m five years-old and I’m in a small a town in northeastern Netherlands, visiting family with my parents. 

It’s late afternoon and some neighbourhood kids are riding bicycles on the paths that run beside my aunt’s house. I ask my uncle if he has any spare fietsen (bikes) in the schuur (shed) behind his garden. He does, but they are all too large, except for one that – if modified – should do the trick. He and my father make some adjustments while my mother and her sister enjoy a relaxing cup of tea. Moments later, I pedal past the house, sitting on a bed pillow strapped to the seat post of a too-large Dutch bike.

You can read the rest (and I hope you do) at:  http://www.yummymummyclub.ca/blogs/andrea-mulder-slater-the-art-of-childhood/20151120/dont-worry-be-dutch

Don't Drop the Ball

by Andrea Mulder-Slater

“Girls have balls. They’re just a little higher up, that’s all.” 
~Joan Jett 
My husband and I don’t often talk about his boy bits but when we do, I’m usually throwing out questions like, “Hey, do those ever fall out of your underwear”, “How do you fit everything inside your pants?” and, “Can you please put that stuff away now?”

I mean come on; those things aren’t cute. You know I’m right.

Still, I feel for the men, I really do. It can’t be easy, walking around with all that junk.

When I asked my guy what it’s like having a set of testicles, he said, “It’s like having pocket watches permanently attached to your crotch.”