Be Free

Remember being so self confident and sure of yourself when you were a teen? Remember feeling so great and like you fit in perfectly? Remember feeling beautiful and skinny? Yeah...neither do I.

Was there ever a time that young girls felt ok about themselves and their bodies? As long as I can remember "society" has told me that I was not ok as I was. A girl can never be too skinny or too pretty. We are all supposed to wear makeup and dress up in pretty outfits. The higher the heel the sexier you are.

Then there's the double standards...if you wear too much makeup then you look like a tramp. If your skirt is too short then you look like a whore. If you don't have many dates you are a loser. Too many and you are a slut.

Girls just can't win.

I've always been so happy that my daughter is not a girly-girl. She hates dresses, can't stand barbies, and I have to tackle her to the ground to get her to even brush her hair.
She wears what she wants and doesn't seem to care what anyone thinks of her clothes. She never matches, and most of the time she's covered in dirt anyway. I really thought I would not have to deal with the girl-drama.

Until the moment I heard her and two friends comparing their weight.

Broke. My. Heart.

It's bad enough that women have to go thru this crap but now my ten year old is embarrassed that she weighs more than her friends. My ten year old....totally normal weight. Right on track for her age and height. She's not "fat". She eats healthy foods. She plays outside all day and night. She is normal but feels far from it because of these stupid standards we project on girls.

I had a huge A-HA moment over the summer. I was always fighting with her about her hair. I wanted her to grow it long so she could put it in a ponytail. She kept begging me to let her cut it really short. As I look back on it now, I really didn't want to cut it for fear that she would look like a boy and people would treat her differently. I was terrified to deal with the comments and stares. I was...she wasn't. I realized that I was only enabling "society" saying it wasn't ok for her to do what she wanted to do. As much as I gave her freedom to pick her own style, I know I was subconsciously holding her back. Her body...her hair...her choice. So we buzzed it. Short!

Well, now I totally regret not doing it sooner. I freed her from being put in that bubble of being a "girl". And I freed myself of the daily fight to brush it!

Same thing with the clothes she wears. I would never force her to wear something "girly" but at the same time I would make her shop in the girl section of the stores. What was the point?! We would argue the entire time because she wanted the t-shirt from the boys rack and I would say NO. You are a girl....you MUST shop in the girl section.

Well no more! Little Miss has been happily shopping in the boy section for months now. And she couldn't be happier. Which makes me happy.

Little girl clothes are often form-fitting. Boys clothes are loose and comfortable. Girly underwear have lace and tiny elastic bands. Boy undies have a nice solid elastic band and they stay in place. Forget about trying to buy a decent training bra...they are all lacy and padded, so she won't wear one. Au-naturel for my girl for a few more years I guess! Can you say hippy?

I've spent way too long justifying why she is the way she is. She's a tomboy. She's going thru a stage. She's more comfortable that way. At the end of the day...she is who she and if people don't like that too effing bad!!!

She gets called "buddy" a lot and "hey little man"...some of my friends have even confused her for a boy. I don't even bat an eye any more and she's never been bothered by it. We don't correct strangers, she just smiles and carries on. The ones who love her most know that she's her own little self and don't judge her at all. I just hope that while she is struggling thru this vicious thing called being a teenager that she will be true to herself and not let the pressures of society get to her.

Guiding Light

Parenting…NOT an easy job.
Even the basics of keeping them alive and not bleeding can sometimes be a chore. As I type, my daughter still has a broken arm so I don't even score an "A" in that department. Plus there's feeding them…every…single…day…is there ever enough food? 

Then comes the responsibility guiding them thru life. 

Perhaps you shouldn't hang out with so-and-so…she's a ho-bag.
Drugs…never ok. 
Drinking…not til you are 27. 
Sex…STDs are everywhere, keep the pecker in the pants til you are married. Let Mommy show you a picture of vaginal warts...
Don't hit people…unless they hit you first.
Don't lie…Santa is watching you
Don't steal…Santa is still watching you.
Get good grades and go to college or get used to saying "Want fries with that?"
Brush your teeth or they will fall out.
No it is NOT ok to fart at the kitchen table.
The list is friggin' endless.

Children are born blind to the way the world works.  We guide them thru life and just hope they don't end up as ax-murderers.

I often go back and forth between "allowing" them to form their own opinions versus telling them "THIS" is right or "THIS" is wrong. My son has been coming home from school lately with a vast array of topics to discuss. *thank you health class*

The latest was him wondering what my views on abortion are. Am I pro life or pro choice? At what point do I consider the fetus to be a "baby"?  Now…I have definite opinions. But do I share those or do I let him form his own opinions based on what he reads/sees/hears?!  Do I necessarily want him to have my same views?  I don't know.  Who's to say mine are right or wrong?!  Who's to say any opinion is right or wrong?

I try to give him facts/data and then create an open and honest conversation.  Same goes for politics and religion…these are HUGE topics that are lifelong discussions, and not ones that I just want to say "The right answer is…"

Parents can only give good advice or put them on the right paths, but the final forming of a person's character lies in their own hands." - Anne Frank

Starts with "P" and ends in "ORN".

I often wondered what it must be like to live in a world with no technology. I think of my grandparents, they lived without a tv, they lived without a toaster and they even survived without a cell phone. I would die without my DVR and couldn't imagine life without a remote control. Well, actually, there was a very brief point in my life when I have a turn-dial 13" TV. GASP!!

I enjoy the modern conveniences of today. So imagine my horror when my microwave died this week. Like dead, dead, dead, died, never coming back to life, gone forever. I panicked and my first reaction was to rush to Walmart to buy a new one. However, as I'm in my thirties now, I'm trying to be more fiscally responsible, I chose instead to chill out for the night so I didn't make a rash decision. By the next evening I realized that I hadn't even thought of getting a new microwave. Somehow I managed to go full day without needing it! My son made a random comment about trying to see how many days we could go without a microwave. I figured it was a pretty brilliant idea so let's go for it! Well we are on day nine and so far we have survived! With the exception of not being able to easily heating up my Tim Hortons coffee it's amazing how little you actually need a microwave.

I've almost forgotten about it, that is until tonight...when my stomach started begging for popcorn. Damn broken microwave. I would sell my DVR right now for a jiffy pop. Wait...I dunno if I want popcorn THAT badly. But still...sucky,crappy dead microwave is all I can think of. And I really, really, REALLY want popcorn.

All buttery and salty and delicious. I even contemplated melting some butter and pouring it over plain chips. Probably just my almost-time-of-the-month hormones talking but it sort of sounds like it might taste good?!

Like a good little daughter should, Grace must have sensed my rage building as she graciously volunteered to make KD. Hmmm...that works I suppose. I'm not going to argue.

I think I'm over this microwave challenge. Plus hubby pointed out that I'm likely using way more energy to use the stove for everything versus zapping it in the microwave instead.

It's unrealistic to live without a microwave. Frankly, it's unrealistic for me not to eat popcorn. Though, I give myself points since I somehow went nine days without even thinking about it!

BTW, for all you dirty pervs who only read this because of the title...shame on you!

High Expectations

What goes up...must come down.

For those who don't know, my daughter is in circus school.  Sort of like Cirque du Soleil type of stuff.  Silks, trapeze, trampoline, and all around circus fun. She loves it.  I love that she loves it.  Except I always worry a little that things could go wrong...well, dun-dun-dun...once again my anxieties were right.

Yep, broken arm!!

I never really thought I'd utter the words, "My daughter broke her arm falling off stilts".  Try explaining that to the nurse with a straight face. 

It happened towards the end of class. Hubby was there when it happened and sent a text telling me she hurt her arm and the instructor said we should take her right to the ER and, of course, I just assumed it was what they have to say to cover their butts. She came in the house, crying a bit, complaining that it hurt.  They had given her an ice pack so I took that off and sure it was swollen, and a little "S" shaped but it didn't look crazy.  I gave her a tylenol and tried to use my handy first aid skills to make a sling, but couldn't find anything to use so we settled on taping the ice pack to her arm with electrical tape. (Don't judge)

The whole dang family piled in the car for our fun trip to the ER.

We get to the ER and the triage nurse immediately whisks us to the back and says "Wait here for an x-ray".  Well, hot damn...this is going to be a breeze!!  I figure an hour, max, and we are outta here! 

Uh, yeah, not so much.  An hour passed without seeing anyone.  A nurse comes over, takes a look and says it doesn't seem too bad, she's sure she's fine, and a doctor will be by soon.  I ask for a cup so I can grab Grace some water. She tells me to give her a second and she'll grab one.  I wait...and wait some more. Another hour goes by, and I ask again.  By this point I'm cranky, Grace is cranky, Todd and Jeremy are still in the waiting area wondering whats going on.  Grace is in and out of sleep...turns out Tylenol still works wonders for knocking her out. And I still never got the cup...

We are in hour 3-4 and I'm worked up!  Why the eff did they bring us back here if we weren't going to see anyone?  I would rather sit out with my family then linger in a hallway.  Grace was shivering so I grabbed her some johnny shirts to use as blankets.  I would have given her my jacket had I planned better and had a shirt on underneath it (oops).

Meanwhile, across the hall, there's a 72 year old, smoker, with chest congestion (NOT pain).  They have him hooked up to a mask (asthma, not oxygen).   He's carrying on and flirting with the nurses.  When they leave he calls up friends on his cell phone and chit chats until the nurse returns to check on him.  He's laughing, he's wandering the halls between masks, he's got all kinds of energy to annoy me.  He's fine. 

Hour 4 comes, and the x-ray man comes down the hallway.  Yippeeee! It's finally time.  Oh wait...where's he going?? Why is he going in the old man's room first???? WHAT?!?!?!? MELTDOWN!!!!!!!!!!!

I am very much a well-mannered person at the hospital. I will wait my turn with patience and understanding that the health system is overwhelmed (to all those who rush to the ER for the flu or sniffles...F.U.).  I am calm, and quiet, and I take it as it comes.  But that night, of all nights...I was overwhelmed with life, stressed about work, tired, hungry, annoyed....so I, shall we say, lost my poop.

I calmly asked the nurse if she could come speak to me when she was done with old man.  She came over, and I proceeded to bawl my face off like a hormonal psycho.  Between apologies, I explained my point of view and cried some more.  Within a minute, not only did I have the attention of one nurse....but now I had three!! Lovely.  In the middle of the hallway, with all the crack heads and mental patients, I am SOBBING like a lunatic, surrounded by nurses trying to calm me down.  Thankfully, Grace was still passed out from her tylenol.  I literally could not make myself stop.  They promised me that we were next to see the doctor. 

I did not have high expectations that they were telling the truth.  Just calm the crazy lady down!  Tell her whatever she needs to hear to shut her up!  Turns out, we were next in line. LOL.  If I could have controlled myself for another five minutes I would have saved myself a lot of embarrassment!  Though...maybe my meltdown sped up the process?? 

Within 30 minutes, we saw the doctor, got the x-ray, confirmed the arm was broken (in two places!), and she had the cast on. Almost five hours of waiting...

Not bad for free health care I suppose.  (Count my blessings, count my blessings, count my blessings)

Needless to say, we now have to deal with a cast for 6-8 weeks.  Circus has been cancelled until the next term (she will go back, despite MY anxiety). 

And there may be a few extra quiet nights until the pain stops or she becomes resistant to pain pills....

School Rules

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Day two of school, and I've already received my first "teacher call".

I will clarify right now...I know my kids are a pain in the ass.  I know they talk too much. I know they ask too many questions. And, shocker, I know they are sarcastic.  Would it be wrong to attach a note to their kitbags saying "Yeah, yeah, I know. No need to call me."? 

This time it's the boy. Here's a rundown on the basics of what he did, according to the teacher:

• Talked too much during class (though all on topic and valid). 
• Mostly raised his hand (but sometimes didn't).
• Was patient when he had to wait his turn (but got frustrated when he forgot what he wanted to ask).
• Was sarcastic (but SHE likes to have fun too, so she'll have to lay down some rules)

Am I raising a beast?  I don't think so.  So why the EFF do his teachers feel the need to call me ALL THE TIME?!  Last year it was at least weekly.  And the main topic...he talks too much, asks too many questions, blurts out answers.  Ok?!  What am I supposed to do about it? Seriously...someone please tell me. Seriously.  I don't know. I ask the teachers, I beg and plead with the boy, but how am I supposed to punish a child for ASKING QUESTIONS?  I've even tried explaining that he is putting other children at risk for having a hard time, especially kids who have learning disabilities and may need that chance to answer a question or need that quiet time. His answer...nobody fails anymore anyway and he's not the ONLY one talking.  My answer...ah, snap.  Kid's got a point.  A messed up point, but still...one of his closest friends had mostly "C" (lowest grade possible here), had mostly "Rarely", had MAJOR resource support and notes in his report card about meeting "some" of the requirements.  Guess what...he passed.
My child ISN'T the only child talking (confirmed by his classmates/friends) yet the teachers seem to act like its HIM that's wrecking the class. He blames the teacher for not being consistent with the rules, the teacher blames him for not knowing the rules.  Some teachers give three chances, some give none. He pushes his boundaries and then they act like he's a mass-murderer.  No violence, no learning issues, great grades, projects get done, an overall great student, who's teachers often tell me is "far above his grade level". 

Today's faux-pas....the teacher was explaining that there were no horses in America until after Columbus landed.  To which the boy blurts out "WHAT?!?  There were buffalo but NO horses?!?  That doesn't seem right".

That's it.  That's what warranted a phone call home.

She said he seems to know too broad of topics (huh?), and even admitted that after he questioned it she got confused and second-guessed herself because she was only repeating a story that was told to her and she didn't know for sure.  (Double huh?!)  Then....omg....here come the mommy-claws.....

She asked if he had friends.  W.T.F.

Uh, what?!?  If the steady stream of children in and out of my house is any indication, then, yes my child has friends. 

"Well, I would hate for him to not make any friends this year because of the way he blurts out things in class"

Thank you lady.  He'll be fine.

Now, I'm thinking maybe she was trying to find a pattern? Maybe suggest ADD/ADHD or something.  I don't know...but either way, it's frustrating.  What am I supposed to do to fix my chatty child?  It's in his genes.  The same comments were made on my report cards (but never led to detentions like him), story of my life.  My Grandfather often abruptly ends our conversations by saying that I've just talked too much for one day, and my mother always says its like I don't breath when we're on the phone together.

My mommy opinion is that he isn't challenged enough with "regular" curriculum. Trust me, if I could afford private school he would be there yesterday.  (Donations for the "Send the Boy to private school" gladly accepted)

Every year it's the same thing. I explain to the teachers that I am also frustrated.  That I have talked to him, that he also drives me looney with a multitude of questions.  That I should own shares in Google because I use it so much because of him.  I get it, I get it, I get it.  He came out of my vagina asking questions about the birth canal...I get it.

I try my hardest to engage him at home. Books are endless. Documentaries are always a hit.  We talk, we watch the news, we play Jeopardy, we argue over politics and world issues.  I try my very best. 

So when is it the school's turn? 

Yes, I know...teacher's are not responsible for anything more than teaching the curriculum. I would probably break down in tears if one of them actually offered a valid suggestion. This teacher has decided his "punishment" will be actually researching whether or not there were horses pre-Columbus, when they showed up, and to explain it to the class on Monday.  This is a direct result of her not knowing the answer, no I question if she would have come up with this idea if the question hadn't tripped her up.  But, Hallelujah.....I will take it.  He needs a challenge and hopefully she will be the FIRST to step up and give him one.

I'm ready to punch the entire school system in the collective throat...

I have much respect for those who chose to become teachers.  I know it can't be easy.  I understand the challenges. But....BIG BUT....you CHOOSE this career.  People don't just fall into a teaching job. Four + years of university is because this is what you want. I've never had a teacher suggest anything more than "deal with him", or "make him stop".  You must have some sort of inner desire to help guide these children thru life. I know those teachers are out there. So, why do I just feel like his teachers are just trying to sell him down the river?

Exposed

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The weather has been brutally hot, and I can't stand the heat.  Weird, I know, since I have a love for hot yoga.  But it's different...sweating in a dark room versus being stuck to your furniture.  Gross.  Blah.

So, I come home, strip down to my bra and undies, and hang out like a flat fish til it cools down enough. BTW, I'm still childless, so it's not like I'm terrifying anyone...other than the dog.

Like clockwork, it's 9pm and the dog needs to be walked.  I throw my pants back on, and grab my shirt...but I can't find my tank top that goes under it. Probably upstairs or something. My shirt definitely requires a tank-top, like way too much boob, even for a bar.  Anyway, I'm waaayyy too lazy to walk all the way up the stairs, so I figure, "screw it, it's almost dark outside, NOBODY will see me".   (Get where this is going?!)

I grab the leash, grab the dog, and we head out....down the driveway, about to turn on to the road...when my neighbor's dog come charging at us at max speed (she's a very fat, very unhealthy rottweiler, so not that fast!).  She's always trying to "play" with Junior, but Junior is such a spazz that we don't let him near her. She's been known to bite/snap and he's as timid as a mouse. She's cranky and old, he's mentally damaged....not a good fit.

So I'm standing there, frozen...hoping the dog will just give up so Junior and I can make a get-a-way. No such luck. She's barking her face off, and keeps lunging (playfully?!) towards Junior. He's leashed, she's not. If I keep walking she's just going to follow and I'm going to end up caught in the leash. So I panic, and do nothing. 

Meanwhile, the owners are alerted to the barking.  Out comes the mom, running towards me.  Then comes the nine year old girl, and then the thirteen year old girl, and then the dad.  Yeah! One big happy family, and me...with my bra and boobs hanging out.

Just to add to the chaos, crazy-neighbour decides to come outside to see what's happening.  So we're all standing there, talking about the dogs....all the while "ignoring" my boobs.  I adjust as best as I can without drawing too much (more) attention to them. 

I finally get away from them, and figure the damage is done now, what more could happen?  Might as well keep on walking. Yep...here comes a car.  OMG, please be a stranger. Nope...my other neighbour.  Oh hi neighbour...yep, just me and my boobs out to walk the dog.  More headlights (no pun intended)....oh hi old man from down the street. Yep...you might as well take a lookey-loo too. Have a nice night!  Seriously. 

So on my short trip to walk the dog, I managed to show seven different people my ta-tas.  Not too shabby.  Except for the two minors...I might get in trouble for that?! :-0


I'm too modest to post a picture of my outfit, so I found one on the internet that looks exactly like me...

Duhnuh...Duhnuh

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Two words...SHARK WEEK!
Yikes!

I am fascinated and terrified all at the time.  I record as maybe shows as possible and then freak myself out by watching all the gory shark attacks and forever vow to stay out of the water!   Yeah, I know shark attacks are rare, like super rare, but my odds are the utmost of rare if I never step foot in the ocean! I have a zero percent chance of getting eaten by a shark, and that is my type of math!

Every once in a while I will venture in up to my knees, maybe even my waist...but it MUST be clear water, and I really don't enjoy a single second of it. I'm paranoid, and even the sight of a large crab sends me running for shore.

Ramble on all you want about there being no scary sharks near us because I don't believe you. (Proof...See!! Shark. Nova Scotia. Enough Said.)

So for all you haters' who always make fun of me for my "crazy" fear...I offer you some facts:

1. A shark can dislocated it`s jaw to take a bigger bite.  I.e. Sharks do not discriminate against fat people.

2. Most shark attacks happen in less than six feet of water.  SIX FEET!

3. Most shark attacks occur less than 100ft from shore. 

4. So long as a shark`s back is mostly under water it can swim easily. A nine-foot bull shark can swim in just two feet of water.  TWO FEET people!! TWO FEET!

5. Nearly 90% of shark attacks happen to men...so watch your dangly bits and pieces!

6. The first pup to hatch inside the sand tiger shark mother devours its brothers and sisters until there are only two pups left, one on each side of the womb. Nice...so they eat each other and people are shocked when they eat people!

It's not that I hate the sharks. They are quite beautiful.  I'm just going to leave them be, they stay in their world and I stay on mine. There's no need to hunt them. There's no need to kill them. Need I say more than "Shark Fin Soup"?

Thank goodness Shark Week is over and I can move on with my life.   Next up...When Snakes Attack.

I am a nice shark, not a mindless eating machine.

If I am to change this image, I must first change myself.

Fish are friends, not food.

~ Bruce, Finding Nemo


Too School for Cool

Every year the same thing happens...I print off the school supplies lists, I fight the crowd, I search for just the right size of glue stick, I make sure I have just the right amount of pencils. I get frazzled over what they mean by "scribbler"...40 pages? 72 pages? Lined? Half-lined? Do you know how many versions of "scribblers" are out there?! Ridiculous. And don't get me started on those bloody duotangs.  Must have 10, but they all have to be different colours.  Whatever.

I send a crap-load of school supplies to school with the kids in September, and half of them come home (un-used) in June.  The only reasonable explanation for the school's desire for that much school supplies is that the Dept. of Education owns Staples stocks.  Is it even possible for a child to go through 40+ pencils in 190 (or so) school days?  That's...wait a minute....calculator....uh....that's like a pencil a week (or so).  Unless they are gnawing on them like beavers I don't see how they need that many?

In June, I dropped off a boat-load of old (but unused) school supplies that have built up over the years.  Of course, they never match the new list for the new year, so there they sit...waiting to be used.  Then there's the supplies that come back half-used, which are pretty much useless for next year too.

I always say I'm NOT going to buy everything on the list.  Screw the list, I'll make my own!!  Yeah, except I always feel like I'm the evil, bad mommy who's setting her kids up for failure because they won't have what the other kids have....so, I buy it all.

But not this year!  Screw you Staples...you didn't get me this time!

I bought a reasonable amount of the supplies listed.  I got every thing on the list, just not as much as requested.  If Jeremy runs out loose-leaf he can let me know and I'll buy another pack in January.  Same goes for the pencils, highlighters, and markers.  I only got a 10 pack of markers because I couldn't find the 12 pack....oooooohhhh....I hope Grace doesn't need those two colours!! *Biting nails*

The funniest part of my shopping trip was listening to a Mom explain to her daughter that she would INDEED be labelling all the supplies, whether the school liked it or not! Right on Mommy!  I, too, do the same thing!  Little Johnny is not getting my extra supplies!  And before anyone gives me the "It's so the kids can practice their name" excuse...I don't care! My youngest is ten, if she can't spell her name yet I've done something really, really wrong!

I always bitch about the cost of school supplies too.  But that also changed this year.  So, I spent $140 this year.  Yes...ONE HUNDRED AND FOURTY DOLLARS...for two kids, and remember that this is way less that it would have been if I'd picked up everything listed.  Holy crap.  $140!  And that's not including lunch bags, kitbags, or new sneakers.  But then I did the math...$140 divided by 10 school months...that's...wait for it...$14 per month.  Ok, not so bad. Maybe I'll ease off of the bitchin'. Probably not though.

My biggest, very biggest, frustration is why on earth does each school have a different list for the same grades?!  Like certain schools have cool stuff like USB sticks, and others want floppy discs. Huh? One lady was buying pastels for her kid.  My kids don't have pastels on their lists!!!  It's not even because we live in the hood...trust me, their schools are awesome. Seriously. But I often wonder how they decide what's on these magical lists?  Is it the teacher that decides or the school or the school board?  Why isn't there a standard?  I'm sure it has something to do with funding and the teachers themselves, but how fair is it that one kid gets to use pastels and mine don't?!  Sure, there are bigger issues than pastels, but I want MY kids to use them too!

Halifax Regional School Board...crushing my pastel painting dreams. So I added them to my list anyway.

Comin' Home

Well, I swear if I cry in front of Estelle one more time she's going to officially think I'm crazy!  God knows I've had my fair share of sob fests during yoga time, but tonight I won the trophy.   The one-more-blink-and-I'm-done type of internal sobbing that only she seems to bring out in me.   Ya'll know I loves me some Estelle!  And today was one of those days where I just needed to let it go...so cue the music and a mat on the floor, here come the tears.

I got the sad news this morning that a family friend had passed away after a long battle with cancer.  Now, to clarify, he and I weren't very close at all, more like Christmas-time-close, and the occasional summer BBQ.  He is like that super fun uncle you wait all year to see at the next Christmas party!  So much fun and full of spirit! But his family and my family are entwined together like vines.  His parents and my grandparents have been best friends for decades, I spent plenty of evenings as a child watching the four of them play cards. My mom and his sister are such besties that I was actually named after her. His other sister had a huge hand in my upbringing as my daycare worker. Not a party goes by without being told a story about my childhood from someone! We've all spent holidays together, attended each others weddings, and even Gracie's "husband" is a member of this family (talk about keeping these families together for generations!) 

So as much as I am sad that he is gone, I am just as much sad for the pain that his family is going through. He has an awesome wife, and two children who will never hear his voice again. I am sad for his parents who are like a second set of grandparents for me.  I am sad for my grandparents who are watching their very best friends deal with the loss of a child. I'm sad that his sisters and brother have to attend a funeral for their brother who was only 49 years old.   I'm just sad.

At the same time, this makes me realize that these friends and "extended family" probably don't really know how much they mean to me.  For as long as I can remember they have been in my life....literally, since before my birth our families have been together.  Going home to PEI is never complete without a visit. I consider them to be family. And when you lose a family member...well, it's overwhelming.  I cry for my loss, but mostly for theirs.

The anxiety in me wells up about death,  and especially about the day when I will eventually lose my grandparents, and then my mother, and then it will be my turn.  I pray to God I never have to suffer the loss of a child. Death surrounds us all the time, but I've actually been quite fortunate to not lose many people in my life.  I can name on one hand the people I've lost that meant the world to me.  I consider that to be a blessing considering so many people I know have suffered through the grieving process more than anyone should ever have to. 

I count my blessings everyday to have my friends and family in my life.  But it's not often you actually get to tell people what they mean to you.  And then before you know it, it's too late...

So to all my friends and family in my heart and soul, I pray the day never comes that we have to say goodbye, though inevitably it will.  Just know that you all mean more to me than I could ever describe.  Whether it's making me laugh, making me cry, or just being there to chat with, not a day goes by without a memory being made deep in my heart  that I will never let go.  From the simplest conversation to a good cry fest, I love each and every minute with you. Whether it's one a day, week, or year, any time spent with you is absolutely dear.

Well I've been down to Georgia
I've seen the streets in the west.
I've driven down the 90, hell I've seen America's best.
I've been through the Rockies, I've seen Saskatoon
I've driven down the highway 1 just hopin' that I'd see you soon.
~ City and Colour ~

Anxiety Girl

Come see my FB page: Pigeon Pose Emotions

Between the heat, the humidity, too much coffee, and an overwhelming stress ball in my stomach...I can't sleep. We've been running our lives based on keeping our house clean for viewings and open houses.  We've been out looking at so many houses they are starting to blur together.

With a sigh of relief, its definitely been easier since the kids left for Grandma's house.  I have no laundry piles, no sticky counters, and no pee on my toilet seats!  You'd really think I'd be all calm and chilled out.  Except I lay there at night running thru all the chaos that will begin once we sell and move. I have to remember to do this...or do that...plus all the regular life stuff, like remembering my car inspection is due by next month (Someone please remind me in August!).  Oh, and both kids got sick at camp so I've been dealing with that long-distance.

I've had the same dream three times in the last two weeks about forgetting to register Jer for school.  He shows up to a random school and they tell him he's not at the right one, and then he spends the rest of the day travelling from school to school, like an abandoned puppy, trying to find one that will accept him.  What does that even mean?? Premonition of things to come?

BAAHHH!!!  I'm NEVER moving again once this is over!!

Oh, and for those of you who are local to my area....there's a certain type of underwater vessel arriving in the waters within the week that runs off a certain type of power that, oh I don't know, rhymes with say....Nu-klee-ear...I can't even say it, as I am TERRIFIED of them....plus there's that dumb rule about not being able to talk about what happens within the government when you are a government employee.  It's like fight club...except we protect corrupt, overpaid, underworked cabinet members....ah shit...I think I just broke rule #1.

Basically, there's a map that marks off the areas of destruction if previously mentioned vessel were to have a boo-boo and go kaboom.  I am located within the "Holy shit...you are dead batman" zone.  Which, in a weird way, sort of calms me down a bit.  I'd rather be dead than three-eyed and fighting off zombies for the rest of the my life.

So you see how maybe I'm not sleeping well??  Selling a house, ruining a child's education, apparently not caring about the other child's education as she's nowhere to be found in my dreams, fearing for my life, all the while trying to figure out where Cory Monteith and Adam Brody are hiding (OMG>>>>>>> they are totally here btw, filming a movie!!! SQUEEEAL!), AND trying to plan a master-stalk on Cyndi Lauper when she comes to town next week.  Life is just so damn stressful!

Save Your Money, Buy Two-Ply

Breaking Nova Scotia news!!!  We will now have transgendered bathroom signs in single-use bathrooms.  Why you ask?  Who f'ing knows?!?

One, I'm not gay, lesbian, transgendered, bisexual, or anything in between, so perhaps I don't even the right to comment, but seriously??  Why on earth would we need to mark a PRIVATE bathroom?  Would anyone know if there was a transgender in there anyway? Is there someone outside the door doing pat downs to see if there are penises (peni?) under dresses or boobs under business suits? Two, how offensive is a half-man-half-woman figure to describe a transgendered person?  It insinuates a "freak show", like those performers who dress up half their body as Sonny and the other half as Cher.  That is NOT what a transgendered person is....

And, if you want to get technical (and prejudice)....why not gay and lesbian sign just to be on the safe side.  Is the point of labelling the bathroom to let transgenders know it's OK to pee in this particular bathroom?

To me, this seems like a complete waste of money.  I'm sure we're not talking millions of tax payers dollars...but this is just one more thing "we" waste our cash on.  Wouldn't the money be better spent on educating the public about transgendered people.  Maybe invest the money in programs for transgendered youth?

I have no shame in running in to the men's washroom (single-use) if I reallllly need to go. Face it, the ladies room is always full, and usually nasty.  The sign means nothing to me!  BAHH AH HHA HA!! Such a bad-ass rule breaker!  So since there are no bathroom police...the sign is not necessary.  I shall pee where ever I feel like it! 

Whether or not there's a sign is the least of the "public bathroom" issues.  Dirty seats, pee on the floor, no soap, missing paper towel...and the very worst, stupid one-ply toilet paper. Why does one-ply toilet paper even exist??  We all know we use double the amount if it's one-ply.  If not, you might as well be wiping with your hand.

Here's an idea...stop wasting your time AND money putting up new signs, and invest in some good TWO-PLY!!!

I can guarantee there was enough money spent just on research for the signs that they could have probably went with triple-ply for a year!

(*SIGH*.....Government)

CBC News: Transgender Bathroom Signs

Yoga In Common

(Uhhh...forgot to hit PUBLISH POST! Duh...this is a few weeks old)

I would love, love, love for my kids to develop a love for yoga.  I've tried a few times to get them to a practice with me at home, and usually by mid-point I've lost one, or both, of them.  I don't want to force the issue and have them hate it so I just go with the flow and if they join me, great!

This morning was "Yoga In Common", a fundraising yoga class on the Dartmouth Commons.  I just happened to mention going in front of Grace and she got all excited and asked if she could come. Sure!  Mommy/Daughter yoga class!!

Well, this morning was friggin' freezing, and cloudy. But she still wanted to go so we packed up our mats and headed off to the great outdoors.

We weren't even to the field yet when we realized we were really underdressed!! Guess being used to a million degree room has really spoiled me.

Uhhhh........BRRRRRRrrrrrrrrrr!!!!!!  Poor Grace had goose bumps before we got out of the car! And I wasn't sure if I could even get out, even contemplated sending Grace to the field by herself while I sat with the heater on!

Thank goodness its a habit to take a towel to class or else Grace might have ended up as an icecube by the end of class. It wasn't long though before we started to warm up, sun salutations have a way of doing that to you. It was quite entertaining to see Grace participate, especially when she only knocked over the guy beside her when she fell out of upside-down-down-dog-flip-over-whatever-it's-called.  "flip your dog"?  I dunno, cause I can't...ok, WON'T try it....I'm terrified I'm going to hurt myself, and I know there would be nothing graceful about it so I just stay in regular down dog. But not my child, nope, she just flipped and went for it with a smile on her face!  Seriously, thank god my insecurities haven't worn on her yet (YET!)  Pleeeeease let her grow up to be as normal as she can be with me as her mother!!

After a good, fun time in the park we celebrated with a treat from "Two If By Sea"...seriously, best cookies EVER!!!!!!  And nothing makes a little girl's day more than a cookie the size of your face!

Canada Day Baby...maybe?

Yep, I did it again!

On July 2nd, at 8:05am, I had the honor of being present for a baby being born.  Doula "job" #2 has occurred! Thanks to a wonderful woman who took a chance on a new doula-in-training (me!), I am well on my way to becoming certified. I took a chance in contacting her (Reaching Out), she took a leap of faith in me, and the rest is history!

I got the call on Saturday morning that Mommy's water had broke. As with doula "job" #1, I had a full day of plans ahead of me that I was gladly prepared to cancel if duty called!  We had a full day of house hunting, and an evening of dinner and a movie to celebrate our anniversary.  Mommy was on her way to the hospital to get checked out but fully intended on returning home to labour in the comfort of her own home.  I was so excited and ready to rush home to get my bag, but that little voice inside my head was telling me to chill out, and just wait patiently.  There was no need to wait at home and pace the floors. I decided to proceed with the house hunting, I would be no further than 30 minutes away anyway, so we headed out for our first viewing.  Mommy would keep me updated with what the hospital said and I would carry on from there.   I kept my phone glued to me, had the ringer on high, and compulsively checked every minute.

With a confirmation that the water did indeed break, Mommy headed back to her house until the contractions picked up.  She was cheerful and happy (sign#1 that she wasn't ready for the hospital yet!) so we decided to head out to the movies as planned.  We kept in touch for the evening, with texts back and forth as to what was happening....steady contractions 6-10 mins apart, lots of walking, mixed with rest to prep for the long night of having a baby.  Well so we thought!  Poor Mommy kept up that pace of contractions right through to Sunday morning and still no progress or baby!  With my (limited) experience with labour, I was certain we would have had a baby Saturday night or at the very latest Sunday morning. Hey, if she could hold off until Sunday we'd have a Canada Day Baby!

I slept with my phone right by my head, I just knew I would be getting that middle-of-the-night call to rush to the hospital. Nope. Nadda. Zilch.  I even questioned that maybe Mommy had changed her mind about having a doula and just didn't call me to tell me! (Go away self-doubt...GO AWAY!)

Sunday morning Mommy went back to the hospital for an update.  Nothing much had changed.  Contractions were still steady, no sign of going away, but still not getting any closer together.  Back home she went to walk some more!  Not once did her attitude change.  Happy to be home, happy to be in labour, happy to take things at their own pace and just let the baby do his job. I've been around enough pregnant ladies to see that this takes great inner strength to not give in and just beg the doctors for help.  A lot of Mommies would have gladly stayed at the hospital and gladly been induced by this point. We were still only communicating via text message and already I was proud of her determination to do this her way.  Despite the hospital wanting to admit her and begin an induction, Mommy made her own choices based on solid facts, didn't rush to accommodate any doctor's long weekend schedule, she just listened to her body.

By 4pm on Sunday, the contractions finally started to pick up. Mommy got admitted to the hospital and was 5cm!  Progress!!  Daddy gave me the thumbs up to head over to the hospital.  At this point, Mommy had been in labour for well over 24 hours. I really wasn't sure what I would be arriving to.  We'd only met twice before and my biggest fear was just not knowing how to read her.  I fully expected devil horns (24+ hours tends to do that to a mom!).  I walked into the room and was greeted by a smiling, happy-go-lucky Mom.  In pain, yes....but still handling it quite well.  It's funny how quickly you can judge the situation based on the temperament of a labouring mom.  It's when the chit chat stops that you know labour is starting to get stronger.

By 5pm, she was in the bath and, like a true trooper, was still dealing well with the pain.  Like a lot of women, Mom wanted to left alone to labour.  (Easiest part of my "job"!).  For over two hours, Mommy held strong, and breathed through all the contractions in the dark bathroom while Daddy and I randomly checked on her.  She was focused and strong and determined.

Once we started hearing the occasional "fuck", I really thought we were there.  She must be getting close to 10 cms!!  The pleasant Mommy had left the room ;-) . She was definitely starting to make louder noises, wasn't talking, was having a harder time breathing through the contractions....a classic woman in labour! The nurse checked and sure enough....my senses were way off, and Mommy was only 6 cms.  What?!  I'm not even sure that's fair...and it's definitely not motivating for any mother!  There really should be laws against long labours.

Exhausted, worn out, and frustrated, Mommy made the hard choice to request an epidural...and at that point, I'm sure not a woman on this earth would blame her!   This is where, as a woman, you get that feeling of failure. Trust me, it's not a failure...and trust me, it won't be the last time you feel these feelings anyway.  It's a natural part of being a parent, you'll never feel like you did enough, or did it right.   In the end, you do as much as you can and go from there. They call it a birth plan for a reason...its just that...a plan, not a set in stone rule.

I knew from our meetings that she was definitely up on her knowledge of the birthing process. She knew a lot (maybe too much!) about the side effects of an epidural, she was well prepared.  It was refreshing to see her drill the nurse and doctor with a list of questions instead of just doing whatever they said.  If she was going to do an epidural, she was definitely going to do it her way!  She even convinced the anaesthesiologist to only administer 80% of the dose (I didn't even know that was possible!)  There is nothing better than an educated woman looking out for herself and her baby!

By 10pm, Mommy was hooked up with the epidural, 7-8 cms, and (finally!) resting after 36+ hours of being awake.  One of the downsides to an epidural...constant monitoring.  So needless to say, Mommy didn't exactly sleep.  For the next few hours, we all nodded on and off.  We watched as the clock rolled past midnight, and the thought of a Canada Day baby was quickly washed away.

By 12:30am, Monday, there was no change for a few hours, so out came the good ol' pitocin. (Much respect to all the nurses out there, but saying an epidural doesn't slow labour is a load of crap).

For the next few hours, they upped the pitocin as Mommy did her best to endure it, trying not to up the epidural if she could help it (thus avoiding the vicious pitocin-epidural-pitocin cycle). 

At 4:30am, Mommy was fully dilated, but the baby was still up pretty high, so the decision was made for everyone to get some rest for another hour or so. (The one perk to an epidural! Sleeping thru the pain!)

By 5:40am the pushing began, with a slight sidetrack to get Daddy some food to calm the shakes! Rule #1 for Daddies...take care of yourself too!!!

Over the next two and half hours, I witnessed one of the most dedicated, determined mothers ever!  Even during pushing, she was still asking questions about how she could enhance her pushing skills.  I was roaring laughing (on the inside), as by this point most moms would be screaming for an emergency c-section, begging for more drugs, and punching everyone in site!! 

At 8:05 am, on Monday, July 2nd, Baby J entered the world to an ecstatic Mommy and Daddy!  Mommy survived over 48 hours of labour....living proof that moms CAN do it under any circumstances!

I am so honoured to have been a part of it. It was a long night but so very worth it! Thanks to V & D for allowing me to help in whatever way I could. I look forward to officially meeting Baby J, and here's to finding Doula "Job" #3!!

My Facebook page: Pigeon Pose Emotions

Moving On...

My daughter had her first heartbreak yesterday.  Her best friend moved away...like across Canada away.  :-(

It brings me back to the few moves I had as a child. Moving to a strange place, meeting new friends, starting a new school. But I never really thought about what it was like on the other end, for the people that we left.  I mean, come on, I'm pretty spectacular so I'm sure I broke a few hearts along the way as well!  ;-)

I got the dreaded call from the daycare that Grace was having a meltdown of epic proportions.  Come get her NOW!  I didn't really piece it together, until we were on our way back to the car and the sobbing tears got even louder and harder.  "Madison is gone"...well it was all I could do to maintain my composure to get our butts home safely.  I have a tendency to get uber attached to the kids friends, and would easily adopt a select few of them if their parents would just give them up! Madison being one of those few, my heart is broken too.  As I type this through tear-filled eyes, I can only imagine how Grace feels. They were attached at the hip, did everything together, and even took turns spooning each other when they had sleepovers.  Grace was the spooner at Maddy's house and Maddy was the spooner here. Hardly a day went by where they didn't see each other. 

It's not often that we think of those left behind.  I work for with the Canadian Forces, so this time every year we say our goodbyes to those posted.  A lot of times we, those left behind, have a void. Not only are we losing a co-worker, we have a vacant position until the newbie comes in, but we also lose friends.  Every single posting season we say goodbye to friends we've made over the past few years. Nobody pays much attention to the fact that we have an adjustment period too.

We have access to free courses for upgrading computer and interpersonal skills. Courses for stress point where you don't want to get too close cause you know they'll just eventually leave.management and time management.  Courses for excel, or word.  Online courses to learn french,  green procurement courses, file management, and accounting courses....but not a single one to deal with losing friends.

We bond over listening to their stories from Afghanistan.  We hear the heartache they've seen in Africa.  We see the effects that these trips overseas take on their relationships.  We develop some deep friendships and then they just leave.  Its hard to say goodbye over and over again.  You get to the

We always say we'll keep in touch, but then life takes over and eventually the emails slow down and we're left stalking each other on Facebook. I suppose that's the test of true friends...we don't have to talk everyday, or even every week. Just knowing they are a click away is sometimes enough.  A quick note to say hey, or a forwarded joke that makes you think of them.  Whether it's a move from one building to another or to a completely different city, saying goodbye is inevitable if you work where I work. 

You just keep calm and carry on, and hope the next batch aren't morons.

Falling Fool

So, some fool decides he's going to risk his life, in front of his children, by walking across a tight rope over Niagara Falls.  It's all over the TV, Twitter and Facebook.  Why do people do stupid things like this?!? 

I guess cause people like me stop everything and keep the kids up late just to watch it!

The thought of it terrifies me, and I guarantee I will have crazy dreams about it all night.  I'll be on the tight rope, hanging for dear life, while my friends and family laugh and me...oh, and I'm sure I'll be naked.  Then I will drop to my drowning-broken-bones death...and then wake up sweating.  Meanwhile, Todd will be hitting me (in a non-abusive and non-grey way)...yelling at me to shut up and go back to sleep. I will cry, he will make fun and me, and then we'll start the process all over again.

Just like Shark Week on Discovery, I will watch this and then freak right out for weeks.

...........And it begins....dude has a harness on. WTF?!?!  Now I don't even care if he falls.....

Find me on Facebook: Pigeon Pose Emotions

Week 6 - Reading Rainbow

So yeah...I completely missed Week 6.

Week 6 was all about reading/learning something new.   Two little words...50 Shades.  Well, well, holy hell.
I always thought I was a pretty open-minded "lady", but there were a few pages that made me turn fifty shades of red!! 

I'm not a romance novel reader. I much prefer actual stories and not gibberish.  None of that "my loins were on fire" crap. But I just couldn't resist the hype.  I got all three books and in just a few days they were all done.  First of all, it's not romance.  It's va-va-va-vooom.  I blushed, I laughed, but mostly I had a constant O-face...like OMG I'm shocked....and Oooooo....I need mommy/daddy time RIGHT NOW!!!!!!!

The main character is twisted, and possessive, and border-line abusing...I wasn't sure whether to love him or hate him.  One page I would be like "OH helllz no".....next page, "I wish Todd would yell at me like that".  Twisted.  I'm pretty sure I need therapy now to deal with my inner feelings of wanting to be dragged out of a restaurant by Todd because a random guy looked at me with sexy eyes. Do I want to be possessed like an object? No.  But do I want to think that Todd finds me so attractive he would resort to that if necessary? Absolutely.  Right? Wrong?! I don't care.

The writing was horrendous. The first few chapters were dull.  By the time I finished the third book I was pretty much "over it"...but when the movie comes out I can guarantee you I will be first in line!!

  

But on a more serious note....a while back I read "My Secret Daughter"...life changing for me. I highly recommend it! Another good one..."The Fault in our Stars".  Look them up! 

Week 7 - Silent Night

Week 7 is here already!!  Time flies when you are distracted.

Did I blog at all for week 6?! I seriously can't remember...*sigh*....I am overwhelmed by life right now.

Sign #1 you have too much on your mind...you forget to plan a birthday party for your daughter...again...two years in a row.  Seriously should have planned a winter baby. This time of year always seems to be so hectic for me and I really don't know why. This year it's extra time consuming just trying to get this shit-show of selling the house on the go.  (Almost there...)

This week is all about quiet time...which I am desperately lacking, so I don't care if I have to live in a tent in the woods, I'm getting my hour of silence each day!  I would love to say that I'll get it every day at yoga, but sadly...I haven't been in like 3 weeks.  I have been managing some yoga time in the shower and a few stretches before bed.  It's likely I will give up my studio when I move anyway, so I guess I should start trying to do more home practices anyway.  Hopefully the kids don't mind seeing my upside down ass in the living room!

I haven't figured out yet how I'm going to manage a full hour of silence.  I tried today, but managed about 45 minutes before the kids came flying in the house, demanding food, and leaving a trail of dirt behind them.  I still haven't nailed it into their heads yet that I only have to provide food items in the house...I do not have to prepare it and hand it to them on a silver platter. Tonight I decided it was a "fend for yourself" night.  That ended up with tears and hissy fit...apparently Grace doesn't think cheese and crackers is an acceptable supper?!  So she cooked pasta and ate it with no sauce, like I forced her into it. (Pffft....like that's gonna make me feel bad?!)

I need a plan. Nightly baths will result in too many knocks at the door.  Sitting outside means dealing with my lovely neighbors.  Going to bed means I'll fall asleep and that wouldn't count. I am not safe in house when the kids are home. It's like "MOM" is the only word they know between the hours of 6pm and 10pm.  The only logical thing I can think of it to duct tape the kids mouths shut for an hour and lock them in their rooms....seems legit so I'm going with it.

Week 5 - Reaching Out

Yeah, so, I'm a little behind on the blogging.  Lack of a usable computer will do that to you. 

As I type of my piece-of-crap-missing-keys laptop, I realized that I completely missed Week 5 of the challenge.  Not only in blogging about it, but also in life...I am so consumed with getting this house ready that I haven't even been to yoga that week, let alone make an effort to "reach out".

*Sigh*  LYM12 Challenge is not going as well as expected, especially considering my overwhelming personal growth during last year's challenge.

But, much to my surprise, I was the recipient of a "reach out"....and I'm sure the reacher-outer did not even think about the level of reaching out that she did.  My yoga sista, Christine, sent me a link to an article, in the Chronicle Herald, about the lack of doulas available in HRM.  More so, the lack of volunteer doulas.  The article focused on one mom, who didn't meet the requirements for the volunteer program. She sent it to me because of reading my blog, and knowing that I'm training to become a certified doula. I'm still always shocked when "strangers" read my blog...and pleasantly surprised that people remember what I write about. 

Anyway...I took a step outside of my fear, worked up my courage...and emailed the lady in the article.  I threw out the option of me being her doula, sort of a win-win for both of us. She gets free support, and I get one more labour under my belt....well, under her belt really, but you know what I mean!

I waited, anxiously, for a response and, WOOT!, she responded back almost right away!  I met her at her house, had a little meet-and-greet, and left on cloud nine!  Sometimes, ok most times, I do not give myself enough credit. They aren't going to like me, I'm out of my league, or whatever...but I left feeling really good, like we clicked.  Sure enough, she sent me an email, and I now have Mommy #2 for my doula training!!

What was just a simple "hey, thought you would be interested in this" turned in to so much more.  Thank you Christine for thinking of me!

So there is the full circle of a good "reach out"....the newspaper reached out to her, Christine reached out to me, and I reached out to the mommy-to-be. 

Beaten Tech

My computer hates me, really really hates me.  I've beaten it to a pulp, I've dropped it, I've cursed at it, and call it names.....and that was just in the past week.  I haven't been able to do anything on it, it totally crashed, and only because the IT guy at work takes pity on me for my stupidity, did I even manage to save my pictures (that I haven't backed up in more than a year...OOPS). I've missed my daily Perez updates, I havent been able to blog....dreadful.  Just dreadful.

I don't really know what was wrong with my computer but, needless to say, it pissed me off.  And when I get pissed off I just can't let it go...so, I decided to rip my computer apart (cause I'm so talented in that department?!).

I took out all the screws, but the stupid thing wouldn't come apart.  I figured, maybe, there was a screw under the keyboard, and since we already had a few loose keys because of a recent fall of the table, I decided.....screw it.

End result....

There's no screw....

And now I can't get the keys back on. Whatever. Who needs keys anyway?

I'm still here, I swear...

You know that little thing called "Life"...well, it's been kicking my ass lately.  Between getting the house ready to list, starting a new job, dealing with my kiddos and their friends and all the drama that comes with, I feel like I haven't had time to breath in forever, let alone blog about it. 

Yesterday was the last day of  the "Random Acts of Kindness" week of my challenge.  I must say...I didn't do so well :-(  It's not like I wasn't nice, I just found it really hard to go out of my way to be extra nice. I always hold doors open, I often let other cars in front of me, and depending on my mood, I'll even stop for pedestrians who aren't at crosswalks.  Seriously.....if you are 10 feet away from a crosswalk (or perceived crosswalk)....then WALK to it.  Much easier to get cars to stop...

So I tried, I really did.  I would have full intentions of helping old ladies with their groceries (never saw any), or waving cars ahead of me (no traffic).  I had it in my head that I would buy coffee for anyone in behind me at Tim's, and seriously....all week, I was the last in line every morning, or twice there was nobody else there. I did by Timbits for the office on Friday though, so I guess that counts for something.

By the end of the week I was feeling pretty crappy about my challenge.  Yoga suffered because of house chores, and the being nice suffered out of sheer luck, and the fact that I hardly left my house besides to go to and from work. I feel like I failed.

Then Saturday night hits, and I'm slammed in the face with dilemma on the year.  Thirteen year old girl is at my house hanging out with my son (13) and his two friends.  It's getting late, like the bonfire is out already late, so I tell her I'll drive her home.  She made  an off the cuff remark about dropping her on her doorstep until the morning when her mom gets home. I was like "HUH?"...what do you mean?  Well, turns out Mommy is out partying for her birthday, the girl doesn't have a house key, thus no way to get in her house.  It's now 11:30pm, and I have nowhere to drop off this girl. 

.........Of course, we all know this could be the biggest scam this floozy is trying to pull just to hang out with the boys all night......but I have no way of verifying that.  She has her sister's cell phone with mom's old cell number programmed. Has no clue what the new number is and has no way of getting ahold of anyway.....All BS....I have no clue?  She seemed legit about it, so I give her the benefit of the doubt.  First of all, we lay down the law that boys will be in the basement, she will be upstairs, we will be assigning an actual bedtime versus just falling asleep whenever, and we won't be going to bed til everyone is in la-la-land.  After this, she still wants to stay, so I figure if she's willing to go to this length to lie then either home really sucks, or she's telling me the truth, or she's just a random teenage girl who's, well....being a teenage girl.  (I used to pull the "sleeping at so-and-so's house".....then go elsewhere.  Who didn't?!....ok, well some of you didn't, but I bet you thought about it)

Either way, executive decision is made...I'm NOT taking the chance of ditching her in her "worse than my neighbourhood" neighbourhood at midnight, on a Saturday night...while she's wearing short-shorts and a tank-top.

Then it sort of hits me....AHA....that counts as a random act of kindness right??

(Sidetrack...I accidentally just typed random act of violence...oops)

I didn't know what to do.  So I just went with it.  Everything worked out fine.  The boys were all snoring by the time I went to sleep. I choose to believe her, and I choose to count that as a random act.

(Sidetrack...to add to my frustrating week, my computer broke, I decided to rip it apart, resulting in an ever more broken computer, so I'm typing this on my crappy, crappy, piece of crap blackberry...)

OMG...I'm so tired and broken down this week I really have to point to this ramble...seriously, I need a maid, a personal chef, a nanny, and  chauffeur.  Then maybe I'd have time to go to yoga and write a blog that makes sense...or at least more sense than this?

Bedtime!

Week 3 - Day 1 - Clutter Clearing

Of course, a challenge is a challenge for a reason...it's a challenge. Duh!

Week 3 of the LYM Challenge is zero garbage.  At first I thought this was going to be impossible, but between breakfast (Tim's - bagel, coffee and yogurt) and lunch (Superstore - fruit and veggie), and then supper (Chili), I realized that every single container I used was recyclable in one way or another.  Pretty sweet, especially now that Tim's recycles their cups.  The scraps from supper were composted too...so my waste today was.....nothing!!! YIPPEE!!

So that's day one...done. Unless I eat the bag of nachos in my cupboard.  But if I only eat a little at a time until next week then that would work. MMmmmmmm.......nachos...and hey, those are vegetarian (also this week's challenge!)

Sidetrack for a sec...breakfast, lunch, and supper were all vegetarian. Supper may have been vegan, I'm still so confused by it all.  Lets see...tomatoes, beans, a can of corn (shut up, I know fresh is best but I'm working on it), red and orange peppers, an onion, and a bit of flour...shit, I just wrecked it with the flour right?? I would normally use tomato paste, but didn't have any so I tried flour.  Fine, vegetarian. Considering my love for bacon and steak, I consider day 1 a roaring success!!

Okay, back to the garbage.  Turns out we are in the process of decluttering so we can list our house (YAH!), turns out that involves a lot of TRASH.  This week was going to be my get-er-done week, and now I'm freaked cause of the challenge. I must admit, that a good majority of the "clutter" would have just gone in the garbage if it wasn't for the challenge.  I'm a good recycler for cans and plastic....but for whatever reason I can't get on board with paper.  Its easy if I have a bunch but when it's just a few pieces I tend to trash it (yikes....sorry Planet Earth).   I know its wrong.  I know.  I'm working on it. I promise.

So in an effort to rock my challenge, I've dedicated this week to recycling or donating as much stuff as possible.  I always donate used clothes or toys anyway, but there's always random stuff kicking around that isn't quite garbage, but isn't suitable to donate to say the Salvation Army.  Like random arts and crafts supplies.  Normally I'd toss them, but today I decided I'm going to start a box for the local Boys and Girls club. That will save a lot of random kid stuff from hitting the landfill.

It's not like we are hoarders or anything, but I'm getting super frustrated with trying to keep the house clean so I figure the less stuff the better.  I've already emptied the cupboards so there's just the bare necessities (the simple bare necessities...so I can forget about my worries and my strife)...sorry, sidetracked.

Anyway, I'm basically at the point where I feel another strike coming on.
(2, 4, 6, 8, I Will Not Cooperate)  There is crap everywhere....literally too, cause the dog has made it his habit to crap on my bedroom floor, which is basically because the kids don't walk the dog properly...which is why the dog may be the next thing to get recycled too. (Any takers?!)....seriously...  :-( 

I have a limited amount of dishes left so the kids HAVE to reuse cups...though my son started using wine glasses instead of doing dishes, but I only have so many of those too.  I've packed up a lot of photos (less dusting), I've gone thru all the closets and dresser.  I figure less is best if I plan on keeping this place decent for a viewing. 
By the end of this week, my family will be lucky to have 6 pieces of clothing each, and maybe a toy or two.  If they can't keep it clean then it's getting packed or donated!

Yard sale soon? I think so...

So while I spend this week getting rid of "trash", it won't be going in a trash can!!



Week 2 - I am Who I am

When I started this blog, over a year ago, it wasn't hard for me to pick a name for it.  Pigeon Pose is the one pose that I struggle with, and adore all at the same time. The stretch feels amazing, yet hurts a little at the same time?! It's like the S&M of yoga for me...minus the whips and chains.

I have literally cried in this pose, and I know it has something to do with the tension and stress in your hips, but each and every time I burst out in tears I still get weirded out by it.  It's an emotional pose...an emotional pigeon pose...which gives me Pigeon Pose Emotions. 

I often hear yoga teachers talking about how the poses are a progression, things happen in steps, your body will eventually allow the pose. Yada-yada-yada....that doesn't make me feel better when I still can't get my hips low to the ground in the pose...especially after a year and half of going to class.  My balance still sucks at the best of times, I still can't do a full Chaturanga without collapsing, and just forget about standing splits.  I watch all the skinny-bitches do them "perfectly"...if that's possible...and I get so frustrated.  I will never be able to it right.

UNTIL TODAY BITCHES!!!!!!!!!!

Oh yeah!! Not only did I do further in Pigeon than ever before...I ROCKED IT!
Like..."Holy crap, my legs, BOTH OF THEM, are flat on the ground!!!"
Never happened to me before EVER! I was practically doing the splits. WWHAHH!!!!!

I've spent over a year wondering when I will ever, if ever, get a pose nailed like they show on google.  Any pose!  Ok, well, besides Savasana...but that's flat on your back...I think it's hard to screw that one up.  Except for when I fall asleep, I'm pretty sure I break "the yoga rules" when I fall asleep.

I was so friggin happy that I was actually smiling in the pose...just like Estelle is always begging us to do!! Most times I fake the smile, come on...it's hard to smile when your thighs are burning, or your arms feel like they are about to fall off, but today I could stop myself from smiling in Pigeon if I tried!  There I was laying in a pool of sweat, trying to calm my heart rate down and grinning like a cracked-out idiot who just scored. I was so excited.  EXCITED!!!!!!!!!!!!  I am becoming one those people...

I promise I won't let it go to my head ;-)

Seriously though...I was so proud of myself this afternoon that I have been floating on a cloud ever since. I've been told before that one day you'll just be in the pose, without even knowing it....and today was my day!

It makes me, finally, feel like a yogini.  Like I practice yoga, not just show up and hyperventilate for an hour. 

I am so happy.
I am so excited.
I am so proud.
I am a yoga bunny...

Week 2 - Awkward Eyes

I finally made it back to Yin class last night!  It's been way too long, and, man, did it feel goooooood!! It coincides with Grace's circus class so I haven't been able to go in at least a few months. :-(

Yin yoga is definitely the type of yoga I can do at home.  Some nights I find myself laying in bed in some weird position (mind out of the gutter please), trying to get all zen-like and I think to myself...."Hmm, if only Emilie was here to talk me thru all of this"....but until I can convince my yoga teacher to do house calls at bedtime it is impossible to do without Emilie. The poses are held for 3-5 minutes and without queues it's impossible to gauge the time.  Fourty five seconds pass and I'm sure it's been 5 minutes.

Just thinking out loud here...maybe Moksha Yoga can come out with an audio version of yin class?! With Emilie's voice...or Samuel L. Jackson...either one is fine.

So I walk around the corner to the yoga room and am immediately overcome by the beauty of the abs that were walking towards me.  My first thought...HELLO!...second thought...aw, crap...hot dude is going to yin class.  WHY?!? WHY!?? Seriously? There should be a requirement for only ugly people in my yoga classes.  Hmmm...thinking out loud again...maybe I could convince my yoga studio to have "Ugly Thursdays"?  Must be an over-weight, gangly-toothed, wart-covered troll to attend.  Then by default I'd be the hot one.  And, yeah, I know the hot guy is probably looking thru me or too busy focusing on his abs anyway....plus I'm married, but that doesn't mean that I am blind to beauty. 

BUT! It's Accessibilty Week of my challenge so I decided to tell myself..."SCREW THE HOT GUY!"...........oh, WAIT.....not literally.  Geez...

I decided to not let the inner-me whine all class about how unfair it is that I'm distracted by hot guy's abs, and the fact that I lack abs.  Whatever.  I don't care!!!  I'm going to be accessible to myself, and I'm going to have the best yoga class, distraction free!

I get in to class early to pick a prime spot. We line our mats up in two rows, and lay head-to-head. I'm laying there in Savasana, enjoying my ME time, and I hear the room start to fill up. I hear Emilie start talking, I'm so excited I made it to Yin! I'm all relaxed, it's time to roll over and then sit up,....and I feel a sense of pending doom lurking.  Now is the moment of truth.....who will I be facing when I sit up?  Yep...HOT GUY.

SERIOUSLY??

I instantly decided that I was NOT going to let this interrupt my ME time. I love yin class, and dammit I was going to enjoy it.  No stress, no distractions, just me and my mat and the sound of Emilie's voice. 

Our eyes meet for a split second, and then there's the awkward "where do I look"...Uggghhh...I seriously hate eye contact.  Why can't we live in a culture where it's rude to make eye contact?  Or maybe we could have completely dark yoga classes.  Nobody would know what anyone was doing or what they looked like.  That way I could pull out my wedgie whenever I wanted and not feel judged...

I decided to just keep my eyes closed and pretend he wasn't there.  I actually ended up forgetting he was there, and left the class feeling so good about myself.  I got to my favourite class, my body felt amaze-balls when I was done.  And by the end of class, I didn't even remember why I gave a shit about hot-abs-guy to begin with.

I know that part of this week's challenge is to do the whole eye-contact thing...but I just can't, sorry.  I will just over compensate with my "I" statements.

I feel...that you and your abs should wear a tshirt.
I will...close my eyes for the entire class so I do not have to make eye contact.
I won't...assume you are a brain-dead beef cake just because of your abs.
I love...yin too much to be distracted by you.

Please don't stare at me...but you can stare at my FB page: Pigeon Pose Emotions