Author Archives: So Here's Us.... life on the raggedy edge.

About So Here's Us.... life on the raggedy edge.

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I'm a bookworm, nature lover, kick-boxer, candy fiend, sci fi geek, home body, progressive Christian and part-time student. I love my crazy life and the messy, fun, stubborn, silly, brilliant people who populate it.

Hockey Porn in Canada

This post is a product of my sick sense of humor and not at all family friendly,

but as far as I’m concerned neither is Hockey Night in Canada.

I wrote this to make my husband laugh. I never intended to post it. I was really bored because it feels like we’ve been watching hockey FOREVER. Remember the lockout? That was fun.

hockey

Today my husband got an alarmed email entitled “Gustavsson has a tender groin!” He opened it immediately. Because, apparently, this was breaking news.

Now usually he wouldn’t be too keen to discuss another man’s groin. He’s squeamish like that. But the rules are different when it comes to hockey.

As I write this the TV announcers keep me snickering away with beauties like:

Mason Raymond just couldn’t get it up!

He only had one hand on the shaft.

It’s still loose in the slot.

He’s got such a long stick.

He slides it in deep.

Men who wouldn’t normally pass up a “that’s what she said” joke don’t even seem to notice.

Maybe I’m just excessively bored. And immature. And hey, if you can’t enjoy sports, at least you can mock it.

Welcome back NHL!

So here’s me, cheering for the Canucks or whichever team means I have to watch fewer playoff games this year.

Anything to add to my list? Golf also provides some great material for those of us with a Jr-High-level-of-immature sense of humour.


To Love and To Cherish in Real Life

Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength,

while loving someone deeply gives you courage.

~ Lao Tzu

Cherishing…

romanceIt’s not like in the movies. Where they roll the credits and the absurdly good-looking, skinny folks prance off into the wild, blue yonder with nothing but adventure and excitement and passion and equallly good-looking children in their future. Of course, the good-looking children arrive to well coifed, only slightly flustered Moms after 20 minutes of pushing (and the dramatic breaking-of-the-water-in-the-restaurant scene, which always seemed strangely thrilling to me).

In real life, there’s a lot more sweat. And tears. And long stretches of less exciting stuff.

In real life, cherishing is less about passion and more about dirty socks. And casserole. And scraping your wife’s windshield for her.

In real life, marriage is work. But it’s worth it. Not because of the Hollywood-esque perfection of it, but the gritty closeness. The intimacy of the mundane. The humour that doesn’t come with a laugh track, because no one else would get it, but just the two of you.

You can’t cherish someone in a 90 minute highlight reel. It takes a lifetime.

STOP

5minutefridayOnce again, I’m joining Lisa-Jo Baker for her Five Minute Friday writing challenge.

1. Write for 5 minutes flat – no editing, no over thinking, no backtracking

2. Link back here and invite others to join in.

3. Please visit the person who linked up before you & encourage them in their comments. That is like the one rule we all really care about. For reals.

So here’s me, where cherishing looks a lot like taking out the recycling bin. And for the record, there’s passion too. Especially if you volunteer to wrestle the kids into their pjs and put them to bed, so that your wife can write her blog.


Starting Over

candycornI blame Chinese food. And Dairy Queen. And the bag of Christmas candy corn I found in my daughters toy box.

Because who can resist the siren song of stale, month-old candy?

Not me apparently. I devoured it like a junkie who happened upon a forgotten stash. It didn’t even taste good.

The only thing worse than stale, month-old Christmas candy corn is the guilt from eating stale, month-old Christmas candy corn.

So much for eating healthy this year.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not all failure and embarrassing binges around here. Some days I win. But even then I have to watch myself. It’s stunning how quickly I can move from fatalistic self defeat to overconfident delusions of grandeur.

Case in point, the day I cleaned the house from top to bottom (withOUT eating anything I found along the way) and elypticalled myself to the moon and back. Feeling smug, I spent the rest of the day watching the Food Network while ignoring my children.

I don’t even like to cook.

So much for being a more attentive parent this year.

Soar or stumble – I can twist it into an excuse. To indulge. To give up. To sabotage myself. Time and again, it’s the one task at which I rarely fail.

This year I’m trying to change the game. I will focus only on TODAY. There is no tipping point. There is no pressure to be perfect. There is no tomorrow or next month or the rest of my life resting on what I do right now. There is only TODAY.

Thank you to Melanie at onlyabreath.com for the graphic!

I seem to function better without the weight of all that still-to-come. I still fill in the calendar and keep track of “things to do” and make plans for our family. I’m still mindful of the things I need to do better. But I only hold myself responsible for what I can get done between “Mama… up” (boy-speak for: wake up and pay attention to my cuteness) and “…but I’m almost done this chapter” (preteen-speak for: none of my friends have a bedtime so lights out is lame and besides I’m not even tired yet).

Some days it works. Some days there are temptations and trials and I slip back into worry-pressure-procrastinate-medicate-with-food/tv/Internet-hate-myself-STRESS. But even that isn’t the end of the world.

Every day I am starting over.

It’s only been a few weeks. The jury’s still out on whether I’m doing better or worse at: eating healthy, staying active, decluttering, being spiritually mindful, attentive parenting or solving the problems of the universe via blogging. But I did clean out that one toy box…

What I can say for sure is that I’m enjoying the sweet, fleeting moments of life better. I’m enduring the tough stuff with less angst. And most of all, I’m liking Me a whole lot more.

This is what I chose to focus on for the creative writing DPChallenge on Starting Over.

Hoos ll Family Portraits-41I’m not Who-I-Was.

I’m not Who-I-Will-Be.

I’m not Who-I-Expected.

Or Who-I-Dreamed-I-Would-Be.

I’m Me.

With new insights, and new struggles, and new dreams.

With a best friend who loves Me (better yet, still likes Me) after all these years.

With a heart full of four little people who make Me crazy, and make Me laugh, and make Me a better Me.

Changing and growing and learning and becoming Me.

With a little extra Me around the edges.

And even though those parts are the hardest to accept,

They are part of Me too.

Whatever size or shape or new configuration, I’m still Me.

I’m not Martha Stewart. I’m not Hiedi Klum.

I’m not You. I’m not Who-You-Think-I-Should-Be.

I’m not perfect or easy and I’m not ready to concede.

I’m not finished yet.

But for now, TODAY, I’m content to be Me.

So here’s me. You know that rumor about bloggers being totally self-absorbed… ummm… ya…


The Why of Adoption

The mother and daughter sat silently at the table rolling out play dough and carefully cutting it into shapes, while I chased my boy. He stole stickers off the craft table and stuck them on the walls, jammed a piece of plastic ham in the mailbox, snatched a ball from the curly-haired toddler, tried to climb the gate and bounced around the room shrieking with happiness. The quiet Mom caught my eye and asked, “Why?”

She was asking what most people think, but few actually ask. Especially when they hear that he has three older sisters. Why another? Why adoption?

why

Why DID we adopt the boy?
Because he needed us.

We are so blessed. We want to give back. We want to make a difference. We believe we were put on this earth to make it better.

Parenting is one of the most meaningful things we do. We enjoy it. We’re not perfect, but we’re not Springer material most days. We have a special skill set as parents of a special needs child. We experience a level of chaos and neediness in our home that is not going away anytime soon. Why not add another one to the mix?

There are so many children who need stable, loving homes.

We have a stable, loving home.

Why did we adopt the boy?
Because we needed him.

We had always planned to have more children, but after B I wasn’t able to. That agreement we made in high school to have 4-5 kids certainly wasn’t binding, but I had a deep longing for another child; Glen had a deep longing to keep me happy.

We had discussed adoption since Glen’s first visit to a Russian orphanage. I have several cousins who are adopted through foster care. It was always an option for us. It had intrigued us from the beginning.

No matter how many times we tried to scuttle this crazy adoption dream, it wouldn’t go away. Our family didn’t seem finished.

We were missing someone.

Why did we adopt the boy?

Because we wanted to.

Because we had room.

Because it seemed like a good idea at the time.

I flipped through my mental rolladex, trying to come up with the right answer for Playgroup Mom. I’m pretty sure I stuttered out some combination of all the above. Because the answer that popped into my head right away would have made little sense to her.

We adopted him

Because he’s our son.

All the reasons we had to start out with are still valid, but on this side of adoption they seem too small. It isn’t just about us. It isn’t just about him. He is ours, because it was meant to be.

It was God’s plan.

This is a phrase that has been so often misused and misunderstood that it makes my skin crawl to write it. But there’s no better way to express the strange sense of “rightness” we feel.

We didn’t receive any signs from above. We didn’t have a mystical experience. We could have, and almost did, walk away from the process. We stuck it out, with all our uncertainty, until we read about THIS toddler. Then we knew. By the time we brought our boy home, we knew he had been ours all along.

When he was conceived, we were just finishing up our application for social services.

When he was developing in the womb, we were sitting in parent education classes.

When he was born, we were renovating our house to make room.

When he was being rocked by foster mom for the first time, we were waiting for our social worker to call.

When he was celebrating his first birthday, we were sweating our way through home study visits.

When he was pulling himself up to stand for the first time, we were disappointed with another adoption lead that went nowhere, and beginning to wonder if there was a child for us at all.

When he was taking his first step, we were reading an email about a little boy with a big smile and energy to spare, who seemed like just the right fit.

Grandma found these PJ's for the boy: our "Best Gift Ever!"

Grandma found these PJ’s for the boy:
our “Best Gift Ever!”

Mary Hopkins-Best studied hundreds of adoptive families for Toddler Adoption: The Weaver’s Craft. She found that one of the clearest factors associated with a highly satisfied adoptive family is the “intuitive belief in the rightness of their adoption.” This held true regardless of how difficult the process or how challenging the transition or how extensive the needs of the child. Whether families trust in God or fate or instinct, believing that this is the best decision you have ever made makes all the difference.

So here’s me, where hindsight gives a new perspective. Adoption is about giving. Adoption is about getting. But more than that, somehow, mysteriously, adoption is about finding each other.


Taking a Dive

5minutefridayIt’s a new year, so I’m going to try something new. Five Minute Fridays are a blogging tradition started by Lisa-Jo Baker. Each Friday hundreds of bloggers take 5 minutes to write on the same theme. No editing. No over-thinking. No backtracking.

So here’s 5 minutes in my brain, on the word:

DIVE

I’m pretty sure most people will read this word and immediately think of something positive. Diving into the fray. Diving deep into the beauty of life and family and possibility. But not me. My first thought is not so inspiring.

I think of toothless, sweaty men playing drama queen. My husband has lots to say about hockey players who “take a dive.” Unless they happen to be playing for his team, then he chuckles and shakes his head indulgently. But the rest of them are useless princesses.

Not that there’s anything wrong with princesses (at least not in our house).

Yesterday our very own drama queen (she long ago graduated from drama princess) took a dive. She had a sore ear and was slightly flushed, but managed to spin it into a life altering ear infection. She plays “verge of death” up to a ‘T’. I suspected we were being played, something to do with gym class and a very tough, athletic teacher (not to mention a hatred of running and wearing the ugly gym shoes I insisted on).

I’d be angry, but I remember doing the same thing myself as a child. Maybe we all do it from time to time.

STOP

Yikes, that 5 minutes just zips by!

To follow up on Her Majesty, The Great Faker: she didn’t “get away” with much. Most of her day was spent in bed, cleaning the house, helping with baby brother or feeling “soooooo bored.” I think she needs more “sooooo bored” in her life; she not only tidied her room without being asked, but she started writing and illustrating her own novel. She also missed Pioneer Girlz, which was a steep price to pay. Both gym class, her strict teacher and the perfectly-good-even-though-they-are-second-hand shoes are back in the mix today. You can’t run away forever.


Mommy’s Superpower

hero signThe ability to fly.

That’s my answer. To that classic nerd conversation starter: If you could have any superpower, what would it be?

Invisibility? Super Speed? Visions of the Future?

I can see how each one would enhance my parenting. Invisible Mom knows exactly who started it, and her children would be motivated to behave even when they are “alone.” Super Speed Homemaker gets more done in a few minutes than the rest of us in an entire day, and still has time to watch her favourite Food Network show. Psychic Mama can prevent the tantrum/fight/locking-keys-in-the-van/decorating-the-walls-with-sharpies BEFORE it even happens.

Sadly, none of these are my actual superpower.

That’s right. I have a special strength that allows me to perform beyond normal human parameters. It empowers the whole household to run smoothly (okay, smooth-er). It helps me endure when my strength is almost gone. It carries the weight of our whole family without breaking a sweat.

Routine is my superpower.

It’s not the sexiest, most exciting one out there. And it doesn’t require a cape or comic book inspired costume (though I’m not ruling that out). But I promise you, it packs a wallop!

I brush my teeth every morning. I don’t think about it. I don’t have to plan. I simply do the same thing, at the same time, every day. My lack of morning breath and significantly fewer cavities may not count as “saving a damsel in distress,” but a similar process also allows me to take daily medication and feed my children and keep my house (relatively) tidy and get our crazy family out the door each day. All these add up to a pretty heroic feat.

No matter what your age or stage or particular brand of dysfunction, you too can harness the power of routine! If you happen to have children, it can be a lifesaver. If you happen to have children with special needs, it’s an absolute necessity. Here’s why:

Routine frees up valuable time and energy.

Remember science class when you learned about levers and fulcrums and how they allow you to lift a heavy load with less effort? Routine is like that. As you shift behaviour from “intentional” into “something we do without even thinking about it,” you are able to do more, with less effort.

Get out the door in the morning. Keep the household mess from coming to life and eating us whole. Make bedtime and sleep time mean the same thing (we’re getting there).

I don’t know about you, but I need all the time and energy I can get my hands on. Trying to remember every little thing that needs doing, reacting to behavioural problems, and doing everything myself gets exhausting. Routines simplify life, prevent problems and empower children (and spouses, let’s be honest) to keep things going.

Routine makes life feel safe.

Secure children (and adults, FYI) know what to expect from their world. The stress of wondering what will happen next, and if I will-like-it/be-able-to-handle-it/am-entitled-to-watch-more-tv-right-now-instead, makes for grumpier children and parents. All children, even young toddlers, flourish when they can predict a first/then schedule and simple cause/effect.

For instance, when you get home from school you must sit on the potty, THEN you can have a snack. First comes pajamas, THEN music, rocking, cuddle and finally bed. If you throw your plate on the floor, THEN you lose it. If you do a cute dance and smile really big, THEN you get attention. If you do all your chores without complaining, THEN you can go out and play. If you do all the dishes and clean the kitchen, THEN your wife will be much more likely to give you a massage.

We’ve used pictures and symbols to reinforce routines with our children. B had a long strip of velcro on the wall; she had a picture of each morning task stuck up there (thank you Boardmaker software and Aunt Emily), and each time she finished a task she would put it in the “Finished” box at the bottom. We put new ones up for the afternoon and then a batch for before bed. She no longer needs such a detailed routine aid, but at the time, it gave her the sense of control she needed and made necessary transitions productive and less like a scene from the WWE.

Routine is inevitable.

Systems and structure aren’t everyone’s cup of tea. There are some weirdos people who prefer to wing it, to live reactively spontaneously. That may work for you in most areas, but everyone has some routines, whether we choose to or not. The unintentional, destructive ones often go by the name: bad habits.

I have just as many negative routines as positive. Sleeping until the last possible second, even though I know it’ll make our whole day much more rushed. The fight with C about proper outerwear on every rainy/cold/day-that-ends-in-y day. Eating a snack before bedtime, so it will be converted directly into fat. There is a dark side to every superpower: we are our own arch enemies.

The best way to conquer bad habits is to replace them. If you can figure out a positive routine which will supplant the destructive one, you are halfway there (you’ll have to read an article about willpower somewhere else, since it is NOT my superpower).

Routine is a servant, not a master.

This is where routine can get a bad rap. Especially from people who either a) don’t understand it or b) have an unnatural fear of change. When you are learning to cook you need to follow the recipe closely, but once you get the hang of it you can be creative, change things up, all while staying true to the spirit of the dish. In the same way, routines are not set in stone. Once they are established, they can be stretched, tweaked, negotiated and even temporarily suspended until they work for you.

Routines are a tool, not a destination. Make a plan. Try it out. Give it time to sink in. If it doesn’t make life easier, scrap it and start again.

So here’s me, saving the world one chore chart at a time!


One Word to Rule 2013

It must exist. That magical combination of sounds and symbols which will inspire and motivate the new me.

The healthier, skinnier, more organized, kinder, wiser…resolutions list

not to mention hospitable, well-read, well-groomed, attentive…

DAILY: meditating on God’s Word, giving my husband massages, writing my blog and/or novel, doing speech therapy exercises, inspiring good behaviour in pre-teens, reading to and with littles, quizzing spelling words…

cavorting with unicorns, catching a leprechaun, giving up sugar…

the too-good-to-be-real 2013 me.

I was determined that this year’s One Word project would surpass last year. I combed through the words on other blogs and even cracked open the dictionary. I perused the many lists and goals and plans of attack I’d put together in years past. I kicked around words like: “Better” and “Higher” and “More.”

Glen laughed at my ideas of course. “That’s so YOU,” he says, and suggests I might as well pick “Should” or “Guilt” while I’m at it.

By the end of Day 1, I was deeply tired and discouraged. And I hadn’t even started yet!

I used to ride that wave of unrealistic New Year optimism for days, sometimes weeks. This is the time of year I buy my pants two sizes smaller. I stock up on baskets/organizers/folders and hum contentedly at the thought that soon my life will be streamlined and clutter-free. I prepare my answers for the “your kids are so well-behaved… what’s your secret?” conversations that will inevitably follow our newest strategies. I float through January on a cloud of beautiful, beautiful expectations.

But this year the cold, hard grip of reality refuses to let me go.

Stupid reality.

The vast majority of my best intentions come to nothing in the end. I get overwhelmed juggling the needs of others, the tasks of basic survival and my self-improvement projects. Soon I am crushed under a mountain of my own expectations. I focus on me, me, me. I am angry that God doesn’t just swoop in and fix my life already. I am disillusioned.

I reread the purpose of One Word: “One word that sums up who you want to be or how you want to live.”

ow468-look2

I do want to be better, to aim higher, to do more… but the harder I try, the worse I do. And I don’t have enough energy left to try even harder still. And I can’t fool myself any longer that the right plan or strategy or WORD will make all the difference. And I could so easily throw my hands in the air and give up: eat my weight in Christmas candy, scream at my kids until they shut up and stay in bed for the rest of the year.

God help me.

Then it came to me. I don’t need to conquer a lifetime of bad habits or wrestle a year’s worth of problems into submission; I only have to deal with TODAY.

I will live in the precious moments of TODAY. No wasting the now on what-should-be; instead I will live, enjoy, savour. No fighting the flow of turbulent, wonderful, imperfect reality. TODAY is enough.

I will handle the worries of TODAY. No beating myself up about yesterday’s faults and failures; TODAY is a new day. No fretting about tomorrow’s what-ifs and could-bes; I will trust God with my tomorrows. TODAY is enough.

I will do what I can get done TODAY. No pressure to be perfect; I will do my best, no more and no less. No expectation to be anything but what I am. TODAY I am enough.

Thank you to Melanie at onlyabreath.com for the graphic!

Thank you to Melanie at onlyabreath.com for the cool graphic!

Give your entire attention to what God is doing right now,

and don’t get worked up about what may or may not happen tomorrow.

God will help you deal with whatever hard things come up when the time comes.

Matthew 6:34 (MSG)

So here’s me, one day at a time.

Enough about me… what’s your word/resolution for 2013?


Friday Favourites: Goodbye 2012

We needed milk.

We needed milk and, according to B, hot dogs for lunch. So, I came up with the brilliant plan to celebrate one of our last official day of Christmas holiday with a quick trip to Costco. We’d grab a few things and enjoy a fun and inexpensive meal out, just me and my four angels. Stupid, naive woman.

By the time we made it through the line up we had a teetering mountain of dry goods (how did that happen?) and a whiney pair of littles to contend with. Food would help. Food always helps, right?

Except now, B has decided that she doesn’t want hot dogs. Not now. Not ever again. She’s offended that I keep putting it in front of her. S removes not only his coat, boots, and socks, but sweeps a fully loaded hot dog and drink onto his sister and my pizza slice onto the floor.

Then the screaming starts. Not your typical whiney fussing, but whole-hearted, top-of-the-lungs, sounds-of-torture shrieks that has everyone stopping to stare. Costco right before nap time… not my best idea.

Somehow we make it out to the parking lot. I’m hobbling on my sprained ankle (did I mention I’m wearing a walking cast today – extra fun). I’ve got one hand on the boy’s shirt trying to keep him from thrashing out of the cart, pushing it with my hip, the other hand is clamped around B’s wrist dragging her across the street while she does her best floppy corpse impression; the big girls are trailing behind carrying our food and various items we’ve dropped along the way. The screaming has not abated.

Somehow, finally, we make it to the van, unload our cart and buckle everyone in. L makes a grand flourish with her hand and using her best director’s voice: “AAAAAAAAND… SCENE!”

I’ve never laughed so hard in my life. It might be maternal pride in a well-timed joke. It might be I’m still slightly hysterical. But mostly, I think it is our crazy, gong show of a morning that makes a good laugh better than ever.

That’s 2012 for us in a nutshell. I know it’s over, but until school starts again, I’m still chewing on last year and girding my loins for the next. So, a few favourites to make the transition smoother.

Quote

Cheers to a New Year and another chance for us to get it right.

~ Oprah Winfrey

Year in Review

26 Moments That Restored Our Faith in Humanity This Year  has made the rounds on Twitter and Facebook. I’m not a bit surprised. Stories of big and small gestures of kindness and generosity are welcome reminders that the world is full of wonderful people too.

Source: Courtney Sacco / via: annarbor.com

2012 Election Spoof

It’s not even my country. But US elections are comedy gold. Good times. Although it’s a done deal now, Chris Rock’s “Message for White Voters” may still reassure some of the rednecks out there about President Obama. And makes me laugh. Which I need today.

2013 Movie

Okay, I don’t know if it’s a favourite. I only hope it will be. Definitely something to look forward to.

Every time they make a book I love into a movie I am filled with equal parts excitement and trepidation. The balance of an intriguing premise, several likeable characters and a dash of romance make The Host my favourite sci-fi novel. I have read it half a dozen times. I’m sure I will read it that many times again. And in less than 3 months, we can all watch it!

So here’s me, with 2 days, 17 hours and 47 minutes until Christmas holiday is entirely over and 2013 can start for real.


2012 In A Word

dream

My new favourite necklace – a gift from the talented Sheri Webb.

In 2012, I went against my instincts and ditched New Year’s Resolutions. I jumped on the One Word bandwagon: instead of an endless list of things to DO, we choose to focus on a single word expressing how and what to BE.

After an absurd amount of thought and prayer and contemplation (I think OverAnalyze is my default word), I picked my word of the year. I was somewhat embarrassed by it. DREAM seemed too hippy-dippy, rainbows-and-unicorns for a practical gal like me.

In the beginning it was a way to overcome grief, to find a new direction. It became a celebration and an exploration. I learned that the dreams in my heart are not merely selfish flights of fancy, they are clues about the person I was designed to be.

“Delight yourself in the Lord and He will give you the desires of you heart.” (Psalm 37:4) It’s not a promise. It’s not a backhanded sermon about desiring only spiritual things. It’s a song. a hope. a truism.

DREAM. Trace your joys and passions. Find your calling. Sure, there’s always some silly and some selfish in the mix (we’re only human after all), but when you dream your best dreams, you will see the image of God.

Creative. Loving. Adventurous. Generous. Brave.

I used to think that I should focus on God all the time. That the more one-dimensional I became, the better. Instead I am learning to delight myself in the Lord of laughter and wiggle-y children and rollercoasters and warm breezes. To celebrate with a God who is just as present at the playground and the kitchen table and the mini van as church or bible study.

Some of my most important dreams came true this year. To see my husband happy to go to work; once again in a career that means something to him. To adopt a child from foster care. To become a better mother and a better person.

Some of my icing-on-the-cake dreams came true too. To go back to university. To go on a trip to Hawaii with the family. To eat chocolate cake for breakfast.

So here’s me, a year of hippy-dippy dreaming under my belt, and all the better for it!


A Year in the Life

2012A year in the life of our

wonderful,

usually crazy,

often funny,

sometimes lazy,

never dull,

family.

Januaryhands2

When I was 16…

Twenty years ago today, the boy I had a huge crush on took me on my very first date. Turns out, it was my only ‘first date’. Because sometimes one is all you need…

Februaryatlas

Mom Shrugged

… I’d like to be everything to everyone. So I feed myself a steady diet of comparison and perfectionism (and chocolate; there’s always chocolate)…

Read More.

Marchtimeshare

Modern Day Torture (aka Timeshare Presentation)

… Strongly implied is the fact that non-timeshare holders will lead lives of sad desperation. There will never be time or money for a real holiday. The best we can hope for is quiet days spent huddled in a dank basement, braiding armpit hair into a scarf…

Read More.

Aprilhourglass

How Do You Find The Time?

… Whether you wing it from one moment to the next, or plan your day down to the minute, we are all subject to the same limitations.

86,400 seconds – 1,440 minutes – 24 hours

Each day, everyday, it’s all we’ve got. In this day and age, we can do almost anything, but we can’t do everything!..

Read More.

Maypaint

Painting the Pink Room Green

Dear Little Brother,

Your sisters painted the pink room green today.They looked at every single paint chip in Home Depot and picked this colour especially for you. They painted your room themselves. There were a few spills. There are more than a few touch-ups needed. And it doesn’t look exactly perfect.

Except it is. Because they did it for you. They were so careful. And they worked hard all day long. Your big sisters love you already and they can’t wait to show you your new room!..

Read More.

Junekey

Test Driving a Person

… There were several moments today that felt utterly surreal. We have been frustrated with the long wait periods, the endless streams of paperwork and the strange bureaucratic rituals we must complete. But suddenly they seem like so little, considering what’s at stake here. They are giving us a human being. And we get to keep him forever. How weird is that?..

Read More.

July

Birthday Cupcakes specially decorated by the Big Sisters

Birthday Letters for The Boy

… You’ve officially been part of our family for 1 month. Our lives have been turned upside down, but no one’s more than you. It hasn’t been an easy month, but it has been a very good one. Your Daddy and sisters have discovered that you are the best thing they never knew they always wanted. I wanted you all along, but even I am blown away by how important you are to us all. We are enjoying you so much. You are so much fun: so much mischief-making, full-tilt, maniacal laughing, enthusiastic fun. I’m so glad you are part of our family!..

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Augustunderwear

The Underwear Crisis

… Attempting to harness the power of peer pressure, we celebrate the universality of underwear. Mommy wears panties, L wears panties, C wears panties, EVEN Daddy wears panties. Manly, manly panties to be sure, but as far as B is concerned, EVERYONE wears panties. If we’ve ever met you, chances are we have assured B that you also wear panties…

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Septemberinbox

Breaking Up With Normal

… I’m ready to just be. Rough edges, awkward pauses and comfortable pants… the me who isn’t trying so hard…

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Octobersorry

What Do You Say?

… I’ve been absolutely certain that actions trumped words. Wasn’t that the point? Not what we said or how we said it, but what we DID. Sure, I had been a little bit wrong, but he was wrong-er.

So there…

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Novemberjam

No Such Thing as a Perfect Day

… I made one of the most crucial parenting mistakes: I took it personally. In my head, it wasn’t bedtime or sleeping or being alone that he was fighting – it was ME. My success. My plans. My time to myself.

So I made the situation worse. Turns out harsh whispers of: “Just. Go. To. Sleep.” are not as helpful as you might think…

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Decembermine

Staking a Claim

The greatest surprise of this adoption (apart from my pitiful stamina in the going-without-sleep-marathon) is how insecure I feel. In my mind I know that things are going well; that attachment is a process and although messy and overwhelmed much of the time, our family is thriving. But my heart is not so confident…

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So here’s us, in 2012.