(recovering?) Pepsi Addict

Yesterday marks three weeks since I have had any Pepsi.

Or any pop for that matter.

You read that right. Three weeks. Twenty one days.

This may not be a big deal to some (most?) of you, but to me, it’s huge. This is the longest stretch I’ve gone in a long time. Maybe even in forever? Well, I mean, since I started drinking Pepsi, which was before high school. I was typically a Pepsi a day girl. Sometimes (too often, really) more than one. It was the love of my life. It kind of feels like I’m breaking up with my soul mate, you know?

All around, I am feeling some major differences since cutting it out. I am feeling so much better. I’m not nearly as draggy, I have way more energy and my body feels good. Maybe some of this has to do with the nicer weather, but I’m sure not entirely. And, as an added bonus, the number of pounds that I’ve lost in three week isn’t awful, either. (I should also add that I have been making some other pretty big changes in my eating and exercise habits, too, so the weight isn’t entirely because of the lack of pop). 

I’ve been very careful and strict with myself so that I don’t just end up replacing the missing Pepsi with extra coffee. I allow myself a maximum of two coffees per day (okay, once or twice I had three..but only because it’s dollar iced coffee days at McD’s and people always insist on bringing them to me) and other than that I’ve been drinking water like a crazy person. It’s become a challenge to myself to see how well I can do with this and how long I can go.

I won’t say I’m quitting forever, because I am likely not, nor do I really want to. I mean, I love the stuff. It tastes dang good.  I’d like to have it again. And I like having treats sometimes. But that’s the key word. Sometimes. Right now, I am working hard to get myself to a place where I can view it as that – a treat and not a necessity. We have a cottage weekend coming up and my plan was to take a few to indulge in on vacation but I’m not so sure. I kind of feel like continuing in this little competition with myself. I guess we’ll see.

To be honest, though, it hasn’t been nearly as hard as I expected it to be. Definitely not as hard as other times I’ve tried to “quit” or “cut back”. Maybe because this time I was serious about making a change? The last time I had a Pepsi, I didn’t even know that it would be my last. I wasn’t really planning on stopping but after a very unsuccessful evening of trying on clothes that ended in tears and some major self evaluation, I decided some things have got to change around here. And by around here, I mostly mean around my waist line. It’s time to become a healthier version of myself.

If These Walls Could Talk

I’ve been thinking about the day I’d write this post for months. Maybe even years. In my head, I’ve been thinking about how I would convey these ideas for as long as I can remember.

For me, buying our first home has been such a bittersweet experience. Yes, I am stoked to have our own place. We’re ready. We’ve been saving and planning for this for years. I’m ready for that. Yet at the same time, the apartment we’ve been living in for the past 5 1/2 years isn’t just any old place that we’ve been killing time. It’s not a crappy high rise building that allows us no space of our own.

The place we’ve been living up until now, although not owned by us, is our home. Our first home, really. Although we did live in one teensy weensy basement apartment in town for a few months right after we got married, this is the place we will remember when we think about our first home.

And so as I’ve spent the last few weeks/months thinking about the prospect of moving and planning for that to happen, I’ve started thinking about so many of the stories that are contained within the walls of this home.

If these walls could talk, they would tell of a young, newly married, head over heels couple who found themselves without a home just three months into their marriage due to a flood in their first apartment.

They would tell of a young woman who was in the midst of undergraduate exams, stressing over finding a place to live and feeling heart broken over having no place to spend their first Christmas together.

They would tell of a generous and gracious family who made accommodations for this young couple to move in within a week, in order to be settled and comfortable before the holidays.

They would go on to tell of years and years of generosity and kindness being bestowed on the young couple by the family who lives upstairs.

If these walls could talk, they would tell of a tiny little black lab, border collie mix who stole the heart of a girl who hated dogs and became her first baby. They would tell of weeks of sleepless nights, house training and cuddling as the dog hater fell in love with her sweet little puppy.

They would tell of years of writing papers, studying for exams, preparing grant proposals, applying for grad school, conducting field work, writing and defending two theses. They would tell of a BA and an MA. They would tell of a husband who supported his wife through it all.

 

If these walls could talk, they would tell of a wife peeing on a stick on a total whim at 6 am one Sunday morning and then startling her husband awake as she jumped on him and screamed, “We’re having a baby!”

They would tell of nine months where a couple grew together in anticipation of their first child’s arrival. They would tell of morning sickness, nursery decorating, belly kicking and some hot, hot summer days that resulted in the wife cooking dinner in her skivvies.

If these walls could talk they would tell of a husband and wife making big decisions for the man to leave a steady, consistent job in order to follow his dreams and start a business of his own, doing what he loves most. They would tell of the best decision they ever made.

If these walls could talk, they would speak of this couple laying their eyes on their first born daughter for the first time when she was brought into the world on their very own bed. They would tell of this couple becoming a family as they fell head over heels in love with a tiny 7lb 10 oz package that they called their own.

If these walls could talk, they would tell of sleepless nights, breast feeding battles, excitement over milestones and a deeper joy than can ever be explained as this family experienced the first year of one little girl’s life together. They would tell of first smiles, first steps and first words.

If these walls could talk, they would tell of this couple’s decision to add another child to the family. They would tell, once again, of a wife taking pregnancy tests and sharing, with excitement and with her one year old by her side, the news that her husband would be a father one more time.

If these walls could talk, they would tell of another pregnancy filled with (more) morning sickness, anticipation and eager excitement. They would tell of an overwhelming joy that was experienced as they prepared to make their first baby a Big Sister.

If these walls could talk, they would tell of the stress and anxiety and excitement over purchasing their first home.

If these walls could talk, they would tell of the birth of a second beautiful, beautiful baby girl. They would tell of a mom, and a dad, and a little girl all falling head over heels in love with the newest member of their clan.

If these walls could talk, they would tell of five anniversaries, six Christmases, thirteen birthdays, two mother’s days and two father’s days, along with countless other holidays and celebrations – all celebrated together.

They would tell of a couple who loved hard, fought hard, worked hard and prayed hard. They would tell of tough times and of fun times. They would tell of joy and of pain. They would tell of mountains and valleys.

If these walls could talk, they would tell you of a young family who developed their roots in this home.

Tonight, we will sleep in this home for the last time. The home that has been so formative in building “us”. The only home my girls have ever known. And that, for me, is oh so bitter sweet. So, as I look around and see empty walls looking back at me, I know they are not empty. Not at all.

If these walls could talk, they would tell you that they are filled with the stories of us.

25 Things About MOI

Last week, I was tagged by my girlfriend, Erica, to do this 25 things about me blog post. I love these kinds of posts. I love learning random, bizarre tidbits about all my bloggity friends. I hope you feel the same. If not, prepare to be bored. Apparently I must bare my soul around here more than I ever realized because even after pondering what I’d write for a few days, I was having a super hard time thinking of one thing, let alone 25, that I haven’t shared in this little space at some point or another. So, forgive me if you’re a long time reader and everything you’re about to read is old news, but many of you are new around here, so some of these are re-posts from past “About Me” posts.

1. I peed and pooped my pants a lot as a child for numerous reasons, including – but not limited to – being too shy to ask for help with suspenders, being victimized by my older brother who wouldn’t help me with my belt, being sick and pooping while throwing up and being scared poopless (literally) on an amusement park ride.

2. I have been horseback riding once – the night Evan proposed to me. I forgot to say yes.

3. I pierced my own belly button, with an apple and ice cube and a sewing needle in November of grade 7 at a bowling alley. I never told my parents. I took the ring out in June when I had to start wearing a bathing suit so they wouldn’t know (sorry, Mom).

4. When I was in Grade 1, my mom forgot to come to a Parent Appreciation Ceremony where she would receive a rose. I was crushed for life (you still owe me, Mom).

5. In grade 2, during story time, my classmates could see my underwear (white with red hearts on it) over my pants. They all teased me and I cried the whole way home. I never wore those undies again.

6. I always put the toilet seat down before I get in the shower. I’m afraid I’ll slip and fall in or drop my towel in when I get out.

7. When I was young, I killed our gerbils by feeding them bubble gum and ice cream. I think maybe one froze to death and the other one’s stomach blew up?

8. I love to be tickled (arms, feet, back, hair). My daughter has inherited this trait from me. If we tickle her arms or legs and stop, she will grab our hands and place them back on the spot we were tickling and start moving it for us. Exact same technique I try to pull on Evan.

9. I bite my nails.

10. I shocked everyone and got my nose pierced on my honeymoon. I still wear it almost six years later. I made Evan promise me he’ll tell me when I’m too old and uncool to leave it in.

11. I drive a stick shift.

12. I make my bed every single day, usually within 15 minutes of getting up.

13. I can only nap when I’m pregnant. Even when Evalyn was an infant, I had trouble sleeping during the day, despite how bad our nights were. I can probably count on one hand the number of times I napped during her infancy.

14. I am the farthest thing from an athlete possible. Two examples. My parents signed me up for t-ball as a kid and I struck out. Yes, t-ball is the sport where the ball is on a stand. Right in front of you. There is no skill required to hit it. The second example, we have a home video of my dad practicing golf with my siblings and I in a field that was in front of the house I grew up in. My brother and sister are both practicing their technique and swinging the clubs in the video. When the camera swings around to me, however, you find me sitting on my dad’s golf bag like a horse, singing “She’ll Be Comin’ Round the Mountain When She Comes”

15. I have serious trouble pronouncing canola oil. I have to stop and think about it and say it very slowly or else it comes out “canoily, oily” or “canola oila”.

16. When I was in 12th grade in high school I peed my pants in front of a group of friends for $40. I’d do it again in a heartbeat, mark my words. Best $40 I ever made.

17. I want to have 489082432 babies but I don’t really care for many parts of pregnancy. I love the belly and the kicks and the anticipation but I hate the sickness, exhaustion and body aches. If I could plop myself down at 9 months pregnant and just start out by giving birth, I’d be happy. Based on Evalyn’s birth, anyway, I love giving birth. We’ll see what I say after my second go.

18. I don’t usually drink hot coffee but in the spring/summer I can put away iced coffee’s like it’s my job.

19. If I could have one wish, I would make it so that potato chips, Pepsi and fast food were the top 3 healthiest foods on earth.

20. Speaking of food (uh oh, now I’ve unleashed the monster), my husband cannot understand my obsession with food. It’s not just a pregnancy thing for me. At any time in my life, my mind revolves around food. Once I start thinking about a certain food I want, I cannot be at ease until I get it. He laughs at me when I plan out where/what we will eat days or weeks in advance. His motto, on the other hand, is, “If it fills the hole I’m happy”.

21. I sometimes hate being married to a talented and skilled man.

22. My husband has two middle names and so does my first born. I love the way long names sound and I anticipated continuing this trend for my entire family. But, that’s not happening and baby #2 will only have one middle name.

23. When I was a kid, I switched the price tag on packages of stickers at the Dollar store so I got the ones that were supposed to cost $1 per sheet for 2/$1. Still struggling with the guilt from this experience.

24. I love a clean house but I sure as heck hate cleaning it.

25. I can wear kid’s shoes. Sometimes.

A jumble of thoughts. Or something.

I sit down to blog and lately, nothing more than a huge jumble of random thoughts falls out. So, here goes nothing…

~

I think it is so cute that Evalyn mixes up pronouns and says “you” when she really means “me” that I don’t even try to correct her. I already find it so bittersweet when she starts saying a word properly after mispronouncing it in a super cute way for a long time that I am in no rush to have her talk like an adult. She’ll get there. My favourite one is that she often says, “Mommy got you” when I’m holding her. Usually it’s when she’s being sucky, or is hurt or scared or something. Just last night she was having a hard time getting to sleep and I almost melted of the cute when I picked her up and she said “Mommy got you. Mommy got you, ah-ways”.

~

For a while, we were sort-of-kind-of doing the potty thing. She started showing an interest in noticing the potty and all of that jazz a few months ago and asking to sit on it, so I went ahead and bought a kid potty. We would put her on before bath and also whenever she asked. In the course of a few weeks, she peed on it four or five times. Just before Easter, she pooped while sitting on the potty and I’m pretty sure the splash (tmi?) scared her enough that she doesn’t ever want to sit on the potty again. Granted, she still talks about the potty non stop, tells me when she’s pooped and is actually kind of disturbingly obsessed with her dirty diapers. She wants to “yook”, “touch”, “bye bye dirty poo poo” all the time. Is this normal? Should I take this as a sign that I should crack down on the potty thing? Now whenever we ask her if she wants/needs to sit on the potty she says yes but then shouts ALL DONE as soon as we get to the bathroom. I kind of feel like I should just pack it up and put it out of sight until after we are adjusted to the new baby and settled from the move. Experienced moms, is this me being wise or just lazy? Honesty please.

~

I started packing today. Sort of. One box of my boots and three boxes of decorations from the walls, dressers, mantel and so on. Evan thinks it’s still too early. I keep reminding him that with every passing day I am becoming more and more pregnant. And soon will become more and more exhausted from a newborn. We get possession the end of this month. I am hoping to have lots ready to go by that point that can just sit in the basement/garage until the floors/painting is done. So, my house my be starting to look bare but I’d rather live in an empty, boring house for a few months than rush at the end. No?

~

The friend who runs Evalyn’s daycare is named Jessica. So, we always tell E she is going to go to Jess’ while mommy and daddy go to work and that I will pick her up at lunch time. She has started to add “See ya yunch-time” to her list of goodbyes to people. Also? She has started to call Jess Jess’. Hi Jess’. Thank you Jess’.

~

I suck at watching movies. I think it must be because I have the attention span of a camel. Do they have a short attention span? They must. My lack of interest or desire to watch movies drives Evan nuts. He doesn’t get why I can’t/don’t want to sit on the couch and zone into a movie for two hours every night. The other night we were laying in bed and he was watching a movie on netflix. I was “watching” too. Aka, getting up to get a snack, playing on my phone, doing some laundry, drifting to sleep and otherwise, just not paying attention. When the movie was about ten minutes from being over, it somehow caught my attention. But remember, I hadn’t watched the rest of it. And also, the angle of the laptop was making it difficult for me to see the screen. Our conversation went like this. Me: “Can you pause that when you have a second?” Evan: {pauses movie} “What?” Me: “Can you tell me what is happening in this movie?”

The response I got? Priceless. Sidenote: he did not have the decency to fill me in.

~

I hate when I write a blogpost and then a few hours later realize that I forgot to include the initial thought that sparked the idea for the post. It happened yesterday. I wrote about how I love watching Evalyn become a combination of Evan and I. What I forgot to mention was that the whole idea for the post came the other day when she insisted on dipping every bite of her dinner in Frank’s Hot Sauce. So like her father. So unlike her mother.

~

We can’t agree on this unborn child’s name. The girl name was selected within 34 seconds of finding out we were expecting and I am utterly and completely in love with it. The boy name was also selected but now I’m just not 100% sure about it so I’ve been tossing around new ideas. I found one that I fell in love with, but husband disagrees. I’m pretty sure the fact that I am convinced we’re having a girl, I love the girl name and we have no idea what the boy name will be guarantees I’m having a boy.

And while we were on the topic of names? Count yourself lucky if you never ever have to go through the process of naming a child with my husband as your counterpart. He is horrible.

~

My hormones are raging. I feel like the hormonal mess of pregnancy kind of levels out somewhere in the middle and then spikes again as you get closer and closer to the end. Lemme tell ya, it is a-spiking. Many unannounced tears, taking offense over simple, harmless comments, and all together weirdness. It is happening.

~

We bought our double stroller on the weekend. Long story short, I was quite simply done with agonizing over the decision. I found the one I had been eyeing on sale. I had a giftcard that meant I’d only have to pay $110 out of pocket so I took the leap. We went with the Graco Ready2Grow Sit and Stand. For the price, I feel like it will more than meet my needs for the next few years. I love the option of being a dual rider or a sit and stand. The thing that sucks? Tiny cars don’t believe in double strollers. I will have to take the child cup holder and the canopies off it to get it in and out of the car. Which will be a pain, but honestly, unless I was going to spend big bucks, there does not exist a double stroller that will fit easily in the trunk of a Mazda 3 hatchback and apparently (so says the husband), fitting a double stroller is not an adequate excuse for upgrading my vehicle. I have a feeling most of its use will be going for walks at our house anyway, so the in and outs of the car may be less than I’m used to. Quick trips to the mall just for fun won’t happen so much with two babies, not to mention the fact that we are now going to be living much farther away from the nearest mall.

~

It’s May. Time to bring on the warm weather, m’kay, Mother Nature? I want to take my kid to the zoo before I turn into a sloth.

Like Me, Like Him

As Evalyn transforms from baby to little person, we are starting to see her personality shine more and more. Of course, she’s been a little character since early in her infancy but as she starts to gain independence and language skills, we see ‘who’ she is becoming more and more apparent every day.

One of the best parts of this is seeing characteristics, behaviours, attitudes and the like that oh so clearly come from either myself or her Daddy.

From me? She gets the quirk. Evan says there’s no hope for her to be normal with a mother like me. But, that’s okay. Because what fun is there in being normal?

If you know me, one thing you’ll know is that I tend to sing. Despite the fact I might break your ears. I sing, a lot. I make up songs. And they are usually bizarre. Apparently, it hasn’t taken Evalyn long to pick up this habit. Girlfriend sings all.the.time. And she is definitely starting to figure out the concept of making up songs. Let me tell ya, hilarious.

Yesterday as we were driving to church her song went a little something like this, “Go-ning to church. Go-ning to church. Eea see Je-us. Go-ning church. Where Je-us go? Where Je-us go? Ah work, ah work”.

Another thing I noticed she’s picked up from me is a penchant for silly nicknames. Since she’s been born I have developed a long list of strange names that I call her, most that make no sense at all. One of the best? Chicken Boomer. Who knows what that even means. And yes, of course, there is a song to go along with the. So you can imagine my delight the other day when she walked up to me and said “Hi Chicken Booma!”

Of course, she isn’t so lucky to get all of her characteristics from me. There are some that come from Daddy. Like, her “sour” face. And her love for the outdoors. She’s not even a little bit afraid to walk around in the mud, dig in the garden or carry worms around. (Um, gross). She likes to ride on the tractor with her Daddy, fiddle around in his workshop and help him whenever he’s “fixin’ “. She will say “Eea woe-kin. Eea fixin’”.

She’s already showing an interest in sports, which, if you know us at all, we can safely say comes straight from the Daddy. She has his temper (although he would probably say this comes from me), his determination and would be happy if we never made her come inside.

She is, at the very same time, both of us. A little bit of me and a little bit of him all rolled into one tiny piece of perfect.

Blogland? I need to come clean…

It’s time for me to come clean. I need to ask for your forgiveness. You see, I haven’t been entirely honest with you over the past few weeks. I haven’t been lying to you, per se, but rather, I have been purposefully withholding pertinent information.

Remember a few weeks back when we got food poisoning? And then Evalyn gave us the worst week we’ve ever had with her while she cut eye teeth?

Well, friends, that is not all that was going on during that week. Other big, big things were happening in our family at the same time.

Clearly, I’m already pregnant, so that takes the #1 automatics guess off the table.

Any other guesses?

Yep! You guessed it.

~~

We bought a house!!

In fact, when I wrote the post about our food poisoning, I mentioned that we were sitting in a meeting when Evan first leaned over to me and told me he wasn’t feeling quite right. That meeting? Was with our realtor where we were putting an offer in on the place we had seen just before. The reason we had the lunch that made us sick in the first place was because we were having a busy day getting ready to go see the house.

And then on the Friday of that week, once we had recovered from that, and were moving on to eye teeth hell, we got word that our offer had been accepted.

It has been a long process since that day, getting everything sorted out and finalized, but now, we’re finally ready to say with confidence that we will be home owners at the end of May.

The house is a fixer-upper, to say the least. I’ll share some before pictures sometime in the near future.

I’m coming to realize that buying a house – especially your first house – is a big deal, folks. A big, big deal. I’m already losing sleep as I spend my nights having nightmares that when we move in we discover that the basement is infested with moles (?) and seeing numbers fly around in my head as we budget for the renovations that we are going to do immediately and those that are going to be saved for in the future.

But, at the same time, we feel so at peace with our decision. Already, even before having the keys in our hands, I can see how God has worked His mighty hand in this whole process – right down to the littlest details. Perhaps that’s another post for another day.

I hope you’ll stick around for the next few months years as we set out on our very first house renovating project. I’m certain there will be ups, downs, laughter, tears, perhaps a small argument or two and many curve balls along the way – and I’ll hopefully be here, documenting it all as we go.

Friday Frags

First of all, thank you all so much for your sweet, encouraging comments, e-mails, facebook messages, texts etc. after I published my post on the weekend. It was a trying, trying weekend, but honestly? The support I got from everyone helped so much. So many of your words brought me to tears and as much as I would never, ever wish these kinds of days on another mama, it certainly does help knowing we’re not alone. Once again I’m reminded of the blessing that this blog community is to my life.

~~~

On that note, God is so faithful and He knew that I was running on empty. So, on Tuesday night, Evalyn slept from 7pm-7:30 am without a peep and then we proceeded to have the best day we have had in a long, long time together on Wednesday. We spent the morning playing at a kid’s center, she ate good meals for the first time in a while, had a long, restful nap and then we did some shopping. We played with toys, played games, played outside and laughed. By the time I put her to bed that night, I had a full Mama heart again. My spirit was refreshed. Which was good because that night? She didn’t sleep so well and the whineys started again Thursday morning. But it’s okay – because I feel like my tank has been refuelled.

~~~

My husband has been a rock over the past few weeks. A lot has been going on around here. And he has been so helpful and supportive of me. On the weekend, when Evalyn was at her worst, he somehow managed to pull of the being two places at once trick at more than one time. As in, he took her outside with him while he was still managing to get some work done in his shop. He was so hands on and I know he made many sacrifices over the last week or so so that he could ensure that he was helping me.

~~~

I had my glucose screening test a few weeks ago and found out at my last midwife appointment that I failed so I had to go back last week for the 2 hour fasting test to see if I have gestational diabetes. Thankfully, I found out today that my test results came back looking just fine and I’m in the clear.

~~~

This baby is all up in my biz-niz. I cannot bend over, breathe, or sit on the couch comfortably. The pokes and jabs are crazy. I don’t remember the baby’s movement to be this uncomfortable this early when I was pregnant with Evalyn. Ev says that’s because it’s a boy. I’m still not convinced.

~~~

I realized earlier this week that Easter is in less than two weeks and Evalyn didn’t have any shoes for with her dress (her dress that is going to be way too big, I might add…). Don’t worry. We fixed the problem.

~~~

I am officially counting down the weeks until I’m done work. It’s 4.5 in case you were wondering. As long as everything goes as planned (which it very well may not due to a strike that’s happening on campus right now…). Grr.

~~~

I want pizza.

~~~

It should have bacon, mushrooms, onions, green peppers and black olives on it.

~~~

Happy Friday.

Some real stuff

This is going to be a Debbie Downer post. I’m warning you. I contemplated whether or not I should even post it because I don’t really like to air my dirty laundry and spend my time complaining on the blog. But the truth is? Sometimes it’s needed. This is my real. It’s the real of motherhood, of marriage and of life. It’s probably also pretty incoherent but today, I just needed to write.

I am starting out this week absolutely and entirely burnt out, exhausted and feeling helpless. Last week was, arguably, my most difficult week of motherhood to date.

I feel like I did a less than stellar job in my role as Evalyn’s mother. First, we had the food poisoning incident which obviously wasn’t my fault but definitely hindered my ability to parent my kid. Throughout the ordeal, although not being sick, she just seemed off. At first, we attributed it to her being separated from me way more than she’s used to. Normally, she goes to daycare two mornings a week for 3.5 hours each time and on the evening I work, I leave less than an hour before she’s in bed. So, really, she’s with me the majority of the time. Last week, she was at daycare Tuesday morning, all day Wednesday and Thursday morning. Wednesday was her first full 8-5 day and by the end of it, she was beside herself. She wouldn’t even go to Ev when we got home. She wanted her Mama. Add to that I ended up having to leave her with her Auntie Keik on Friday while I went to do my glucose test and she was not a happy camper.

And as the week progressed, we started to realize that maybe it was more than just the effects of feeling disconnected from me. She started showing some of her tried and true teething signs and by Friday we quickly figured out that the eye teeth, they is a comin’. And seriously, I am confident that they have brought with them some sort of demon. She is a completely different child. No other round of teething has been like this.

Thankfully, Saturday morning I was surprised to notice that the top two have cut through. We didn’t even see them coming and were totally expecting the bottoms to show up first. So, hopefully, they won’t be far behind because neither of us are sure how long we can handle this cranky pants child.

And when I say cranky pants, I don’t just mean a little whiny. I mean, crying non stop during all waking hours. And many sleeping hours, as well. This morning? Up for good at 4:45. Not cool. She will barely touch a bite of food, which is understandable because her mouth hurts. But no food = hungry toddler = cranky toddler. Vicious cycle. Thank goodness for fruit smoothies and baby food pouches. They are my saving grace right now.

The whining is epic. The tantrums are out of control and I feel like I’m walking on eggshells because I have no idea what is going to set her off at any given moment. It’s ironic because I feel like I so badly need a little break, despite the fact that this past week I spent the least amount of time with her that I ever have in her life.

I’m caught in this place where I’m struggling (often times, tearfully) attempting to figure out where the balance is between, “I know you are teething and you are uncomfortable” and “That doesn’t mean you can behave any way you’d like”. As parents, Evan and I are still working out and negotiating what our best form of discipline is. Before becoming parents we had a trillion billion ideas of how we’d handle discipline, of course. Now that we’re in the moment? These decisions don’t seem so clear cut. Sometimes her language development makes it difficult for us to get a full grasp on exactly where she’s at cognitively. She talks a lot and she talks well. So sometimes this makes us forget that she’s only 18 months old, still a baby really, and probably can’t reason as well as we sometimes assume she can. It’s seems like we’re doing this awkward dance stepping all around, trying to sort out just how much she understands in terms of behaviour = consequence. Lord help us. We surely can’t do this alone.

Last night’s dinner was probably are most challenging parenting moment to date. Finally, Evan just bundled her up and took her outside, despite the fact that it was raining and chilly, because we knew that was the only thing that would work. And when they left? I lost it. I broke down. I cried. And I prayed, pleading with God to give me patience and help us to know how to deal. It was one of those moments were you just feel like you’re at the end of your rope. Even though I know I’m not. I know that every time I get to that place, God unravels a little more of my rope and gives me a little more. So now, I just continue to pray. For patience, for wisdom, for guidance. I have a feeling this will be the theme for, oh, the rest of my life?

The First Overnight

This past weekend, the hubby and I took the opportunity to escape for a little, one night, mini-getaway. It may not seem like a big deal. But it was. It was the first time in her 16.something months of life that I left her overnight.

Surprisingly, in the hours leading up to leaving, I wasn’t even nervous at all. Which is, obviously, a good thing. It showed me that we were all ready for this and that I knew that she was going to be in great hands.

We didn’t go far. Which was fine. We just scooted over to Niagara Falls, had dinner, went to a really great Beatle’s tribute show and stayed over. The next day, we enjoyed a leisurely breakfast, did some shopping and saw The Vow. Despite the fact that I did not sleep well in the hotel and was wide awake earlier than Evalyn and I normally get up, it was a refreshing, rejuvenating break from the day to day.

And despite the fact that hubster and I didn’t take a single photo to document the time we had away, we do have some photographic evidence to show that Evalyn was no worse for wear during her evening, night and day without Mommy and Daddy.

The best part of our time away was coming back and seeing how excited she was to see us and hearing about how good she was while we weren’t there. She had a blast with her Auntie M and Auntie L and we so very greatly appreciated the time away.

Our Story

I’ve blogged about our love story in the past. A few years ago, as we were approaching our 3rd anniversary, I wrote a fully detailed 7 part story highlighting how we met, became friends, fell in love, got engaged and became man and wife. Seven parts might seem like a lot but it was necessary considering we had about 12 years to cover between our first introduction and the day we walked down the aisle.

Nearly three years has passed since I wrote that story and a lot has changed in those three years. We’ve graduated from 2 degrees, started a new business, started a new career, welcomed a child and became pregnant with our second. Oh yeah? And, more importantly, I’ve met a ton of new blog friends who have likely never heard or read the story of how we came to be Us.

So today I’m linking up with the lovely From Mrs to Mama who’s hosting a Love Story Linkup between now and Valentine’s Day. Of course, I can’t cover every thing in one post, so I’m giving you a sort of summary and, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll follow the links and read the entire story.

Our story begins when we were about 8 years old and met at a youth rally and then continues when we became friends at summer camp. It gets even juicier when I began stalking him and taking sneaky photos with him in the background because I was too chicken to actually snap a photo of the guy. The next few years passed with us seeing each other a few times a year, at youth rallies and summer camp, and me being too shy to ever say more than Hi to the cute boy with the hat from Papua New Guinea.

Part two takes us to three years in high school where we were in the same class at a Christian Boarding School where we went from being best friends to worst enemies every other week. Here we struggled together as both of our mom’s faced breast cancer and we learned a lot about life and each other. During this time, Evan went through a rough patch and I found myself hurting for him in a way I couldn’t understand.

Part three is where the story gets really good when the high school hottie confessed his love for me just one week before graduation and just one week before we walked the aisle at commencement together as Mr and Mrs GL. Trust me, you gotta read it to believe it.

Next up, we go through a summer of separation where I battled confusion, entirely unsure of what my future would hold in terms of university and a pending relationship with the boy of my dreams. The summer ended with him coming home from his job at camp and asking if he could visit me.

In part five, we date. We fall in love. And it is just mushy and beautiful. Go, go now. Read.

Part six is probably the best portion of all, where my sweet love put together the most elaborate plan he has ever conspired and somehow completely surprised me when he proposed to me on horseback. This portion of the story even includes photos of scrapbook pages since it took place way back in the olden days when we didn’t have digital cameras.

In the last part, I became his wife in a wedding celebration that completely made all my dreams come true. We committed our lives to each other in front of our family, friends and our God. And we’ve never, ever looked back.

Life Lessons from Coach Taylor

It’s not a secret that Friday Night Lights is my current obsession. Both the husband and I are totally hooked. In fact, as much as we love the show, we’re both to the point where we are thinking, “okay, when will this be done so that we can get on with our lives?!” Honestly. Right now my house is a little messier than normal, the meals are a little less well put together than usual, the laundry is a little less caught up than usual and the hubby’s progress in the shop is a little less up to date than usual. In other words, we have been wasting spending hours and hours and hours of our lives chilling on the couch with the ever handsome Coach Taylor (or the ever beautiful Tami Taylor, my husband might add).

In the meantime, when we’re not getting ourselves acquainted with the residents of Dillon, Texas we’ve been getting serious about house hunting. If you’ve ever done this before, you probably know how oh!so!fun! it can be. In this family, the husband is the chillaxed, easy going partner and I am the high strung, stressy stress face. So you can imagine how awesome house hunting may be for two people like ourselves.

By now you may be wondering how a major Friday Night Lights binge and house hunting are related. Just stick with me. Trust me. They are. Because while FNL is normally just a few hours of mindless entertainment, I have found that there are a times when major life lessons can be drawn from the episodes. These moments make me think that perhaps I’m not completely wasting my life away while I sit around watching hours of TV a day.

There’s a scene somewhere way, way back, season two, I believe, where Coach and Tami are facing a situation and find themselves at a crossroads. Don’t worry, if you haven’t watched yet, I’m going to set up the context of the scene without giving anything away. They are in the midst of a situation where they have to make a decision for their child. And the solution doesn’t seem clear to them. Tami approaches the situation with a sort of “WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO?!?” attitude. You know, the same kind of attitude that I often have when discussing important life decisions, such as purchasing a home, with my husband.

In the midst of Tami’s miniature freak out, Coach puts his hands on her shoulders and calmly says,

“This is not our burden. This is our gift.”

And, whoa. Has that line ever hit me in the face!

I have been trying to remember and reflect on this line as I’ve faced my own miniature (or not so miniature) freak out sessions over the past few weeks.

To be in the situation where we need to find a new place to live because we have been blessed with a second child and need more space? To be in the situation where we need more space because we have been blessed so abundantly with ‘stuff’? To be in the position where we are able to purchase a home because of my husband’s hard work and motivation over the past eight years? To be in the position where we can buy a home that needs renovations because I have a husband who has the skill, ability and desire to make improvements?

To be in this position I am in, despite how stressful, unknown, unclear and scary it may be?

This is not my burden. This is my gift.

My Word

It’s a new year. 2012. Time to make resolutions. To start fresh. I’ve never been much of a resolution person. Maybe because I don’t trust myself enough to stick with them. Although, in 2009, I did resolve to make every single one of our bread products for an entire year from scratch, and I managed to uphold that one. But for the most part, I don’t usually make resolutions.

That being said, I do think there is great value in being reflective as we enter a new year. In past years, and this year especially, I’ve seen some talk of a “word for the year” floating around blog land, twitter and face book. I had never put much thought into that concept before now, but this year, every time I’ve seen a post reflecting on a “word” for the year, a specific word comes to mind: Push. At first, I kind of laughed it off, but the more I thought about it, the more it makes sense.

In 2012 I want to:

Push myself to be a better mother. Push myself to be more focused, hands on, and present in my interactions with my daughter. Push myself to be more organized in our home. Push myself to show my husband more love, more respect and more honour everyday. Push myself to be the mother my children deserve and the wife my husband deserves. Push our family to achieving the goals we’ve set for ourselves. Push myself out of my comfort zone to get involved in some new activities. Push myself to be more active. Push a baby out. Push myself to a new and deeper relationship with my Saviour. Push myself to live with intention and fully enjoy the moment.

In 2012, I will Push.

Christmas in Short Form

As evidenced by the lack of posting over the past two weeks, it’s safe to say that we’ve been enjoying our holidays. We really, really have. Despite the fact that traveling exhausts our wee family and we’ve been battling a few different types of sickies over the past month, we did our best to soak up this holiday season. Having time off from work has rejuvenated me so much. I’ve read an entire book series, finished and ordered Evalyn’s first year photo book, done some much needed reorganization around the house, and napped. A lot. It’s been wonderful. And since the holiday season has flown by without so much as a single blog post from me, I decided to just write a little quicky to sum up the last three weeks of our lives.

I spent so much of my time savouring the moments and the details that I found I was left with relatively few photos. But that’s okay. Because I was there, in the moments, always.

We kicked off our holiday season by traveling to visit Evan’s family. We played with cousins. We ate. We danced. We decorated Nana’s tree. We opened our Christmas PJs and book. We opened our stockings. We didn’t sleep, at all. We cut our first two molars. We opened gifts. We played outside on the sled. We had fun.

We then came home for almost a week before heading to my parent’s cottage in the Muskokas for Christmas weekend. While we were there, we played. Hard. We didn’t sleep, at all, again. We got two more molars. We had a cold. Mama had a cold. Daddy was getting over the flu. We rode a reindeer. We decorated the most Charlie Brown’ish tree that you ever did see. It was perfect. We got a kitchen and some play food. We walked in the snow. We loved on our Nana. We kissed our Uncle. We played. We played. And we played some more.

We came home on the 27th, a day earlier than we had planned, because sleeping was not happening and we were all too exhausted. Despite that, though, we had a good time. The past week at home has been spent enjoying lazy days. Cleaning up from the chaos of Christmas. Ringing in the New Year with good friends.

This week, Evan is back to his regular schedule and Evalyn and I are working on getting back to ours. She goes back to daycare tomorrow, and I have work to do to tie up last term and get ready for the new term to begin next week. We’ve enjoyed our small break from reality, but I’m ready to get back to normal.

Welcome, 2012! Here’s to a great year.

The One Where My Husband Owes Me. Like WHOA.

So. My husband is away right now. Up in his hometown hunting at his cabin. Eva and I were supposed to go with him, to visit my mother-in-law, sister-in-law and Eva’s cousins, but the cousins have the chicken pox so we decided to steer clear.

Yesterday, it poured rain all.day.long. Like, poured. As in, feet getting soaked because of the deep puddles on the driveway in the potholes.

Around 8:30 p.m., my sweet husband sent me a hey tell saying that he just realized he forgot to lock the chickens up in the coop before he left and could I please go out there and make sure they were inside, and shut the door?

A little background information – we live on a farm and we have chickens. Some for eggs, some for meat. These are the husband’s domain. I will cook and eat the eggs and the meat but I will not take care of the chickens. I do not feed them, I do not go in the coop, I do not collect the eggs. Heck, if I can help them, I don’t even look at them. I am not in with the birds. I dislike birds. A lot. They give me the creeps. So, my relationship with the chickens goes only so far as seeing the evidence of them once they are brought into the house in the form of eggs or roasting chickens.

Needless to say, I wasn’t very happy with his request. I made every excuse in the book why I wouldn’t be able to go out there to check them. It’s dark. It’s raining. I’ll get cold. Hello! I AM WITH CHILD! Finally, he convinced me it had to be done. So, I bundled up in his coat, a pair of my boots and a flashlight and headed back to the chicken coop. He promised me I wouldn’t even need the flashlight because the motion censor light would come on once I got back there. It didn’t.

And I was greeted by flooded grass. As in, 2-3 inches of water sitting on top of the lawn. And my boots were not waterproof. So I went back inside, called him and told him I just couldn’t make my way back to the coop. I’d never survive. He told me to put on my big girl panties, put on rubber boots in the garage and go back out. At this point, I had run out of excuses. So, I donned some boots that were about 32 sizes too big and trudged my way back again. And into the nasty, stinky, chicken poop infested coop.

And what did I find? A LOT OF CHICKENS WERE NOT INSIDE.

We just got new chickens on the weekend, so I guess they don’t know the place well enough to know where they were supposed to go to find shelter and get inside, so instead of walking into the warm, cozy coop and cuddling up with their neighbours, ten or so of them were huddled together on a pile of cinder blocks in the back corner of the outside of the pen. Right against the wall of the coop. But, the opposite wall of where the door is to get inside. They were wet and shivering and squawking. I tried to herd them off the cinder blocks and chase them into the coop so I could shut the door. No way. These guys were not moving.

So, I did what I had to do. And to this moment, I’ll never know how it was possible.

I picked them up, one by one, WITH MY BARE, SOAKING, FREEZING COLD HANDS, and carried the little buggers to safety.

It was disgusting and creepy and scary. But I had no choice. I couldn’t leave them out there in the freezing cold rain to die? Well, they probably wouldn’t have died, that’s a bit over dramatic, but still … it would have been heartless to leave them.

Needless to say, my husband quickly got an angry text, that may or may not have included one or two words I’m not overly proud of, telling him that he is LUCKY I SAVED HIS CHICKENS and that he owes me big time. I believe my exact words were, “My wish is your command for like a YEAR”.

I wish I had photos to give documented proof of this expedition (and trust me, you wish I did, too) but you’ll just have to take my word for it.

Old McLucy is back. In full action.

The Story

Evan and I have always knew that we wanted kids. Emphasis on the “s”. And, we always thought we wanted to have them close together. Then, when Evalyn, who was a great big giant wonderful surprise, came along, we weren’t sure what would happen with the spacing between our kids.

When she was an infant, I started to think I wanted to wait a few years until we added any more to the mix. Evan, on the other hand, was ready to get going when she was around six months old.

The problem was (is) the apartment we live in really isn’t big enough for another. I wanted to wait until we for sure had a house to move into before we started trying so we didn’t have the time pressure. He didn’t care so much.

But, right around her first birthday, I started getting the itch. We started discussing. Eventually, he convinced me that if we tried, and were successful, that we would figure it out. God would provide. He’s always provided for us up until now, we can trust that He will do the same as we continue.

So, we threw the pills out the window and as each day passed, I hoped more and more and more that we would be able to have another baby. Because of my work contract, and the rules of maternity leave in Canada, we had a very limited window to get pregnant in, or else we’d likely want to wait another year.

I wasn’t sure what to expect since, you know, “things” haven’t been quite the same since Eva was born. Needless to say, after a week or more of going between “I think I must be pregnant” to “No way, I’m definitely not pregnant” and seeing a number of negative tests, I finally saw, clear as day, what I’d been waiting for.

On Friday, October 21, my heart became Mama to two babies. And what a day that was. I am certain I experienced every emotion under the sun. From elation, to guilt, to fear, to joy, to anxiety, to uncertainty, to more joy, to more excitement and the lists continues (all of that for another post, another day).

Since I totally failed on my hopes to break the news to Evan in a special way when I found out about Evalyn, I decided to try to make up for it this time. So off we want to find the perfect way to tell Daddy. Apparently, around here, I’m a few years too early because the only Big Sister shirts I could find started at size 4T. So, we went a different route.

Evalyn got a brand new book and we stopped in at Daddy’s work to tell him our big news. Although he knew the ups and downs of the week and that I had been testing like a crazy person, I think he was still surprised to find out it was actually true.

I called him and told him to come meet me outside of his job site because I’d made something for him. He expected cookies.

What he got was a whole lot more.

Family Photos

A few weeks ago, we ventured off to spend the day with my brother and his wife. We had a yummy lunch, my dude put together a quote for their kitchen renovation, and then we headed off to the park for some photos before going out for dinner.

I have said it so many times, but I’ll say it again – I’m so lucky to have a bro who enjoys photography. He’s done us so many favours, doing family photos, newborn photos, maternity photos and the list goes on…

So, I’ll let the photos do the talking. Here are some shots from our day.

Despite what these photos suggest, Evalyn is not a fan of sitting in the leaves. As soon as I put her down in them she looked up at me and starting saying/signing “Help. Help. Help”.

Her face. Kills me.

Duckies in the park.

My heart.

it makes it okay.

It’s been about a month since I began the transition from full time SAHM to part time working mom. Funny how when this happens, you don’t suddenly become a part time mom. Rather, you are still a full time mom and you just have to figure out how and where to add employment into your life, fitting it around your duties as wife/mom as best you can.

I’ll have to admit, in the weeks leading up to my return to work, I was scurrrrrrred. I had no idea how I’d find the balance between work life and home life. I didn’t know how I would feel about leaving Evalyn with someone. I didn’t know how Evalyn would do away from me. If you read my whiny posts, you’ll know that I was struggling. Of course, just like any situation in my life that I worry about, looking back I realize there wasn’t much to worry about. So far, the transition has gone very well. I’m thankful that my work load has increased (and will continue to increase) gradually. I was able to dip my toes in and slowly wade in rather than taking a huge belly flop of the high dive.

What I’ve learned is that there are some things that have made my transition to work okay. Some things that have really, really helped and, believe it or not, even made me look forward to and enjoy the challenge.

I mean, first of all, and obviously, having a second income has been a definite bonus. But that’s not what I’m talking about. There are other things that make it okay.

I have loved, absolutely loved, getting to choose real person clothes to wear to work every day. I don’t have a dress code at work. I can wear sweat pants and a tshirt if I want. But I choose to look a little better than that because it’s one of the few times that I can. I don’t usually do dress pants, often jeans, but I like to make myself look (somewhat) put together. It’s fun being able to pick out outfits that I don’t have to worry if I can nurse discreetly in, or if the snot that Evalyn wipes on my shoulder will show up, or if she’ll strangle me when she pulls on my necklace 45825 times in the first three minutes after I put it on. It’s nice to be excited about style.

Another thing that makes it okay is having a kid who has done so very well with the transition. She hasn’t gotten upset when I leave her yet. She has napped well almost every time she’s been away from me. She goes to bed just fine for Evan, my mom, her aunties, the girls upstairs – no one has ever had an issue putting her to bed. She flips back and forth from sippy cup of cow’s milk to nursing like it’s no big deal. My worries about how she would do without me? Ha. Enough said.

Right now, she’s spending most of my work days with one of my best friends. Can I tell you how much more at ease I am knowing that she in the hands of someone who I would trust with my own life? I know that C knows Evalyn’s schedule, habits, likes, dislikes, and habits almost as well as I do. She has spent a lot of time with her since we see her multiple times per week, even before she started watching her. She knows when to put her down early, or keep her up a bit longer. She knows just how much fussing is okay before going in to check her. She knows her favourite toys, songs and games. She just knows her. And that? That makes leaving her 100% easier.

And, of course, the last thing that I’ve found that makes it okay is getting to experience the excitement Evalyn shows when I pick her up. Before I started working, I was rarely away from her during the day. Most of the time when I , went out, it was in the evening. Either after she went to bed or for dinner or what not, which meant she’d be sleeping when I got home. And, you know, by morning time, she doesn’t remember that I was away the night before. Now? When I get to C’s to pick her up, she remembers that she missed me. I get a little taste of the excitement she shows when Evan gets home from work each night. She smiles, laughs, sometimes claps her hand and boogies her little tooshie over to me to give me a hug and cling to me like I am the most prized possession in the world. And that feeling? It makes it okay.

Silent Sunday: It’s HERE!

The decorations are made. The menu is planned. The guests are on their way.The day is finally here.

This afternoon, we’ll be kicking it autumn style with our family and friends as we celebrate the big FIRST BIRTHDAY of our Evalyn.

Stay tuned next week for a whole line up of birthday posts. I’m going to tell you about the theme, the dress, the inspiration, the invitations, the food, the decorations, the guests, the planning, the games, and on and on and on. I’m going to over do it. I’m going to annoy you. I’m going cherish the last week that my first child is a baby. I’m going to celebrate her life to the max. What can I say? My firstborn will only turn one once. Can you really blame me?

Hello, fall.

This past weekend marks the official end-of-summer-beginning-of-fall weekend for me, and so I wasn’t the least bit disappointed to see that the weekend brought fall weather with it.

We spent the past few days up north in the Muskokas at my parents new cottage. Which, I might add, is very quickly going to become my favourite place on earth, I believe.

My whole family was together – an event that becomes more and more rare as the years go by – and also one that I cherish more and more as the years go by. I celebrated my 25th birthday while we were up there and we also celebrated my brother-in-law’s 29th. There was fishing, boating, board game playing, eating, movie watching, and lounging. It was a wonderfully relaxing weekend – a great way to end off summer 2011.

We got home early this morning and Eva and I have been having a lazy day at home, doing laundry, playing and going for walks (bundled in a blanket, I might add). I’m actually quite excited to dig out the boots, sweaters, pashminas and blankets. Today I have a fall candle burning. The scent is called “Welcome Home” and it’s filling my kitchen with the delicious smell of autumn. Although I love summer and the fun that it brings with it, I always find myself ready for fall. I find it refreshing. It’s the best time of year around this home, for many different reasons.

I have a feeling summer hasn’t had it’s last hoorah, though. Something tells me we’ll see a few more scorchers. But for now, I’m cuddling up in a blanket with a hot chocolate and I’m welcoming fall.

I Rock

Sometimes I find myself wandering around the internet – checking out blogs, looking at people’s pins, reading tweets – and I find myself feeling inadequate. Because I can’t do what she does. Or I don’t look as pretty as she does. Or I’m not as talented as she is. Today that happened. I was fiddling around with some things for Eva’s first year photo book and birthday party and I flipped. I had an idea in my head but I could not seem to figure out how to execute said idea. So, instead of being rational and taking a breath, trying again, or perhaps asking for help. I just quit. I deleted what I had been working on and quit. Because I couldn’t do it. Sure, what I was trying to do may have been easy for you or you or you. But it wasn’t easy for me and that made me feel like crap and made me feel jealous of people who are “better” than me.

But, after getting my booty smacked by a few good friends and an unexpected, encouraging text from my hubby telling me how good the cobbler I baked last night was – I realized it’s time to turn this around. Who cares if I’m not good at x,y or z? God gave me talents, skills and abilities. Some of them I appreciate but unfortunately, many of them I don’t.

I wish I was athletic. I wish I could sing. I wish I was more artistic and creative. I wish I was more talented on the computer. I wish, I wish, I wish. But enough wishing. It’s time to stop. Because? I rock.

I rock at cooking. I feed my family good meals most nights of the week. Sometimes we get take out. Sometimes I make chicken fingers. But mostly? We eat good, homemade meals.

I rock at baking. I can make a mean apple pie. My pastry is probably better than anything you’ve ever tasted in your life. My brownies? You’ll die if you eat them. My husband makes sure to keep this talent of mine well-tuned.

I rock at organization and efficiency. I thrive on to-do lists. I think about what needs to be done on any given day and I do it.

I rock at memorization. I have the world’s most ridiculous memory. I can remember bizarre details about events – such as the clothes someone was wearing, the food we were eating or the exact words of a conversation. Sometimes my husband wishes I didn’t have this kind of memory, but it serves me well.

I rock at research and learning. I exceled in my undergrad and graduate programs.Sometimes I forget it, but I am a well-educated woman with a Masters degree in a research field. I have two completed theses under my belt. 

I rock at keeping my house. It may not be absolutely spotless at all times, but it’s tidy, it’s comfortable and it’s our home.

I rock at making my bed every single morning.

I rock at changing cloth diapers. I can get that girl’s diaper off, booty wiped, new dipe on, cover on, clothes back on, diaper rinsed and in the diaper pail faster than you can say POOP.

I rock at singing The Little Birdie song, doing stinky feet and playing with the shape sorter.

I rock at being Eva’s mom.

So, there. I said it. I rock. I may not rock in all the ways I wish I could but I rock in the ways God intended me to. And that’s what matters.

So, come on. Spill it.

What do you rock at?