Fashion Friday: Let's kick it outta here!

I lied yesterday.

You know how I said I had no time to shop? Well, after I got my hair done, I went to the mall to pick up new boots because the last time I bought a functional pair, well, it was about 4 years ago. Holes in them, they have (why am I talking like Yoda these days?)

Anyhoo, after my haircut (which I love, and hereforth is a picture from G's-eye-view of me in my favourite room)....

I had to buy some of these Diesel-knock-offs (at 30% off, who has time to wait for Boxing day?)


And of course these were there too, just begging to be purchased. I like the grommets, and bands, my gladiator-style footwear for the winter...


Did I mention that I like buckles? I bought these boots last August in Iceland and I am still loving them immensely. Not for winterwear, but they're a neat shade of taupe/grey for the fall. And I can walk in them.



I like these short booties for going out on the town. Something I do every decade or so (I jest, but these tend to be the only booties I wear lately when I get a little "dressed up").


And now my pseudo cowboy boots. I had all sorts of more "authentic" looking ones in the 80s and 90s. I even had a white/red pair with stars a la Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders at one point. Ewwww. But this Anne Klein pair I picked up in NYC I guess almost 2 years ago now.


And to round things up, here are my "What was I thinking, they're suede-y and sorta cute in a Pocahantas tassle way" boots." Well, they were cheap, a fashion item and I still throw them on occasionally with my jeans.



So these boots were made for walking, and that's just what I'll do. That's it for NaBloPoMo. It's been a real slice; glad I did it, glad I managed to survive it, and I'm super glad that I found so many fantastic blogs and new bloggy friends.

(cute monkey courtesy of Mrs. Fussypants)

Have a great weekend!

Thursday Thirteen - edition #1

Well NaBlo is coming down to the wire, and I am stressed to the gills... about other things, so this does offer some modicum of relief, if not just to vent, or perhaps to somehow try to stay on top of things. By recording for the blogosphere what I should be doing. Permanent record. Accountability.

So, thirteen reasons that December is going to be a crazy ride:

1. Project deadline loomed, and still looming. Mucho work to do, dwindling time to do it.

2. Hubby's birthday next week. Have a dinner planned, know who with, just don't know where yet.

3. Christmas shopping; haven't started, panic is starting to slowly rumble in the pit of my stomach.

4. Christmas decorating; need to get the tree up and house in order. Kids make it mandatory -- dropping the ball a dangerous thing.

5. Christmas photos with Santa. G already knows that Santa lives at the mall. She can't wait to sit on the old man's lap. L will need convincing, big time. Will the Wii be enough?

6. Christmas photos and cards. Need to pay our annual fee to Canada post.

7. Hosting a holiday dinner on weekend before Christmas.

8. Little G's birthday is 3 days before Christmas. Hosting a small family birthday party for her.

9. Oh yes, birthday present required. Will likely consist of "Hippopotamus, Hippo Hungry" (aka Hungry, Hungry, Hippo -choking hazard extravaganza), which she has been chanting everytime she has a successful potty moment.

10. Three other birthdays of very important family members in December. Spring has been a very, uh-hum, busy time in this family.

11. Two days later, hosting Christmas Eve dinner for Hubby's side of family. Everyone staying over. Super-excited. House will be full and fun.

12. Christmas day at my parents' place for more Christmas festivities. And pigging out. And fun times with new babies et al.

13. Menuplanning for all of the above. Did I mention Christmas?

Have you noticed that most of the above involves shopping in one form or another? Something I have absolutely no time for anymore, much to someone's delight and my utter dismay.

However, NaBloPoMo will be over. I've been having a great time checking out great blogs, making great new blog friends. But the daily rush has been pure panic at times. So while I'll still be blogging actively, it will likely at a more manageable pace.

Today is a head shearing day...for yours truly and her little man. Hope no tears are involved.

Wish us luck.

WORDLESS WEDNESDAY

BAD

MUCH BETTER

CAN YOU HEAR THE ANGELS SINGING?

Enough about me... a meme about the Man

I can dress him up...


He puts the kids to bed...



He takes them drinking...

How can I not love him?

I borrowed this meme from Danigirl at Postcards from the Mothership, who in turn I think borrowed it from Slouching Mom. Both uber bloggers of the highest degree. I worked on this a while ago, saving it for a rainy NaBloPoMo day. So it's a windy NaBlo day, the perfect opportunity...

1. Who is your man?
Ian, the hubster, a.k.a. Dad, Dadster, Daddy.

2. How long have you been together?
It’s been over 20 years – whew! And despite my tendency to do so, I am not exaggerating.

3. How long did you date?
We dated almost 6 years before we got engaged. We did quite a bit of couple stuff before taking the plunge. A bit of a weird period at the end there, some contentious stuff, but all worked out in the end.

4. How old is your man?
A three years older than me, so mid-30-10s.

5. Who eats more?
Gotta be me. I have a huge appetite and can barely restrain myself. He has some restraint. Maybe that’s the difference.

6. Who said “I love you” first?
I think it was him actually. And me probably in the next split second.

7. Who is taller?
He is, about 5 inches or so.

8. Who sings better?
Me; I’m not the best but I can even harmonize if I’m intoxicated. He’s worse. He tries and can hit some but not most notes.

9. Who is smarter?
Hmm… tough one. I think he is ultimately. I perhaps am more book smart, and I pick things up pretty quickly, but I keep it in the brain only when I need it. Other than that, I throw it out of my mind. Does that make me more operationally efficient, being “Just In Time” with my knowledge? I have a mind for stupid, trivial facts, but that lowers my smart quotient in my opinion.

Ian actually absorbs the information, retains it and is able to use it later, sometimes eons later. And he can relay the information and frame it so others understand it easily. He should have been a teacher.

10. Whose temper is worse?
Mine, hands down.

11. Who does the laundry?
I’d say 60/40 with him being 60.

12. Who takes out the garbage?
I take it to the garage; he takes it to the curb. I do all the recycling because "smart" me proved that I could package things better. Who’s the smart one again?

13. Who sleeps on the right side of the bed?
Which way are you looking? If you’re looking at the head, him; if at the foot, me.

14. Who pays the bills?
Me, because I’m in front of the computer all day.

15. Who is better with the computer?
Probably him, but I’m a faster at keying.

16. Who mows the lawn?
We have a lawn service. Spoiled, I know. But it beats having him spend most weekends mowing. Because I don’t do anything green or that needs watering. You can call me Black Thumb.

17. Who cooks dinner?
Me, if you can call it that. It’s always been that way, even when I worked out of the home and before kids. I was always home first, and I do the groceries, so it makes sense.

18. Who drives when you are together?
Him. Although ironically it was my driving skills that first turned him on about me.

On the night he asked me out, we were meeting a bunch of other students from work. I had a car so I gave him a lift. While we were on the highway, a huge roll of fiberglass fell off this truck in front of us. I swerved quickly to the right without hitting any traffic, then moved right back into the original lane. All within a blink of an eye. I didn't even stop the conversation. Like that sort of thing happens to me everyday. He was more than impressed.

He HAD to ask me out at the end of the evening.

19. Who pays when you go out?
Well, he does ultimately as he’s the one bringing home the major bacon right now. But I’ll sometimes take out the joint credit card.

20. Who is most stubborn?
Uh, that would be moi.

21. Who is the first to admit when they are wrong?
Uh, that would not be moi. Never. Are you feeling sorry for Ian yet?

22. Whose parents do you see the most?
Mine, as Ian’s are unfortunatey deceased.

23. Who kissed who first?
That has to be a joint one. The kiss that was to last a lifetime. Sealed the deal from day one. The topic of a separate post all on its own.

24. Who asked who out?
He asked me. See number 18 above.

25. Who proposed?
He did. More deets at a later time.

26. Who is more sensitive?
Well, if you mean sensitive about myself and to criticism, that would be me. Although I have grown a thicker shell as I get older, and certainly once I became a parent.

As far as sensitive to others, Ian is definitely more tenderhearted. He has a natural affinity towards people; he loves children and babies (I do as well, but he's a natural with them, always the first to pick them up and babies NEVER cry when he's holding them!).

And I'm the bad guy with the kids. I'm the one who yells. When Daddy's mad, things have got to be REALLY bad. He's definitely the softie around them.

27. Who has more friends?
Probably him, although it may be close nowadays as I've met more people since staying at home. After joining a gazillion mothers groups and meeting up with parents at the playground. He's always been much better at the social thing than me. I'm the type of person who finds it painful sometimes to pick up the phone. It's probably leftover behaviour from my first job out of school in customer service. I think after averaging about 500 calls a week, I never got past dreading a phone call.

28. Who has more siblings?
He does, he's got 2 brothers, one sister. I've got two siblings, one of each.

29. Who wears the pants in the family?
Although it's a pretty equal partnership, bottom line it would be him. I'm the louder one, but I'm all bark, not so much bite.

I always defer major decisions to him; everything requires his input. Not so much because he demands it, as he's fully confident in my decisions. But because I trust his instincts and his decisions. His opinion on most things can make or break me. Thank goodness he's my greatest supporter. He really is my rock.

However, my pants are definitely nicer. Now that he's thrown out most of his Dockers, we're in the market for more slimming, more "now" pants for him. Gotta get back to work as his personal shopper.

Well that was fun! Only three more days, so NaBlow Me .... whoot!!!!

Manic Monday :Rank

Yesterday was Grey Cup day, Saskatchewan vs. Winnipeg playing in the big stadium. It was a Father/Son/Girlie chili evening. I’m not a football fan. I don’t even understand the game, and normally Ian isn’t much into the spectator sports. But he’s a guy, so he catches every major final that comes his way. I just let him do his thing yesterday as he puttered around the house and garage, and then made dinner. Poured me a glass of wine once the meal was made and told me to join them at half-time. And I did leave the office, because who did I hear emanating from our spanking new TV?

Lenny Kravitz!!

What?! Was this a Canadian event? What was he doing there? Why did I care, as long as he was?! He was fantastic, and even though it was only about three songs, it was such a treat to see. He had a bit of plumber butt showing every so often, much to the amusement of L.

With all this hootin’ and hollerin’ (not from yours truly) going on during the game, this championship thing got me thinking. Why is it so important to aim for number 1? What is it that drives us to try to be the best at everything? Why do we have this innate need to be the first, to achieve the top rank? In class, in sports, at work, at life?

Given a choice, would you not want a number one ranking over being in last place?

So much pressure, so much stress.

Maybe it would just be easier if one stank at everything one did.

Stank perhaps, as in as rank as the mossy underwear sitting in the pile festering in the corner of my bathroom. You'd think we had some Grey Cup players living in this place.

I think I need to do some laundry.

Weekly Winners

Nope, he just can't sit still...

He's going through the "I don't wanna smile for the camera" years...krump!

And the Girl got hold of the camera one day...

Self portrait...

DVD junkie...

Mommy's singing too

Karen, well she got a job
And so it’s hard to Na-Blow

L – A - M - E - O
L – A - M - E - O
L – A - M - E - O

So that's this post -- it's LAME-O!

Fashion Friday: What I Won’t Be Wearing this Holiday Season

After the last couple of editions, you probably figure that I slum it most days. Being a SAHM/WAHM is pretty much about dressing and feeling comfy and relaxed. We can’t all be Katie Holmes or Posh Spice Beckham. Honestly, you’re not going to get far through the soccer field pushing your stroller with 3 inch stilettos on your pedicured toesies. Lululemon yoga pants have been “luxury” for me these last few years. Especially since they stretch out to yonder, but stretch right back. Into place and they still manage to make the most of every ass that inhabits them.

Alas, there was a life before this Stay-At-Home-ness. There was a career, a job at a big company that had big celebrations at holiday time. And often even throughout the year at annual meetings, product launches, or just because the company was doing well. When most companies were doing well.

Being a girlie-girl, and self-professed shopaholic, it’s been an annual tradition of mine to purchase a party frock to attend these “galas” of both mine and my husband’s organizations. I always rationalized the purchases with the fact that I would actually wear the outfit more than once (practical woman that I am) as chances were remote that the same people would be at both parties. So these lovely numbers wouldn’t necessarily rot in my closet after only one appearance. I still somehow managed to keep this tradition up the last two years even though there’s only been the one company function. After all, I still have to look half decent as the “wife” of my “company guy” husband.

Well, this year, there won’t be the usual holiday affair. Which I’ve heard is becoming more the norm as companies are tightening the belts, people are wanting to be rewarded in other ways (eg. more family time; or just “show me the money”); not everyone wants to “party all the time, party all the time” with workmates and the spouses whose names they always forget. But Ian’s group will still be having something, hosted by his boss. A smaller, more intimate but decidedly more casual affair. Which should be fun.

But enough preamble. Let’s wipe away the cobwebs and journey through holiday glam party dress past... (apologies for the fuzziness - time is short, blurry had to do)

This grey number with satiny gun metal bust is as close as I got to Herve Leger corset style. As in it hugged the body amazingly well. I was so happy to still be able to get into it after Liam was born. But only just... haven't tried again since, don't want to witness too much unnecessary fold action:

This cute thing Ian called my ugly carpet dress. Nice guy, isn't he? He just doesn't understand fashion. It's a dress by the defunct but now born again Damzels in this Dress, a Canadian design duo. Another clingy number, I really liked the buckle shoulder straps. Again, not worn since before baby girl was born. But I'd still like to if Ian decides to wear blinders.

This dress I loved for its back. It's a dark brown velour fabric, oh so comfortable , oh so elegant, to the floor. Perfect for winter.

This following sparkly number I bought four years ago for my brother's wedding. I call it my Joan Collins Dynasty dress. Because I am soooo not a sparkly glitter type of gal. But for some reason this spoke to me, and unfortunately nobody had to fortitude to speak to ME about how tacky it might be.

I did however, wear it again because I paid a bloody amount more than I should have. So here we are in our holiday glory the year before I got pregnant with little G:

I picked up this BCBG Max Azria gown earlier this year to attend the Brazilian Ball. What a spectacle that was! I loved the gown, although I had to wear toe-splitting heels in order to carry off the length. Thank goodness I had my Crocs to drive home in.

I did post about those festivities. But as a reminder of how it looked on, with the perfect accessory:
But this is my favourite dress so far. It's my beloved Nicole Miller cocktail length I picked up for last year's gala. Love this number, even though Liam calls it my "garbage bag" dress. It can be dressed up as much as much as I like, but I could still probably get away with wearing it just out for a nice night on the town. With the hubby. Something that's long overdue ... what a good idea! I think that can be arranged.

Happy Thanksgiving to all my friends to the south, and happy weekend to all!

Come Rain, Come Snow, Come Sleet

...pelting on my window this morning at 5:21 AM. Like the playground pebbles that L and his friends whip carelessly at each other as they run in playful circles around the park. Except that these ice pellets are making contact at an alarmingly annoying rate, reminding me that my kids do not yet have boots, and that I need to get to Walmart as the doors open this morning at 7 AM. I decided that I would do that as I was watching the biblical epic known as the "Michael Kuss Weather Report" on the 11 PM news. It felt like we were watching an hour's worth of forecasting. That guy is so passionate about the weather; it actually borders on the ridiculous. How many weather stations do you need across the city to monitor the conditions and temperatures that differ no more than 1.5 deg. C at any given time?


I feel so disorganized. Don't get me wrong, this work project that has landed right on my lap is an amazingly wonderful opportunity, and is just what I've been thinking about for the last few months. In a perfect world, I suppose it would have been easier to "ease" into it a bit more gradually. Giving me time to actually set up an office, uncluttered work area, book shelves, stationery and the whole bit. But it's not a perfect world. Especially not necessarily for my kids anymore.

L and G are both really feeling the difference already. After two straight days of working, I took yesterday off for her BFF playdate. She was very clingy during the playgroup, sitting on my lap during circle time and then showing me each and every toy she was playing with. Her need for my attention was so achingly apparent.

And even L, who seems to be such a big boy most of the time, and fighting for computer time more often than not. He's been very helpful in asking when he can log on, how long he can stay on for. We have another computer but haven't had the chance to hook it up for him. And I need this one for the printer. Oh, the logistics of it all. But he's giving me encouraging hugs as I adjust, and he's attending to his little sister a bit more than he used to. And he's good as long as he can get some computer time on a laptop, sneaking in some dinner along the way. He looks a lot like me these days, in this picture...




Sometimes I forget that he's still only seven himself. Scary, how mature he can be.

And hubby, well he's just loving it.

"Get back in that office, I can handle things out here!" He's picking up the slack really well. Despite feeling like a short order cook when they're barking orders at him non-stop.

"Dad, can I have a snack. I'm thirsty, can I have a juice, no wait, chocolate milk."

"Daddy, I don't like this cereal. Can I have the other kind. I'm hungry, can I have some skittles?" "Can I have more treats. Let's stay up longer tonight." "Just one more show, one more minute."

Needless to say, he's usually in bed right after he tucks the kids in.

Welcome to my world, Daddy!

Wordless Wednesday

The world of work...

Shoot me, Elvis. Just shoot me.

Another Day, another Meme

Thanks for the comments on yesterday's post - my little guy does indeed have an ear infection. That stuff happens when you are too busy to BLOW YOUR NOSE; when you suck it all back it has to go somewhere right? Yuck! A nasty lesson for him; the good news is that the antibiotics are working already.

I got out of bed this morning and looked in the mirror, and the hair of Jon Bon Jovi stared right back at me. Which, if I were a guy in my 40s wouldn’t be such a bad thing. But I'm not, not even a guy. So I need a haircut. I don’t know what it is about my hair that ends up looking like male celebrity – the last likeness I had was Keith Urban.

Seven Weird/random things about Me, Myself and Moi:

So on that note, what other things do you just have to know about me? I’ve done the 8 random things memes once; twice,THREE times now, so you know I'm a lady. So seven's got to be easier right? I was tagged by my new blog buddy Sandy at momisodes and there is some even more trivial stuff that you just NEED to know...

1. I can’t stand seeing holes in socks. Especially at the toe. Makes me shudder.

2. I’m very finicky about my bedsheets. If they aren’t tucked in the proper way, or the blanket is flipped upside-down, I get freaky. I’ve been known to wake up my husband if he’s already nestled in, fast asleep. Terrible, I know. I can’t sleep unless the sheets are just so. Sort of like Monica on Friends. Except she’s a fictional character.

3. I have very eclectic musical taste. I just bought Rihanna’s new album and am really enjoying Kanye West’s new single “Stronger”. But my collection ranges from Glenn Gould’s Goldberg Variations, Debussy; to the jazz of Sarah Vaughan, Oscar Peterson, Diana Krall, Norah Jones; to the grunge of Soundgarden, Pearl Jam and Nirvana; rock classics like Rush, David Bowie and Iggy Pop, U2, REM, , Lenny Kravitz; ambient music such as Air; British invasion from the Beatles, Duran Duran, the Cure, the Cranberries, Suede, Verve, Coldplay; pseudo punk Green Day ; country rock of Blue Rodeo, Jim Cuddy; pop such as John Mayer, Beck, modern indie acts like Emily Haines of Metric, Feist. I haven’t even touched on Raffi yet. Gawd, I like music. With the exception of really explicit hip hop and pure country, it’s a free for all.

4. I love, love, love junk food as in potato chips and ice cream. But I think most of you already knew that from my foodie posts.

5. I love to write. I actually represented my school in a regional creative writing contest when I was in Grade 6. Unfortunately it was all downhill after that. I also learned in business school that you should keep your sentences short. Ten words is the ideal length. Hah, good luck keeping me to that rule! But thanks for being here to indulge my writing hobby.

6. I am a very impatient driver. I used to tailgate all the time. Bad me. I've gotten a lot better with that now especially since I had kids (always at least two car lengths in between... breathe...). But unfortunately my kids have learned a few choice words from the backseat of the van. Bad mommy.

7. I love coffee. A bit too much. But I have to have a couple cups in the morning, and at least one in the afternoon. And my latest guilty pleasure to go with it… Hazelnut flavoured Coffee Mate Creamer. I just bought a 1 litre bottle of the stuff – that’s right, a whole milk carton’s worth!

And that’s it! Tagging is tough, I think this one's been around a while too. But I’ll start with the following new blog buddies, as I'm so, so nosy… Badness Jones; Melissa; Gina , Anna, Rimarama, Jocelyn, GMcountrymama. And anyone else who wants to play. If you've already done it no worries. But it's great blogging filler for NaBloMe.

Be sure to let me know as I love to know more about y’all too!

Manic Monday - Relish

Zucchini. Best relish ever.

Manic Monday, today is. This is a short post. Not so sweet.

L was screaming last night during his sleep, complaining of awful pains in the ear. I was with him for a bit, Ian for a second shift. I suspect my boy has an ear infection. The girlie is being good but still a busy little thing. They're all off to the doctor to check it out. So that I can get some work done.

And of course, something is threatening in my system, uh-oh. Good timing.

Work is a MAJOR adjustment.

Thank goodness for husbands, that's all I can say. Especially husbands who are amazing Dads. Like mine. So I am relishing (as in appreciating big time) Ian today. Best Daddy Ever.

Later, taters...

Weekly Winners - My 1st Edition

I've just joined a great party at Sarcastic Mom's called Weekly Winners. Now Sarcastic Mom, she is a photographer extraordinaire... me, well, not so much. But I do love taking pictures of my kids, and for some odd reason lately (perhaps something called NaBloPoMo) pictures of my clothes.

This week my daughter decidedly became super-girly. She's been into my makeup for a little while, and to be honest, I think she's really getting the hang of the lipstick:

(just as a point of reference, I've thrown in a shot of her taken a few months ago where she hadn't quite perfected the technique):


While at the drug store this week, she made me (as in had a stomping fit) pick up a Barbie Spa kit for her. She refused the Disney Princess kit; that's apparently for babies. Barbie rules now. How did she skip over Disney at such lightning speed?

This is what she did in the car on the way home, just seconds before she screamed at me to rub it off:

She's got pretty good fine motor skills for a not-quite three year old, that I must admit.

She will only wear nail polish or make-up for about 3 minutes before she must have it all taken off so she can just be "G" again. She painted her nails another half a dozen times that day. Grrrrr!

Oh, to be the mother of a Diva.

Crazy 8’s

I've been tagged by Don Mills Diva, and it’s a more organized meme of random things. So let’s hop to it!

Eight Things I am Passionate About
1. My husband
2. My son
3. My daughter
4. My parents and extended family
5.Blogging (how’d ya guess?)
6. Music. Listening to it; hopefully after I practice more, playing again.
7. Shopping. Which is why I should be working. Like, right now.
8. My Fitness classes (BJ with the TJ)

Eight Things I Say Often
1. Do you have to go pee pee?
2. Let’s get on the potty now.
3. Hurry up!
4. Did you pack the drinks?
5. Brush your teeth.
6. Are the dishes in the dishwasher clean?
7. Let’s go to Tim Horton’s.
8. It’s in the laundry basket.

Eight Books I've Read Recently
1. Brick Lane – Monica Ali
2. The Girls - Lori Lansens
3. Brown Bear, Brown Bear -Eric Carle
4. Moo Baa La La La - Sandra Boynton
5. Shopaholic and Sister - Sophie Kinsella (not her best)
6. The Five People You Meet in Heaven – Mitch Bloom
7. The Da Vinci Code – Dan Brown
8. Balzac and the Little Chinese Seamstress - Dai Sijie

Eight Things I Want To Do Before I Die
1. Go on a cycling tour of Provence with Hubby.
2. See my kids get happily married.
3. Know my grandkids.
4. Go on a speedboat ride in New Zealand.
5. Go to Hong Kong and China with hubby and the kids.
6. Go shopping in Milan and be able to afford to buy something.
7. Go vacationing on the Greek Islands.
8. Visit Russia.

Eight Songs I Can Listen To Over and Over
(– only 8? Hmmm, I must confess I’ve been listening to the 80’s station on Sirius lately)
1. Strange Love – Depeche Mode
2. Dance Away – Roxy Music
3. Inside and Out – Feist
4. Lust for Life – Iggy Pop
5. Wishful Thinking – China Crisis
6. Somewhere Only We Know- Keane
7. Karma Police - Radiohead
8.In Between Days – the Cure

Eight Things That Attract Me To My Friends
1. They think I’m funny.
2. They like me.
3. Their openness
4. Good conversation
5. Loyalty
6. Good basic hygiene.
7. Their sense of fashion. A girl can always learn
8. If they’re laid back, it’s great. I can be hyper. A ying-yang thing.

Eight Things I Learned In The Past Year
1. A marriage can survive a major renovation. Intact.
2. My kids are growing up way too quickly.
3. Exercise gets even more important as you get older.
4. I actually kinda like the stay at home mom gig. Apparently I’m more laid back now and less scary.
5. I think I may like the work at home gig better.
6. I never knew one could care so much about a kitchen sink.
7. I like my hair longer.
8. My parents are the best. Beyond the best. I already knew that, but as they hit a big milestone birthday this past year, I’ve seen how busy they are with all their children and grandchildren, and their business, their travel, and their socializing and am in constant wonder. I only hope that I have their energy, fortitude and generosity when I’m their age.

I'm always forgetting to TAG! This is a long one, maybe tuck it away for when you need it. If you've survived this and haven't done it already, you are SO IT!

Fashion Friday: T -zone

Well, since I started this feature last week in honour of NaBloPoMo, I thought, wow, I've got a whole wardrobe I could feature. There's some great filler.

Scraping the bottom, here folks. But at least I've grouped the clothing by families, even though it is rather painful still, I'm not going through my closet one item at a time. At least not yet.

Here's a leftover from last week, a hoodie dénouement shall we say:

I forgot about that one. I bought that just before I got hugely pregnant with G. So I've worn it every summer since she's been born, and a lot. Because I can. And I never thought I would again, because I was freakishly hugely pregnant.

So what does one wear with all those lovely hoodies? Why, a cute T-shirt, thanks for asking. I own a selection of T-shirts which would be better suited to a 14 year old girl. Is it a mid-life thing? Maybe now that I ain't got MILK anymore, I'm aiming for MILF.

Whatever it is, I finally did get rid of a lot of those belly-baring tops that have been sitting at the bottom of my closet since baby #1 was born. Because this belly is now pretty much in hiding, unless we're on the beach and I've had a few cerveza.

Here's my Paul, everyone should have a Paul, they're so cute (although I'm more like Emily the Strange). Lboyloves this T-shirt:

>

Here's my small Paul:

I used to root for Betty, but as I get older, I have more of an appreciation for Veronica. Hence this number:
Here are my more "clubby, dress-up T's" that can go under jackets or hoodies. Or they scream tacky, tacky, tacky. It depends on what mood I'm in.

But this is the T-shirt that is hopefully headed my way soon...

She can keep the piercing though. Gotta draw the line somewhere.

My Angel: Mindfreak

“Abba-ca-dabba… and Mommy is a lion.”

G is pointing her magical Tinkertoy baton in my direction.

Okay, that’s easy!

“Rooooaaarrr!” I growl at her. She giggles.

“Abba-ca-dabba... and Mommy is a statue”.

Hmmm, another easy one. I just keep my face frozen in a downward gaze. I’ll have to admit, I’m only half-way paying attention to her; the other half is trying to sort out two dozen piles of documents spread around the floor. I guess my stupefied expression is enough to satisfy her.

“Abba-ca-dabba… Mommy is my mommy!”

I missed that one. Still staring at the papers, trying to make sense of them, putting together a filing system in my head … her little voice only registers fleetingly with me.

“Abba-ca-dabba… MOMMY IS MY MOMMY!”

She’s gesticulating frantically in my direction, waiting for me to respond and come back to earth.

I snap out of it and give her a smile.

“YAY, the magic worked. Mommy is back. I love you Mommy!”

Now if only that magic baton could grant Mommy a few extra hours in the day…and perhaps an extra brain!

Wordless Wednesday

Baby Fix

Baby Cousin Love

Crunched...

...for time. Yikes, it's getting closer to the line for me every day now.

I had a great lunch with a friend today, actually an old boss, who I hadn't seen since little G was born. She actually hired me for my first job in my profession. But she took a short leave of absence after I joined, to be home for her kids as her longtime nanny had just left. She's amazing, a busy mother with a Ph.D. and some smarts despite her advanced degree (I jest, but you'd be surprised at how insular some Ph.D's can be). So she's been a consultant in the industry, and doing quite well. In fact, when I was working in the "big company", we even hired her to do a few projects for us. She's had some setbacks in her personal life in the last few years, but we've always maintained a connection, even though the communication has been only a few times a year. It was so nice to see that she's doing well, looking great, and she's pulling back on her work to enjoy life a little more.

She and her business partner had asked me years ago, when I was on maternity leave with L, if I would consider working with them. I was quite honoured, as they're both seasoned professionals, with tons of experience and the most down-to-earth Ph.D's I knew. It seemed too distant an idea for me then. I was enjoying the company I was at, the camraderie, the mood of the company. And the bond I had with my department at the time, made leaving seem like a crazy thing to do. [We had a good thing going, in fact I still get together with that group about three times a year. It was sort of magical how well we bonded, halcyon days really.] But I filed that thought away, thinking that it might be an option at some point.

Well, I guess that point was today! She asked whether I would be interested in taking on some work! I'd been thinking about approaching her, to get my feet wet with a project here or there. I've actually been contemplating doing some work for a little while now. Now that G is a little more independent, and Liam certainly doesn't need me as much as he did when he was younger, it seems a logical progression. I've been feeling a bit bereft of my career. Don't get me wrong, I'm so glad I've been able to be at home for my kids. But for a little while now I feel that I've been missing a little part of me. Which is one of the reasons I started this blog, as it is my own thing, my own space. But I've also been missing a little part of my bank account and the independence that having an income of my very own, was giving me. I don't want to go back to any old thing, though. That full-time gig isn't in the cards for me now; but if I can set my own hours and do my own thing, well that's a whole other story.

A few weeks back I was approached to teach a course at college; but the hours weren't convenient for me, childminding arrangements would have been impossible, and to be honest, I couldn't fathom having to lecture about Good Manufacturing Practices for a 3 hour evening class. And then prepare for a couple of exams within a space of a couple of weeks. Not as my first dip back into the working world.

So, while I'm super-excited about this opportunity, and hopefully it is the start of a new type of career for me, I know this will make my Nablopomo mission very difficult. There are deadlines of another kind that need to be met now. I've been making such progress, too!

I will still endeavour to post everyday, but won't likely be able to comment as much as I would like! And the posts will probably be shorter, but hopefully sweeter.

So, until tomorrow...

Manic Monday: Gravy

Oyster sauce + corn starch + water = No Fail Gravy

It's amazing the things you can learn by osmosis.

I'm almost reluctant to admit this, but I'm one of those few who lived at home and didn't move out until after I got married. Mind you, it was pretty shortly thereafter (moved into the condo the next morning after the wedding reception). I commuted to university. I stayed after I got my first job, after I got my first car. I guess my mom cooked with too much cheese (touch of Canadiana here). And when things got more serious with Ian, I toyed with the idea of moving in with him, especially since we were living in different cities for a while. But I couldn't bring myself to do it. Being the firstborn, there's always this niggling sense of responsibility, an innate need to set the good example. And living "in sin" wasn't necessarily the best example, growing up with the double-whammy guilt in a Chinese-Catholic household.

But if I'm really honest, I was never comfortable with that whole concept for myself. Sure, it's fine for others, and it does work as millions of couples have done so for years, and will continue to do so. It's almost become a relationship norm these days. A lot of Ian's friends were living common-law. Funny enough, none of my friends were living common-law. We saw a few couples break up, and for me, co-habitating before marriage didn't cement the relationship enough. Not that I didn't feel the commitment, it just didn't sit right with me. At least this way I was able to save enough to contribute to a half-decent downpayment on our first house. Maybe I was just paving the way for all these young people these days who are moving home to do just that.

My mother was and still is an amazing cook. You would never know that she couldn't even boil water until she was 18 years old, when she herself had left home to study in England. So while living at home, I never did the cooking. I was always delegated to prep-chef, or the clean-up crew. I clean a mean dish. I did enjoy trying to cook the odd meal, but it would always be inevitably taken over by Mom at some point. After all it was her kitchen, and I could never quite do the things her right way. So I was content with my role. I wasn't at home for a lot of the meals anyway, once I got going with work and running around town with Ian.

My sister, on the other hand, decided to get her second degree at the other end of the country, in lovely B.C. While I knew I would miss her, it also gave me a wonderful excuse to go visit her out there, several times during the period that she went to school, lived and worked there. I remember one visit with her, we were cooking dinner and she didn't know how she wanted to do the vegetable side dish. I checked her cupboards and sure enough, she had those key ingredients. I poured some of the oyster sauce into a bowl, added some water and then about a teaspoon of corn starch for a fairly thin consistency. I didn't make it too thick because we wanted a little gravy to go with the rice as well. I threw it over the veggies in the pan, watched it bubble up, and we were set. My sister looked at me and was impressed.

"Where'd you learn to do that?" she asked.

"Haven't you seen Mom do that all the time? " I replied.

"No, not that I recall. That was pretty good, Missy" (her nickname for me).

This came from my sister, who is also now an amazing cook. And by amazing I mean that she can throw things together without a recipe. I don't know if it's the scientist in me, but I need a recipe for everything, and I treat every recipe like a lab experiment. Everything is measured out exactly, timed to the millisecond; I've been known to keep cooking something in the oven even if it's obviously burning, because it's got another five minutes to go according to the recipe. Nope, I'm not a chef. But for this gravy, nary a measuring spoon or cup is ever used.

So whenever I'm in a gravy crunch, those three ingredients do it for me. One of the reminders that living at home with the parents for all those years wasn't so bad after all.

Remembering

"There's so many different worlds
So many different suns
And we have just one world
But we live in different ones

Now the sun's gone to hell
And the moon's riding high
Let me bid you farewell
Every man has to die
But it's written in the starlight
And every line on your palm
We're fools to make war
On our brothers in arms"
-Dire Straits

Today is Remembrance Day. At the 11th hour of this 11th day of the 11th month, my children actually came into the kitchen with me to listen to the radio while a brief reading of the poem "In Flanders Fields" came on the airwaves. They were silent, my usually incessantly chatty kids, listening to the words and the accompanying music.

My father-in-law was in WWII. He's the only person I have ever personally known who was a soldier. He was a navigator on a navy ship, hunting down German submarines. He had lied about his age to get enlisted. I think a lot of young men did that back then. I just can't imagine going to war at such a young age.

I didn't have a chance to get to know my father-in-law very well. He passed away during the very early part of my relationship with Ian. We were just dating, and Ian's Dad had just been diagnosed with multiple myeloma. So I did not know him very long, didn't spend much time with him before he died as he was sick. I only got to know him from the way that Ian would talk about him, the stories that were told about him by my mother-in-law and Ian's siblings. I could tell that he was a wonderful man, father and grandfather even from that short time. Unfortunately he didn't live to see us get married, or to see his additional grandchildren that came along so many years later.

There are reminders of him in our home. Including a picture of his naval ship which hangs proudly in this study. And his helmet, the one from WWII, with his name etched into the metal. L is fascinated with it and tells his friends proudly that his Grandpa was a soldier in the war. He says that with a lot of reverence. Which is the way it should be, for any and all soldiers who have ever fought for liberty, or who are now keeping the peace. But especially for the brave Grandpa that he never got the chance to know.

Dance de Podium

What, I haven’t posted about my gym activities in over 4 weeks? Will have to remedy that.

For my newer blogfriends (and thanks for coming by, seems my tireless NaBloHoing is working… keep them comments coming!), let me explain. I have a slight cardiac-arrest- waiting-to-happen obsession called “Body Jam”. And, at the advice of my mature (cough) niece Jolene, I will henceforth refrain from using the acronym BJ for it. Because apparently it can also stand for something else. Involving a different kind of dance. Oh, to be in my 20’s again when I would think that way.

So, Body Jam is a hip-hop dance aerobic class that I take at the gym twice or sometimes three times a week. I credit it for instilling in me an appreciation of music from the likes of Justin Timberlake, Timbaland, Rihanna, Beyonce, even Fallout Boy etc…which frankly I never really had before. I also have a favourite instructor by the name of T.J., who I follow around from gym to gym. He is an awesome dancer, super nice guy, who tolerates my hootin’ and a hollerin’ during the class. Yes, he’s even said he really “appreciates my enthusiasm” as it makes the class rock. I love you Teej.

The latest routine (or release, as they call them), has some Latin rhythms (J.Lo), some rock dance (I don’t know how else to describe it, robotic Thriller-like moves) and this one part that they call “Dance de Podium”. You’re supposed to imagine that you’re dancing on a podium, for 100 of your closest rave friends. Or for me, the closest I want to get to pole-dancing as a form of exercise (although there is a studio not far away that has opened up pole-dancing class). But there’s this killer cardiac aerobic section, where you bounce two-footed shifting your weight from one leg to the other, like a boxer or if you’re on a trampoline; and then when you’re comfortable with that, you can take it to the next level and jump in that pattern. And finally, Level 2, where you stick your heel to the ground of each leg that you lift as you bounce to the other side. Hard to explain, this is what it looks like...



With Ian being away this past week, I missed my Tuesday night party with Teej and all my regular Body Jam peeps. So I made up for it by attending a Tuesday morning class led by another instructor, Pat, at the Women's only club. Well Pat, she's a SAHM, who studied ballet and dance at University, but decided to stay home after she had her kids, who are now 4 and 2. So she teaches these few classes during the week, Body Jam and the yoga/pilates class as well.

Well, as most SAHMs, she succumbed to her kids' sickness last week, and wasn't quite fully recovered for this class. And when we got to this section, she told us that she would not be able to show the Level 2 part because of her cold. But she says to ME, into the mike, "Can you do Level 2?" To which I nodded and she gestured to me to come on up and demonstrate it. Well, I was really caught up in the moment, jumped up on the podium/stage with her, and kept the Level 2 going while she showed the Level 1 option. Can you say, "Karen does Courteney Cox in Bruce Springsteen's Video Dancing in the Dark?" with a straight face? Not a stadium full of screaming fans, but I was on a podium, in front of 20 strange women (not my usual class), praying that I could keep up the crazy hopping and not pee in my pants.

When I first took this class and found that I have an affinity for it, I fleetingly thought about perhaps trying to teach it. I'm a weirdo, in that I have zero endurance for all things aerobically challenging such as hiking, biking, climbing... I'm a huffer puffer. But for step and dance aerobics, I could probably go on for hours on end. It's got to be psychological. But Ian confirms, I'm just a weirdo. So I could probably pull it off. If I weren't so self-conscious and perhaps if I had started maybe 10 years ago.

But actually being up there, even for the mere seconds, made me really happy to get down. It would be much too difficult to have to learn the mirror image choreography and shout out the moves singingly. I think I'll just stick to the partipant part, rather than lead the party.

But I did manage to keep my pants dry. Did my daughter proud. After all:

“Superheroes pee in the toilet, not in their big girl underwear”
-SuperG, Friday Nov 9, before bed.

Fashion Friday: Who's in your hood edition

Been a bit of a rough week. Ian’s been away for work for most of it; it’s always a little more exhausting when it’s just me alone with the kids. But they’re good, for the most part. Except when they’re screaming banshees. L’s at home today with this ferocious cough he caught from the wicked kid who has invaded his table at school – the nerve of that kid, not covering his mouth whenever he coughs! My boy, such the good school citizen, wanted to stay home so as not to spread the sickness around. In all seriousness; and not just because he wants to play his Nintendo games all day.

I also found out that our backdoor neighbours’ house was robbed this past weekend. Pretty awful. At least they weren't home and no one was hurt. Apparently there were eggs used to trash the place. Very thoughtful of those creeps who did it. Another reason it was such a good time for Ian to be away.

And then there’s all this NaBloPoMoHo-ing I’ve been doing. I’m so busy checking out blogs, trying to come up with witty comments and interesting, blog-worthy material on a daily basis. It’s madness. I can’t keep up! But I am absolutely awestruck by the writing talent that is out there. Awestruck and dumbstruck. Glad there's no talking involved in blogging.

So this is what I’ve been reduced to today - Fashion Friday, of the hooded variety.

I’ve been digging the hoodie as a wardrobe staple since I had the Girlie. It's an easy casual look that upgrades the typical sweatshirt, that works with T's, jeans, flats, sneakers ... a young look that I can still sort of get away with. At least most other moms with young kids still wear them, so I still qualify in that category, if not strictly by age.

But what made me think I could get away with this?

Yes people, that is a SNAKE on this hoodie. That I bought about two years ago, on the Esprit sale rack. Hmmmm, I wonder why it was such a bargain? And I wonder what possessed me to buy it, knowing there was a slithery thing in that otherwise picturesque floral montage. I think I'd forgotten what was on there, after all, it is on the back of the shirt. I just took a closer look today. There's also a miniature of the same design on the front. Call me legally blind or ignorant; or both. And yes I'm wearing it now; but I don't think I will show it out of the house, ever again.

I bought the following sweet hoodie last summer. It's pretty butterflies and soft orange colour were what caught my eye initially. But it was its fabulous slimming length that cinched the deal for me. Came all the way down past the pelvic bones. Buh-bye muffin tops!


The following picture basically tells the hoodie evolution in my wardrobe, in a nutshell. The one on the left, the soft pink velour with brown and white stripe on the arms? Cutesy sparkly emblem, with a matching pair of velour track pants? In a size extra extra large? All sorts of WRONG! That was one of the first hoodie purchases I made after G was born. Big and roomy, I guess as I was still nursing. I needed a bit more room up top. Unfortunately that room upstairs is now vacant, so the space is no longer needed. So I'll limit velour leisure suit purchases to the toddler variety from now on.

Now the blue hoodie on the right, that is what I call my elegant hoodie. A classic blue colour, it has a very luxurious lining in the hood. Hard to describe the texture, similar to a threaded boa. And the hood can unzip to become a chic shawl collar, should the occasion arise when I want to switch things up a little, you know, live on the edge a bit. An evening hoodie. SJP might even wear it; if she's slumming. I've come a long way through this 'hood, baby.

Next week, maybe we'll do T's? For a sneak peek, here's my signature.

Happy Weekend.