tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7519032412489023332024-03-13T19:29:37.991-07:00Nude MommyUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger136125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-751903241248902333.post-80466106959078207362014-08-20T12:48:00.001-07:002014-08-21T18:42:56.874-07:00Cross Roads, Epiphanies, and Coconut Macaroons<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-u4jn5x345j0/U_ab7nS2FSI/AAAAAAAAARk/Ets-dK-gTnE/s640/blogger-image-653875786.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-u4jn5x345j0/U_ab7nS2FSI/AAAAAAAAARk/Ets-dK-gTnE/s640/blogger-image-653875786.jpg"></a></div> <div> I had a moment yesterday before my hair appointment, when I stopped in at a grocery store for a Pepsi and gluten free macaroons (no judging!) As I rounded the corner to grab the cookies, I came face to face with a very pregnant woman who's two toddlers were full-on brawling over a box of animal crackers. Her shoulders were slumped, and tears made her eyes shiny.<div><br></div><div>Almost three years ago, I was her. Same grocery store, different aisle. It was shortly after having our third baby (in just over four years) and I <i>needed </i>stuff at the store (in those days, my very sanity rested precariously on the availability of Pepsi, homo milk, formula, and goldfish crackers.) Nick was working, and I told myself that, "I can do this! I can grocery shop with three kids!"</div><div><br></div><div>I couldn't.</div><div><br></div><div>When the older woman rounded the corner of my aisle- there we were: toddler Dryden sitting on the floor wailing, slightly older toddler Noëlle in the cart sobbing, tears running down my face as I tried to bottle feed the screaming fucking demon baby in my cart. The woman looked at me kindly and said, </div><div>"it gets better." </div><div>"When?" I replied through furious clenched teeth. "When. Does. It. Get. Better?!" I hissed. Unfortunately, her mythical date of improvement failed to give me comfort that day. </div><div><br></div><div>But she was right; it got better, it got easier. Everything has. When I started this blog I was lost- I had no idea who I was, who I wanted to be, where I belonged. I felt disconnected...irrelevant...incompetent. </div><div>I've used this blog to chronically my growth, as an adult, and just as importantly, as a parent. I can't really pinpoint when things got better; I think <i style="font-weight: bold;">I </i>just got better- god knows my kids are still kinda assholes (stop judging. <i>All </i>kids are kinda assholes.) Somewhere along the way, I found what I needed to be happy and healthy.</div><div><br></div><div>I get to wave goodbye to my two oldest kids on their school buses, and I have two long/short years left with the baby at home with me; I'm poised to open my dream business that reflects the changes and transition my life has experienced. I'm not sure what else I have planned for NudeMommy...I don't need to use it as a pressure valve anymore, but I'm not ready to stop blogging; I feel like it just needs to evolve- like I did.</div><div><br></div><div>* I stood there 100% deer-in-the-headlights staring at this poor mom. I opened my mouth to regurgitate that super unhelpful advice that was offered me...and I stopped. Before I thought about it for too long, I gave her a quick hug, and told her she was doing a good job, that she was a good mom. Because that's what she needed to hear; that's what <i>I </i>had needed to hear that day three years ago. I snatched my cookies, that her two kids were now fighting over, and left to enjoyed some "Me" time getting my hair done (my 5" roots failed to start a global trend unfortunately) while Nick wrangled our kids at home.</div><div><br></div><div>NudeMommy out xo</div></div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-sTCq4W5IDOw/U_acBMykZ6I/AAAAAAAAASE/mmiUw6S2gaY/s640/blogger-image-1084871038.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-sTCq4W5IDOw/U_acBMykZ6I/AAAAAAAAASE/mmiUw6S2gaY/s640/blogger-image-1084871038.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-qNglVWSyf9g/U_ab9PB08kI/AAAAAAAAARs/hJtujnPnxto/s640/blogger-image-2011989749.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-qNglVWSyf9g/U_ab9PB08kI/AAAAAAAAARs/hJtujnPnxto/s640/blogger-image-2011989749.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-i86FMLnbE9Q/U_ab6miUasI/AAAAAAAAARc/MwS7V1I88Uc/s640/blogger-image--306423906.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-i86FMLnbE9Q/U_ab6miUasI/AAAAAAAAARc/MwS7V1I88Uc/s640/blogger-image--306423906.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-lbq-MoDKYow/U_ab4QEzmwI/AAAAAAAAARU/a-W0zk5QU5I/s640/blogger-image-1832277302.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-lbq-MoDKYow/U_ab4QEzmwI/AAAAAAAAARU/a-W0zk5QU5I/s640/blogger-image-1832277302.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-CqGwA_wgDb8/U_ab-aan-xI/AAAAAAAAAR0/aRy9paYGM1g/s640/blogger-image--1100245290.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-CqGwA_wgDb8/U_ab-aan-xI/AAAAAAAAAR0/aRy9paYGM1g/s640/blogger-image--1100245290.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-Qh0A_6ta_oE/U_acCpTFgMI/AAAAAAAAASM/1jvHNFhB15w/s640/blogger-image--507724075.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-Qh0A_6ta_oE/U_acCpTFgMI/AAAAAAAAASM/1jvHNFhB15w/s640/blogger-image--507724075.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-HhvygMceM4I/U_ab_xWaRHI/AAAAAAAAAR8/HWaXPQMuzNw/s640/blogger-image-606865971.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-HhvygMceM4I/U_ab_xWaRHI/AAAAAAAAAR8/HWaXPQMuzNw/s640/blogger-image-606865971.jpg"></a></div><br></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-751903241248902333.post-2738369215953548882014-08-20T10:18:00.001-07:002014-08-20T11:16:59.526-07:00Observations While Back To School Shopping-Saleswoman at Carter's was a genius for putting a cartoon on so the kids would shut up while I crossed stuff off my list. <div>-Apparently coral is going to be big in the world of toddler haut couture.</div><div>-Leggings for $15!? I can buy them jeans for that price. Legging should universally have a max retail price of $5. We need a revolution for this people- if someone needs to lose a head for this to happen, so be it.</div><div>-Wow! It's been a long time since I've been in Ardene's. #wherewasthatshitwheniwasateen</div><div>-Only superhero backpacks will do.</div><div>-Also, they are not to be called "book bags", but only "backpacks." Fucking Dora the Explorer...</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-mAXEKQQCukk/U_TkUsM6GEI/AAAAAAAAAQw/uYdsUIns_VE/s640/blogger-image-88448532.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-mAXEKQQCukk/U_TkUsM6GEI/AAAAAAAAAQw/uYdsUIns_VE/s640/blogger-image-88448532.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>-Lunch boxes <i>must </i>have a handle "so I can swing it and kill the bad guys attacking the bus." Whatever; that kind is on sale anyways.</div><div>-<b>Stay away from the god damn toy aisle.</b></div><div>-$3 T-shirt sale? Buy one of each color. Don't even debate over it.</div><div>-Disappear while husband pays at the cash to avoid hearing his mumbling curse words.</div><div>-Tuck a flask filled with margarita in your purse.</div><div>-Commence countdown to freedom</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-4-NDpyU5uzU/U_TYdd1r8nI/AAAAAAAAAQg/7520hHdIjjQ/s640/blogger-image-219333411.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-4-NDpyU5uzU/U_TYdd1r8nI/AAAAAAAAAQg/7520hHdIjjQ/s640/blogger-image-219333411.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-18TJtUUpsM0/U_TYcFbFA0I/AAAAAAAAAQY/MGE5XPrkmJo/s640/blogger-image-2145319498.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-18TJtUUpsM0/U_TYcFbFA0I/AAAAAAAAAQY/MGE5XPrkmJo/s640/blogger-image-2145319498.jpg"></a></div>Taking a break at the mall.</div><div>{you can <i>always </i>point out which kid has a mechanic as a father}</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-OGUl2jR4tgc/U_Tkq3lF6sI/AAAAAAAAAQ4/97D-qZ8MHKI/s640/blogger-image--173221976.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-OGUl2jR4tgc/U_Tkq3lF6sI/AAAAAAAAAQ4/97D-qZ8MHKI/s640/blogger-image--173221976.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-lRi69qD8Mfg/U_TmGedn-JI/AAAAAAAAARE/78yoADew7t4/s640/blogger-image--1252100792.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-lRi69qD8Mfg/U_TmGedn-JI/AAAAAAAAARE/78yoADew7t4/s640/blogger-image--1252100792.jpg"></a></div> </div><div>Saku: "this is all clothes- where the fak are my Denta Stix?!?</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-751903241248902333.post-52056086041904746472014-06-26T10:14:00.001-07:002014-06-26T13:07:45.409-07:00T'was The Night Before Summer VacationT'was the night before summer vacation<div>And all through the villa,</div><div>Momma was sipping</div><div>A glass of straight teq'illa.</div><div><br></div><div>The book bags were flung</div><div>In the corner like trash,</div><div>Kids so hopped up on Freezies;</div><div>Ready to crash.</div><div><br></div><div>The children were passed out </div><div>Laying half out of their beds,</div><div>With visions of non-school related</div><div>Fun in their heads.</div><div><br></div><div>Nick's looking weary</div><div>And I knew, in one of those ways,</div><div>That it was -undoubtedly- going to be</div><div>A fucking long 68 days.</div><div><br></div><div>When up on the staircase</div><div>There arose such a clatter,</div><div>I *drunken* stumbled out of my chair</div><div>To see what was the matter.</div><div><br></div><div>Away to the upstairs </div><div>I wobbled like an ass,</div><div>Trying to maintain my composure,</div><div>My Mommy-like class.</div><div><br></div><div>The moon on the faces </div><div>Of my two youngest tykes,</div><div>Gave the serious creepiness</div><div>Out of horror movies I like.</div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">What to my terrified ears </span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">do I hear, </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">(Oh my Lord)</span></div><div>"Mommy there's nothing to do;</div><div>We are bored!"</div><div><br></div><div>For a not-so-thin Mommy</div><div>I sure do move quick, </div><div>I hustled down the stairs</div><div>To conspire with Nick.</div><div><br></div><div>More rapid than eagles</div><div>We worked on our phones, </div><div>To organize activities</div><div>Before our Summer was blown.</div><div><br></div><div>Now splash pads! Now swimming lessons!</div><div>Now soccer and horse back riding!</div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">In playgrounds! In museums!</span></div><div>On play dates and sliding.</div><div><br></div><div>To the top of that trail,</div><div>To hang out at the mall,</div><div>Now dash away! Dash away!</div><div>Dash away all!!</div><div><br></div><div>And then in a twinkling</div><div>I knew what to do, </div><div>Pack lots of snacks</div><div>And memorize everywhere they can poo.</div><div><br></div><div>Our days would be packed-</div><div>With no time to sit,</div><div>Days of leisurely "Mom Stuff",</div><div>Had all gone to shit.</div><div><br></div><div>All Summer I plan </div><div>To lug them around</div><div>To the fair, to the gym, </div><div>Basically, all <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">around town.</span></div><div><br></div><div>I'll take them home every<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> evening,</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Exhausted and dirty,</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">In time for supper and bath time</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Then in bed by 7:30.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">With a list of stuff to do</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Our days will be long,</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Filled with crayons, and scissors,</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Disney, and songs.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Keeping them busy and happy</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Will be a labour of love,</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">This is what Summer memories</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Are surely made of.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Happy summer vacation to all, and to all a stiff drink!</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><3 RP</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-XGF4vUem0jE/U6xlHQOlsnI/AAAAAAAAAPw/jH4d-0BFetQ/s640/blogger-image--862452550.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-XGF4vUem0jE/U6xlHQOlsnI/AAAAAAAAAPw/jH4d-0BFetQ/s640/blogger-image--862452550.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-EEeHNyUhkwQ/U6xlEZdJbxI/AAAAAAAAAPg/V5Ri8-JF_V8/s640/blogger-image-1689882363.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-EEeHNyUhkwQ/U6xlEZdJbxI/AAAAAAAAAPg/V5Ri8-JF_V8/s640/blogger-image-1689882363.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-zm8i8TzX5Qc/U6xlGXhybRI/AAAAAAAAAPo/_EcYvMutzjI/s640/blogger-image-1835616905.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-zm8i8TzX5Qc/U6xlGXhybRI/AAAAAAAAAPo/_EcYvMutzjI/s640/blogger-image-1835616905.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-QQHzzfnCtEA/U6x9jycqhbI/AAAAAAAAAQI/1EkGC--QmwY/s640/blogger-image-401497287.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-QQHzzfnCtEA/U6x9jycqhbI/AAAAAAAAAQI/1EkGC--QmwY/s640/blogger-image-401497287.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-ykLtS7vBsI4/U6x9i6MIZ6I/AAAAAAAAAQA/ORhMsRFEf4w/s640/blogger-image--1791984060.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-ykLtS7vBsI4/U6x9i6MIZ6I/AAAAAAAAAQA/ORhMsRFEf4w/s640/blogger-image--1791984060.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><br></div><br></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-751903241248902333.post-36300189818725903712014-06-19T10:55:00.001-07:002014-06-19T18:18:00.794-07:00The End Is ComingI have one full week to live.<div>Wow</div><div>Sorry</div><div>What I meant to type was: I have one full week until summer vacation starts. </div><div><br></div><div>Ours is not a family that does well without consistent structure. Previous summers have taught me that I can no longer say, "we'll see how it goes" or "I don't know what we have planned yet. You guys?" Shit this summer needs to be meticulously planned and choreographed according to the moon cycles and bug feasting patterns. I have 68 days to fill with outside play dates, sensory activities, educational field trips, camp outs, cook outs, craft ideas, visiting random (mostly deaf) relatives, swimming, soccer, gardening, and playgrounds. </div><div><br></div><div>Gone are the days of leisurely tanning in the backyard with a beer and a book; afternoons spent in the backyard now requires 1L of SPF 85, bug spray, wide brimmed hats, enough liquid to hydrate Wisconsin, band aides, iPod for music, a backpack full of snacks, and a slightly drunk Mommy is always favourable. </div><div><br></div><div>I started planning for the summer holidays in May- that bitch isn't going to sneak up and ruin my life this year!! Oh no- with the help of caffeine and Pintrest, I got this. I have an entire virtual board filled with crafts, activities, and educational-homework-disguised as fun. These little bastards are going to go to bed each night exhausted, creative, and smarter- <b>so help me God. </b></div><div><b><br></b></div><div><div class="separator" style="font-weight: bold; clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-_7cSdGtLS1c/U6M0_GPMPdI/AAAAAAAAAN4/8y9mmPlqxwU/s640/blogger-image--1586875373.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-_7cSdGtLS1c/U6M0_GPMPdI/AAAAAAAAAN4/8y9mmPlqxwU/s640/blogger-image--1586875373.jpg"></a></div><br></div>Kids are <i>always </i>good in museums, right?!?</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-WFnrN1rcuAg/U6OLx39QUaI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/N1_K9LZv0iI/s640/blogger-image--848546489.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-WFnrN1rcuAg/U6OLx39QUaI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/N1_K9LZv0iI/s640/blogger-image--848546489.jpg"></a></div><br></div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-3o-zIBxWXDM/U6OLwIsrAAI/AAAAAAAAAPA/KfhETivhYxI/s640/blogger-image-1406131763.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-3o-zIBxWXDM/U6OLwIsrAAI/AAAAAAAAAPA/KfhETivhYxI/s640/blogger-image-1406131763.jpg"></a></div><br></div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-SMsvXSGKlmU/U6OLxJJkBoI/AAAAAAAAAPI/BOVOC-sIO7U/s640/blogger-image--1226752664.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-SMsvXSGKlmU/U6OLxJJkBoI/AAAAAAAAAPI/BOVOC-sIO7U/s640/blogger-image--1226752664.jpg"></a></div><br></div> </div><div>Anything else local to add to these lists? Help a Momma out...</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-egABm7n8zm4/U6OFz7WShJI/AAAAAAAAAOw/Sf9RrmEQkt8/s640/blogger-image-1380375632.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-egABm7n8zm4/U6OFz7WShJI/AAAAAAAAAOw/Sf9RrmEQkt8/s640/blogger-image-1380375632.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>Weekly rewards that I will make them learn how to read muahahaha</div><div><br></div><div>You're going <i>down </i>Summer!</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-Vk9sCC3EoSI/U6OFxwpZuqI/AAAAAAAAAOg/-Tr4llFOcTU/s640/blogger-image--642646900.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-Vk9sCC3EoSI/U6OFxwpZuqI/AAAAAAAAAOg/-Tr4llFOcTU/s640/blogger-image--642646900.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>My back-up plan</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-yvDand6LuDc/U6OFyuN-DKI/AAAAAAAAAOo/SnWSG7f_FS0/s640/blogger-image--1688701519.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-yvDand6LuDc/U6OFyuN-DKI/AAAAAAAAAOo/SnWSG7f_FS0/s640/blogger-image--1688701519.jpg"></a></div><br></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-751903241248902333.post-13699218619629887292014-06-13T17:19:00.001-07:002014-06-14T20:16:48.261-07:00Father's Day Today, I'd like to acknowledge the men among us who are lucky enough to be called "Dad"<div><br></div><div>Today is for the modern man, the New Dad who learns how to change diapers, who takes his turn in the nightly feeding rotation, who gets spit up on, barfed on, and shit on...he is sleep deprived, malnourished and overwhelmed- but still remembers to tell baby's Mom that she's doing a great job.</div><div><br></div><div>Today is for the dads patiently teaching their kids to take a step, kick a ball, read a word, shoot a puck, cast a rod, tie their shoe, play a riff, change a tire, pump their own gas, do long division, tie a neck tie, hold the door open for an elder, and burp the alphabet.</div><div><br></div><div>Today is for the stay-at-home dads. God bless you. You gently flip society the bird while holding a crying toddler on your hip, helping Jr with his homework, and turning out a delicious supper all at the same time. </div><div><br></div><div>Today is for the dads with daughters. Thank you for embracing pink and purple. Thank you for participating in tea parties, for knowing all the Disney princesses' names, for bringing beautiful flowers to her dance recital. Thank you for standing your ground and not letting her leave the house in that outfit, for giving her boyfriend a chance, for encouraging her to do anything- be everything, for barely holding it together walking her down the aisle. </div><div><br></div><div>Today is for the dads with sons. Thank you for letting him decide what he's interested in. Thank you for letting him try every single sport, every single instrument, every single video game. Thank you for taking him outside, for teaching him how to treat women properly, for telling him that it's ok to make mistakes, for suggesting that he sees the world. Thank you for being the best example of what a "real man" should be. </div><div><br></div><div>Today is a hurrah for the single dads. Are you even human?? Seriously, good for you; I think you're <b>amazing. </b>Your kids do too- trust me.</div><div><br></div><div>Today is for the dads of special needs children. These dads who navigate and overcome pained emotions, and loss of future dreams daily to find genuine contentment and joy in the kid they have been blessed with. We should exude gratitude and praise to these men, as the reality is that their kids may not be able to. </div><div><br></div><div>Today is for the not-so-present dads. May today act as a reminder to them that they are not too late, that they can still be an active, instrumental part of their child's life. </div><div><br></div><div>Today is for the Grandpas- it's definitely more fun the second time around, isn't it? :)</div><div><br></div><div>Today is for every man who has ever put his needs last to provide for his family, who spends a portion of <i>every day </i>trying to carve out a better place in this world for their child to exist happily in, who gives tirelessly of himself to his children- thank you. The happiest of Father's Days to you xo</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-So7mH_94otU/U5uomJNoyfI/AAAAAAAAANQ/s8tXFXwqzLs/s640/blogger-image-1410259253.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-So7mH_94otU/U5uomJNoyfI/AAAAAAAAANQ/s8tXFXwqzLs/s640/blogger-image-1410259253.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-pfaHAUB9TcY/U5uom4WfoFI/AAAAAAAAANY/cORl8UMJyFE/s640/blogger-image--495415983.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-pfaHAUB9TcY/U5uom4WfoFI/AAAAAAAAANY/cORl8UMJyFE/s640/blogger-image--495415983.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-bQqW873Ljr0/U5uon3udASI/AAAAAAAAANg/GrokNml2FH0/s640/blogger-image-1732379572.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-bQqW873Ljr0/U5uon3udASI/AAAAAAAAANg/GrokNml2FH0/s640/blogger-image-1732379572.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-mRvFiz56Uco/U5uooqi_f5I/AAAAAAAAANo/wldynLJAIGc/s640/blogger-image-921603866.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-mRvFiz56Uco/U5uooqi_f5I/AAAAAAAAANo/wldynLJAIGc/s640/blogger-image-921603866.jpg"></a></div><br></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-751903241248902333.post-1706167963792823762014-06-10T17:55:00.001-07:002014-06-10T18:53:53.025-07:00Life is more entertaining in my headI'm a pretty good parent- but if truth be told, that's only because I'm <i>exceptional </i>at censoring what's really going on in my head. <div><br></div><div>Kid says: I drew this for you; do you know what it is?</div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">What I say in my head: multicoloured spaghetti diarrhea? And that purple squiggle in the corner looks like a dick.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">What I say out loud: Wow! Look at all those colors- can you name them all for me? It's beautiful.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Kid says: Can I play with the IPad in bed?</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">What I say in my head: I have a date with level 83 of Candy Crush in 10 minutes. You're going down chocolate mountain!</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">What I say out loud: the blue light from the iPad is bad for sleepy time.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Kid says: Oh yeah? Well I don't like you anymore!</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">What I say in my head: I haven't liked you in weeks- you're an asshole! As a matter of fact, we're through. Pack your crap and get out! I'm calling my mother.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">What I say out loud: That hurt my feelings. You sit here alone and think about that.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Kid says: Guard the door while I go poop.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">What I say in my head: We're the only two home!? Who in their right mind wants to barge in on your stinky self pooping??</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">What I say out loud: Sure thing Bud</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Noëlle says (at 5:00 am): Do you want to eat?? </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">What I say in my head: No. Sleeping. Go. Away. Now.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">What I say out loud: Good communicating- you're so smart...<i>and up early.</i></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><i><br></i></span></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">Kid says: Are those <i>your </i>boobies? </font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">What I say in my head: Nope. I went to the plastic surgeon and paid big bucks for these over-sized-had-three-kids-saggy tits. Aren't they awesome?</font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">What I say out loud: Of course they're my boobies- they're part of my body and I love them (*gag, I know*)</font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">Kid says: Let me play you a song on my drum.</font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">What I say in my head: Holy fuck I wish you wouldn't. Seriously.</font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">What I say out loud: I love your songs!!</font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">{kill}</font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">{me}</font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">Kid says: Bubble Guppies. <b>NOW!</b></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><b><br></b></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">What I say in my head: Wow- you're an asshole.</font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">What I say out loud: I didn't hear any manners...</font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">Kid says: I really want a cookie.</font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">What I say in my head: Me too...and if you weren't standing here with me, I'd be eating one secretly.</font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">What I say out loud: Supper is almost ready. You can have one after. </font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">Kid says: If Storm and Firestar had a fight, Firestar would win.</font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">What I say in my head: No, Storm could just whip up a tornado and funnel Firestar's flame like a flamethrower...then She-Hulk would come and kick both those silly bitches asses. </font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">What I say out loud: Really? How come?</font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">Kid says: Saku keeps sniffing me.</font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">What I say in my head: That's because you smell like sweaty feet/peanut butter/ old farts/play doh</font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">What I say out loud: That's because he loves you!</font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">Kid says: YOU'RE NOT MY BEST FRIEND!!</font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">What I say in my head: I've had whiney friends like you; they suck.</font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">What I say out loud: No I'm not, I'm your Mother. </font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">Kid Says: Can I stay up late?</font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">What I say in my head: HAHAHAHAHA</font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">Fuck no. I've been excited for your bed time for seven hours.</font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">What I say out loud: No.</font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-XiiZ98bbKAM/U5e0gf0MLgI/AAAAAAAAANA/zg0V0-w5H7s/s640/blogger-image-1954658726.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-XiiZ98bbKAM/U5e0gf0MLgI/AAAAAAAAANA/zg0V0-w5H7s/s640/blogger-image-1954658726.jpg"></a></div><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">*<i>disclaimer*</i></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">My sensoring ability deteriorates with direct proportion to caffeine consumed/hours slept </font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><br></font></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-751903241248902333.post-23145072643425467402014-01-21T10:44:00.001-08:002014-06-12T17:47:34.409-07:00How To Have An "OKer" Marriage Have you seen any of these lists floating around Facebook and Pintrest: "25 Ways To Have A Happy Marriage" or "How to Keep Joy In Your Marriage" or "18,000,000 Tricks To Please Your Man" (That last one <i>might </i>have actually been a Cosmo title I saw at the cash at Walmart.) I skim through these lists, and I find them to be misogynistic, outdated, or just plain ridiculous:<div>"If someone <b>has</b> to win the argument, let it always be him."</div><div>"Have the house cleaned, and his favorite meal ready when he comes home."</div><div>"Do not burden him with your worries."</div><div>"Don't reject his advances in the bedroom"</div><div>"Occasionally slather yourself with chocolate and/or bacon grease."</div><div><br></div><div>I read these lists and I <i>always </i>think: "Is it just me, or is this not the fucking stupidest thing ever written!?" Don't get me wrong, I'm certainly not above marriage advice, or even ideas on how to live our years so that they are the best; I am, however, above advice that debases the needs, thoughts, ambitions, and desires of one person in favour of another. I hate these lists because I feel like my marriage can never relate to them, I feel like they are almost always skewed to a particular sex, or religious belief, or impossible to achieve ideal.</div><div><br></div><div>So...</div><div>I made my own list that I will now force my husband, with penalties of a swift death, to adhere to.</div><div><br></div><div><b>Rachel's List To {<i>maybe} </i>Avoid Divorce:</b></div><div><b><br></b></div><div>1. The Marriage Hierarchy</div><div>Spouse</div><div>Children</div><div>Family </div><div>Friends</div><div>Community</div><div>Segal/Star Wars/Lord of the Ring/007 Movies</div><div><br></div><div>This should be the order of importance. My husband and our relationship should always come first. My parents did this- they always sided with each other (even though they were usually dead wrong.) Sure, at the time we hated them for it, but hey, they're going on almost 40 years married...so turns out they were right. Yup, still hate admitting that...</div><div><br></div><div>2. Alone Time</div><div>"My husband is my best friend!"</div><div>No, he's not. He's your husband. You have an actual best friend- go hang out with her! HE has a best friend- he needs to go hang out with him...without you. Everyone needs personal time/space to enjoy and pursue interests and hobbies, to bond and relate with their friends. To deny this is selfish, immature, and stifling.</div><div><br></div><div>3. Go to bed angry.</div><div>Bitch please, we've had arguments that have lasted a week- you expect me to not go to bed until that's straightened out!? Nope. Go to bed. Get some sleep. Cool your jets. Wake up (hopefully) less angry/stubborn/irrational/venomous.</div><div>If need be, carry on fighting- <b>after </b>caffeine has been consumed...let's argue responsibly please.</div><div><br></div><div>4. Don't hate on their family/friends.</div><div>Yes, his Uncle's step-daughter's boyfriend is a complete douchebag...don't constantly point it out. Unless he does first...then by all means, make fun of that knob together. </div><div><br></div><div>5. Praise him publicly.</div><div>Yes, yes- this one is annoying and cliché, but I actually agree with it. I try to always build Nick up, openly praising his work ethic, his ability to provide for us, his superior parenting skills, his excellent husbandtry (not even sure if that's an actual word...sounds like a class you take in high school, right after carpentry...) It would be hard for Nick to believe that I love and respect him if I did otherwise. </div><div><br></div><div>6. Split the household work in a way that makes sense to your family.</div><div>I'm a stay-at-home mom so it makes sense that I do most of the household chores; however, that's not chiseled in stone, and I'm also not the maid. Don't be that jackass guy who leaves his underwear on the floor <i>in front of the goddamn hamper. </i>Don't be a slob. Women, don't be a martyr, or worse, a Facebook domestic victim constantly whining about how you're the only one who cleans. Unless you're bitching about the empty toilet paper roll...seriously, I will hunt you down like the lazy swine you are if pull that stunt with me >:/</div><div><br></div><div>7. Keep things spicy- learn a new trick in the bedroom.</div><div>Pretty self-explanatory. </div><div>Not good at learning tricks? Amazon had great...er..."tricks" books.</div><div><br></div><div>8. Sex</div><div>Yes please! Intimacy and physical touch is pretty damn important in a marriage. It shouldn't be used as a bartering chip, or withheld as blackmail.</div><div><br></div><div>9. Stop pointing fingers</div><div>This isn't Yahtzee; stop keeping score. The need to constantly, without fail, point out who was wrong, how often they were wrong, and the severity of how god damn wrong they were is not only unbecoming, it's exhausting and syphons all positivity from a relationship. </div><div><br></div><div>10. Don't be an Asshole</div><div>(A) When fighting, don't call names, swear, or bring up things that have already been forgiven/solved.</div><div><br></div><div>(B) If you realize that one of you are acting like an Asshole, you should be able to call an Asshole Timeout. It can go something like this:</div><div>"Wait, wait. Asshole Time Out. One of us is being a douche. Let's take some deep breaths, sit quiet for a minute and start over." No offence should be taken during an Asshole Timeout.</div><div><br></div><div>Those are my basics to *possibly* not get divorced. </div><div>I'd love to hear any additions you'd like added.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-751903241248902333.post-18321051386807253282014-01-08T17:12:00.001-08:002014-01-08T17:12:39.059-08:00Happy 32nd Bday To Me!!A cross section of my birthday:<div><br></div><div>-Wake up to my alarm; decide I don't <i>need</i> a shower today- sleep for another 30 minutes.</div><div>-Wake up. For real this time.</div><div>-Get two older kids ready for school; son is whiney (secretly grateful it's not the weekend.)</div><div>-Put kid #2 on the bus.</div><div>-Put kid #1 on the van.</div><div>-Get locked out of the fucking house by kid #3 (thank god I had enough brains to put a coat on before going outside to put Noëlle on the bus. Our keypad lock's batteries are dying, so it took me a good ten minutes to unlock the door. Apparently toddlers think hypothermia is hilarious.)</div><div>-Take kid #3 to her first dentist appointment. Bribe her with Timbits. Don't give a shit how counter-productive this is.</div><div>-Get kicked in the shin by strange kid at the dentist's. Congratulate myself on not body slamming him à la 1989 Macho Man Randy Savage style.</div><div>-Lie about flossing my two year old's teeth daily :/</div><div>-Take toddler to Walmart: pass an older gentleman with a long white beard- my kid freaks out, yelling "Santa! Santa!" It was straight out of Will Ferrell's "Elf" I shit you not. Thankfully, he was too old to actually hear her.</div><div>-Come home, put sleepy kid to bed.</div><div>-Bake my own GF birthday cake.</div><div>-Snuggle in front of the fireplace with a Pepsi and new book.</div><div>-Promptly get a phone call from the school: "please come get your barfy kids."</div><div>-Wake up toddler, go get sickies.</div><div>-Spend afternoon with kiddos in the toyroom, watching cartoons.</div><div>-Super hubby saves the day by bringing home Chinese food.</div><div>-Gorge until I slightly hate myself. </div><div>-No one eats the cake hahaha</div><div>-Monitor tubby time while hubby cleans up and does dishes.</div><div>-Bath time interrupted by floating poop.</div><div>-Wash tub. Re-wash kids.</div><div>-Bedtime! {insert music from choirs of heavenly angels}</div><div>-Bask in all the Facebook love <3</div><div>-Snuggle in front of the fire to blog...and watch a Steven Segal movie :)</div><div><br></div><div>A perfect day, imperfections and all xo</div><div><br></div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-uDHPvr7Qg7Y/Us33hP5A02I/AAAAAAAAAMg/mpQ97JNRyGY/s640/blogger-image-544376327.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-uDHPvr7Qg7Y/Us33hP5A02I/AAAAAAAAAMg/mpQ97JNRyGY/s640/blogger-image-544376327.jpg"></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-751903241248902333.post-29960925064420014482013-12-12T16:02:00.001-08:002013-12-12T19:50:32.286-08:00West Jet's Annual Xmas ExtravaganceIf you've spent any time on Facebook this week, you've undoubtedly saw, or heard about, West Jet's YouTube video. If you haven't- here's the low down:<div>West Jet set up a virtual Santa Clause in the terminal that passengers boarding the plane got to tell what they wanted for Christmas. While the passengers were in the air, West Jet employees then went shopping for each item requested by unsuspecting passengers. After they landed, their gifts were delivered via the baggage carousel. Tears, surprise, and genuine gratitude was displayed by all. A feel good story that has been shared over one million times already. </div><div><br></div><div>Here's a bit of "Bah Humbug" for ya...I hated it. I thought the money spent on this kerfuffle (Google it, it's totally a word) was wasted on affluent jet setters. Do not for one second believe that this was anything other than a brilliantly devised marketing ploy; a clever, and well executed maneuver to stand out, and utilize social media to advertise. For that I guess, well done. </div><div><br></div><div>Let's say that entire production cost West Jet $100,000 (pennies compared to the airplay they've gotten from it)- if they really wanted to use their corporate name, money, and influence to make a real difference in lives during the holidays- or everyday for that matter- they could have spent that money differently. Given an hour, I bet you could come up with almost a hundred different ways. Don't have an hour? </div><div><br></div><div>I do.</div><div><br></div><div>1. Give the money to a women's shelter to help pay for therapy, job training, and education.</div><div>2. Pick 30 elementary schools and sponsor their breakfast programs FOR A YEAR!</div><div>3. Buy an abandoned lot and build a playground.</div><div>4. Fund several before/after school programs.</div><div>5. Create a dozen community gardens in low income neighbourhoods so everyone can have access to fresh, organic produce.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-woDdIcBs5Bw/UqqEBdzY7MI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/DgPCA-QOfwo/s640/blogger-image-406495615.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-woDdIcBs5Bw/UqqEBdzY7MI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/DgPCA-QOfwo/s640/blogger-image-406495615.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">6. Pick one of the MILLIONS of community centres around the country and help them expand/renovate/innovate their programming.</span></div><div>7. Fund programming at a library.</div><div>8. Give all the money to the Dup15q Alliance (www.dup15q.org) ;)</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-RibvjHvzQvc/UqqD1ceifyI/AAAAAAAAALQ/AibrV4B8WLo/s640/blogger-image-1907968597.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-RibvjHvzQvc/UqqD1ceifyI/AAAAAAAAALQ/AibrV4B8WLo/s640/blogger-image-1907968597.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>9. Give the money to absolutely any homeless shelter.</div><div>10. Fund a program where retired police/military work within the schools to help with the issue of bullying (enough of this Wear A Pink Shirt To School bullshit- we need concrete solutions, not fashion)</div><div>11. Fund Self-esteem/self-worth workshops for at risk youths. </div><div>12. Donate 200 iPads to Autism Speaks (this isn't for entertainment- these help our kids communicate and interact!)</div><div>13. Pimp out a Snow Suit Fund.</div><div>14. Sponsor an ENTIRE VILLAGE in Ethiopia- bicycles, chickens, goats, oxens, feed, seeds, fencing, irrigation.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-2jjVxaLK6RA/UqqD-Zllj8I/AAAAAAAAAMA/PE5yYQa-l4k/s640/blogger-image-150922363.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-2jjVxaLK6RA/UqqD-Zllj8I/AAAAAAAAAMA/PE5yYQa-l4k/s640/blogger-image-150922363.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>15. Donate it to a struggling hospice.</div><div>16. Donate it to ANY children's hospice (Roger's House has my vote...and heart)</div><div>17. Use it to provide respite to 100 overwhelmed families who desperately need it.</div><div>18. Educate a community about alternative medicines.</div><div>19. Dig a well in Africa.</div><div>20. Start a scholarship for high school students going into the trades.</div><div>21. Create a grant for musicians.</div><div>22. Create a grant for artists.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-OZCBjxr9nX0/UqqDzjQ72iI/AAAAAAAAALI/GCBKsQszQgg/s640/blogger-image-1860179992.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-OZCBjxr9nX0/UqqDzjQ72iI/AAAAAAAAALI/GCBKsQszQgg/s640/blogger-image-1860179992.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>23. Pick a crappy assisted living retirement home and renovate it.</div><div>24. Back an entrepreneur starting an organic fast food chain (<b>for the love of a God, why aren't we funding this?!)</b></div><div>25. Donate it to a crisis centre.</div><div>26. Use it to upgrade a small community's fire truck/pumper.</div><div>27. Get a volunteer fire department new gear!</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-cdTfHIUlIjk/UqqD2qhh5PI/AAAAAAAAALY/Sb6OwdhcMWA/s640/blogger-image--565245448.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-cdTfHIUlIjk/UqqD2qhh5PI/AAAAAAAAALY/Sb6OwdhcMWA/s640/blogger-image--565245448.jpg"></a></div>(Aren't they kinda awesome?!?)</div><div><br></div><div>28. Give it to one school board and have it dedicated towards more EAs and ECEs in the classrooms!</div><div>29. Buy $100,000 worth of toys, clothes, and books for kids in foster homes, and group homes.</div><div>30. Assist any number of single parent households struggling to make ends meet.</div><div>31. Hold a giant Health and Wellness Expo with free admission!</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-0BvA8U18BDU/UqqD4EfWCgI/AAAAAAAAALg/J5LlB5Kzkyw/s640/blogger-image-1852265578.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-0BvA8U18BDU/UqqD4EfWCgI/AAAAAAAAALg/J5LlB5Kzkyw/s640/blogger-image-1852265578.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>32. Give it to the United Way (do you have any idea how many different programs they distribute money to??)</div><div>33. Create 250 Cristmas baskets for families in need (toys for the kids, hats/mitts/scarves for everyone, Christmas supper)</div><div>34. Any soup kitchen in North America would faint over a $100,000 cheque.</div><div>35. Fund a program for teenage moms to subsidize their daycare needs while finishing high school, and while furthering their education and/or job training.</div><div>36. Create a grant for first time entrepreneurs. </div><div>37. Create a grant to help subsidize rising hydro costs for the working poor.</div><div>38. Free yoga/boot camp in the park for an entire summer. For anyone.</div><div>39. Give it to four different animal shelters.</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-mbEm3BJy1Ck/UqqD5gpi3zI/AAAAAAAAALo/VBDKdj7nxk4/s640/blogger-image-354597204.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-mbEm3BJy1Ck/UqqD5gpi3zI/AAAAAAAAALo/VBDKdj7nxk4/s640/blogger-image-354597204.jpg"></a></div>(Well hello there!)</div><div><br></div><div>40. Create a grant for a holistic veterinarian starting his/her practice.</div><div>41. Create a grant for a holistic dentist starting a new practice. </div><div>42. Donate it to a hospital to forgive someone's medical debt.</div><div>43. Fund a program that teaches youths about debt, their credit scores, money management, creating a budget, savings/GICs/RSPs/RESP...you know, all the unimportant stuff they don't teach in school -,-</div><div>44. Make A Wish Foundation.</div><div>45. Pay for a service dog or eight...</div><div>46. Help fund a small community's Green Bin program.</div><div>47. 100 gym memberships </div><div>48. 100 grocery gift cards earmarked for organic fruits and veggies.</div><div>49. Habitat for Humanity.</div><div>50. Free music lessons to an entire community.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-J22zQ8ODiVI/UqqD8h9l_yI/AAAAAAAAAL4/KlNXs-DyDpU/s640/blogger-image-1850288945.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-J22zQ8ODiVI/UqqD8h9l_yI/AAAAAAAAAL4/KlNXs-DyDpU/s640/blogger-image-1850288945.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>51. Funnel it into an established program that pays for sports registration and equipment for kids who's parents cannot afford it. </div><div>52. New books for an old library.</div><div>53. Donate it to a mental health facility. </div><div>54. Wind turbines.</div><div>55. Solar panels.</div><div>56. Free swimming lessons at a facility. For a year.</div><div>57. A fully adapted van for a special needs family.</div><div>58. Autism research.</div><div>59. An electronics recycling program- pretty much anywhere really.</div><div>60. Pick any number of baby boomers who have lost their jobs due to plant closures and pay for their re-education and job training.</div><div>61. Create a mentoring program for teenagers after school.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-KLwM-hLFVB4/UqqD7DB-YDI/AAAAAAAAALw/uyx03X7Lx9E/s640/blogger-image--388137069.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-KLwM-hLFVB4/UqqD7DB-YDI/AAAAAAAAALw/uyx03X7Lx9E/s640/blogger-image--388137069.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><br></div><div>62. Subsidize utility bills for seniors on a fixed income within a community.</div><div>63. Create a Mom & Tot play group/support group; pay for it's location and programming for a year. These are vital within the community!</div><div>64. Create 667 "Patio Garden Kits" and distribute them in an urban setting. </div><div>65. Create a little subdivision of "Tiny Homes" (Google them- they're awesome) for the homeless to live in while they find jobs, and get back on their feet.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-_Fp7lk8UsfQ/UqqD_4gir0I/AAAAAAAAAMI/L0iTrff9q_I/s640/blogger-image--1401597968.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-_Fp7lk8UsfQ/UqqD_4gir0I/AAAAAAAAAMI/L0iTrff9q_I/s640/blogger-image--1401597968.jpg"></a></div>(Tumbleweed homes are my favorite) </div><div><br></div><div>66. Literally ANY small community hospital could use 100 grand.</div><div>67. Bet that would buy a new MRI machine...</div><div>68. Work programs for the developmentally challenged.</div><div>69. Day programs for the developmentally challenged. (Beyond 21 is our local non-government funded post education program.)</div><div>70. Pay off $100,000 from someone's mortgage (recently unemployed perhapse?)</div><div>71. Start a youths/seniors group: seniors get visitors and learn technology maybe, youths get to learn about traditional skills and lifestyles.</div><div>72. Build an Independant gym/stage/study hall that homeschooling families can utilize, share, and socialize in.</div><div>73. Go to any job bank and hand out cheques for $5000- help them out while they're actively trying to provide for their families. </div><div>74. Sexual abuse victims. </div><div>75. Browse Gofundme or Kickstart- there are so many deserving causes!!</div><div> </div><div><br></div><div>So, I just deleted an entire paragraph; instead of leaving you with my jaded grumblings on consumerism, media, and the art of distraction, I'd rather you think about my list. What would you add to your list? What would you like companies such as West Jet to spend $100,000 on? How would your community benefit? How could the global community benefit? </div><div>How can we make this happen...</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-751903241248902333.post-88128186658591783442013-12-10T18:06:00.001-08:002013-12-10T18:55:04.749-08:00Elf In The Goddamn GarbageSeriously, am I the only one who absolutely hates the Elf on the Shelf phenomenon?!? Last year I was (barely) able to contain my disdain for this new tradition, but this year, this year I'm considerably more...bitchy? <div>Intolerant? </div><div>Cranky because I miss carbs and Pepsi? Obviously, it's all of the above.</div><div><br></div><div>Although the Elf on the Shelf drives me nuts- certifiably homicidal as a matter of fact- please don't mistake my dislike for this activity as being "Anti-Christmas", or "lacking Spirit and creativity", or being a general "Poo-Poo Head." </div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-hzX5jUH2rr0/UqfThMzW1BI/AAAAAAAAAKY/eXTNFIBNJ6I/s640/blogger-image-332377954.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-hzX5jUH2rr0/UqfThMzW1BI/AAAAAAAAAKY/eXTNFIBNJ6I/s640/blogger-image-332377954.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>{Look, isn't he adorable!? What's wrong with you Rachel?!? >:/ }</div><div><br></div><div>My issue with this *incredibly creepy* elf is the introduction of yet another lie to our children. We're very honest with our kids- we use the proper names for body parts even if that makes others uncomfortable, and we don't make up tales to easily explain hard to answer questions. </div><div><br></div><div>** Disclaimer **</div><div><i>I lie on a weekly basis to them about bedtime. This ruthless dishonesty will continue, unchecked, until one of the clever little bastards learn how to tell time.</i></div><div><i><br></i></div><div>I have a hard time encouraging my kids to be kind, to share, to use gentle language, to play nice with each other just because a *really creepy* elf is watching them. I expect them to learn to do these things because that's how we're raising them, because I expect them to listen, obey, and emulate our instructions and actions...also, because I'm their frigging Mother And I Said So. <b>#godsohelpmeifyoudontstopfighting! </b>How would we put emphasis and promote these good behaviours beyond Christmas- when that *really fucking creepy elf* is packed away in the basement? </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-nniYIm6dS2k/UqfTeZ_UkKI/AAAAAAAAAKA/LGaS3BisGSg/s640/blogger-image--413002364.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-nniYIm6dS2k/UqfTeZ_UkKI/AAAAAAAAAKA/LGaS3BisGSg/s640/blogger-image--413002364.jpg"></a></div> </div><div>Now before all you Pro-Elfers go ape shit and scour Pintrest looking for horrific/creative acts of revenge for your elves to perform on me...</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-4vfeLVouyvI/UqfTgVrt9bI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/_QlfTzqKfkg/s640/blogger-image-869803596.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-4vfeLVouyvI/UqfTgVrt9bI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/_QlfTzqKfkg/s640/blogger-image-869803596.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><br></div><div>...chill. I'm genuinely pleased that your family enjoys the creativity, and tradition of Elf on the Shelf. Really. Just keep him away from me; he scares the bejesus out of me. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-MhRHKn2ooJQ/UqfTfViYWSI/AAAAAAAAAKI/6p8rPGyvTqQ/s640/blogger-image-1124262303.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-MhRHKn2ooJQ/UqfTfViYWSI/AAAAAAAAAKI/6p8rPGyvTqQ/s640/blogger-image-1124262303.jpg"></a></div>{ Hahaha!! I love the look on this dog's face! }</div><div><br></div><div>Elf on crazy peeps, Elf on...xo</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-751903241248902333.post-54326411485852612952013-11-24T11:51:00.001-08:002013-12-06T20:54:47.826-08:00It's Alive!!!Miss me?<div><br></div><div>I'm having a hard time resurrecting my blog. If this was a zombie apocolypse, my blog would the idiot zombie limping around in circles, eating it's own arm. I keep drawing a big, fat blank every time I start. I keep giving myself little pep talks: "you can do this Rachel- just start writing, write anything." So here it goes; my Anything.<br><div><br></div><div>I started working for a direct sales company in August...aaaand I let it take over my life haha! I wanted to devote my full attention, and effort into It Works (the mlm company I became obsessed with), and I lost sight of almost everything else; I abandoned my garden mid-harvest, I neglected my house decorating duties, I cancelled our annual pumpkin carving party, I traded in my Pintrest worthy Mom-manship for haphazardly thrown together meals, and mountain elevations of folded laundry that never managed to see the inside of dresser drawers. </div></div><div><br></div><div>Luckily, I have seen the light at the end of the network marketing tunnel, and it beckons me back into the real world. I'm at a comfortable junction where I feel like I could continue to work the business effectively, while maintaining a life that is seperate from it; a life that includes friends, writing, gardening, and Super Momming. </div><div><br></div><div>Baby steps!</div><div><br></div><div>(*<i>and if you are interested in buying a wrap and/or nutritional supplement: nickpomme.myitworks.com/home hahaha!*)</i></div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-rVNrnZw8m8A/UqKqEUSBl-I/AAAAAAAAAJo/WpjAvvFsQdI/s640/blogger-image-1672599538.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-rVNrnZw8m8A/UqKqEUSBl-I/AAAAAAAAAJo/WpjAvvFsQdI/s640/blogger-image-1672599538.jpg"></a></div>Before It Works wrap.....and after</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-Q09oEZ2UrWw/UqKqFTtWXTI/AAAAAAAAAJw/qrDCZS2s17c/s640/blogger-image-1349554130.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-Q09oEZ2UrWw/UqKqFTtWXTI/AAAAAAAAAJw/qrDCZS2s17c/s640/blogger-image-1349554130.jpg"></a></div>Folded laundry: abandoned, forced to raise it's feral young in the wild...sad.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-751903241248902333.post-79399045923317745992013-07-28T20:19:00.001-07:002013-07-28T20:19:39.945-07:00Home Again, Home Again, Jiggitty JogHello Lovelies,<div><br></div><div>We have just returned home from our second international Dup15q conference (this year in fabulous Minnesota.) I'm quite tired. I plan to blog/Tweet/create cave paintings/choreograph an interpretive dance about our experience tomorrow and beyond, but tonight I just wanted to create a quick post to share what I am basking in tonight- right now: love, appreciation, and gratitude. This conference tends to come along just at the right moment in my life, usually when I am about to run out of steam. This conference fills me with hope- not only for Noëlle's future, but for this entire growing community thrown together by both chance, and the tiniest of genetic material. We are all there to learn from each other, to support one another, to do better, to BE better. This conference lights a fire in my soul (and under my ass) and motivates me to be More. To learn More. To do More. To give More. </div><div><br></div><div>I am incredibly grateful for the billions of hours that went into creating this conference by numerous selfless people who are who are leading the way, building a strong foundation for this community to grow upon, and setting the bar higher and higher so that we can ALL be More.</div><div><br></div><div>Much love xo</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-751903241248902333.post-85647157788550485922013-07-19T14:58:00.001-07:002013-07-19T15:45:44.229-07:00Life Without Neighbours!<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">So, I'm loading the dishwasher this afternoon, enjoying the silence of our home. The girls were in their beds napping the heat away under lazy ceiling fans, and Dryden took the dog outside to play "car wash" on the front porch. Country living at its finest. I was startled out of my daydreaming by a car honking at our house on its way by. 20 seconds later, another enthusiastic honker. Odd.</span><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">I poked my head outside to look around and saw my soon-to-be four year old son, shorts around his ankles, bare bum, tiny wiener out, peeing in our front yard; he was standing there, facing the road, hands clasped behind his head, cocky smirk on his face that clearly said, "ah! This is the life!"</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">My husband is responsible for this obsession with peeing outside, so it's on him to explain why peeing behind the shed is preferable to the front yard.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">And if you were one of the honkers today, I hope you enjoyed the show and could appreciate his joy at simple country living!</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-751903241248902333.post-64841690158726149112013-05-22T17:29:00.001-07:002013-06-27T19:03:28.206-07:00Less Fat/More Happy My quest to lose the 50 lbs I've accumulated during my various pregnancies has been a frustrating and disappointing exercise in feeling terrible about myself and failing to shed any weight. Not a damn pound.<div><br><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-l3y7GtV8FyA/Uczu6onB6DI/AAAAAAAAAJE/tFU7qCBw6eQ/s640/blogger-image--1808973539.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-l3y7GtV8FyA/Uczu6onB6DI/AAAAAAAAAJE/tFU7qCBw6eQ/s640/blogger-image--1808973539.jpg"></a></div>(^ that's me...before my waxing appointment)<br><div><br></div><div> I obviously (painfully so) have <i style="font-weight: bold; ">no idea what I'm doing.</i> I give up! I give up making excuses. I give up eating food that's poisoning my body and feebly justifying it. I give up being too tired to work out. I give up doing it in my own; I stopped feeling bad about my physical shell and joined a gym.</div><div><br></div><div>Now, it's been a good decade since I've set foot in a gym- and when I used to go to the gym I was a young athlete with a bangin' bod. So needless to say, I was intimidated and leery of making the necessary first step. What do I even wear to the gym now? When I was in my late teens and early twenties, anything I wore looked great on me. Now I require a little more...ah...strategic planning for my wardrobe. Alas, there was no cool looking fat girl workout garb to be found- so I went all out in retro gear. And by retro, I mean head to frigging toe Olivia Newton John "Lets Get Physical, Physical!"</div></div></div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-J2EYp6E-Zfw/Uczu7sUEBPI/AAAAAAAAAJM/FkV5bRWSxUU/s640/blogger-image-800862464.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-J2EYp6E-Zfw/Uczu7sUEBPI/AAAAAAAAAJM/FkV5bRWSxUU/s640/blogger-image-800862464.jpg"></a></div> </div><div>Apparently the leg warmers were too much...</div><div><br></div><div>3.8 seconds after setting foot through the door, I realized that I couldn't bluff my way through this- I needed someone who: </div><div>(a) knew how to use the machines.</div><div>(b) could tell me what to eat.(fortheluvofgodpleasesayicandrinkpepsi)</div><div>(C) would keep me accountable.</div><div><br></div><div>I chose this gym because I had a specific trainer in mind; I attended a "Healthy Eating" seminar he gave and it sparked something in me- a tiny ember that was waiting patiently for just the right time.</div><div>This is Jason, my trainer.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-bEah8mcZpgo/Uczu5lVGqkI/AAAAAAAAAI8/CEjiSY4cQwY/s640/blogger-image--2052219124.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-bEah8mcZpgo/Uczu5lVGqkI/AAAAAAAAAI8/CEjiSY4cQwY/s640/blogger-image--2052219124.jpg"></a></div> </div><div>...No, you're right, this picture did not help dispel the intimidation I felt on Day One. And no, I do not stare at him non-stop: I'm too busy concentrating on breathing and not having a heart attack and dying. Because that would be super embarrassing.</div><div><br></div><div>30 days later, I have no idea what I weigh; and for the first time in years, I don't care. I stopped using that as a gauge to measure my health. I <b>do </b>know that I am stronger, I have more energy, my skin looks fantastic, and I feel great. The small changes have become catalysts for big changes- the tiny ember has become a full blown flame, and I have no intentions of putting it out.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-751903241248902333.post-53898131266422202612013-05-16T06:08:00.001-07:002013-05-16T06:13:15.954-07:00Wise Man<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-VHgkeRjy6KQ/UZTaMJ8EDnI/AAAAAAAAAIM/iPh-fyYfng8/s640/blogger-image--997457498.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-VHgkeRjy6KQ/UZTaMJ8EDnI/AAAAAAAAAIM/iPh-fyYfng8/s640/blogger-image--997457498.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br></div><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-VHgkeRjy6KQ/UZTaMJ8EDnI/AAAAAAAAAIM/iPh-fyYfng8/s640/blogger-image--997457498.jpg"></div> <div><br></div><div><br></div><div> Yesterday, after supper I noticed that my little Tassimo carousel was devoid of all coffee. I had a moment of sheer panic in which I yelled something along the lines of, "<i style="font-weight: bold; ">holy shit we have no more coffee how did I let this happen tomorrow morning is going to suck so bad!" </i>I turned around and saw that Nick and the three kids were staring at me funny. I pulled myself together (barely) and said casually, "never mind, it's not the end of the world. I can do without- no big deal."<div><br></div><div>That's when my husband turned to face me and said seriously: "Rachel, you just quit smoking, gave up Pepsi cold turkey, are on a diet...and started your period. I cannot, in good conscience, go to work tomorrow and leave you without coffee. It's too dangerous for the kids."</div><div><br></div><div>So this morning, I raise an enormous mug of steaming hot coffee in recognition of one smart husband (and three small children who will <i>more than likely </i>survive the day.)</div><div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-IDYzzq9-V9A/UZTaOuBO-pI/AAAAAAAAAIc/w3hHPt53PC0/s640/blogger-image-1095985855.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-IDYzzq9-V9A/UZTaOuBO-pI/AAAAAAAAAIc/w3hHPt53PC0/s640/blogger-image-1095985855.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"> Cheers!</div></div></div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-pL8M97LpouA/UZTbaRgZWYI/AAAAAAAAAIs/lXflj4CmaUU/s640/blogger-image-497584501.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-pL8M97LpouA/UZTbaRgZWYI/AAAAAAAAAIs/lXflj4CmaUU/s640/blogger-image-497584501.jpg"></a></div><br></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-751903241248902333.post-26491476373216236742013-05-12T06:28:00.001-07:002013-05-12T08:45:39.771-07:00Mother's DayToday is for the women who get up every night to change a diaper, breast feed a wailing baby, expel a monster from under a bed, clean up a puddle of vomit, or sooth the aftermath of a nightmare without complaining.<div><br></div><div>Today is for the creative moms who stay up until midnight decorating the perfect Sponge Bob birthday cake, DIY coordinating accessories for new outfits for school, make up songs their kids find funny, and who sacrifice their spotless living room for couch cushion forts on a rainy day.</div><div><br></div><div>Today is definitely for the women who pull their hair out trying to put a different, delicious, nutritious meal on the table that everyone will eat every night. For the moms who cut the crust off sandwiches, make sculptures out of veggies, who hide flax and chai seeds in everything, who try every day to fuel their kids with enough good food to energize them to conquer the world...or at least the monkey bars.</div><div><br></div><div>Today is obviously for the moms who spend their weekends freezing in rinks in every godforsaken corner of the frozen Tundra, for the moms who shuttle between swimming and dance and piano lessons, who remember to bring snacks to T-ball practice, who's ears bleed throughout Junior's first violin recital, who talks to virtual strangers in order to arrange play dates.</div><div><br></div><div>Today is the day for single moms to bask in a tiny bit of recognition for the mountains they move with sheer will and stubbornness. Today is recognition for the sacrifice, exhaustion, and sometimes, loneliness they must feel; but its also for the resilience, independence, organization, and determination they exude <b>every day.</b></div><div><b><br></b></div><div>Today is for the working mom- who leaves the house every day to earn a living, leave her mark on the world, contribute to the infrastructure of society...and then returns home to make supper, do the dishes, help with homework, pick up cars and trucks, and read bedtime stories.</div><div><br></div><div>Today is for those blessed saints currently living with the dreaded <i>teenager.</i> For the moms negotiating curfew, struggling with the balance between protecting them and allowing them freedom to bloom, for the sideways dirty looks they ignore, for the technology they have to endure/pay for, for the time and genuine effort they spend moulding individuals who hopefully won't become assholes.</div><div><br></div><div>Today is for moms of special needs kids. For the countless hours spent with doctors, therapists, and specialist, for the hoops they are forced to jump through for funding, for help, for hope. For the sleepless nights that will never end, for the stress and anxiety that comes with every day situations, for the daily struggle to communicate with their child, for the stares and ignorant comments they are assaulted with while out in public, for the family and friends who just don't "<i>get it", </i>for the uncertainty the future holds.</div><div><br></div><div>Today is for Moms; for every woman who struggles to do her best, day in and day out, who makes it up as she goes, who sometimes receives little thanks or encouragement. Today is for Moms who won't trade that title for anything.</div><div><br></div><div>Happy Mothers Day Moms! </div><div><br></div><div><br></div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-ofAqgeXt-q8/UY-leu56WbI/AAAAAAAAAH0/zMh7LLf_a_c/s640/blogger-image--2127968526.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-ofAqgeXt-q8/UY-leu56WbI/AAAAAAAAAH0/zMh7LLf_a_c/s640/blogger-image--2127968526.jpg"></a></div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-u8L3jreVncM/UY-lfuKpQOI/AAAAAAAAAH8/HIRKNaDwDg0/s640/blogger-image--990312242.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-u8L3jreVncM/UY-lfuKpQOI/AAAAAAAAAH8/HIRKNaDwDg0/s640/blogger-image--990312242.jpg"></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-751903241248902333.post-88690418337740148892013-05-03T14:53:00.001-07:002013-05-03T18:57:32.710-07:00Rachel: The Hockey Feminist Today a guy that my husband associates with informed him -in a public forum- that I am not entitled to an opinion and that I should stick to things I know best, like "my little blog about being a mom." That this man -whom I've known and liked for almost ten years- proceeded to continue disrespecting me in response to a single comment I made against his preferred NHL team on Face Book, was disquieting to say the least. To insinuate that because I am a female, I incontestably have no idea what I'm talking about is a sexist position that, incredibly, still subtly permeates our society and every day situations. I am, at my core, a natural born feminist. I see no merit or value in the default position of discarding an opinion, or an idea for that matter, based on the person's gender.<br />
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I am also not the least bit surprised that this fellow has utterly missed the point of my blog: that my identity and knowledge base is not limited solely to being a stay at home mom. I am, quite obviously, so much more. My "little blog" could easily be about a variety of topics and interests that combine to create the foundation that is 'Rachel'. The fact that he intentionally tried to turn my blogging about being a parent into a disparaging remark speaks volumes on the lack of respect, as well as the value and importance that he, and many in society, place on women who choose to remain at home with their children. My role is viewed as trivial, and not really a contributing position in our communities- large and small. <br />
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It is these intentional and off handed comments and jokes about a woman's lack of worth/importance/intelligence that becomes the examples for our children and sets the standard of what we find acceptable and true to our family, friends, and co-workers; they clearly say to those surrounding us that we do not care enough to speak out against outdated, chauvinistic opinions, that we condone the systematic oppression of female growth, development, and prosperity. Overkill?? Try telling your daughters that they will never earn as much money as their male colleagues, that their athletic accolades will never be as celebrated as boys', that they should never dress to provoke boy's uncontrollable urges, that regardless of their esteemed education, their opinions and ideas will be openly scoffed and sneered at by their peers. How well does that sit in your stomach? Simply put: it shouldn't.<br />
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So the next time I comment on your hockey team's performance - save your verbal diarrhea, put your Big Boy pants on, and get over it. Yes, I have a vagina. And yes, I also know a lot about hockey. I am a woman, a wealth of information. <br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-751903241248902333.post-45368231976213731622013-04-11T10:10:00.001-07:002013-04-11T10:10:02.461-07:00I'm Leaving On A Jet Plane...Today is the day! We're leaving to spend the night in Montreal before boarding our plane at 6:00 Friday morning to spend a kid-free week in the DR. I have that anxious/nervous/excited feeling in my stomach I get before a trip. Or is that the slice of cheeseburger pizza I had no self restraint against?? We're extremely fortunate that Nick's parents can take time off to care for our kids so that we can recharge. I plan on bringing them home some DR booze- I'm certain they'll need it after spending over a week straight with our posse of offspring. <br />
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We cleaned our house non-stop for the last 48 hours (Grampa Dan is staying here with Noëlle to keep her comfortable in her daily routine.) And to keep Saku from dying of a broken heart after we leave. He's 100% worse than the kids.<br />
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For the last seven days we've lived in the mountain fresh scented world of Laundry. Washing, drying, folding, and packing 10 days worth of outfits for 3 kids and 2 adults; laying out six days worth of coordinating school clothes, hair elastic, hair clips, bracelets, and shoes. Had to ensure that the school had an extra week's worth of diapers, bibs, juice, Sippy cups, and "back up outfits" for Noëlle- realized that we didn't have enough bibs to have one everyday for breakfast here at home, lunch at school, and supper at my in-laws without them having to worry about laundry. Bought more bibs. Realized that some (most) of Raegan's jammies are a smorgasbord of hand-me-downs from the older kids...and they are stained/ugly. Bought more jammies. Realized that I didn't have enough coordinating accessories for my outfits. Bought more jewelry, scarves, hats, sunglasses :D<br />
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Realized that Saku might have a heart attack after he concludes that we are, in fact, not just gone grocery shopping: baked him bacon oatmeal AND banana peanut butter dog treats as an "I'm-sorry-we-abandoned-you-but-I-promise-we're-coming-back" gift.<br />
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I'm tired. Let the holiday begin already! Xo <br/><br/><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-YNlgAbgAsf4/UWbuaCqGt6I/AAAAAAAAAG4/yKzxc0d6cjw/s640/blogger-image--654105026.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-YNlgAbgAsf4/UWbuaCqGt6I/AAAAAAAAAG4/yKzxc0d6cjw/s640/blogger-image--654105026.jpg" /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-751903241248902333.post-66936855053638209762013-04-08T09:55:00.001-07:002013-04-08T10:15:52.991-07:00The State of SunshineIn a few days Nick and I will be boarding a plane to spend a week in the Dominican Republic. Alone. Without the kids. Surrounded by other adults. Who don't need me to cut up their steak, wipe their bums, or chase away monsters from under their beds. We are going there to attend the wedding of a much loved girlfriend from university that I haven't seen in exactly ten years. Needless to say, I am over-the-moon-excited.<br />
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I haven't flown since my university days; I've never vacationed down south. We haven't gone anywhere alone in two long years. This trip is essential for me: my internal battery has been low for quite sometime. There have actually been many days where it has run on the wisps of fumes alone. Staying at home with the kids has proven to be rewarding beyond what I ever imagined; however, they also have a tendency to drive me crazy. Bat. Shit. Crazy. This week alone in paradise with Nick will cleanse and detox my soul of all the gunk that clings to it.<br />
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My original goal was to lose a significant amount of weight for this trip so I can fit into my cute, skinny clothes. Well, that plan had a design flaw: I like to eat and hate to exercise in the winter. Or in the summer. Or when there's daylight. New plan: buy lots of cute, fat clothes. Check!<br />
I'm also part Albino. Not really, but you'd never know that by looking at me. All those women who spend an afternoon languishing in the sun and then for the next six months enjoy their bronze glow radiating off them and in their wake...yeah, I hate them. I have two skin colours: Translucent and Lobster Red. My plan: slather on tons of sunless tanning lotion and fake it 'til I make it. I'm pleased and impressed with the results- for the first time ever, I have a (completely artificial) golden tan. I wasn't always diligent in washing my hands after, so now it looks like I scrunch bags and bags of cheese Doritos for fun. I'm slightly embarrassed that people think I have a nine-pack-a-day smoking habit. New plan: distract their eyes from my orange hands. So I dyed my hair a new, darker color. I was tired while playing Hair Stylist, and wasn't paying attention...and didn't realize that the dye had dripped down my forehead. Now I have these deep, dark purplish slashes on my face from my hairline to my eyebrows. <br />
New plan: email much loved girlfriend and request that her wedding photographer refrain from including her orange and black friend in ANY of her pictures. <br/><br/><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-uIBQmOW89D8/UWL6XSQ5VMI/AAAAAAAAAGg/Gf-uNM179a0/s640/blogger-image-457984703.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-uIBQmOW89D8/UWL6XSQ5VMI/AAAAAAAAAGg/Gf-uNM179a0/s640/blogger-image-457984703.jpg" /></a></div> <br/><br/><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-dSs26dAtUDg/UWL6YdPzB5I/AAAAAAAAAGo/3qh_n-YTYdI/s640/blogger-image-843006903.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-dSs26dAtUDg/UWL6YdPzB5I/AAAAAAAAAGo/3qh_n-YTYdI/s640/blogger-image-843006903.jpg" /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-751903241248902333.post-23584511752321286772013-02-11T16:24:00.001-08:002013-04-03T11:22:07.244-07:00Sabbatical OverAs our grey tinged snow banks slowly recede, revealing limp brown grass, mounds of defrosting Saku poop, and long forgotten sun faded summer toys, I've decided to flex my fingers and break out a new pen to write my first blog post in well over two months. <br />
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Although I've always been partial to hibernating for the months of January and February- this year I took it to the extreme. Something about this Winter just sucked the life- and motivation- right out of me. Deep within the white knuckle tight grasp of Winter, I devolved into a lazy slob. Ok, that's exaggerating- I wasn't THAT bad. But I did let 37 strands of silver hair take over my hairline without sufficient retaliation. I did lounge in Lazy Supper Territory: soup again everyone? I did stop primping for my husband ( that's a blatant euphemism- what I actually did was stop giving a Shit. Zero makeup, zero hair styling products, zero form fitting/fashionable clothes, zero fucks given.) I did fall into the habit of going to bed at 8:00. What I really needed was an intervention: people who love me showing up in my living room with a day planner, blush, a cardigan set, and a kick in the ass. Such external motivation never manifested however, and I was left to languish in my mundane routine.<br />
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My vitamin D deficient, pasty white skin is itching to go outside. I finally found my motivation (apparently it hates sub-zero temperatures and buggered off to Fiji for a few months. Go figure.) I'm finally feeling like Me. I'm ready for Spring. <br/><br/><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-ritDbov52wY/UVxzTqpC3hI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/tStExmKjCgM/s640/blogger-image-1088539640.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-ritDbov52wY/UVxzTqpC3hI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/tStExmKjCgM/s640/blogger-image-1088539640.jpg" /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-751903241248902333.post-24166709414423482342013-01-21T09:50:00.001-08:002013-05-23T06:23:11.829-07:00Parenting: Boiled Down There was once a time in my life when I was not a parent. During this mythical era there were many things that I took for granted- Like:<br>
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Wearing hoop earrings without fearing that my ears would suddenly be ripped off by surprisingly strong little fingers.<br>
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Wearing a necklace without ever being strangled.<br>
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Sleeping the whole night through.<br>
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Sleeping in past 7 am.<br>
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Basically, just sleeping in general.<br>
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Peeing in private. Sub category (a) Never having to scream through the bathroom door: "Mommy's just going pee!! Stop crying and screaming- no one kidnapped me: I'm. Just. Going. Pee!!"<br>
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Leisurely poops.<div><br></div><div>Never wiping someone else's boogers on my pants. Never crossed my mind. Ever.</div><div><br></div><div>Being blissfully unaware of who Toopy and Binou, Calliou, The Wiggles, and Yo Gabba Gabba are. </div><div><br></div><div>Fishing out a floating poop from the bath water wasn't always part of my nightly routine.</div><div><br></div><div>My young, perky 20 year old boobs didn't require an $85 bra made from titanium, Kevlar, and Spanx to keep them in place and at attention.</div><div><br></div><div>I could drink coffee- an entire coffee- in one sitting. Before it got cold. Or a Lego thrown into it. While reading the newspaper that we no longer get.</div><div>*<i>stares wistfully into the distance, smiling at the fond memory*</i></div><div><i><br></i></div><div>Sexy Time never being interrupted because someone has to kaka and can't reach the light switch and there are monsters hiding in there waiting to bite his bum.</div><div><br></div><div>Going out in public, looking fantastic. Talking to other adults at least once. Every day.</div><div><br></div><div>Stopping at the grocery store on a whim to just pick up two items. In and out in under five minutes. With no bribes being purchased.</div><div><br></div><div>I was never in a situation where I had to catch someone else's vomit or premature poo in my hand. Wasn't really part of my social scene...</div><div><br></div><div>I had energy past 8 pm.</div><div><br></div><div>I stayed up later than 8:22 pm every night.</div><div><br></div><div>We went on actual dates!! (<i>Insert romantic instrumental music <b>here)</b></i></div><div><i><b><br></b></i></div><div>I didn't consider laundry a marathon sport.</div><div><br></div><div>No one ever slapped me. And if they did- I punched them back. Now I put these aggrataved assult suspects on a time out. Hardly seems like justice.</div><div><br></div><div>If someone I loved was screaming, crying, and hyperventilating it was usually because she just caught her boyfriend cheating. Not because I said "No" to Play Doh time.</div><div><br></div><div>I had zero (0) Disney movies memorized.</div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><i><br></i></div><div><br></div><div><br>
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</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-751903241248902333.post-71132759039714473132013-01-20T17:39:00.001-08:002013-01-21T06:07:53.710-08:0057 Words Recently our daughter's speech therapist sent home a booklet for us to fill out. It contains hundreds of words that developing children typically use when starting to understand the basics of communication. We were surprised to discover that Noëlle uses, and understands, 57 words. To most parents of five year old children, 57 words would not be brag worthy. We, however, are not most parents, and Noëlle is certainly no ordinary five year old. To us, 57 words are the difference between frustration, confusion and meaningful interactions; they are the difference between being a "special child", and being a thinking, feeling, personable individual.<br />
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With these 57 words, Noëlle can express real emotions- Happy and Love -to some of the most important people in her young life who she knows loves her: Mommy, Dada, Dryden, Baby, Saku, Nana, and Poppa. If we manage to do our job as her parents well, then these will always be the foundation of her life: family, love, and happiness.<br />
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With the very few words she understands, she amazes us by expressing a healthy sense of self worth: Noëlle Good Girl, Little Star. She is mirroring the image and opinion that others have of her (which let's face it, all girls do) so we need to be diligent in ensuring that these are always positive. <br />
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Noëlle's 57 words have helped display her personality to the world, her singular individualism that we sometimes foolishly forget she possesses. She is bossy (Sit! Stay! No! C'mon! Shhhh!) She is funny (tickle tickle, Boo!) and polite (Thank you, Morning! Sorry, Hello, Bye, Night!) Noëlle is a great singer (Twinkle Twinkle, Row, row, row, Round and round) and a charmer (Love you, Gentle, Hug?) <br />
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These 57 words have given our daughter a voice, a means to communicate her basic needs and wants, the possibility to interact with those around her. These words make her understood. These words validate her intelligence, and importance. Her small pool of vocabulary encourages me to try to choose the best words to be absorbed into our kids' sponge like brains- I am the Hemingway of our house, labouring endlessly over the perfect word. <br />
The perfect word to become #58... <br/><br/><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-yyC0Z_PKcB8/UP1LuBV74JI/AAAAAAAAAGA/Io1M188o8B0/s640/blogger-image--701393910.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-yyC0Z_PKcB8/UP1LuBV74JI/AAAAAAAAAGA/Io1M188o8B0/s640/blogger-image--701393910.jpg" /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-751903241248902333.post-6880717200923609062013-01-13T17:11:00.001-08:002013-01-13T17:11:57.281-08:00My Mission, Should I Choose To Accept It... I can imagine my child-free friends stopping by and surveying my unwashed hair, yoga pants (yet no yoga mat to be seen for 100 miles), floors covered in faint muddy paw prints, and kitchen sink overflowing with Kraft Dinner encrusted plastic bowls and thinking to themselves, "I wonder what she does all day?"<br />
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Now, I cannot speak for other stay at home moms, but my days are spent essentially preventing the accidental deaths of my three children. I have a theory: (or is it a hypothesis? I should have paid more attention in science class) my babies were born with an ingrained death wish; it is my job as their mother to beat this Dare Devil gene into submission.<br />
Examples of their death baiting:<br />
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Dryden luring Raegan (with a cheerio) into a laundry basket poised at the top of the stairs so that he can push her down on "a ride."<br />
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Raegan attempting to swallow 28 of Saku's round dog kibbles at once.<br />
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Noëlle discovering how to climb onto a sideboard to dangle herself off the living room banister...a good 20 foot drop onto the basement stairs below.<br />
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Dryden using my curtains as a bungee cord- around his neck.<br />
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Raegan getting the cap of a shampoo bottle stuck in her mouth.<br />
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Noëlle climbing into the front loading dryer for a nap. <br />
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A sub category to my duties would be preventing the Dog's death at the hands of two toddlers and a baby. These situations include, but are not limited to:<br />
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Trying to feed him inedible objects (wash cloths, large pine cones, rocks, a wooden spoon, a beer can)<br />
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Attempting to "fix him" with a screwdriver.<br />
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Eating his tail and/or ears.<br />
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There has also been the odd occasion where I have actually contributed to their deadly mission. Last week, while carrying Noëlle out to her waiting school bus, I slipped on ice at the top of the stairs and we tumbled down together. I got up, picked her up, took a step on more ice, and promptly wiped out again. Luckily, we spent good money on a bullet proof snowsuit so she was fine (giggling in fact.) The next day my arse and back was a lovely shade of twilight. A hazard of my job. No compensation.<br />
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And so, at the end of my day, if I get to tuck three squirming, breathing children into bed then my contract to them has been fulfilled for that 24 hour period. If I have energy after that, I MIGHT tackle housework, msg/text some friends so that they know they are still important, and ready myself for tomorrow. THIS is what I do all day. <br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-751903241248902333.post-88967613786020960892013-01-08T17:06:00.001-08:002013-01-08T17:06:36.631-08:00Happy Birthday I started my 31st birthday today by reading an amazing letter. I would like to share it with you:<br />
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My Dearest Rachel,<br />
Happy birthday! I can't believe that you are already 31; it seems like only yesterday that you were a precocious child- full of mischief and wonder. I remember your teenage years spent discovering who, and what, you would like to become. I loved your early 20s- having so much blind faith...always leaping in before you ever thought to look. I would like to share some advice for your third decade of life; and like most advice, it is offered out of love and a genuine desire for you to have the best, for you to be your best.<br />
Live, Love, and Laugh. There is a reason these three words are seen everywhere: they are the key to a life well lived.<br />
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Live:<br />
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Live every day as though it were your last. Have no regrets at the end of each day (and I'm not talking about the laundry not getting done, or an email not responded to.)<br />
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Go outside and play with your adorable kids- they will remember your efforts and carefree love of "play."<br />
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Be more spontaneous. Not everything needs to be planned, budgeted, and detailed in a list. Go where the wind, and your heart, takes you.<br />
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Take some trips- make your world bigger.<br />
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Follow your passions! Become involved in that organization. Start that business. You know what I'm talking about.<br />
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Love:<br />
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I want you to love yourself this year. Take better care of your body, and of your soul. You only have one of each. They are worth the investment.<br />
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There is a reason you married Nick: he is the only person in the world you could imagine loving until you die. Treat him as such.<br />
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If there is a choice, ALWAYS choose being an amazing mom over something else.<br />
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Never miss an opportunity to tell your family and friends you love them. They are the ones who will drag you, kicking and screaming, out of every predicament, every heartache, every uncertainty. <br />
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Laugh:<br />
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Act silly with your kids, teach them that their little world is hilarious, and wonderful, and fun.<br />
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At all costs, keep your sense of humour. Your ability to laugh at the crap in life makes the crap in life beatable.<br />
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I hope that your birthday was fantastic; that your family showed you that they are happy you were born; that your friends let you know that their life is better with you in it; that today was the first day of a remarkable year. Happy birthday!<br />
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Love,<br />
Your 31 Year Old Self xo<br />
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-751903241248902333.post-41849507831493107992012-12-31T11:21:00.001-08:002012-12-31T11:21:12.208-08:00<3 Today is our anniversary. Nick and I have a good marriage: nothing dramatic, full of love. I don't have any tips to offer- I have no idea what "marriage" means for other couples. I'm sure they fight differently than us, show affection differently, have fun in other ways. For us, marriage means forever; it means forgiveness; it means love. I don't mean the I-cant-wait-to-jump-your-bones kind of love {although, that is what got us into bed with each other. Literally :) }<br />
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For Nick, love means drinking your coffee black at 5:30 am so that I can have the last bit of cream when I get up at 7:00 (who am I kidding? When I get up at 8:00)<br />
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Love means taking Noëlle to the dentist every four months because it makes me sad.<br />
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Love means taking Noëlle to speech therapy every week to give me a break.<br />
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Love means buying me a Christmas gift even though we agreed only to buy for the kids.<br />
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Love means spending a small fortune on a giant book shelf to house all my books that I refuse to part with.<br />
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Love means getting up with the kids on his morning off so I can sleep in.<br />
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Love means taking the dog to the vet, because that makes me sad too.<br />
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Love is watching the movie "Serenity" again, and not complaining because its my turn to pick the movie.<br />
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Love means its almost always my turn to pick the movie.<br />
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Love is clearing the snow off my car, saving the only Pepsi for me, and ordering Canadian pizza without mushrooms.<br />
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Love means cooking supper on the BBQ when I'm tired, cleaning the toy room while I'm in the sauna, washing all the floors after I go to bed, and taking over "Time Out" duty when he gets home from work.<br />
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I love the way he loves!<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0