Dear Brad

To My Dearest Brad:

It's only been one week since you've entered my life, and I must confess that already I can not live without you. You are such a joy in my life and I'm so happy that we were able to find one another. Even though I know I shouldn't, I often find myself daydreaming about your sweet, smiling face, and your sleek, sexy exterior....







I think about you every day and often can not wait until we are able to spend time together.



You must be told how much joy you bring into my life. In the morning I wake up thinking about you, knowing that you will be there, waiting for me, eager to fulfill my needs. And yet you ask for nothing in return, only that I put your talents to good use. And put them to good use, I do.

I never imagined that I could I find true love in such an unlikely place, and yet, I have. I am thankful every day that we found one another, and I can only hope that our relationship will continue for many years to come.

I deeply apologize for the hostility and jealously that my husband has shown toward you. He obviously doesn't understand our connection and the bond that you and I have. I have discovered that it's useless to try and make him understand what we have with one another. I can only hope that he will curb his open acts of aggression towards you.


Quite frankly, it's no wonder that he feels so threatened by your presence. Not only are you sleek and sexy, but you have sent me to the throes of ecstasy that not even my partner of 10 years been able to manage..


Thank you, my dearest, for all that you do for me, for the joy that you bring, for the love that you bestow. I love you, Brad.

The Mall Phenomenon

I think I may have ranted once before about how much I hate the mall. But since I've been there twice in the past two days, I think it's time for another one.

I went to the mall on Monday afternoon because I needed a new battery for my watch. While I was there, in between buses and since it was time to myself, I browsed around at some of the stores. I suddenly became very aware of what I was wearing, and suddenly it just didn't feel good enough. I had the overwhelming urge to buy, buy, buy.

What the hell is up with that?

It's soooo amazing to me the incredible pull of the mall. I honestly don't know how they do it, but "they" (whoever "they" are) are able to make shoppers feel like they need "more" in order to be worthy. This is a huge problem in our society - our consumerism. Hey, I fall into it too, sometimes, believing that "stuff" will bring me happiness in some way. Sure, there's a little thrill in getting something new, but usually it's short-lived and hollow. Well, the answer must be to just get more, right?

That's how people end up with houses packed full of things they don't need, don't want, and don't use. That's why our landfills are growing and growing and growing. Where's it going to end?

So I went to the mall on Monday for a watch battery, and ended up buying a dress. Granted, I needed a dress for a wedding that I'm going to next month, and it was a reasonable price (although admittedly probably 4 times what I'd pay for a dress at Value Village), so I bought it. And then guess what? I found myself at the mall again last night, buying a pair of shoes to go with the dress. And THAT is how they "get" you....pull you in. More, more, more.

It's interesting, in talking with a friend about this phenomenon yesterday, it occurred to us (and she suffers from the "mall syndrome too" that we never feel this way at Value Village, or at any of the individual shops downtown. There's something about the mall atmosphere that makes people transform into hungry consumers.

I think I'll be sticking to my second hand shops. Not only are the prices waaaaay better, but when shopping there I don't start questing my worth and thinking that a new pair of jeans might make me feel better. On top of that, by shopping at second hand stores, I'm not contributing to the problems of over-consumption and child labour. I feel good after a 3 hour stint at Value Village, rather than walking away thinking about what more I simply MUST buy.

No, I can't totally boycott the mall, for a lot of reasons, but I can sure as hell make sure that I only shop there when I absolutely have to.

That being said, though, the new dress I bought is totally adorable. ;)

Finally! A Post About Running

So yeah, I haven't been posting very much about running lately. The reason for this is that I haven't really been running all that much these past several months...certainly not as much in comparison with last year. This time last year, I was marathon-ready, and chomping at the bit to get out there and run the 42-k. This year, life got in the way and sadly, I simply wasn't able to train the way I needed to.

So I won't be running the full marathon this year.

I have decided, however, that I am going to do the half marathon. I've been wavering even on this point; it feels a bit like a failure in some ways, compared to last year. But when I look at it logically, I can see that with the limited time, opportunity, and motivation that I've had since January or so, the fact that I'm going to run 21-k should be something to be proud of. So I'm working hard on not comparing myself this year to myself last year, and simply focus on the fact that I'm doing the best that I can, right now, with the circumstances that arose.

It's not easy, it's definitely taking effort, but it's a good goal to work toward - the acceptance, not the 21-k. The acceptance and self-love part is a way bigger challenge.

9 days to go.

Priceless Parenting Moment

While out with a friend's car running errands the other day, Emma said (from the backseat):

"How come there's a mother's day and a father's day, but no kid's day?"

Chris' response (while I listened with glee):

"Honey, every day is kid's day. Mommies and Daddies deserve at least one of their own, don't you think?"

The Happiest Day Ever

Back in November of 2006 my tyrannical overlord of a Naturopath informed me that for my own good, I needed to give up caffeine. Like an obedient (and desperate) little client, I went cold turkey (kicking and screaming all the way) and stopped drinking coffee (only after I said some very unkind things to the man).

Now anyone who knows me, knows how much I love coffee, and how much of a sacrifice giving up my morning cup of sunshine was for me. But still, I did it. And I did feel better....once I got past the withdrawal headaches and irritability. I was so serious about it, I even (gasp!) got rid of my trusty and beloved coffee maker.

As the months wore on, I started thinking about coffee more and more. I couldn't let it go. I walked past coffee shops filled with longing. Dreams of organic fair trade coffee danced in my head. I had fantasies about accosting strangers on the street, stealing their cups of coffee, and guzzling it down before they had time to snatch it back.

Finally, last fall, almost a year later, I broke down. One Tuesday night, on my "night off" I went into a Starbucks downtown, my heart pounding with anticipation and glee. I got a large organic dark roast. When the server gave it to me, I do believe I actually giggled and clapped my hands. It was amazing. One of my single most memorable coffees ever.

I kept my coffee ritual to Tuesday nights. No one knew about it, it was my dirty little secret. I had intuitive friends ask if I was still living the caffeine-free lifestyle. I told them that I refused to answer that question, so they wouldn't have to lie to my husband if he asked them directly (Chris was definitely an advocate of me being "off the juice").

Finally, in November of last year, the truth came out. I was indulging in the occasional cup of coffee and guess what? It wasn't having an adverse effects! I felt fine. Chris and I agreed that I was a grown woman, capable of making informed choices regarding my own health (although my tyrannical overlord of a control freak loving husband did warn me that if I turned into the raving lunatic that I'd been the year before, he'd see to it that I was never able to scrape up the pocket change for a cup of coffee again).

When the truth came out, I started having coffees every now and again...at least once a week. But of course, we all know that as with all addictions, it's a slippery slope. My once a week habit quickly turned into my habit as of late, which is sucking back a cup (or two!) of the good stuff at every opportunity. I've even gone so far as to (quite literally) beg for coffee when I go to friend's houses.

Chris and I have been talking about getting another coffee maker, because quite frankly, we can't keep supporting my coffee habit outside the house. Begging from friends is one thing, but ponying up the dough at fair-trade coffee shops several times a week is quite another. So, like any true addict would do...I finally begged persuaded my husband to get me the gift that keeps on giving....




Truly, this purchase made me happier than possibly none other in my whole life...



I'm not sure, but I think I may have gotten a little bit carried away with my adoration. Chris eventually had to break the two of us up. Meanie.



Ah, yes, the little things. You know, I realize that I could have gone the rest of my life without another coffee, and it wouldn't have been the end of the world. But you know what? Life's too short. Why deny myself such a simple (and delicious) pleasure? Particularly when it brings me so much joy....



Ironically, the same day I was out buying my beautiful new coffee pot, a postcard from the Naturopath's office arrived in the mail, harassing reminding me that it had been a year since my last appointment. As I sit here writing this, part of me wonders if the universe might be trying to tell me something. Shhh....Is that a message being whispered into my ear? Oh, no wait - that's the hiss of my coffee pot telling me that it's ready.

I think that's my cue to go pour a cup.

Embracing My Girlie-Ness

I've never really considered myself to be a "girlie-girl". It's just not my style, never has been. Now, I was never much of a "tomboy" type either, I'd say that I fall somewhere in the middle of those two extremes. On the one hand, I like wearing make-up, and do pretty much every day, whether I'm home alone, or out into the world, but I don't mind digging in the garden without my gloves and getting dirty, either. I enjoy dressing up and looking pretty but am just as at home in sweatpants and a dirty tee shirt. I'm really not a fan of the colour pink. Never have been.

Having Emma for a daughter has been quite the eye-opening experience for me. That kid is totally "girlie". She loves all things pink. She loves Disney Princesses (much to my disgust). She gravitates toward clothing and jewelery. I remember before she was born, being determined to put her in as little pink as possible. HA! If you haven't already, check out my "never say never" post. This is another great example of why one should never say 'never'. There are a couple of problems with not dressing your baby girl in pink. 1)Almost all little girl's clothes ARE some variation of the colour pink 2) If you don't dress your girl in pink (and sometimes even when you DO) people assume that your bald child is a boy, which can concern a young mother that it's going to cause the child to develop a complex and 3) sometimes your daughter actually looks GOOD in pink.

It was obvious to me from a very young age that Miss Emma was indeed the "girlie-girl" type. She just gave off the vibe, despite how much I tried to ignore it in the beginning. Hey, I'm just her mother, I'm only here to help her through this life, while allowing her to be the person that she is. So even when I was still completely in control of what she was wearing (because make no mistake, at 5, I'm decidedly NOT in control of that anymore) I put the kid in pink. Guess what? She looked cute. It suited her. These days, sometimes that girl dresses entirely in pink, from the skin on out. Hey, she knows what she likes. That's usually a good thing, except when I find myself going toe-to-toe with her over why that filmy summer dress isn't a good choice for leaving the house in January. Even I have my fashion limits.

Over the years, thanks to having Emma as a daughter, I have learned to embrace my girlie-ness. I no longer cringe at the colour pink, and can certainly appreciate it on other people, though it's not something that I choose to wear myself.

Now, I never thought that I'd find myself dressing in it, but on Thursday, while second-hand clothes shopping, I found a sweet little black top with...guess what? PINK embroidery on it......



I actually surprised myself with this little number. Sure, it's still mostly black, but even the pink embroidery is still more pink than I've ever ventured to wear in the past. It was surprising that I even dared throw it into my basket, let alone that I actually, after some deliberation, decided to buy it. Hell, what's $2.50, right?

When I stop to think of it, I'm a bit more of a "girlie-girl" than I thought. Not the point where I worry so much about my hair looks that I won't go out on a rainy day, or do whatever I can to preserve my nails, but I do like looking nice and enjoy pretty things. I guess it all comes down to balance.

I'm realizing, more and more, that never saying never is a good thing. Keeping one's mind open when it comes to all things - from parenting to fashion choices, is always a good idea. 'Cuz you just never know when you're going to find yourself in a (somewhat)pink shirt...

Never Say Never

One of the things that parenting has taught me is that you can't really count on anything. Just when you think you've got things figured out, circumstances change, the rules change, your kids change. I'm still learning the fine art of appreciating the good that I do have, because chances are, it's not going to last. I think back to times like when Emma was an infant, and we used to snuggle in bed together in the morning after Chris had gone to work. Good memories. It never really occurred to me at the time to deeply appreciate those moments, because they weren't going to last.

Being a parent is a good exercise in humility. As every day goes by, I learn more and more, that I don't know shit, never did know shit, and by the time I DO know shit, this parenting gig will be over, I'll be a grandma and be able to sit back with glee and watch my own kids struggle through the parenting thing, observing how they don't know shit either.

One of the things that amuses me most at this point in my parenting career is the fact that I find myself both saying and doing things that I once promised myself that I would not do. I remember a B.K. (before kids) conversation with my hubby about how we'd never allow our (theoretical at that point) children into our bed. Our bed was sacred! Our kids would just need to learn how to suck it up.

I believe that Miss Emma was indeed "sucking it up" at the breast, in our bed, at about one week of age. Exhaustion and desperation demanded it. I forgot all about that earlier conversation between my husband and I - after all, what did those people know? They didn't have kids, after all.

These days I wake up most mornings with Molly in our bed, and Emma in a little bed on our floor. One nice, big, happy family.

When Emma was small, before she was really talking much, I remember seeing parents and caregivers on the playground or at the library, instructing their older children to "use their words". How obnoxious! How patronizing! I'll never do that!

I believe I find myself using that statement at least once every single week these days, particularly when I burst into a room to find Emma and Molly struggling over a toy and screaming at the tops of their lungs at each other.

When I was kid, I wasn't a picky eater. Frankly, I didn't have the luxury. We were poor enough that there weren't any alternatives - if I didn't like what was being served, I ate it, and hoped like hell that there would be something I liked a whole lot better at the next meal. Period. B.K. I assumed that if you simply exposed your kids to lots of different kinds of food and didn't give then any choices, they'd just eat what was in front of them.

Some days Molly eats peanut butter and honey sandwiches at all three meals. What's a mother to do when your three year old takes one look at the meal in front of her and declares, "YUCK!" at the top of her lungs? Who the hell taught her that word, anyhow?

In any case, I guess my whole point here is that with parenting, you have to keep an open mind. It's one thing to declare what you will or won't do before actually being presented with a situation, it's totally another to try and make it through the day with your sanity (and your family) intact.

Besides, there are lots of good things about being a mom that I never planned for or counted on, either. Like how much my girls would teach me - about the importance of living in the moment, and the beauty in the simplest things. How infectious laughter really can be. What's really important in life.

And most of all, I've definitely learned that it's way more important to be flexible and learn from life, rather than sticking to "the rules". When it comes to being a mommy, rules were definitely made to be broken. Parenting is all about being flexible...and knowing how to whip up a good peanut butter and honey sandwich.