regrouping

I’ve decided not to renew my hosting this year.  After all these years it seems weird, but there you go!  I hardly update anymore and I’m feeling uncomfortable with blogging about the kids as they age.  I might scale back and look into some free hosting, and I still own the domain name but if things are down that’s why.  It was just too much money to spend for something I’m not contributing to.  So, find me on facebook?

brain dump

Anna these days is pure delight.  She is so willing to do everything and be everyone’s little helper (slave).  She has also taken to cleaning her own bum.  She’s not yet 2.  I appreciate the thought there anyway.

She is all smiles and waves and just starting the NO! thing.  So not completely unreasonable just yet.  She gets so excited to see my Mom that I am usually doubled over laughing by the time my Mom walks through the door.  Talk about a welcome!

Today she walked into the living room, asked for her milk and to have a nap.  I know, right?  Kid is brilliant.

She didn’t sleep, but whatever.  She played in her crib for over an hour.

Today she also saw Claire sleeping on the couch (Claire is the second victom of the latest bug running through the house), went upstairs unprompted and brought down Claire’s blanket, doll and pillow.

Claire, in return, told me that she was grateful that she had such a great sister tonight during “Grateful Time”.

“Grateful Time” is a moment before bed where we do some deep breathing (ohmygod, people, this is so damn cute.  The three of them sit in front of me in the hall and do the breathing.  It takes every ounce of willpower I have to not laugh.  Every night.  Deep breathing is suppose to be calming so laughing would not be wise).  After we breath, we all take a moment to say what we’re grateful for.  Anna usually says “Grandma” or one of her friends.  She’ll often launch herself at me and say “I LOVE YOU”.  All in all the kids do this exercise really well, most of the time.  Steve seems to struggle.  Then gets pissy when I start listing off millions and millions of things he could say he was grateful for.  I will never understand why this is so hard for some people.   Who live in Canada.  With healthcare.  And food.  And roads.

I started ”Grateful Time” because I know that if you write down what you’re grateful for every day it can have a hugely positive influence on your life.  I heard (read?) that if you did it for just one week, you feel better for 6 months.  This was scientifically proven.  Since I am surrounded by (and married to) folks who walk a thin line between happy and sad, I am really sensitive about it, and desperate to impart whatever happy-inducing habits I can in the kids.  This is my start.  Up to this point my hope was that they just inherited my good happy genes, but decided that I couldn’t rely on that alone.

I think if I come back to this space more fully, I need to give up the hope that I’m always going to post a picture.  That is what usually trips me up.  I don’t want to spend that much time transferring, resizing and uploading the pics.

But I love pics.  bah.

I am planning a (joint) fairy party for Claire and a friend.  It’s going to be EPIC.  Because woah.  Fairies?  They just scream handmade craftiness.  Love it.  Love it.  Love it.

handmade :: letters

Last year for Christmas I had planned to make the kids these letter for their doors.  I didn’t get them done in time for that Christmas, but I did get them done in time for Easter!

the c unit

At least I’m blogging about them BEFORE Easter shows up on the 2012 calendar.  I’m totally patting myself on the back right now.

anna

They were inspired, or rather blatently copied from Inspire Me Crafts.  I have no idea how I stumbled across them before Pinterest.  These days I’m not entirely sure how I survived without Pinterest.  Pinterest is so damn awesome.  And so damn addicting.

I bought the letters from Michaels over three coupon cycles because I AM CHEAP.  Then I made myself use my stash scrapbook embellishments because I’m not allowed to buy anymore scrapbook embellishments unless I start, you know, scrapbooking.  Its ridiculous, I have an ENTIRE bookshelf full of scrapbooking supplies.  Ask me the last time I made a scrapbook.  Actually don’t ask me.  I have no idea.  I barely remember my name.

Having children is hard.

Maybe I need to make one for my own door with my name on it.  Then I wouldn’t have to remember my name, I’d just have to read it off my bedroom door.

claire

It was a little painful not to have the option to just walk into a store and buy co-ordinating paper-ribbon-lettering but I lived through that ordeal and the kids do not seem to care that I “made do” with sub-par material.

callum

Sorry for the crap photos.  Its a dark hallway at the best of times, and REALLY dark in the winter and I am far to lazy to take them off the door and move them to decent light.

I’m also far too lazy to fix Anna’s ribbon on hers.  Lazy is hard too.

I also don’t know why I have to have the kid’s names on their doors, this has to be my what? Third name installment?   It’s a little weird.

beauty

A friend of mine is now selling arbonne.  For those not in the know, it’s cosemetics and creams and the like.  It’s supposedly good stuff, I’ve heard good things about it, at any rate this post isn’t a review of the products so its neither here nor there.

I am not a home-party or network party person.  In fact, it is unlikely I’ll even go to a home party unless 1. you’re a REALLY good friend, or 2. actually, there is no second point.  I don’t do home parties.

However, she’s a REALLY good friend, so I said I’d attend one party.  And I did.  It seems like lovely cosemetics.

During the “presentation” the head lady (top of network food chain?) talked about two skin care lines.  The one and only cosemetic I buy is face cream, so I’m willing to buy that from my friend instead of the store.  At least once anyway.  I questioned the difference between the two lines and was told that one was for 23 and younger, and the anti-aging line was for the 23 and older crowd.

Seriously?  We’re suppose to worry about aging at 23?  SERIOUSLY.  AT TWENTY THREE?

I don’t know about you, but when I was 23, I was hot.  Smokin’.  I also looked like I was 16.  When I was 23 I was thinking about my career.  I was thinking about my next big trip.  I was thinking about the rest of my life.  I can guarantee you I was not thinking about those wrinkles and sagging eyelids and grey hair.  BECAUSE I DIDN’T HAVE ANY.

A young man, at 23, is going through his last growth spurt.  A GROWTH SPURT.  Why is it that a woman is considered to be aging at 23?

Our society is so very, very weird.

The other day my Mom said to Claire “you’re beautiful” and Claire said “I’m not beautiful.  Everyone else is beautiful.”.  I’m not going to over-analyse this because I have no idea what she meant by it.  She might have just meant that she’s smart.  Or a super hero.  Or cute.  Who knows.  She’s 3.  But a part of me did wonder if a 3 year old would pick up on this shit?  Do they start to feel like they’re not something.  Do they start thinking that their looks are the end all and be all and that they are suppose to look like a damn mermaid in a coconut bra?

Do I have a point?  I don’t know.  I just know that I spent my childhood, and my 20s, thinking I was gorgeous, and that didn’t matter because more importantly I was clever.  And capable.  I hope and pray that my daughters will also spend their childhood and young adult life thinking the same thing.

I sure the hell didn’t think I was aging when I was 23 and felt I needed to take action.

To end this random tirade, a conversation with Claire:

Claire: When I’m in Kindergarten I’m going to be Wonder Woman for Black and Orange Day.

Me: Not say, Batman?

Claire: No.  Batman is Wonder Woman’s assistant.

Yo go girl!  (and ps: You’re beautiful.).

me time.

Steve and I are were chatting the other day and he casually said something like “well, we both get the same amount of downtime every day” to which I snorted. Or maybe said “ha!”. The conversation went something like this:

Steve: “What? We do.”
Me: “yeah, no. We don’t.”
“Once the kids are in bed, it’s our time”
“Once the kids are in bed, I am still folding laundry, tidying the house, doing dishes, etc, etc. I’m still working.”
“well, you need to make more me time.”
“True.”

And that is true. I am terrible at demanding Amber time. Then I started to think about it, really think about it. In that same conversation Steve mentioned how I had skipped several boxercise classes (my current exercise of choice) indicating that I needed to make that me time a priority. Right. I shouldn’t skip my exercise times, I absolutely agree 100%. Except you know what? The first one that I missed was because Steve forgot. I was ready to go, I had dinner on the table, had pre-washed every dish I could pre-wash. The house was clean*, but he didn’t walk through the door until after 6 and you can’t really show up half an hour late to boxercise class. I mean, you could, but then there’s no warm up and you’re in the middle of the routine and I’m not a show up in the middle kind of person. At least not to an exercise class. If it were a wine-drinking class then sure! I’d be late. To be honest I show up to everything late but an exercise classes. I called him the next day and made him put my boxercise class in his calendar, which he did.

The other two times? Anna was sick. Not just your run-of-the-mill the kid has a cold. No. Anna was super sick. She slept terribly for 8 straight nights. By that I mean I have been up in the middle of the night for hours. Two Saturdays ago she was basically glued to me and completely miserable. She wouldn’t sleep unless she was draped across my chest, she was croupy and was having a hell of a time breathing. By Tuesday night I was so damn tired and worn out that the thought of even putting on my running shoes just about made me cry.

So while I hadn’t been to the class in a while, I don’t think that makes me lazy.

This got me thinking about it all a little more. Exercise, for someone like Steve and many others, is meditative. It is stress relief, it might even be truthful to say that Steve looks forward to it. He has considerately arranged his schedule so that it has very little impact on my life which I appreciate tremendously. When he’s training heavily he is gone Thursday evenings and Sunday mornings, the rest of the training he does during his lunch hour. I give him a gold star for this (that isn’t sarcastic; I really do think it’s awesome that he has done that). But his training schedule doesn’t come with a consequence, mine does.

When I go to boxercise, I don’t come home, hit the shower, pour a bowl of cereal, and tell Steve about my day. I often come home and put a child to bed. Then I do the dishes. Then I tidy up the living room. Then I sweep the kitchen. Then I have a shower (if I’m quick enough and it is before Steve goes to bed). Even to get to boxercise I first have to time it so that dinner is ready and on the table and that I have all my shit together to walk out the door.

To which one might respond “so what?”. Right. I’m prepping to go work out while doing my day job. I work out to come home and finish up everything that isn’t maintained while I’m not at my day job.

And I’m doing all that to go out and do something that I don’t particularly enjoy. Exercise is not meditative to me. Exercise is just one more damn item on the “to do” list. Something I’m supposed to do because I’m supposed to be perfect. I’m supposed to be thinner, stronger, healthier (well, healthier is a solid reason). I’m supposed to have sweet kids, a clean(ish) house, figure out a way to provide some income, keep my kids safe, and GOD DAMMIT, I also need to be thinner.

Exericise is not meditative for me. Knitting is. When I’m moving heaven and earth to make this happen I would so rather sit on the couch and knit. Or create something new. Or draw. Exercise is work, both physically and mentally. It’s annoying.

So, yeah, I’m probably not going to move mountains to ensure that no matter what I get in that sort of “me” time, because it isn’t “me time”. It’s just another asterick on the to do list.

Although I might start moving heaven and earth to get in a little knittin’.

doesn't have a damn thing to do with this post, but here's Callum's cake. Cute, yes?

*it should be noted that Steve cares NOT AT ALL if the house is clean. I care. Actually, I don’t care if it’s clean. I care if its tidy. If I don’t pick up after our day I find that 1. things get out of hand remarkably fast, and 2. it prevents us from doing creative things. Clutter discourages creativity.