Things That Go Bump In The Night

The past few weeks have been a struggle at bedtime. Our one son in particular seems to have developed a paranoia about things that go bump in the night. Consequently, he often ends up on the couch, or worse yet, on the floor outside our bedroom door - ever vigilant for those evil spirits that lurk within our home.

Last night was no exception. After trying to lay in his bed for mere minutes, he was quickly downstairs and onto the couch. Ten minutes later he was sobbing at my door, certain that something had 'run up his arm' and demanding to sleep on the floor.  After countless attempts at reassurance, we relented and allowed him to take up residence at our door.

Flash forward to 2 a.m.  I slowly roused myself from my slumber, only to be confused by what I heard. While normally quite quiet at night, there was a whooshing noise that pervaded the silence - one that I struggled to identify. As I laid there, I suddenly had visions of our water system spewing out buckets of water everywhere (sadly not an uncommon event). I bolted out of bed and rushed down the stairs.

There I discovered our vacuum hose laying on the floor - running! WTH?!? I've heard of peoples' tv's or other appliances turning on suddenly in the night - but a vacuum?!? "This is some freaky shit" I thought to myself as I turned it off and retreated to my bed. I told my husband that clearly we have a ghost suggesting I could step it up when it comes to the cleaning department. Also, I could use a glass of wine to settle my nerves.

As for our son - thankfully he slept through everything. I can only imagine how long it would take to get him convinced there are no ghosts in the house if he had happened to wake up.

Too Busy

It's not about having time . . . 

It's about MAKING time . . .

I haven't blogged much lately, and to be honest, I've kind of felt guilty about it. I think it's because when I first started out with this project, I envisioned making time every day to write - to create - to challenge myself to maintain the energy and consistency I felt when I first began writing.

In my enthusiasm I foolishly forgot what I know to be true ... LIFE happens. Circumstances change, priorities shift, unexpected challenges emerge that inevitably impact the path we are taking as we move towards our goals. It doesn't necessarily render our goals unimportant or unachievable - it simply means that we may need to adjust what we choose to make time for. 

Over the past few months, I've had plenty of time to write, and there has certainly not been any lack of material - believe me. I've quite simply made the choice to focus my efforts elsewhere. Sometimes this is a conscious choice - other times it is more of a subconscious decision, typically manifesting itself as good old writers block. 

I've stepped away from spending time with friends - not because of a lack of desire or interest - but because I have had other things that require my full commitment and attention. 

For a long time, I've used the excuse of "I'm too busy to do _________ right now". I've noticed a lot of people do this. The 'busy' word seems to have become an acceptable adult response to anything we choose not to make time for. 

This isn't to say we aren't busy. Of course we are. We have children, jobs, marriages, health, households, activities, and responsibilities that fill almost every moment of our day. This is the reality of adulthood - we have to prioritize where we are going to choose to spend our time, where our efforts need to be, where our impact is needed most. Often, this is dictated by the circumstances in our lives. We may be going to school, staying at home with the kids, solo parenting while a spouse works away, moving, or working on a project that is near and dear to our hearts. We may be supporting a family member or friend while they experience challenges, or we may be looking within ourselves to determine how to be a better person - a better parent, a better spouse, to be more connected with those around us. 

The reality is, we make time for the things that are important in our lives right now. There is no shame in this. There is no need to make the "I'm too busy" excuse. Why can't we just be honest about what we are making time for? Is it because we are worried about hurting someone's feelings? Is it because we do not trust ourselves enough to determine what is important at any particular moment?  Or is it that much of the work we may do is hard to quantify and describe? After all, contemplating how to be a better person is not something that typically manifests itself in a concrete manner - rather, it requires a great deal of reflection and internal examination. When someone asks "what have you been up to?", it's much easier to say "I've been busy" than attempt to describe an often sedentary and extremely personal process.

The other day I was lamenting to my husband that I was finding it a real struggle to keep on top of maintaining our house, coordinating schedules, and ensuring the kids are entertained. I was feeling discouraged because I had previously been somewhat (and I use this term loosely) successful in keeping the house clean; however had a couple of really difficult weeks with some issues occurring in my life. My husband said to me "You have made a commitment to your health and you are able to make sure you get to bootcamp each week - even when you are struggling. If you put forth the same commitment to maintaining a cleaning schedule of the house, you would be able to do it". At the time, I definitely probably didn't respond in a way that suggested his comment was helpful.

My husband, however, is a very wise man. He was not criticizing my lack of cleaning prowess. He was not stating that my priorities were in the wrong place. He was simply stating the obvious - if having a clean house was very important to me, and I made a commitment to having a clean house, then the house would be clean. I would make the time to ensure it happened. Because he knows - he has seen me do this time and time again. I appreciate his faith and belief in me.

There will always be time for the things that are important to us - we will do everything in our power to make sure of this. However, it is equally important to recognize and accept that priorities shift depending on circumstances - not just in our own lives, but the lives of others. My lack of blog posts lately is most definitely not a reflection of how I feel about writing - to me, writing is still a very important part of my life; however there are more immediate responsibilities that take precedence right now. When those things are resolved, I will be back to writing more regularly - I know this to be true. There will be weeks when everything is falling into place, and the house will be clean. There will be other weeks where s$^# is hitting the fan and the house will look like a bomb went off. And that's ok.

In the meantime, I'm going to cut myself a bit of slack . . . and I'm going to be honest when I'm asked about what I've been up to or why I haven't done something. I'm going to accept responsibility for my choices and remember that things will not always be this way so there is no need to feel guilty. The people who love me will accept that I'm doing my best, and trust that I know where to best utilize my time.

How about you? Do you fall into the "I'm too busy" trap, yet struggle to describe what you have been doing in a way that seems to give your 'busy - ness' credibility? How do you handle these situations? Do you have a spouse, partner, parent, or friend who helps to remind you of your strengths and capabilities?

I'm Calling a Truce

Photo credit: someecards

Since I was in my late teens, I have been forced into a 'relationship' with someone incredibly condescending, rude, disrespectful, negative, and an all around asshole. She's frustrating, she's tiring, she's caused me to question everything in my life - especially when good things happen. When bad things happen - well, she's like a kid in a candy shop - touching every raw nerve, leaching all my negative emotions to the surface, saying nasty things that cause my belly to ache. Sometimes I am successful at maintaining some distance - some space from her. Sometimes I get brave and call her out on her bullshit. Most times I walk on eggshells and hope she isn't going to suddenly show up.


Why do I keep her around you might ask? Well, walking away isn't quite as simple as it seems. You see, this jerk lives inside me - she inhabits every small corner of my brain, monitoring my thoughts, my movements, my emotions.

For years - and I mean YEARS - I have fought tooth and nail with this b****, most times successfully, and many times unsuccessfully. I have lived in fear of her rearing her ugliness during times of great joy, and I have lived in dread of her know-it-all voice echoing through my head when times are tough. I have fought back when she scrambles all the thoughts in my brain, leaving me struggling to know where to start and feeling overwhelmed. I have tried not to give in when she attacks every muscle in my body to the point that all I can do is stay in bed and rest. There have been nights where she tries to convince me I have nothing to live for, that I am worthless, that no one loves me - and I get up exhausted the next day because I have been arguing with her ALL.NIGHT.LONG. My husband will tell me he loves me, and I struggle to believe and embrace this because - well, you get the picture.

It has been difficult living with this internal conflict all these years - it has taken a toll on my relationships with others, my ability to work, and my confidence. It has been frustrating doing all the right things (exercise, counselling, medication, etc.) yet still feeling like she can arise and bully me at any time she feels an opportunity.

So this year, I've decided to try something different. Instead of trying to push her away and drive her down, I'm going to embrace and love her.

When she's telling me I'm worthless, I will wrap her in a hug and tell her that it's ok to feel alone and unwanted, but I have a lot of worth and am willing to share it with her.

When she's telling me that I can't do it, I'll hold my head high and say "yes I can - we can do it together".

When she attacks my body creating an exhaustion that is difficult to understand, I will remind her that I will cuddle with her, but only for a little while because let's face it, we have things to do.

When she tells me the medication I'm taking isn't working, or I don't need it anymore, I'll advise her that she shouldn't feel scared of being happy - it's a great feeling. Then I'll bring her along to my psychiatrist appointment so she can feel reassured by a professional.

When she tries to muddle my thoughts, I'll surprise her with a pre-made list of things to do and suggest she needn't be anxious, I have things under control.

When she snarls that no one wants to spend time with me, I'll invite her along for lunch with my best friend who always knows just what to say to make me feel better. Maybe it will work for her too.

In the end, I might as well make peace with this person, because after 30 plus years, she's made it clear she isn't going anywhere - despite my best efforts. You know how the saying goes … If you can't beat them, might as well join them - except this time it will be on MY terms.


This post is written in honour of #BellLetsTalk day. While I believe we should be open to talking about mental health issues daily, I do appreciate the opportunity to bring it to the forefront on days such as these. The fact of the matter is mental illness is an invisible disease - there are no blood tests, no physical deformities, no genetic markers - just some screening tools that can suggest it does indeed exist. This makes it hard for people to understand. If you have never been so desperate that you've thought of harming yourself, it is incredibly difficult to understand and empathize with someone who has. It's hard to appreciate how asshole-y a brain can actually be. Sometimes there are triggers, many times there are not. Even once treated, the risk of what I call "a flare-up" is always present - and when this happens it can be discouraging. Not one person who has a mental illness actually WANTS to have it - just as someone with Diabetes does not actually want to be diabetic. Wishing it away, pretending it doesn't exist, blaming someone for a lack of a positive attitude will not.change.anything.

If you, or someone you know is struggling, PLEASE ask for help. Ask your family, friends, pastor, teacher, counsellor, Dr. - anyone you feel close to. You aren't alone. There are many resources available to you. Is the process easy? Not in the least - but don't get discouraged. You are worth it!

Hello, Tooth Fairy? It's Me, Ben.

When you live in a household with three children under the age of 10, tooth fairy visits are inevitable. Z had his first visit a couple of years ago and has entered into a rather profitable relationship with the little lady. E lost her first few teeth this past year (although she tends to like to just let them dangle from her gums, earning her the esteemed title of "Nanny McT"), and while she enjoys the monetary treats left behind, she doesn't particularly care for the flying pixie. This stems from her Dad asking her to say hi if she happens to wake up during the exchange - after all, he did used to date the Tooth Fairy you know.

And then there's B. Poor little B who was blessed with teeth that are firmly rooted and happy to be there. He has watched longingly as his brother and sister collect their bounty, and wept silently (ok, it's more like wailing like his arm has been cut off but whatever) as he learned that his younger cousin had lost yet another tooth.

In August, he was delighted to finally discover one wiggly tooth. It was barely moving, but still a sign that changes might be on the way. That night, his sister lost a tooth, and he left his own note for the tooth fairy …

He had been waiting (not so)patiently ever since, and slowly the days and weeks went by with no indication that the little tooth was going to give up on its current location.

The other night, while he was eating an apple, I tried to discourage him from eating the seeds. He replied "I've ALWAYS eaten the seeds - they are good!" to which I stated "well, no wonder you haven't lost any teeth yet then!" He looked at me with wide eyes, his bottom lip started to quiver and tears started to form before he realized I was joking.  I did feel a little a bit bad about teasing him like that - but only for a moment. After all, I hate loose teeth and these kids torment me endlessly by making sure I'm privy to every wiggly moment of the process.

Fast forward to last night. I walked in the door and was greeted by a tooth wedged between his lips. "Pull that thing out already" I exclaimed as I tried not to vomit. Thank goodness Mike was home and could do the yanking honors - and just like that, I had no more babies in my house :(

When I tucked B in last night, I found this:

Translation: I want 2 dollars in deer heads (quarters) please.

Rumor had it that the Tooth Fairy spent all her money on coffee yesterday - fortunately she hit up the bank machine before heading out on her rounds last night, and was able to secure some change to leave for the big boy. In her hurry, she forgot the tooth - and I had the distinct pleasure of hearing it rattling around in the tooth container while it was being shook by my ear at 5:15 a.m. Probably pay back for the apple seeds comment. Guess I deserved it.

A Morning Trip Down Memory Lane

"But MOOOOOOOOOOOOM, I NEED to take my tablet to school - no one believes that I have one!!!!", "I promised so & so I would bring it today so we could play on it at lunch time", "It's my tablet - I can do WHATEVER I WANT!!!!".

Oh the sweet sounds of anarchy in the morning - I don't know how I would live without them.

I have a very strict 'no electronics at school' policy. My kids know this. It has been reinforced repeatedly. I'm not sure where clarification is needed. Yet once again, we were on the 'technology at school' train. A variety of other statements were spewed out incessantly when suddenly this gem was shouted:

"It's NOT FAIR! When YOU were my age YOU got to take electronics to school!!!!"

I will admit to feeling flattered that they thought I was young enough to have actually owned something electronic when I was that age, let alone an electronic that was small and portable enough to actually take to school. What was I going to do, load up the monster sized Atari with it's stellar graphics to stare at on the playground? If I wanted to do that I would have to lug along my 10 inch black and white TV and there ain't no way that thing was leaving my room after I had to beg and plead to get it in there in the first place!

Yeah, about the closest thing to an electronic that I could have taken to school was my Mom's super cool battery operated calculator. That thing was the best! The numbers were displayed in blue, the keys clicked, and it was only slightly bigger than your hand. Oh how I loved that calculator. I would play with it for hours, turning it upside down and making words like HELLO, EGGSHELL, and BOOBIES (admit it - you did this too!), multiplying 123456789 by 987654321 just for fun, and simply running my hands across the keys to see what popped up. I would enter a number in memory, fool around with calculations for a while, and then try to remember what number I had saved. The only downside was the thing sucked the juice out of 6 AA batteries like you wouldn't believe. Really, who needed a "Little Professor" or "Speak and Spell" when you had a calculator like that to play on?

Tonight I showed my kids the kinds of electronics that were around when I was young. They thought these things were lame, and in a world of compact, flashy, and ever changing technology I can totally understand their point of view. But in my world, they were - and still are - awesome. Man, I sure do miss that calculator (and I'm only slightly bitter that my younger sister was the recipient of a Spell and Math from Santa after years and years of my lobbying hard for a Speak and Spell).

Fun Fact: My amazing husband was born 5 years before The Little Professor calculator was introduced by Texas Instruments in 1976, and a full 7 years before the Speak and Spell was introduced in 1978.  Happy Birthday Mike!!!!

The Birds and The Bees

"Okay boys, it's time to sit down and read together for a while" I said one evening as I held the 'What's Happening to Me' book in my hands. After all, Z is getting older, and while I hope changes don't start happening anytime soon, I figure it is best to be proactive. Plus, this is the year they start talking about sexuality in school, so I'm hoping a pre-emptive strike might alleviate some red cheeks down the road. I invited B as well - mostly because I'm lazy and don't want to repeat this process several hundred times.

We made it to page 3 at which time I realized:

I should have read the book on my own and practiced in the mirror a few times before sitting down with the boys. After all, I'm the kind of person who giggles every time someone says 'Regina' - not sure why I thought I wouldn't fall into fits of snickering every time I had to say the word "sex". Who knew one word could turn me into a hot mess every time I had to say it? Just goes to show that maturity and age do not go hand in hand.

Apparently I say the word 'secs' a lot, because when I first said sex and burst into my fits of giggles, Z asked if I meant sex as in seconds. I didn't have the heart to tell him that his first time might really be only seconds, in which case he would be right - and why ruin that moment for him?

I had no idea that the issue of 'body hair' would be such a big one. Hey little man, you can wish all you want for smooth armpits and lack of a hairy bottom but the only way that's going to happen is through the tortuous process of waxing. Better to just come to terms with the fact you are going to be a hairy beast.

And finally, I really, really, really need to have a G & T (or six) before taking this 'educational process' further. 

On second thought, maybe I'll just have his Dad take the lead on this one while I drain the Gin and listen in. After all, it isn't fair that I get to do all the fun things, right?

The Lesson

A few days ago I had the opportunity to help out a stranger. It wasn't anything special - I believe most people in the same situation would respond in the same way.

There was no thank you. Instead, these words were spoken softly:

"I didn't know there were still good people in the world" with the hint of a sad smile. And then she was gone.

I wonder if she knows how powerful those words were - that hearing them once again in my mind causes my throat to ache as I try to contain the tears?

What world must this woman live in where goodness and kindness are the exception and not the rule? What experiences has she had that cause her to doubt the compassion and caring of others? What do her eyes see? And why are they hiding behind such dark sunglasses on a cloudy day?

I am so blessed to be surrounded by people who are good and kind - and while I am grateful for these people each and every day, I will admit that often times I take it for granted. It's hard to be reminded that not everyone shares those qualities - not everyone has access to people who are caring, supportive, and loving on a daily basis.

It's hard to believe that one action - even if I consider it to be insignificant, can in fact be so very significant. I didn't give her the gift of my service today - perhaps it was something much, much more.

Perhaps it was the gift of hope.

The Princess Ball

Thursday, November 21.

I had been waiting for this day to arrive for a long time. I was filled with excitement. I was filled with anticipation. I was keeping my fingers crossed.

What was so special about November 21?

That was the day tickets for "The Princess Ball" went on sale. I had made plans to purchase tickets for my daughter and niece as Christmas gifts - after all, what little girl wouldn't LOVE to get all dressed up and go to a Ball?!? With princesses, and princes, and a whole bunch of wonderful things to do? It was a perfect idea.

That morning, I got the kids off to school, waited for my husband to finish up some work, and then we headed in to the mall to get in line for tickets. I got there a bit later than I had planned; however the line up didn't seem too bad, so I remained hopeful that I would have those tickets in my hot little hands sooner rather than later.

The doors finally opened and the line moved forward as people bought their tickets. I felt my heart sink as I got closer and it became clearer and clearer that the pile of specially made Invitations was not going to last long enough for me to get to the front of the line.

I felt disappointed. I mentally chastised myself for not getting there soon enough. I listened to people grumbling - and some even raising their voices - about their inability to obtain a ticket. I watched as the organizer attempted to calm some very upset people in line, and I saw the discomfort of the volunteers selling tickets as people became irate that there were no tickets left. And suddenly, I felt angry - very angry as a matter of fact - not because tickets sold out ten people in front of me, but because at that very moment, the organizer and volunteers should have been celebrating, and the crowd should have been cheering as the event SOLD OUT in 35 minutes. 35 minutes!!! Amazing! Instead, their effort and energy was spent trying to settle a small group of people who were obviously disappointed but not expressing it very maturely. And to me, that's a rip off.

So what? you might be saying …

The reality is, The Princess Ball is organized by a local Mom whose daughter has Cystic Fibrosis. The proceeds of The Princess Ball go towards research and finding a cure for this chronic, life threatening illness.  That's right - it is a FUNDRAISER. For a CHARITY.  A unique and interesting way to obtain much needed financial support for research - so that those living with CF, and those who are yet to be diagnosed with CF, have access to treatments and opportunities that will allow them to live a full life despite their illness.

Yes, a day at a Ball sounds wonderful and exciting … but you know what sounds even better?!? In 35 minutes these folks raised $24,000!!! $24,000!!! Sure, some of that will go towards the costs associated with putting on an event of this magnitude - but seriously, how can one NOT be excited by the fact that such a significant amount of money was raised in less than an hour?

Look, I get it. I understand the frustration of having waited in line and not gotten a ticket. I understand the disappointment of little girls who will not get to have their day at The Ball. And yes, I even understand why someone would get hot under the collar because of a misunderstanding.

However:

I am also the Mom of a daughter who has a chronic, life threatening illness (not CF). I understand the drive and the desire to raise monies for our charity so that perhaps one day she, along with many others, will be free of her disease - or at the very least have access to technological advances that make it much easier to 'manage'.

I understand what it is like to see your child go through medical appointments and procedures that are scary and uncomfortable. I know the worry and fear associated with the "what if?" and "what next?".  I have lived through nightmarish hospitalizations where I honestly was not sure whether or not my daughter would survive - where I have wept while begging God to please not take her yet. I have been part of conversations where a nonchalant mention of someone dying from the disease my daughter has can shake me to the core, and I momentarily live the inexplicable  grief that family must be enduring. I can relate to the drive - no, the need - to keep moving forward, keep educating, keep trying to find a cure - all occurring simultaneously with an exhaustion that at times can be completely and totally overwhelming.

I realize that there are many charities out there - all deserving of our support. I have felt the discomfort associated with fundraising at times - because as much as I want to find a cure, I also struggle with continually asking people for money. It is understandable when people are unable to donate - but at the same time, I feel discouraged. I cannot even begin to explain how much I appreciate those who continue to give not just their money, but their time and commitment to being there, over and over and over, and I appreciate and value their support in ways they will never imagine.

So along comes Kelly Tibbets. She decides to do something innovative - something amazing to raise money while also delighting little girls and their mothers everywhere. She starts to organize The Princess Ball. She does this while she runs her own business. She does this while her husband works away from home for extended periods of time. She does this while she is raising her children. She does this while she attends appointments and provides treatments for her daughter. She does this while she volunteers at her older daughters school. She does this while she reconciles the joys, excitement, fears and worries associated with having a child with a chronic illness. I haven't ever seen her in a cape, but I'm pretty darn sure she's a super hero!

She and her trusty volunteers solicit donations from businesses so that the majority of the ticket price goes where it belongs - to the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation. They spend countless hours assembling invitations, making arrangements for princesses and princes to greet you at the door, arranging for silent auction items, etc. It's a HUGE job - and one that couldn't be completed without the full on personal commitment to finding a cure for CF. I applaud all of them for their perseverance and dedication.

So - for those of you who are fortunate enough to be attending this event - enjoy! Dance with the Princes and Princesses, treat yourself to some candy, and love every single minute - but also remember why you are there. Bid on the silent auction items, make a note of the sponsors and give them your business, or consider making a cash donation.

For the rest of us, consider donating the price a ticket would have cost you to Cystic Fibrosis Canada and mark The Princess Ball in the memo.  Email Kelly (cfcentralalberta@gmail.com) to find out if there is any way that you can offer some assistance or sponsor a silent auction item. You may not be able to spend an afternoon surrounded by magic and whimsy; however you just might make a difference in the life of someone living with Cystic Fibrosis.

Also, be sure to check out their new website  The Princess Ball - you will find the sponsors listed there. Check out their Facebook and business pages as many of them are running contests for tickets right now - who knows, maybe a Ball is in your future after all ;)

For those of you who would like to learn more about Kelly Tibbets, check out her Guest Post over at
Unlimited BS - she is an amazing woman and we are so very fortunate that she is a part of our community.

More Than Just a Donation

Today is Bell Let's Talk day - an initiative put forth by Bell Canada to encourage discussion and openness about Mental Health, with the side benefit of a financial donation to various Mental Health initiatives in our country.

Some people will argue that it is a 'feel good' advertising campaign - a ploy to increase overall revenue while getting the company name/image out there for a relatively small cost. That Bell could simply make a donation without all the sharing and retweeting. And they are probably right.

Image from umc-gbcs.org

When I look at my Twitter feed today, it is EXPLODING with comments, confessions, encouragement, support, love, and honesty. One does not have to look far to realize that Mental Health issues impact us all at some point in our lives - either directly or indirectly. And judging from how often this kind of stuff shows up on my timeline on days other than Bell Let's Talk day, we still are perhaps not quite comfortable enough to actually share about it on an ongoing basis. Sure, these conversations may take place 'in real life', but the atmosphere of support to share publicly is nowhere near what it should or needs to be.

And I started to wonder … what would happen if every day was Bell Let's Talk day - not just today? 

What if we were comfortable enough to share our vulnerability, our struggles, our progress -  without having to add the hashtag #BellLetsTalk?

Would someone out there feel less alone? Inspired? Encouraged to seek help? Would it save even one life? Would people lend us support, lift us up, walk beside us on our journey?

When others share their struggles, we learn we are not alone. When people we believe have 'got it all together' expose their vulnerability - their pain - we realize that it isn't just us. When we see people get through struggles and heartaches and come out whole and strong on the other side, we become inspired and hopeful. When someone opens their heart and asks for help, we are able to comfort, share, support, and guide.

Today is more than just Bell Let's Talk day. It is an opportunity to be open, to be vulnerable, and to share a piece of ourselves with others. It is an opportunity to create change, to advocate for supports, to stand together and say "let's get this done". But most of all, it is a reminder that we are all impacted - even if only peripherally.

Today is Let's Talk day. What will YOU choose to do about it tomorrow?


If you, or someone you know is struggling with a Mental Health issue, you are not alone and there IS help available. Reach out to:

• Family or close friends
• Mental Health Centre or Crisis Line (in Alberta 1-877-303-2642)
• Your local Suicide Information/Education Centre (in Red Deer (403) 342-4966 or suicidehelp.ca)
• A member of the Clergy
• Family Physician or Walk In Clinic
• Emergency Department
• School counsellor 

My Cirque du Soleil Audition

I've always enjoyed performing - just ask my poor relatives who suffered every Christmas as my sister and I put on an impromptu pageant complete with costumes and off key notes.

Over the years I tried my hand at musical theatre, jazz dancing, and of course, the performance of my life so far - pretending to be a completely competent mother of four.

Today, I decided to change things up a bit and try to perfect my acrobatic routine. This brilliant idea came to me as I took the garbage out this afternoon. What happened is this - last weekend I took a bag of garbage out and tossed it into the container. Unfortunately it was a rim shot, and tipped the can backwards so it was laying on the floor. I had my fingers crossed that someone else (aka Mike) might notice and set it back up for me. No dice.

Note the Blue Garbage Can - this is the one that was laying
 on the floor causing all the problems.
Also note the landing with the box of booze on it - this is approx. 2 feet off the floor.

Fast forward to a couple of hours ago when I got the brilliant idea to try and right the can by reaching over and snagging it with the handle of E's scooter. After all, it was only about a 5 foot reach - what could go wrong?

Turns out it was one of those times where I wished there was a hidden camera in the garage because I'm certain I would have been a contender for the big one on America's Funniest Videos.

As I balanced myself with my hand on the wall and my feet planted behind the box of booze sitting on the step, I reached forward with the scooter and managed to hook it onto the black handle of the can. What happened next is something of a blur; however when I came to I found my left arm and shoulder firmly wedged in the garbage can, my face smushed into a used furnace filter, and my right arm cradling an empty pizza box. Nestled between my thighs was an empty Corona. Truthfully, it kind of reminded me of college - minus the raging headache and fuzzy tongue courtesy of a really good night.

Suffice it to say, clearly I am not as flexible (or as smart for that matter) as I used to be. And that call from Cirque? Probably not gonna happen.

The Poppy

Sometimes I wonder if the conversations I have with the kids actually sink in.

I'm not talking about the standard "don't fart on your sisters head", "5 is an unacceptable time to get up", or even "if your mittens are dripping water everywhere, then yes - they are indeed WET". Those scripts are already on rewind and repeat and seem to have little impact.

No, I'm referring to the important conversations. Things like the significance of wearing the poppy, Remembrance Day, and honouring the contribution made by our current and past armed forces to ensure we have the rights/freedoms we often take for granted.  Admittedly, this is a concept that is difficult for a 6 year old to process.

Image from www.warmuseum.ca

The other day my children were fortunate to participate in a Remembrance Day ceremony at their school. When they returned home that evening, all were very excited to tell me about the ceremony - and especially proud of the poppies they had pinned to their jackets. Except B. His coat was missing his poppy.

"B - what happened to your poppy? Did it fall off on the way home?" I asked.

"No. I buried it in the snow!" he stated excitedly. He then ran off to play.

At first I was mortified - why on earth would my child bury a symbol of Remembrance in the snow, and I secretly hoped he did this in our yard and not at the school.

At bedtime that evening, as I rubbed his back, I asked "Why would you bury your poppy, B?"

"So we could have poppies in the spring of course. Why should we only remember when snow is on the ground?" he replied, looking at me as if I was daft.

Perhaps I'm doing something right after all.


If you are interested in hearing the stories of our veterans, I encourage you to check out Veterans Voices of Canada  . This is an amazing project dedicated to ensuring our veterans can share their stories with generations to come. We must never forget.

DST - The Aftermath

After almost a week straight of 5 a.m. wake up calls, I have officially decided Daylight Savings Time can go to a place a heck of a lot warmer than it is here.

My kids have always been early risers - and are pretty consistent in their 6 a.m. 'rise and fight' routine regardless of the time they went to bed the night before. So when DST hits, we usually have a couple days before their internal clocks get adjusted.

Now we are 7 days in, and I have almost resigned myself to the fact that 5 is the new 6. Also, there is not enough coffee in the world to get me through this.

Or by screaming children … 

This morning, in sheer desperation, I wrote the following message on the stove:

Clearly I am in a stupor, otherwise I would have scribed this on something that other people in the house actually look at … but no, I chose the stove. I may as well have scribbled it in the leftover lint that dusts the top of the dryer … no one else looks at it either.

Sigh. I'm gonna grab me a Gin and have me a pity party today. Anyone want to take my kids for a sleepover?

6 Year Olds CANNOT Be Trusted

There's nothing quite as humbling as becoming a victim of unexpected exposure.

A couple of weeks ago we dropped E off at choir, then headed back outside to enjoy some fresh air and activity until she was done.

About 20 minutes later, B decided he needed to use the bathroom "Really, REALLY BAD", so I took him back inside the church to use the 'facilities'.

Because the men's room was occupied, and he was squirming more than Rob Ford* at a press conference, I suggested he use the ladies room. After dragging him by the ear much convincing, he finally relented and came inside the washroom with me. While there, I decided that I could probably take advantage of the situation rather than having to return 5 minutes later.

As soon as he was done, I begged told B to wait patiently by the sink with his back toward me and proceeded to 'settle' myself. No sooner had I made seat contact, he stomped over to the door, grabbed the handle and flung it open, then ran into the main foyer leaving me literally with my pants down.

At which point I was grateful for three things:

Number 1
The woman seated directly across the hall from the washroom kindly averted her eyes and saved her laughter for later.

Number 2
All the squats I've been doing over the past two years have obviously paid off. I was able to waddle cover the 7 feet from the toilet to the door whilst my pants were at my knees and my lily white arse swung wildly to and fro in what I'm certain could be deemed as record time.

Image Credit: Mike Talma (you can see my pathetic attempt I erased before asking him for help)
Good thing I was wearing my fancy red boots and skinny jeans that day.
Also - what the heck is with my arms?!?

Number 3
I managed to hold in my sneeze until AFTER I scooted back to the toilet and sat down (those of you who have children will understand what I mean)

The moral of this story?

My red boots look hot and might help me turn into Wonder Woman when faced with a challenge. That, and 6 year old boys suck.


*If for some reason you live under a rock and don't know who Rob Ford is, I suggest you google him.

Shop Local

Shop Local.

It's a phrase and sentiment I hear often. Show your support for our small, community businesses. Spend your money in shops and stores that are owned and operated by members of our community, who in turn, support local groups through donations, sponsorships, and gifts in kind.

Yes, I look on the back of programs and patronize businesses that have sponsored events I happen to attend. I will go to the local coffee shop when meeting friends, or purchase my jeans from the local clothing store. I will go back to the local hardware/home&garden store to purchase those items I need to maintain my home/lawn. Whenever possible, I utilize a local floral designer for those occasions where a bouquet or arrangement is needed. I buy my groceries at the local grocery store - even though I probably could get many of these items at a reduced cost from somewhere else. If they don't have something I am looking for, I will make the drive to another store that is well known for their amazing contributions to our community - even though it is part of a chain, it is still 'locally owned and operated'.

The thing is, these businesses don't receive my support because they are 'local'. They receive my support because from the moment I walk in the door, I feel like I am welcome there. That I am important. That they are going to go the extra mile to make sure I walk out that door happy - even if they are unable to provide what I am looking for. For the most part, I encounter this in most local, and indeed many other businesses I enter - and it keeps me coming back repeatedly.

Which is why it burns my a$$ I am always taken by surprise when I walk into a shop and suddenly become invisible. I might get the obligatory "hello, how are you today?", but from there on in there is zero conversation. It is an interesting experience to spend several minutes looking at items, sometimes picking them up and examining them, even holding an item of clothing in front of myself to see what it might look like ... aaaaaannnnndddd .... nothing. I once spent a full twenty five minutes in a small shop, touching things, wandering around, even looking at items on the counter - only to observe the clerk spend the entire time on her cell phone. I didn't even get a 'Thanks for coming in' when I said goodbye and thank you on my way out.

I have watched two employees dress mannequins and wrap scarves on hangers while I wander around the store. And I wonder, is my business really that important? I understand that my lack of designer duds perhaps gives the impression that I can't afford to shop in that particular establishment; however I can assure you that is simply not the case. I would have gladly opened my wallet had I simply been asked, "is there anything we can help you with?".

Perhaps I expect too much. Maybe I catch people on 'off' days, or they are simply preoccupied and fail to notice the customer in the store. I get it - things happen. So I'll give it a second chance. Sometimes my experience is much better, sometimes it isn't. And I won't go back.

One thing is certain, these experiences make me appreciate those businesses that go the extra mile even more. The sales clerks that initiate conversation the moment I walk in the door. The grocery store employee that sees me looking at a wall of produce and takes the time to ask if they can help me find something in particular. The employee who goes and looks in the back, even though they are 99% certain they no longer have an item in stock.

If you are in Red Deer area, or even passing through - make sure you check out these great local businesses ...

Peavey Mart - Lacombe
Kavaccino's - Lacombe
Upper Level Clothing - Lacombe
Calyx Floral Design - Central Alberta & Area - based in Blackfalds
Blackfalds Family Foods - Blackfalds
After the Grind - Blackfalds
Great Strides - Red Deer
SOBEYS South - Red Deer

There are of course, many, many more - but I can honestly say I have never gotten anything but amazing service in each and every one of these businesses. And I sincerely appreciate that.

What are your thoughts? Are my expectations too high? How do you decide which businesses to patronize and which to skip? Where have you had amazing customer service?

(cue): Doorbell

Is there a secret code that says when the kids are behaving at their worst some random person suddenly shows up on your doorstep?

This seems to happen to me a lot - which is not to say that my kids behave terribly a good majority of the time, it's just they seem to know when an unexpected audience is waiting in the wings.

Tonight was no exception.

We have been implementing a bedtime routine for the past month, and so far, most of our evening distress has thankfully subsided. It works out great for both the kids and me.

For whatever reason, the boys were on a tear tonight and not listening whatsoever. Normally they would get a long back scratch and snuggle before bed; however I informed them that because of their behaviour, they would only be getting a hug, kiss, and tuck in. Of course, this resulted in much screaming, wailing, and sounds similar to what you would make if one of your limbs was being ripped off.

(cue): Doorbell

I told the boys to stay in bed and went downstairs.

The woman was moving away quickly from the door. She seemed somewhat surprised when I opened the door and said hello. Turns out it was a candidate for the upcoming election.

To her credit, she said she didn't think anyone was home (which is the nice way of saying it sounds like you are in the process of dismembering someone but there is no blood on your shirt so I'm confused).

We talked for a few minutes, and she went on her way.

When I returned upstairs, I noticed B with his face smushed into the window and arms spread wide as if to say "save me".

I think it is safe to say that after hearing the sounds of torture and seeing the almost naked boy trapped upstairs, she will either not be returning for a follow up visit or will be calling Children's Services.

Sigh.

Credit: Snark Ecards

Uhhhhhhh .... What?!?

WARNING: IF YOU ARE EASILY OFFENDED, PLEASE DO NOT VIEW THIS POST!


WARNING: IF YOU ARE EASILY OFFENDED, PLEASE DO NOT VIEW THIS POST!


WARNING: IF YOU ARE EASILY OFFENDED, PLEASE DO NOT VIEW THIS POST!
(Mom, this means you ...)



Tempted anyways, aren't you?

Can't say you haven't been warned ...
























For the rest of you sicko's like me, carry on ...











I'm pulling out of my 'blogging funk' by sharing a picture of what I happened to see when I looked in the mirror tonight ...

Thankfully, now I am not the only one with that image burned into my mind for eternity.

That is all.

I'm Out!

Source unknown - if this is your image
please let me know so I can credit you.

It's Wednesday. Hump day. All downhill from here, right?

Except it's not. I haven't even touched the 'eighth wonder of the world' laundry pile, the kitchen looks like a tornado hit, and if I want to find out where the kids are, all I have to do is follow the trail of fruit snacks, taco chip shards, freezie wrappers and melted pop rocks which have taken up residence on my floor.

It's been a stressful week - heck, if I'm honest, it's been a stressful month - so instead of busting my butt cleaning house and taking care of s&^! like I usually do, I'm having a cocktail - or two - instead.

Except here's the thing. When I don't take care of s&^!, I get exhausted just looking at all the s&^! I'm not taking care of. I feel overwhelmed. I feel crabby. But mostly, I feel like I am failing to provide an amazing environment for my family.

My son provided me with a better perspective this afternoon though. As we were walking through the parking garage on our way out of the hospital, he suddenly stopped. I watched as he stood there with his eyes closed, shoulders rising as he slowly inhaled the scent of stale air, exhaust fumes, and dirt. Then he smiled, looked in my eyes, and said with delight ...

"It smells AWESOME in here ... why can't our house smell like this, Mom?!" His brother and sister were in full agreement.

I guess I can live with a little mess, piles of stinky laundry, and a crunchy floor for a little while longer. It's not like it's concerning my family in the least. In the meantime, I'm sending the kids to live in the garage. It smells better in there.

Bottoms up!

In the Dark

I lie awake

plop
listening to the tap drip
testing my faith.

plop
The sound gives voice to my worry
my fears

plop
my regrets
my 'what if's?'.

plop
Consuming me.
Devouring me.

plop
I yearn for light
for the responsibilities of the day

plop
that allow my soul some refuge
distracting me

plop
from the questions I don't want to answer
the realities I don't want to face.

plop
The future that may exist.
Or may not.

plop
The tap won't be broken forever ...
it can be fixed ... right?

plop
Right?


plop


plop


plop


plop
I taste the salt of my tears ...
it's not just the tap leaking tonight.

plop
Each of us weeping
alone

plop
in the dark.


Plop.
I've GOT to get that damn tap fixed.



I am submitting this post to the Yeah Write Weekly writing challenge - head on over there to check out some amazing posts by some fantastic writers :)

Where Oh Where Can Your Little Brains Be?

Sigh.

For the past few weeks I have been complaining that I simply don't understand what has happened to my children. It's like they have lost their ever loving minds!

We are in the final few weeks of school, and they have completely forgotten the morning routine - you know, that super difficult one that involves eating, brushing your teeth, and getting dressed. I understand it may be perceived as somewhat complicated; however to be fair, we've been doing this for 10 months now and I haven't 'changed it up' just for fun. So why do I have to repeat each step at least a million three times and endure the cacophony of sobbing and squeals of "I don't know what to do next?!?" each and every morning?

Then, when they return from school, it starts again. They feign exhibit complete surprise when I point out the mudroom, their coat hooks, and shoe baskets. Somewhere in the school time vortex, an entire portion of our house simply disappears from their brains! Their eyes fill with blank stares wonder as I describe how to hang up their coats and - gasp - put away their shoes. Every single day.

Next comes the inevitable merry go round musical of "I'm hungry", "Dinner will be served in 20 minutes", "I don't like that", "I'm starving", "Why can't I just eat now?", "You're sooooo mean", and so on and so forth. It's no wonder I'm halfway through a bottle of Gin by the time dinner gets on the table!

And don't get me started on outside time. We have some simple rules in our house with respect to the outdoors. You wear a helmet and shoes (and preferably clothes as well) when you ride a bike or scooter. Shovels are for killing gophers, not digging up the grass. Put your things away when you are finished with them lest they be run over by a car or lawnmower. Easy peasy.

Nope. Not at my house.

This afternoon while I was visiting with a neighbor who had stopped by, B proceeded to dig several holes in the backyard - presumably the ones already immaculately dug by the gophers were not sufficient. I was finally able to wrestle the shovel away, but not before a humiliating demonstration of how I am no match for a six year old strength wise.

Then, later this evening, we had a guy show up to help us locate an electrical line we had buried several years ago. The kids went nuts. E was riding around the driveway at top speed on her scooter, apparently oblivious to my nagging reminders to "put a helmet on". The boys each grabbed shovels and practically wrapped themselves around the poor guys legs as they eagerly watched him locate the line. B got bored and started digging holes in the grass again. I begged him to stop in between yelling at E to put a helmet on or her scooter was going to the dump. Then Z started crying because I wouldn't let him start digging up the flowerbed to expose the now located line, exclaiming "You never let me do ANYTHING!!!!"

I began to try and herd the kids into the house to get ready for bed. By now the boys were trying to fight each other with shovels, and E was sobbing on the front step because she had finally found her helmet. I begged. I pleaded. And in a moment of sheer exasperation, exclaimed "For the love of God, can you please just turn your brains on for 1 minute?!?"

B threw down his shovel, stamped his feet, and shouted "We.Don't.HAVE.Any.Brains!"

Well now, I guess my suspicions have been confirmed.

Case closed.


Now, head on over to the Yeah Write moonshine grid for some other great reading this weekend :)

Rainy Day Treats

It's raining ... again.

I could have chosen to crawl back into bed this morning, and laze the day away watching new episodes of "Arrested Development", but B & E are at home and would probably rat me out to the teacher tomorrow, so I decided to catch up on some baking instead.

Baking doesn't happen very often in our house - usually only at Christmas. B & E were thrilled and had a great time adding ingredients, stirring, and whining about who got to do what. Good times.

When we finally finished, they went upstairs to wreck the place to play on the computer. Soon, they had launched into a full scale Christmas Carol Sing a Long, and despite my desperate pleas to cease and desist, they only got louder and more persistent.

image from posterrevolution.com

So now it is 3 o'clock in the afternoon, and my counter is full of muffins, cookies, and other wonderfully sinful things to eat. I can feel my a$$ growing just looking at all of it.

The kids are still upstairs, belting out Jingle Bells for the thousandth time - while I'm writing my blog and throwing back shots as I look at the clock and wonder how much longer until bedtime. Well that's not entirely true - there's still a good chance the rain will stop and I'll have to take the kids to soccer, so the only shots I'm throwing back are imaginary ones - but damn they are good!

Sigh. I love rainy days.