Salvage Giveaway!

I'm a crafty person by nature, in a good way.  I can be all Martha Stewart crafty when the mood strikes (and just for the record that's pre-prison crafty, the kind that involves glue, and glitter and ribbon, not red and black pens, calculators and white out)  I'm the sort of gal who spends hours upon hours knitting, crocheting, cross-stitching, designing and creating.  I love seeing the end result and sharing that with someone else, it brings me great joy.  I may not be the best at what I do, but I take pride in it and love every second.

I also spend countless hours with my girls creating, making and sharing.  I want them to learn as I have the gift of giving a handmade gift.  I also want to teach them the value of receiving something made with love.  It's a full circle sort of thing.

Nothing is more exciting to me than visiting a wool shop, or checking out an antique store, and without a word of a lie the annual Christmas craft fair is in my planner, on my Crackberry and written in red on my kitchen calendar to make certain I don't miss it.  I'm all sorts of anal cool like that.

Anyways, I have this cousin Stephanie, who's crafty herself, Martha's got nothing on her.  I can remember being a kid, and watching her create and craft beautiful Christmas wreaths and the most adorable dolls from mops (clean not dirty ones), I still have my mop doll.  She, like many of us crafters has creative mood swings and changes from craft to craft, project to project.  Adjusting her style to suite her lifestyle, which is what she's once again done.

She's gone into the salvage business, searching the earth and every garage sale on the continent for one man's trash to turn into another man's treasure.  She's repurposes, creates, cleans and rebuilds the vintage into the beautiful and it's amazing!   I have yet to visit her shop, but she's created a blog and seeing all her treasures is a pretty sweet deal! 

That's what you could win! I love it! (ps, I totally snagged this shot from her blog)

If that weren't cool enough, she's also hosting a giveaway a week for the month!  I know!  If you weren't already thinking awesome thoughts about her you are now!  Anyways, all you have to do is go over and leave her a comment, there's no kick back here to me, I just wanted to share something cool, both the creator and the prize.  And hey, why not share a little linking love, everybody loves a good link or 2, right?

So why not go over and browse through her pages and then come back and tell me (just because I'm needy like that and feel slightly neglected by the lack of comments ahem) about your favorite picture, your greatest treasure or if you are a closet crafter?

ps, I'll have her link on the side bar should you ever want to go take a gander at her site again.

Anyone for pizza and a movie?

When Corey was gone, the girls and I had to find a routine.  Corey's a fantastic dad and husband and he's a huge part of our day to day life.  He really is the center of his girls' world and I kind of like him too.

So, knowing that he wasn't going to be around for awhile, I needed to buckle down and figure these things out.  So I did what I'm very best at.  I sat down with a pen and paper, and wrote and nice long list.  I listed things I needed to get done, things I wanted to get done and miscellaneous (which was Bethany's insistence that we "make someping"). 

Listing gives me purpose, it gives me direction and checking things off of my list makes me feel as though I'm getting somewhere.  It was also something to do with the girls that filled a few minutes, because believe you me, there were minutes that desperately needed filling. 

One of the things I put on the list, actually as a last minute addition (I love writing down something I'm going to do soon, because then I can scratch it off quickly) was to have a pizza and movie night with the kids.

When we were little, on Sunday evenings my parents would make nachos and we'd put sleeping bags in our living room and we'd sit and watch The Wonderful World of Disney together as a family.  Those memories for me are some of the sweetest.  It was time together as a family that was simple.  It didn't cost a lot, it wasn't busy or complicated, it was us and it just was.

Since Disney is no longer on, on Sunday evenings (or if it is I'm missing it) and since I can't eat Nachos because you have to make them with corn chips- we decided to compromise.  We'd make our homemade pizza, because it rocks and then we'd set up blankets, put on a movie and hang out and be together. 

It took a little time, and a little bit of pineapple and cheese snitching but we managed to get 'er done.  It was great!  The girls were over joyed at the idea of spending time, eating something like pizza in the living room hanging out with me.

Sometimes it's so easy for me to get busy and not spend a ton of undivided time with the girls.  I love to play and craft with them, but often we're interrupted, or I need to do something at the same time.  This time I purposely hung out, I didn't do dishes, I didn't fold clothes and I didn't check my email.  It surprised me to find that I needed it almost more than they did. 

We had 2 of those, one each weekend and made a decision.  Pizza and movie nights were too cool to keep to ourselves, we needed to make them an official Sunday night event so that Daddy could be included too.

Last weekend Cor joined us for his first pizza and movie night (which was lunch due to a scheduling issue) and the girls were so excited.  It took us at least 10 minutes to get them to settle down to start the show because they were both so anxious to show their Daddy how it all "works". 

With this weekend being Thanksgiving, I started thinking of all the things I'm thankful for.  It's something I've been trying to do on a more regular basis anyways these days.  It's amazing how remembering what you have to be grateful for makes the things you tend to grumble about seem less important. 

Anyways, of all of the things I'm thankful for - my husband, my beautiful daughters, my family, our work, a God who pretty much rocks and the list goes on, these new memories are pretty high on the list.  And I'm really thankful for one night a week that includes cheesy gooey goodness.

So, if you haven't answered the question on 45 other blogs today, what are you thankful for?

Happy Thanksgiving Everyone!

Putting it all on the line

I spent the majority of the summer months complaining about, well, the summer months.  You know by now that the heat isn't my friend, the harsh rays do nothing but leave me more freckles spatter and the long days (while nice sometimes) have my children sleeping less than I need to.

From the first hot day of summer to the last I'm tapping my foot waiting for fall to arrive.  I watch the leaves, and check the weather forcast online 10 times a day (this may seem excessive, it's not.  Come winter I check 45 times a day, first in anticipation of snow, and then with hopes of no snow - I'm a fair weather friend like that) then when it arrives, I dance around my house with joy!

Autumn brings cooler but still beautiful sunny days, crunchy leaves and rains that leave the air feeling fresh and new (said rain also, temporarily washing the smell of cow dung out of our nostrils).  We are outside more in the Fall, I know that sounds backwards, but with the lesser temperatures and cloudier days, I feel more inspired to get out and about.  And don't even get me started on the ridiculously awesome clothing options that come about in fall - yay for covering arms, legs, butt, belly and feet!

Basically what I'm saying, is I'm pretty much not sad at all to say "Chow" to summer and give Fall a big fat kiss.  Almost.  You see, there's one thing I love about summer, it's something I've only discovered the past few years but it's something I've grown to love.

What could possibly make this summer hater shed a tear? 

The ending of clothes line season.  We have a lovely, long clothes line that I adore.  Not only do I get to hang up all our clothes, leaving them fresh (unless it is manure spraying day, I found out the hard way that if your laundry is outside clean and fresh, while the farmer next door is spray poop everywhere, your clothes will come back in smelling like said poop, begging to be returned to the washing machine.  If they could talk I'm pretty sure they'd say they feel violated)  and crisp, but we are reducing our carbon imprint on the planet, and I'm down with that. 

I'm not going to get all environmentally on you today, because while we do our best to recycle when we can, turn off lights, hang our clothes on the line (squeeh!) there's much more we could do - I don't make our panties from recycled newspaper, I buy toilet paper not collect leaves and we totally used baby wipes ( I was not washing those wash clothes!).  I just love my clothes line, so when the season ends, and we have to start using our dryer again, or I have to hang my clothes on my indoor drying rack, I get a little sad for a moment.

Then I look out the window and see the orange and yellow leaves, look in the mirror and see my full clothed body and check the weather network and see a high of 19 and I smile.  I mean seriously, who wouldn't?  It's Autumn and it's here!

What do you miss about summer or if you're like me what do you LOVE about Fall/Autumn?

Time Out Rocks!

Around these parts it feels like some days all I do is say "No", "Don't do that", "Don't hit your sister", "Don't Kick your Sister!", "Put your shoes on already", "Eat your dinner", "Stop Pushing", "No throwing toys", "Get down you're going to break your arm", "Stop! No! Wait! Don't, Don't, Don't - seriously kid - just DON'T!"

Now, we've covered that most of the time I'm a "mean Mom" (I bought my Mom a mug years ago with a poem about the mean mother, if I remember I do a post about it soon), who parents her kids endlessly in hopes of raising well mannered, healthy, happy and intelligent children, but there are moments when I chose to turn a blind eye so that my children know I love them and actually do enjoy things that are fun.

I don't believe that I'm a horrible mother, I also don't think that I'm unnecessarily hard on our girls.  We always feel the proof is in the pudding when the kids are put into a situation that requires them to obey and behave and they do famously - while still laughing and smiling.

However, I don't really like this part of my "job" as Momma.  I love raising our kids, I love stories and cuddles, and I love hearing them laugh and listening to them sing, but I don't love discipline.  I don't love that there are moments when they don't obey and I'm forced to teach them why listening to what I say is important.  I don't love that every tom, dick and hairy (which until this moment didn't seem funny, but now that I see it in print....) has an opinion about how you do or don't punish them.  Some say you should spank, others think it's horrid, some are timeout fans while others still stand their kid in the corner, and the ones who don't have children at all have the strongest and most unappreciated opinion of them all.  If you do not have a child, you have no idea how this goes.  If you helped raise your siblings, it's not the same, your opinion is still unwanted and inexperienced - just ask Corey about the difference between being the brother and being the dad.  I understand that you (person with the unwanted opinion) mean well, but seriously Dude, shut it.

Mostly, what I dislike is that there is no one sure fire way to punish a child effectively.  Each situation, child and offence responds to different methods of reprimand.  I've learned this the hard way.

You see, Audrey's coming into her own.  She's reaching that point in her development when challenging me is awesome!  Bethany reached that stage, in fact I think most kids do, so I figured I'd be able to handle this no problem.  Surprise, surprise, I was wrong.

With Beth if I had to punish her, usually a time out did the trick.  She'd sob her eyes out while looking at me with contempt, totally and completely wounded by the fact that I was unhappy with her.  Just the threat of a timeout had her listening most times and it was rare that anything further was warranted. 

Audrey, however thinks time out ROCKS!  I'm not kidding, the other day my little instigator (if this were hockey she'd totally have a 20 minute game misconduct by now, such a bruiser she is.  Not that B doesn't start the other half of things but that's another day, sibling fights require another day) decided that while Beth is laying on the floor, minding her own business she's going to pick up a book and launch it at her head.  Audrey didn't just toss it, drop it, she wound up and as I'm standing to grab the book and say no, throws it with the force of a major league baseball player - the when it nails her sister in the shins (I said she had the force, not the aim) she grinned.  I could have screamed!

Instead, I grab her arm, scold her and tell her she needs to sit in timeout for hurting her sister.  That was mean.  I plunk her down and as I walk away I see this little face...

(PS. Time out never usually has a toy, soother or anything else that can be comfort or weapon...)

Then she's completely calm and says nothing.  I think maybe it's sinking in, not all kids cry when they're upset.  So I leave her there for her 2 minutes and when I go back I see this face...

I ask her to stand up, talk to her about what she did, made her go say sorry to Bethany and thought ok, battle won.  Then she does something that surprised me and made me have to fight laughter.  She hung her head and said "Mo - Out!" and marched back over to time out and sat down.  She enjoyed herself! 

Apparently if you're 21 months old and your big sister gets timeout, it's cool to have them too.  And as cute as she is it left me with this impending sense of doom, now what?

We manage, I believe whole heartedly that the challenges AJ is going to bring to this family will be night and day different and together these little girls will leave me feeling baffled and frustrated.  I just say it's a really good thing that in spite of those days and those moments, that I love this job, I love this life and I love these girls!  I mean, really? Who would love kids this cute?

It's this thing called "Perfection" and it's going around

In my life I have read a lot of literature.  I have read Shakespeare (some by choice, some not so much), I have read biology books, Archie Comics, Cosmopolitan Magazine (ps. Corey says thankyouverymuch for that one article I read in 2005, it was gold), and Teen Beat.  I read daily blogs, mommy information pamphlets, romance novels and my Bible.  I am someone who considers themselves to be knowledge starved, always in search of new and useful information, and one who soaks up every ounce.  If in fact you were to take a step back and look at my life, you'd see that at least 50% of my waking hours have been spent with my nose buried in a book, reading this thing or that.  Basically it's one of my major food groups, the one that feeds the ol' brain cells - whatever's left of them.

And of all of the things I have read in my life, very few have left the impact on me that what I am about to share with you today has.  I'm saying that with all sincerity and seriousness, only a handful of things that I have read in my whole 20 something years on this planet (you do not need to know the something) have left this kind of mark on both my heart and my mind.  And I'd say that says something about the importance of a written word, when a person compares it to the other influential works of literature in her life and it comes up on the list not far from the Word of God - pretty heavy stuff ...if you ask me.

I'm talking about a post called "The disease called "Perfection"", written by Single Dad Laughing.  It's a real and serious look at what's happening to the society we live in based on our daily search for the "Perfect Life".  He says so clearly what I've been dying to put into words for so very long.  He puts so plainly what we all chose to ignore because it would be easier to ignore the truth, the imperfection, the faults, rather than let them smack us in the face so we can knock them out of the ball park.

I'm not going to paraphrase or spend an hour giving you an in depth look at what I think about what he has to say.  At least, not tonight, but I am going to ask you to go read it.  Please take the time, please read it from the first word to the last and please come back and tell me what you think.

We're living in a broken world, one that's full of more corruptness than I can even fathom, we're living in a society that treats alcoholism, drug addiction, childhood obesity, infidelity, self mutilation and eating disorders as common, household annoyances - like nothing more than a leaky faucet or a backed up toilet.  Famous people turn up dead of one cause or another, images aren't what they seem and "reality TV" is anything but, and still someone, somewhere tells us we're not good enough.  This world may be broken, on it's last legs but with every breath that it labours to breathe it whispers, "You're Fat!"  "You're Ugly" "You don't have a job because nobody can stand to be around you" "Why didn't your parents just name you Stupid, would have saved us all time"  "Your worthless, no one, will ever love you"

But the top just blew off of that game, someone threw the cards on the table and called a spade, a spade.  And if I do say so myself, it's about damn time.

At the end of the article, he asks us to share how perfect we aren't, because you never know who needed to hear that.  Who's looked at you, as someone you're not and who desperately needs to know they're not alone.  And I love that, what a great way to make us all feel as worthy as we truly are.  So, here it is, here's how perfect I'm not

- Sometimes I turn the TV on for the kids, just because I can't handle one more question, problem, game, because I feel like my brain is about to explode and I need a break

- I have never, not once, looked in the mirror and been completely satisfied with myself. 

- While I have carried and birthed two children, my boobs haven't grown at all.  They are still as small as they were in the 7th grade and it makes me feel like less of a woman.  I spend countless hours trying to find the right bra to make them appear even slightly bigger, and each time I joke about their size, I'm silently crying inside.
-  That awkward, chubby girl from high school, who none of the boys ever noticed and who believe with all her heart that she would grow up to an old, lonely spinster, because nobody would ever think her worthy of love, still lives inside of me and haunts my days.

- To second that, each morning I wake up and almost have to pinch myself because someone did marry me, and for the life of me I can't understand why

- I avoid going back to Hope for fear of running into the people in high school who made me feel so small.  Because while on the outside I'm a confident, happy woman on the inside I still feel their rejection.

- My children make me angry enough sometimes that I have to walk away.  Not because I believe I could physically hurt them, I know I couldn't but because I'm afraid it would come out it words - ones that I'd never be able to take back.  And that anger scares me, because I know in my hands and in my words is the potential for life altering damage.

- I worry about everything, my children's safety, my husband's self esteem, my house, my hair, the food I feed the kids, the bank balance, the list goes on.  I worry more than I don't, and try as I might, pray as I do, read as much as I can, I can't make it stop, it is, what I do.

This post made me take a hard look at my life, at the moments of perfection that I strive for and the things I need to change before they become the ones that hurt my children, or the ones that damage my marriage.  It also felt like it gave me a voice a chance to share with someone else, the reality of being real.  To give power too the imperfect (hey, yo that's me!) and rain buckets of acid on the disease I have called "Perfection" 

On my sidebar, you'll see this

it's a  badge, a permalink to the post because I want to share this message.  I believe, that it holds the potential to change lives, to get people talking and to force us to be real.  You never know when getting real, can change a day, touch a soul or save a life.

So, please go take a look, read his article, each word and then come back and share with me, someone who cares about you, and who wants and needs to know - how perfect aren't you.

I forget

Somedays it feels like I have so very much to say and not a single brain cell left in which to form the words to
say it.  I will begin multiple conversations throughout my day, with my Mom, my girls, Corey and never finish them, not because I've been interrupted, or because there is a crisis (although there are many conversations left hanging for these exact reasons) but more because what I was saying completely vanished from my brain.  It's kinda like the missing sock, you know, one minutes you're putting 2 socks into the washing machine, the next you're pulling one out of the dryer - the other sock, never to be seen again.

This didn't always happen to me, in fact I used to pride myself on my uncanny ability to remember any and everything! (In fact, I used to have the item numbers of random items in most of my stores memorized.  Useful? Not often,  Dorky? Absolutely.) My Mom used to have conversation farts, where it all went out the window and I used to roll my eyes - pft Old people. 

The thing is, one of two things has happened.  Either I've become old (which would explain why random teenagers keep calling me Ma'am.  And no, I'm never going to let that go) or my Mom had a valid point when she said it was my fault, at least partially my fault.  You see, she used to say she gave birth to half her brain cells when she had me, and then half of what was left when she had my brother, so all she was left with was a quarter and that entitled her to forget things once in awhile.  I said that was a bunch of garbage and to try a new one, but now, I wonder....

I've given birth a few times now, and it seems miraculously that my ability to remember things is disipating at a rapid rate.  Maybe it's the whole brain cell thing or maybe, the ones that are left are overloaded with kid stuff.  You know the 600 things I have to remember each time we head out the door and the reason I don't carry a purse but Mary Poppins' magic bag.

The other theory is that it's because the sheer volume of these two children is mind numbing at times.  It's not all crying and shreiking (although there is definately times where that is the exact cause of the sound) these days the girls are learning to play together and that involves laughing and giggling, shouting for each other and hide and seek - which by the way is where Bethany puts her face against the wall and counts, while sneaking a peak through her armpit and Audrey standing there in a braced position for the moment B turns around to find her.  It's sort of more like a kid waiting anxiously for a Jack in the Box to pop than two kids hiding.  It's intensly frustrating and undeniably cute, but over all really loud! 

What ever the cause, the cure seems impossible to find.  I read, they say that exercises the brain, my brain's got a wicked six pack but it's memory bank is still flabby.  I tell the girls to "Turn down the volume", and that lasts 2.5 seconds and I do what every self respecting woman does.  I write lists in and on everything, I have a grocery book with lists and notes, my pants pockets are full of scrap paper lists and snotty tissue (because what mother doesn't carry snotty tissue), I don't write on my hands because I might forget where to find my list, I use a day planner and fill the calendar on my Crackberry to it's fullest, (not to mention my kitchen calendar), then I don't go anywhere without it.

And still I forget!  So today, I shout out to all my fellow Mommies, I need help.  Do you remember things?  Does your brain feel like the contents of a sick kids diaper or are you holding it all together?  What's your trick, how do you manage to remember it all and keep it all together?

"G"25

There's a man in my life I have great admiration for.  He's not this man or this man, he's a man, who I haven't always been kind to, who has caused me grief from time to time and who's played a key role in my life.  We've shared memories and a few "moments", heck we even share genetics.

Had you not guessed it by now, I'm talking about my brother.  You know, that guy I mention from time to time who's a few years younger than I.  I'd tell you his name but then I'd have to kill you, well, not really but he's got this thing with his privacy and not wanting is information on the internet.  And since I'm too old to be antagonistic to him, I'll respect his wishes.  (Sometimes I even think he might have the right idea.  I seriously wonder, how much safer would I be if I didn't blog and wasn't a member of Facebook?  As much as I feel I'm in control, am I really?...another day)

However, his 25th birthday is today and I couldn't, I just couldn't let this day go by with out a post.  So, for the purpose of this post well call him "G" (this has no significance other than the fact that it's not his name and every time I think about referring to him as "Little G" it makes me giggle.  That and because if I tried doing what I did when we were young adolescents and call him Squirt he may never talk to me again.).

To top that off, I'm a very visual person.  I love photos and pictures because they hold countless memories and make a reader feel connected to the person in question.  The problem with that is he wants privacy, I can't post photos of us as kids, it might give it away (or expose some of my less than desirable style choices throughout the years).  So, I did what any good sister would do...

Meet "Little G"

I know this was risky, seeing as to how this is a very accurate depiction of him, but I've decided to chance it, for your sake of course.  Also, I'll have you know this took me the better part of an hour, which is why I am not in graphic design.

Anyways, the years since I've moved away from home have seen the relationship between "G" and I grow distant.  Having jobs, getting married, having children and life have all got in the way.  It's not something that's unusual for siblings, especially those of the opposite sex, but it is something that from time to time has made me sad - I miss my brother.

This past year though, has given us more opportunities to see each other.  Our fantastic weekend in Sooke was the real beginning for us to get to know each other again, and that's really what it's like, starting over.  More than that even, it's been the chance to not only watch him grow relationships with Bethany and Audrey but also for me to see who he's become.

I think as we all grow up, especially those of us who are the oldest in the sibling chain of command, we set out expectations of who our siblings are going to be.  Not that we think endlessly about the careers they will choose or the lives they will lead, but more we think about who they'll be in general and the role they will play in our lives.  I'm not sure if it was a conscious thought process for me, but as adulthood approached for both of us I quickly realized it wasn't going to be what I thought.

I envisioned us being close, I thought that age and separate bathrooms would see us growing closer together, bridging the gap in our relationship that sibling rivalry had created and becoming more than blood relatives but friends.  It didn't quite go like that, we didn't fight so much any more but we hardly talked.  Not because of anger or a problem but because we'd become two different people, living different lives.

Somewhere in my mind, over this time I've created the person I believed "G" to be.  I had made up my mind that while I knew he was old enough to live on his own, buy a vehicle and kiss a girl (to which I still say BLECH! Even when it is a nice girl that we like, Blech! Hi "GF" (again privacy thing but I figure ya'll can figure out girlfriend = GF), he was still a young man, a teenager inside.  Someone who I was smarter than, who couldn't possibly possess the life skills that I did and someone that still needed his big sister to watch over him - even if I couldn't.

What I've come to discover is something quite the opposite.  The person I sat across the living room with the other day didn't posses any of the qualities a teenager would, somewhere between 19 and this unbelievable 25 years old "G" has managed to not only mature into a man but a smart at that.  What's more, I had nothing to do with it.

I know, right!  I had nothing to do with it.  I haven't been around for 6ish years and look what's happened.  Maybe that says something, about God's power and wisdom (not about me, yo).

"G" has become someone I'm so proud of, not just the whole, "He's my brother and it's heavy" thing, but because of the man he's choosing to be.  As I spend more time talking with him I'm finding that he's smart, about things I'm not.  He understands worlds in a way that I couldn't possibly (I'd like to think I'm still a little sheltered) and he's brave.  I know that sounds kind of like he's not afraid to pick up a sword and fight a dragon, and while I think he'd probably get a kick out of that, it isn't what I mean.  He's not afraid to try anything, or if he is he's stellar at keeping it hidden, he'll take on challenges that make me cringe, he'll eat just about anything if the price is right (or the dare is big enough) and he has no problem putting on what I deem a flimsy mask and let dudes shoot paintballs at him.  (I hear that it's ok because you get to shoot people back, but anything that causes welts that also result in nasty bruises is unappealing to me)  He accepts people who the world turns away and loves those who sometimes are outcasts.  I'm ashamed to say that quite often he gives people, the ones that I'd automatically write off based on reputation or appearance a chance, and some how manages to find the gold that's in them.  It's one of those things I'd say is one of his true gifts. 

One of his other gifts? He's a really good uncle, a great one even.  The first time "G" met Bethany he was squeamish.  I handed her over to him and the look on his face pretty much said, "If this kid pukes on me I'm gonna toss her and run", then he looked in her face.  I have a picture of that moment, it's one of my favourites.  Then Audrey came along, he'd had time to get to know Bethany and had started to see glimpses of what his relationship with her could be but still it was light years away.  The first time he met AJ was something very similar to Bethany, this time however he refused to hold her.  It was the chink in his armour, he was afraid he'd hurt her.  Someone took her and plunked her in his arms leaving him no choice and again, the "fear of poo" appear, then he looked at her.  I have that moment in picture form too, it's my next favourite.  The girls are far away from those teeny infants now and the relationship he has with them has grown just as much.  From the very first moment "G" told Bethany that he'd take her to her first day of school, it's a promise she talks of every once in awhile and one that I know Audrey will look forward to, too.  These past few months, Bethany's become one of his "girls", and while Audrey's still a little skittish she too is coming around to Uncle "G".  They light up when he comes in a room, they chatter about him when he leaves and as far as they are concerned he's one of the coolest people they know.  Next to Papa that is. 

The cool thing is, I think in his eyes, they might just be the coolest little people he knows.  And if they aren't he's gonna hear about it from his still older sister.  He's not completely without his faults now, he still sucks at phoning me back and when he does getting more than one word answers is like a miracle, but I deal with it.  At least I'm getting to see him once in awhile, now.  That and today's his birthday so I'll keep the airing of dirty laundry to a minimum.

Today, this guy, this man that I love so much turns 25.  He's 1/4 of a century and it kind of blows my mind.  Not in the same way that watching our girls grow up has, but more in a way that feels surreal.  How did we get here?  My first memory is the day he came home from the hospital, sitting in the middle of the night, in the shadow of the stairs watching someone rock him to sleep,  I knew then I'd always love and protect him.  But how is in that 25 years have passed since that moment? 

The years went fast and felt slow, the fights were monumental (dude hit me in the back with a pot - I may have deserved it but I'll never let him live it down), the laughter erased most of them and the memories, today, overwhelm.

Happy Birthday "G"!  I am truly proud of the man you've become, of the integrity that you show and the Uncle you are to my girls.  I've said it before and I'll say it again, I believe God has great things planned for you, truly great and magnanimous things, and I know you're well on your way to finding them. I love you as much now as I did that very first moment, and respect you twice as much.  I hope with all my heart you enjoy your day!

Teeny Tiny Beauty Queens

This post has been brewing for awhile, a long while actually.  The urge to write about it comes and goes, usually as I'm flicking through the channels in search of something useful to watch.  I think, "I'm soooo gonna unload about that later..." and later never comes.

But on the heals of this post from last week, I feel like we're there.  Before I go there, or here whichever it is, I'm going to warn you in a non-sarcastic, actually serious way that you might not like or agree with what I have to say.  As I've said before, my space, my words, my opinions.  I am also going to say that while what I'm going to write about is based on very strong emotion and is driven by my very huge opinion on everything.  It is not meant to be or to come across as judgement, I'll leave that job to the Big Guy.

What I'm talking about, what's burning my tail feathers is TLC's (notice a trend in my channel affections?) Toddlers and Tiaras.  If you've never had the bad fortune of coming across this show I'll re-cap: basically it follows around pageant contestants and their families.  It's like the inside scoop on beauty competitions for little itty bitty children.  The content is so unbelievably upsetting to me I've never survived a whole episode.

Now, I'm not at all suggesting that these mothers and fathers don't love their children.  I will never throw that accusation at any parent, because I don't believe it humanly possible to completely not love a child.  If it is, I hope I never meet the person who can say they are void of emotion for their kids.

But the thing is I don't understand how they can parade these sweet little girls around dressed like adults.  And not classy adults at that.  I have daughters, absolutely, breath takingly beautiful daughters and while I am proud of their appearance, I am far more impressed with the little girls and future women that live within them.  I love their natural beauty (with pretend make-up if you're Audrey - I "air" apply blush because she wants to copy), I love their sweet kidlet smiles and the goofy songs they sing.  Watching them I believe without a shadow of a doubt they are more beautiful than I could ever try to be - it seeps from their pores.

These little girls on the show, starting at a very, very young age are caked in make-up, their mothers of all people apply whitening strips to their teeth, dressed in mini pageant gowns and forced to parade on stage.  Oh, the adults always say "They love it", "They want to do it" and maybe for a few they do.  But you can't tell me that a 3 year old came up with the idea to dress herself that way, dance across the stage shaking her yet to develop ta-tas and earn her momma a nice fat pay cheque.  I have to say, on that I call bullshit.

I'm sure these little ones love the pretty crowns, but I caught a glimpse of an episode the other night, as the winners we announced and I watched the faces of those little girls.  They were impartial to the win, the didn't care that they won, they looked void of emotion and my heart broke.  They're guardians in the audience however were thrilled, there's something wrong with that picture.

Children are supposed to play and get dirty, laugh and goof around, have crooked ponytails and stay up late just to sneak an extra story from Mom.  And not that these little ones never do that, but how much of their lives is being taken from them in "training", in practice, because, their parents want to live out a dream? 

This show, while maybe began in an attempt to show the good side of the pageant life, all it's done for me is left me with a bitter taste in my mouth.  We don't even enter our children in "Most Beautiful Baby" etc competitions because again I don't believe children are had to be exploited (again, if that's your choice this isn't judgement, but opinion).  I don't want Bethany and Audrey to feel as though Corey and I need to compare them to someone else.  There is no comparing two human beings, we weren't created to be the same, but rather unique.

But more than any of that, the part that leaves me unbelievably sad is the future.  What does the future look like for these itty bitty queens?  How will they ever, develop a healthy self esteem when they know that their mommy is comparing them to someone else?  How will they ever feel beautiful in the eyes of those who matter when, they know that someone holds their self esteem in their hands in the shape of a trophy or a rhinestone encrusted tiara?

For me, it all comes down to disgust, sadness and frustration, because I don't really think these mothers and fathers understand what they're doing to their daughters.  Maybe not in the moment but for the future moments to come.  And I hope that these sweet little girls, find their true beauty beyond the stage and know that they are worth more in they eyes of God than make-up can create, that their self worth soars because of the women they'll become and not the awards on their shelves and that each night, when they're tucked into bed at night some says I love you because you're you, and you are always a winner to me!

Telemarketer Advice

I understand that telemarketers are only doing their job.  I can empathize that you need to eat, your family needs a roof over their heads and this may have been your only choice.  Heck, I even understand sales and that being persuasive can sometimes mean the difference between getting or losing a sale. 

What I don't understand is this:  if you struggle with english, either you're still learning the language or your accent is so heavy I'm pretty sure your call center is located in the middle of somewhere across the ocean, why are you doing this job?  I can only imagine it's as frustrating for you as it is for me to have to be ask 50 times in 10 minutes "Sorry, what was that?"  Maybe you'd be better suited to something else. 

Next if you're a class A jerk, or plan to throw an attitude at me, maybe you'd be better off scrubbing toilets with your toothbrush.  The wrath of what I can throw is not something I think you want to face.

So here's what happened....

We've been away for 10 days on holidays (I'll update on that soon) and when I got home, I checked out the Caller ID.  Yes, yes I check my CID, I need to know who loves me and who doesn't.  Anyways, there was a Telus number on there 6 times.  Hmmmm, we're Shaw users after THIS event, what the heck would they want.  I kinda shrugged it off and waited to see what would happen. 

Monday they called back 3 times but there was only ever crackle on the other end.  I chalked it up to the brilliant service Telus gives, and hung up the phone.  Then yesterday they called 2 times while the kids and I were at work and then once again at 7:30pm while we were trying to get the kids into bed.  Here's how the conversation went...

Me: Hello?
Telus Lackie (TL): Looong pause "Hello?  Is this the person who is to buy the phone service?  I mean is this the uh, Mr or Mrs. Ashley and Corey Stone?"
Me: "Yes, this is Ashley Stone"
TL:" Hello Mrs. Stone, I'm ____________(name I couldn't make out) calling you from Telus (my brain slowly enters energy saving mode) to tell you about a service bundle we're offering with phone, Tv and Internet, I need to know who you get your service with presently since it NOT Telus Just so you know, they are recording this call"
Me: "We use Shaw, and Telus doesn't offer Internet here so I'm really not interested in your bundle.  I'll just save you some time and ask you now to please remove me from your call list."
TL: "I understand that ma'am (mental throwing darts at TL - Ma'am!) but this is an excellent package, I know you might be busy now but just listen me and I say to you want the bundle is"
Me: pulling out the annoyed Mommy Voice "thanks but I'm really not interested in the bundle, please remove me from your call list.  This is a bad time I need to go and put my kids to bed"
TL: "If you would just STOP TALKING I can read you this script and then I may take you off the phone list.  The bundle...."
Me: "I won't stop talking.  I told you I'm not interested, you don't even offer internet here so I'm not interested in your bundle.  Now since you're recording this call then you can record that I've been polite, I've asked nicely, NOW remove my name from the list and don't call me again.  Have a nice day"
"Accidentally" dropped the phone before hanging up.

Dude, it's your job to call and offer me a service, I get that.  I even blame Telus for being a bunch of crack pots for asking you to call a person who lives in an area (which you would know since you have my phone number and my address is listed) that their services are not provided.  But you don't need to be ignorant.  If you would have shut your mumbling trap for 30 seconds and listened you'd have understood and could have moved on to your next victim.  Now, all you've done is managed to earn your way onto my top 30 people I hope get hit by bird poo, right next to the spammer who hacked my e-mail and the maker of the Trojan virus that overtook my computer.  It's a shitty place to be, trust me.

We have a pretty heavy, be polite to Telemarketers rule around here because of paragraph 1 (I'm too lazy to re-write it), but tonight I broke the rule.  When they're not going to listen to reason and patience, I'm pulling out the big guns, loading the barrel and firing a who wad of teenage attitude your way.

What about you?  How do you handle Telemarketers?  Are you a nice Nancy?  Or a Nasty Norman?

Breast Wishes

I love cookbooks.  I thoroughly enjoy flipping through pages, reading recipes, looking at pictures.  I love imagining cooking new things for my family (notice I said "imagining" not doing, I'm a horrible procrastinator, and my new things list is longer than my left leg) and that they'd love them.  Over all, cookbooks rock.

Normally I borrow them from the library first.  That way I can determine if a book is worth the buy.  I read it, if I love the whole thing it goes on my list of cookbooks I'd like to own.  If I only find one or two good recipes then I write them out for my recipe binder and return the book.   This has saved me oodles over the years and has prevented a shelf full of unused books. 

The other day however I found a cookbook that touched on not only my love for cooking but also a cause that is near and dear to me.  It's the Breast Wishes from Breast Friends 3rd Cookbook.  This book is made up of recipes from cancer survivors and their families.  It's full of stories and anicdotes and the money goes towards finding a cure for cancer. 

Everyone knows someone touched by cancer.  If it's not someone in your immediate family, it may be a friend, or the mother of a friend or a co-worker.  Cancer is expanding it's reaches and without a cure it's only going to get worse.  I know one day cancer will something we only read of in the history books like the Plague, but for now it runs rampant and it's overwhelming.

It touches me, and so, I bit the bullet and bought the book.  Good cause all around and maybe I'd get a few good recipes.  While I haven't cooked anything yet, it's looking promising.  More than a few of the recipes have jumped out at me as things that the kids and Corey will love, Score!  And some of the stories and side  notes have made me both laugh and cry.

Since today is one of those laugh kind of days, I thought I'd share this one with you.  It flat out made me laugh out loud (not LOL - that makes me want to scream!) and I hope it does for you too!

You might not know this, but some non living things are actually male or female.

Freezer bags are male - they hold everthing in, but you can see right through them

Tires are male - They go bald easily and are often over inflated.

Hammers are male - in the last 5000 years, they have hardly changed at all, and are occasionally handy to have around

Remote control's are female - (ha! Bet you thought it would be male) It easily gives a man pleausre, he'd be lost without it and while doesn't always know which buttons to push, he just keeps trying.

It's like fingernails on a chalkboard, only it's purple

When it comes to TV, we are a pretty restrictive household.  I am very, very cautious about what our girls see, and what they don't.  I don't show things that have villans or scary scenes to the kids, I fast forward through things that I know will cause nightmares in Bethany and I keep a close eye on what shows they are watching if the TV is on.

We also don't have the TV on all day.  That's not to say there aren't days when I'm being lazy and want to sit and knit while watching a movie with my kids so I don't have to clean up the dishes screaming my name from the kitchen exhausted beyond belief from two little girls not sleeping at night (ps. they have mastered the art of the nighttime, tag team.  One will wake, go back to sleep, leaving enough time to get my freezing cold tushie back under the covers, then the next will wake up and so goes the battle).  But on a day to day basis, they get a few short kids shows in the morning as I ready us for work, and then that's it.  Sometimes when we get home from work, I'll pop a movie in for them to watch as I make dinner, this is mostly to distracted them from standing in the kitchen asking me 40 times over for a snack 15 minutes before dinner is served. 

That, is pretty much it.  We learned a long time ago, that TV after dinner is counter productive for many reasons.  The first being Bethany was getting all sorts of night time dreams that were wakeful.  They weren't always scary but they'd work her right up, making it difficult for me to coax her back to sleep.  After a quick examination of our habits I concluded the evening TV show she'd get with her Daddy was the cause.  We cut it out and voila the worst of the dreams vanished.  It's also a good thing for us to have the Boob Tube off after dinner, because quite often that's the only time the kids see Corey and to take that precious hour or two and spend it zoned infront of a flashing box (and when I say zoned it's not my kids who'd zone out....ahem Corey)  is an absolute shame.

I totally didn't start this out with the intention of sharing our whole electronic use plan, I get distracted.  The thing is, and maybe it's just me, but whenever I start talking about a parenting decision we're making that can be controversial (because I know there are many out there who are anti-TV) I feel the need to jusify myself.  As if, I need to prove to everyone that I'm not a horrible parent.  N-E WAY....

(aside: This is NOT a judging post.  I am not saying we are doing it right any more than I am saying we are doing it wrong.  If you chose to allow your children to watch TV for 18 hours a day, forcing them to stay awake for the Crazy Craft lady at night because you believe your exposing them to all types, that's your business.  I wouldn't chose it for our girls but, whatever.  This is strictly TV from they eyes of one Momma.  And how I feel it has it's place, like everything else, in moderation)


The list of shows I absolutely will not let our kids watch is getting longer and longer.  In the Night Garden - this is just Teletubbies the remake in my opinion and doesn't promote any intelligent thought from my kids, Toopy and Binoo because they annoy me and I don't like their behaviour, the Playboy channel - because I don't want my girls to grow up to be strippers (and because I don't want to see that....can you imagine what that would do to my self esteem - flush!), you get my drift....

But of all the shows I won't let them watch, or swore before they were born I would never have on my television, one has come off time out.  For years, I baby sat a little guy who loved this show, and I learned to loath it.  Not because the lessons were bad, in fact they are good, not because the kids weren't polite, in fact they were almost perfect, not because there is a bad guy who provokes nightmares in the grandest of schemes, the only bad involved is the acting.  No, I didn't have a solid parenting reason, my reason ran in terms of shear annoyance.  The kind of annoyance that makes me want to stick my head in a hole and scream for mercy.

notice I've made this photo as small as possible, in an attempt to make him DISAPPEAR FOREVER

However, my kids have fallen in love.  If you haven't guessed it by now I'm talking about Barney.  That's right, you heard me, my kids watch Barney (hangs head in shame, pure shame).  The thing is they love Barney, and while most often I manage to avoid it all together, there are some times when nothing else is suitableish so the big guy it is.  His lessons are still good, his manners still impecable, his voice still annoying, his costume the thing Mommy night terrors are made of.  I relent because I love my girls and have every confidence that they will out grow this stage, I leave the room because I don't think it would send the right message throwing laundry at the TV screen in an effort to make him SHUT UP already.  (please note, I do not rent Barney DVD's, nor will we own one.  I will burn any Barney paraphernalia that should come our way - even if you think you're being funny.  This is as far as the B-train goes).

It's one of those things that drives this Momma crazy but for now, since the time spent watching is so small, I relent and hope and pray that one day, my kids too are parents themselves and are subjected to the annoying big purple punching bag for the sake of their children.

What about you?  Is there any TV your kids must have?  What about ones you just can't handle?  I can't be in this alone, do share!

ps.  Don't forget the GIVEAWAY over at OFS Reviews.  Enter, Enter, ENTER!

The Power of Beauty

It's no secret I struggle with my self-esteem.  I blog about it every now and again, in a moment of weakness when the "fat monsters" are climbing out of my closet and into the back pocket of my jeans.  I talk about it to my mom and my husband much more frequently (not specifically in front of our girls, they don't need to know about those things yet.  All they need to know is they are perfect and beautiful. Period.).  I think of it, however on an hourly basis.

I see women I long to look like on TV, in magazines, walking down the street.  I look at my accomplishments and think of them as small because I feel no different than I did before.  I compare, I work hard and I loath, and at the end of the day I worry.  Because I know that carrying this baggage around for the next 20 years is not only going to harm me, but my marriage and ultimately the way my children see themselves.  I know, without a shadow of a doubt, I need to get these issues under wraps soon, but what I don't know, is how to do it.

I know I've used these photos before, but when I was talking of beauty I couldn't help but look through the photos of my beauties.  These are my two favourites.

Then, on a day that hasn't exactly been going well, my Mom posts this video on her Facebook and it shed a little light on the situation....



We live in an airbrushed, digitally altered, emotionally void era.  We can take someone, sit them in a chair, bring in 35 people, allow those 35 to have at 'er for a few hours, smearing her face with lotions and creams, her hair with heat, spray and a wind tunnel, then add lighting and a fantastic photographer.  After that a few tweeks here and there with a computer and she's finally "beautiful". 

What I don't understand is why she wasn't "beautiful" to start with.  And what, does this all accomplish?  I mean, if the women (and I'm sure men, but I don't want to talk about the men and their abs) we are looking at and comparing ourselves to are all enhanced, what are we looking at.  Why are we judging beauty on an image, not any more real than a cartoon?

And then, this is the part that I struggle the most with - how do we leave our Creator feeling?  I mean, He makes all things beautiful - execpt women, they need 35 people to fix what God missed.  Ummm, not so much.  If I were Him, I'd be a little more than unimpressed.

I think most of us self esteem challenged gals know all this but the believing is hard.  If this is what we're going to see, how do we change what we want?  I'm all for personal improvement, for health, wellness and confidence under the right circumstances.  But how does one keep them straight, how do we stay real?

The faces of beauty look at us each day,  in the mirror, in our children, in our friends, in the eyes of our spouses.  It's our job, as the women of right now to demand more from life, more from our world and more for our kids, so they can become self loving instead of self loathing.

While, this is not a push for Dove products and they've got no idear I'm writing of them today, I have to say "WAY TO GO DOVE!"  Your campaigns are encouraging and they're giving the power back.  With knowledge comes power and with power comes change.

Cliche or not, together we can take the power of self - self esteem, self worth and self assuredness and make the world of 'beauty"  something great for those to come!

 Now, if only I could find that power of self....

All around the Mulberry bush

♪All around the Mulberry bush the Monkey chased the weasle, the monkey thought it all in fun - POP! goes the weasle.♪

That nursery rhyme drives me nuts, what does it mean "POP! Goes the weasle" did someone knock him off Soprano style, or did the monkey bop him on the head but Pop sounded better or did he POP out of the bush?  I'm confused.  The way I figure it, most nursery rhymes are morbid and tell a sorrowful tale, so this one probably isn't much better.

However, for all the years we sang and laughed at the song, I'd never seen a Mulberry.  When I started selling PartyLite, they have a Mulberry candle and so I felt I was one step closer to discovering the mystery of the Mulberry.  It's a nice fragrance and for me personally, one of my best sellers (should you be interested in the fantasticness of the PartyLite candles, you should totally check out the NEW CATALOGUE!  But that's not what this is about)

Then, we moved.  Our house has a bazillion - like 8, fruit trees smattering the yard.  We have mostly apples and while in theory that's wonderful, apples to eat and look pretty, they are in fact a pain in the posterior.  We don't spray, we didn't prune and they are turning our yard and driveway into a bee buzzing pile of apple sauce.  Which leaves poor Corey to shovel up the debris.  We also have a couple of plum trees and a pear tree.

But the cake taker is our Mulberry tree.  That's right, a Mulberry tree!  When we first looked at the place our landlords took us around showing us the house and the yard, stopping right in front of this big beautiful tree.  They pointed to it and explained that it was a Mulberry tree and that as far as they knew one of the only ones in the area.  At the time it didn't have any fruit so we had to wait a season to see it. 

The following summer as the berries came out we headed to our tree with curiousity and trepidation.  If you've ever had a choke cherry you will understand why we hesitate to try something that's "so good" (thanks for that Dad).  Anyways, my first taste brought joy not a horribly dry mouth.

The Mulberries are excellent!!!  With a taste something similar to what a cross between a cherry and a blackberry would be, they are so pleasant to eat.  The tiny little stem at the end doesn't come out very well so you need to hang onto it as you bite your treat, but other than that they are delish.  They also have a wicked dying property and after 10 or 50 berries you have red stained fingers and lips.  I keep threatening to head out there before a date night with Corey and solidify my lipstick for the evening.  If it weren't for the fact that the color is closer to purple than red, I might just do it. 

Due to the fact that life is busy and I totally hate and loath the idea of having red stained hands  time has just slipped away from me, I haven't actually picked them for more than immediate snacking.  I hear they make great jam and I know my girls would love to sit and snack away on them.  Who knows, maybe next year.  But I don't really mean that, what I really mean is probably not gonna happen ever, unless you want to come do it.  Well, do you?

So tell me, What's your favourite Summer fruit?

ps. Don't forget it's T minus 7 days until the GIVEAWAY over at OFS Reviews is closed.  Get on over and enter, even if all you do is pass it forward to someone you know.  Heck, a year worth of diaper cream would cover you for baby gifts for awhile.

Who's On Second

Some time ago, right about 5 years back in fact, Corey and I were having a conversation.  We'd had many before and we've had many, many since, but this particular conversation stands out in my mind.

Corey was trying to explain something to me, what, I don't remember (Hey! I've had two kids who have robbed me not only of 1/2 my brain cells but also 8 hours of sleep for the past 3.5 years, cut me some slack!) but that's not really important.  What matters is that I wasn't understanding.  I know, you're amazed, that I, a person that can talk a mile a minute, while washing dishes and listening to Oprah, couldn't possibly understand, but it does happen.  Wonders never cease, and I was confused.

It was obvious that Corey was getting frustrated.  It was a simple concept, probably something mechanics related (after all this time I have learned to smile, nod and bank his phrases to memory.  Then when someone's talking about car stuff, I pull out a phrase like - "It must be the pistons" or "Sounds like an impeller", which allows me to sound really smart or look like a complete idiot.  But whatever, I chance it) and no matter how he explained it, or how I'd repeat it back I was missing the point.

As our newly in love air began to get thick I did what I do quite often when conflict could be on the horizon.  I make a pass at being funny.  The way I see it, if I can't make my co-partner in the conversation department laugh from my sheer wit, they're bound to snicker at how ridiculous the situation is.  No matter how you shake it, conflict avoided, situation smoothed.

So, I said to him, mid sentence - "Who's on Second?", completely expecting a solid laugh from Corey.  What I hadn't banked on was this blank and now equally confused expression.  "What the heck are you talking about? Weren't you listening?"

He missed it.  I, being the persistant and some what stubborn driven person that I am tried again - "I don't know's on third"  He didn't say anything this time, and really didn't need to.  It was evident that Corey had completely missed the boat.

It was then that I discovered, my dear Corey-B had been deprived of one of the funniest skits of all time.  Abbott and Costello's "Who's on Second" routine that has brought me great deals of laughter over a great many years.   Our conversation then took a turn from there, and I spent the better part of an hour trying to explain how it went.

Since then, I've found it on YouTube and showed him, sharing a laugh as it all came to light for Corey.  His life is now better having seen it.

 Tonight while talking to my Mom, during a conversation the perfect moment arose, and out came "Who's on second".  She laughed and we carried on, but that moment reminded me of that day. 

And so, since I'm sure Corey isn't the only poor soul to never have had the priveldge of this clip, I have decided to share it with you.  In hopes that you'll not only laugh, but then should you and I ever be talking, and I say something like "Who's on second" you won't head for the yellow pages, in search of a mental facility, but instead will laugh.  Or, more appropriately reply, "Who's on FIRST!"


What about you?  Any super fantastic, funny clips you want to share?  I'd love to have you email them to me so that over a few weeks I can share some of life's funniest moments to those who may have missed them.

I like it, weather you do or not!

I have something to say, that some of you may not want to hear.  Some may be offended, some may be saddened by the announcement, while others may join in with a chorus of "Amen, Sista" 's.  I've been wanting to tell you for awhile now, but the timing wasn't right.  If I'd said it a month ago, it would have been even harder to swallow.  Heck, even my own Mother doesn't like it when I talk of it.

The thing is, I want summer to go away.  In fact I am at that "I loath you summer, you need to leave before I feel the need to move to Alaska (if it's actually cooler there), and before I decide to pelt you with ripe, mushy tomatoes next year" point in the season.  It's not like it's an unusual thing for me to hate summer, and it's not all of summer I hate, it's just the heat and the clothes that cover not enough, the fact that the weeds in my garden can grow so bloody fast and that I have to sunscreen my kids every 15 seconds to prevent a sunburn, and who can forget the fact that when it's hot outside and my sandal clad toes (which will NEVER have socks with said sandals) hit the sunshine they develop awesome white blisters in a matter of 20 minutes, that I resent.

When summer first arrives, I'm glad it's here -sort of.  I mean, I'm glad that the kids can go swimming, that there is summer fruits and veggies available and that the girls look so cute in their shorts and tank tops.  But after 24 hours of the super hot weather, I'm annoyed.  We don't have air conditioning, and while our house isn't as hot as some, it's still pretty hot.  It means that we have all the fans on, and still we don't sleep well.  The mosquitos like to rock summer and I figure, any season that comes with the worlds most annoying bugs cannot be all that good.

What I really love is fall.  Autumn, the cooler months.  In fact, if the whole year could be Fall to Spring, Fall to Spring, I'd be thrilled.  The fall brings crisp mornings and warm afternoons.  You can still wear a t-shirt and jeans without feeling sweat trickled down the backs of your knees.  You can go for a walk, even soak up the rays, and there are a few days in there that it's warm enough to do those summer outside things.  But the evenings are cool, everyone sleeps well.  The bugs begin to die and dinners are cooked in the oven, leaving you feeling warm and mushy.

Then there is rain, and while sometimes I'll complain about rain, for the most part I love it (unless of course I'm supposed to be going somewhere with the kids and it's pouring down rain then I don't so much love it).  The sound of it, the fact that everything gets a drink and fire season becomes a thing of the past.  The leaves change colours and our apple trees stop leaving mushy apple sauce all over the driveway.  Also, did I mention fall fashions are my FAVOURITE!  Jeans and cozy sweaters, dress pants with long sleeve cardigans and camis, not a pair of shorts or swimsuit in sight!

Spring too, really rockes the wheel barrow.  I mean, you get new flowers, warm mornings and the days are slightly longer.  The rain comes, but so do the new leaves on the trees and the birds come homes.

It's like, somebody was using their head with Spring and Fall and then dropped the ball with Winter and Summer (although I do like about 2 weeks of winter and snow for the kids and over christmas).  The extremes are too much for me. 

Corey, doesn't so much agree, he's someone who's perpetually cold and the only time of year he's not in need of three layers is summer.  He's glad to get a suntan (through sunscreen), feel the heat on his back and enjoy hours outside.  My Mom too, loves summer, and I don't blame her.  She's got an allergy to the cold and it sucks, in the summer is the only time she can be outside sans worry.  I say, when Corey and my mom need the summer fix they should hop a plain for Arizona and spend a week with all the crazies who chose to live in a place that is hot year round.  Heck, maybe go straight to the equator.

This year has been particularily tough, the hot spells have felt endless and my patience with them thin.  It seems, as it does every year, just when I'm about to lose my cool and pass my breaking point, the weather starts to change.  This year is no different, while all of my FB friends are complaining about the cooler days and that the weather appears to be having a mood change, I'm rejoicing.  It is for me the sign that I will survive and good weather is on it's way. 

And if you're one of those summer lovers, who's managed to make it this far while I've been talking smack about your best friend I want you to hold up.  Before you go getting all, "I'm gonna pull out a can o' whoop ass on her summer hatin' soul", WAIT!  I listen to you blather on for 3 months out of the year about how you love the heat, how you need the rays, Vitamin D my you know what, blah, blah, blah.  Now it's my turn, and I'm gonna love every second of it.

So, what about you (less the whole "can of..." part), what's your favourite season?

PS. Don't forget the Review Blog GIVEAWAY!  I know I so forgot the link last time, sorry!  Blame it on summer, my brain was fried!

When best friends come a calling

Tuesday brought a day I've been super excited for.  My good ol' buddy Cindy and her new baby girl Elanie came for a visit.  Cindy, being a much braver woman than I, drove from Kamloops to Chilliwack, with Elanie alone!  Gasp!!!

 I love this photo of Bethany "watching over" Elanie, and hope as they grow that's exactly what she does.

Now that may not seem too bad, except Elanie is just over 2 months old and that's a very long way to take a baby without a passanger to do the "work" while you drive.  But she braved the day and arrived here, tired but happy.  I was over joyed.  We were able to see Elanie on Canada Day but it was so brief I didn't get a chance to hold and cuddle her.  Something that I've only been waiting to do since the day Cindy called to say they were pregnant.

Most of the friends I have now are friends from my adult life.  I've met them since I've been potty trained and we've developed adult friendships.  That's not so much the case with Cindy.  Not that our friendship isn't adult, but it's grown to that.  We've grown up together, we played barbies and dressed up our brothers in play clothes, we talked about boys and our periods (what else to 13 year old girls talk about) we drempt of prince charming and the day that we'd each be a mother.

She moved away when we were in middle school, but faxes and snail mail kept our friendship kickin'.  Actually that's not totally true, God kept it going.  Anyways, somewhere in the back of my mind I always thought we'd one day be living side by side raising our kids together.  I know I'm an adult and I know that life doesn't always work that neat and tidy, but I can dream right?

AJ was in love and just wanted to be near her and love her. 

All those years ago we talked of having daughter who would be the best of friends like we are.  And while, I don't know how their friendship and their bond will grow over time I do know that this visit my girls were IN LOVE with Elanie.  Bethany cooed and blew kisses, tried to "play" with her and Audrey was taken.  She'd watch her and get close, she wanted to cuddle, and was infatuated.  I think though, the sweetest moment came for me when Elanie sneezed.  Audrey disappeared and few moments later returned, carrying a tissue for  her.  It was compassion and sweet and awwww.

Once my kiddos were in bed Cindy and I got to sit down for some good, long over due girl talk.  It was medicine to my soul. 

Thanks for braving the drive Cindy, it was sooo good to see you!  And it won't be so long next time :)


PS.  Don't forget the GIVEAWAY at our review blog!  Seriously, I can't have a contest run that doesn't have any entries!  Go, take a look, enter, you'll love this stuff

What Not To Wear

This photo has nothing really to do with the post, Bethany asked me to post it.  After I took these pictures she asked to do a family picture, I told her Daddy would be home later and she said, "No Mommy, just the girls family".  Mostly, she just wanted to use the auto settings on my camera

Ever wish you had Stacy and Clinton hiding in your closet to chose your outfit each day?  What about if you could shoot them with the machine from Honey I Shrunk the kids, then put them in your purse (not your pocket, that's just wrong on so many levels) for each trip to the mall?  What if they were your best friends, and had Starbuck's with you three times a week and you were always in style, and knew it?

No?  You don't wish that?  Well, I do.  I've watched What Not To Wear for so long, trying to soak up every bit of fashion advice, style wisdom and body confidence that they give to the people on their show.  I won't lie, I love the sarcastic humour and loath Stacy's "Shut the Door!", while I enjoy seeing the bizarre clothes that others own (mostly because it makes me feel a little better about what I wear on a daily basis) my favourite part comes near the end of the show.  It's the first moment the show's guest see's themselves in for the first time.  Each time the look is full of wonder, of joy, of surprise and of confidence.  In the matter of a week, a few thousand dollars and a touch of make-up, even the most "self assured" person walking in there exudes a new level of self.  The confidence that came in a plaid wrapped package is replaced by a glow accentuated by beautiful clothes and wicked awesome shoes.

While I don't want to be the victim of secret footage, or have to surrender my hair to the hands of the snip happy hair stylists on the show, I sure would love to be nominated!  The chance to not only get a whole closet full of new clothes which I didn't have to pay for, but to have someone tell me honestly how I look in them and make sure that I chose things that are flattering, beautiful and fashion forward - makes me drool.  I know what I like, I hope that what I wear is acceptable and I do my very best to not look like a 2 dollar hooker or spinster from the 30's, but I worry everyday about how I look in the things I own. 

I worry that I look fat, or that I look like I'm too old trying to be too young, or that I'm too young trying to look too old.  I worry about a plethora of things, but mostly, top of the list is I worry that I'll embarass my husband or my children.  I'd hate to think that my appreancemight make my girls want to hide in a rack of clothes, or that my husband would wish that I wore something else (No Corey, this is not the time to inform me you wished I wore a two piece bathing suit - not happening).  Aside from the fact that he complains each time I wear the jeans that are literally 2 sizes two big because I hate clothes shopping and I haven't really replaced them, Corey says he thinks I look good, but I still worry.

Each time I watch the show, I see Stacy and Clinton pass something secretly to their guests.  It's not the drug of the week, but here and there guests get a hit of confidence high.  They get told by people who know what they're talking about that they look "hot" in something.  They get told that they've got great legs by someone who isn't related to them by marriage or by blood and they get made to feel like they're ok, just the way they are.  I want me some of that.

I've asked Corey to nominate me, I've begged, I've even threatened to pull out all my maternity clothes and wear them and only them until the camera crews show up - he still says no.  He's not a fan of the idea of me having to forfeit my hair because he loves it long, but mostly he's says he's happy with me the way I am, why change what you already like!  I'd nominate myself but the fear of looking like a self centered you know what, keeps me from that.  So, for now I watch with longing.

The idea of someone teaching me how to dress the body I'm stuck with, showing me how to pick things that are versatile and explain how the heck to wear those incredible accessories I can only look longingly at in the store, is the thing sweet dreams are made of.  The idea of being exposed on national TV, laughed at and caught on secret footage in my worst moments, makes me glad right now that Corey won't nominate me (although I won't say no if someone knocks on the door).   This dressing one's self should be easier than it is, I mean, if they would just regulate what stores created and sold to be only things that are flattering and fashion forward we'd all have 'er made.  But part of the problem is, stores still sell things like pants with stirrups (those, gave me a quick and awkward flashback to my childhood) setting women and men, up for fashion failure.  It's a WNTW moment in the making.

So, for now I guess I just get to watch and learn, then do my best with what I can.  And hope, that should someone (that'd be you) see me walking down the street in an obvious fashion NO that they'll (still you) do one of two things: 1. Pull me aside, suggest I go home and put on pants that don't sag like that of a teenage boy or 2. snap a photo and send it in.  Hey, you never know, it just might work.

How about you?  Do you think you're a fashion yes or a fashion not so much?