Me-me-me-meeeeeee

SuperMommy tagged me for a meme and since it involves winning something, and since I can win something, I have to give it a go. That and I am slightly frightened, but also in awe, of her superpowers and if I don't let her look in my chest, she might launch me into outer space or something.

Because I have so much stuff, I have a whole cabinet in my bathroom in addition to the boring old medicine chest. Let's start there, shall we?


Top shelf is what is required to tame my naturally curly hair. Yes, I use all of them. And also my Arbonne skin care system. I am trying to stay young looking - ish.

The bottom shelf proves that I am an accessory whore.

And how did that blue thing get in there, sheesh! You know you THAT has got your curiousity. Go ahead, pull it out and see what it is.



Get your mind out of the gutter, it's not what you think (I am looking at you SuperMommy, Elaine and Leslie) EW! What kind of girl do you think I am? It's a banana holder for goodness sake! But how did it get in there? Not usually where I store my, er, bananas or ladders for the matter...



Moving on, this here is the actual medicine cabinet. And on the top shelf is my own personal pharmacy. Nothing too exciting there, just some everyday over the counter kind of stuff.


Second shelf holds my NEVER worn contacts. My eyes don't do foreign objects in them. That was an expensive experiment I conducted not only once, but twice. I am quick learner like that.


Bottom shelf, old glasses and also old nail polish. Winter is long here in the quasi Arctic, so the nail polish separates. Either that or it froze. I know I'm frozen on a daily basis, why not the nail polish too?







Let's have a look at my colour selections though. Can I get a "what the hell were you thinking?" over that yellow?

And the separated mauve on the right is so 1999. Hey, maybe it's vintage now?

Let' not even talk about that white that is trying to get out of the shot.




And lastly the Purell. I know people who swear by this stuff. I swear AT it instead. Putting the equivalent to rubbing alcohol on my hands, which are prone to eczema, is like some kind of ancient torture ritual to me.


I am pretty sure I got this as a sample when Jack was born, seven and half years ago. Why I have kept it is beyond me and the even bigger question is why is half of it missing? *hiccup*












There you have it! A sneak peak into the lair that is Kami's bathroom.

And here come the tags....you have until Jan 30th to enter over at SuperMommy’s.

Stacie
Kami (it's not me! I found another one of us!)
Cammie and another one!)

Have at it ladies!

Brothers Forever

This has become a common site around here. Boys playing. Together. Without us.



They have common interests, praise the Lord, and spend hours upon hours using their imaginations. Together.



They play with Buzz, because in our house, Buzz is a hero. Superman has nothing on the dude who keeps the universe safe from evil forces. Leaping tall buildings in a single bound is cool and all but until you have saved the Gallactic Alliance from Zurg's evil clutches, you won't be worshiped in this house. That's just how these boys roll.



They also enjoy the approximately 1 million Hot Wheels cars they own. And they pull them out, all over the house, for me to trip on, er I mean play with. The also clean them up when they are done playing, most of the time without being asked. All that nagging has paid off, score one for mom!



Sometimes they hide from me because they are having so much fun. I might make them do something un-fun, like clean up. They just can't take that risk.



These brothers, they are growing up. And while I get sentimental for the chubs they were as babies, I do NOT get sentimental for the constant attention they required. Jay and I have been relishing in the fact that we now have some free time. You know, to do laundry, clean, cook, keep the house from imploding, you know, the usual.

It is, to put it simply, wonderful. The baby, toddler and preschool years were an experience. One that I would not trade for the world. But also? They were hard, tiring, full of temper tantrums (man, did I love those) and took all we had.

Life with two boys aged 7 and 4 is all kinds of great.





Now don't get me wrong, they are still brothers. Which means that they often butt heads.



Literally.

But at the end of the day, they are each other's favourite playmates. And if that doesn't make up for all the screaming and kicking that went on from age one through 3 and half, I don't know what can.

Inspiration

When I was a teenager, I spent my spare time at the rink. I figure skated. Not competitively but for the sheer love of it. I did go through the Canadian Figure Skating Testing System and having those test to prepare for drove me.

To work harder. To practice more. To land just one more jump.

I always had the next level to work towards.

I am still a goal orientated person.

About 3 years ago, I was a year and half post Kamden. My body was a much larger and jiggly shadow of it's former self. I was, to put it mildly, out of shape.

As a kid not only did I skate, I had lightening fast metabolism, and trust me, I used that to it's fullest advantage. Can you say heart attack city?

Obviously the habits I had built up had finally come back to haunt me. That and the fact that I felt the need to eat for 3 while pregnant and shockingly breastfeeding did not make those rolls disappear. That's a bold faced lie, people, I am living proof.

It was time. I had a brief sojourn in university with the gym. But once I started working full time and we got married that sojourn ended rather abruptly. I had no wedding dress to fit into and consequently no goal.

Then the boys came along and what was the point in being in shape while pregnant, I thought?

I have since learned that the point is about a million fold but hindsight is like that.

So a year and half after birthing my dear Kamo, I decided to get active again with the goal of not only getting a little bit smaller but to get back into shape.

It worked. For a while.

Then I began eating more because I was exercising. I was entitled wasn't I? The good news is that I stuck to it. I have now been active for the last 3 years. Straight. No falling of the proverbial treadmill so to speak. It's no longer a goal but a part of my life.

Fast forward two years to a little over a year ago. We were preparing for our trip to the Bahamas. The same trip that I may or may not have given Jay incentive to take by promising that I would wear a bikini.

People, we had to kick it up about 10 notches. I cut way back on portions and snacking. I lost some weight and that coupled with the fact that there was no one on the beach, I wore the bikini.

When we got home, I contacted a trainer. My friend worked with a trainer and it sounded perfect. Someone else pushing me harder than I have ever pushed myself? Sign me up.

The cost, in my opinion, is well worth it. Jay agrees whole heartedly, I assure you. It is not for everyone but for me it has been fabulous. She has shaped and sculpted this body of mine into something I sometimes barely recognize. And I like it.

I am feel so strong. So fit.

This June, I embarked on a journey to meet another goal of mine. That goal was to be able to run. More than 5 steps consecutively. I began a learn to run 10 k program that started out really slow. A program that a really good friend gave me. That program was the kick start to this whole thing.

At first I just was running to be able to run, just for cardio fitness.

Then another friend ran her third half marathon.

I never in my wildest dreams would have though that I would even fathom doing that.

But I finished the learn to run program by running 10 km. And I lived to tell about it. And it was kind of fun. And the feeling of accomplishment? That was the absolute best part.

And let me tell you, the endorphins from running, they are the BEST kind. Trust me on this. I never got running in the past. I thought, why? Why torture yourself like that? It just seems wrong.

I get it now.

And after I did 10k, I realized running is easy. All you have to do is train. All you have to do is follow a schedule that works you up to your target distance.

A half marathon is 21.1 k. A little over double the 10k. If I could do 10K, why not 21?

And this goal, it is driving me forward. To keep at it. To stay fit. To eat right.

On April 26, 2009 I will attempt to run 21.1k.

Today, I did the 8k on my training schedule. It hurt. When I reached the 8k finish, I was done. In a little over 3 months, will I be able to go 13.1 more kilometers?

I go back and forth, from I can do this, no worries, to holy cow what was I thinking!

Follow me on my journey, and if you are so inclined either cheer me on or mock me, I might be just a little bit crazy but good crazy. I think?

Unlucky Duck

It started Tuesday. The unlucky part that is. Half way home from Pilates, I realize that the front tire, drivers side, is flat. This isn't good. I have less than 15 minutes to be home and logged onto my work site for an on-line chat with students.

CRAP.

I call Jay on the cell phone. Isn't that what you do when you are in trouble? Call your husband knowing that he will bail you out?

Well that's what I do. However, he was outside shoveling the 4-5 feet of snow that had fallen in the last few days. This time, no bail out.

I make a decision. Not a good one, I know, but a decision none the less.

Keep driving.

It will get me home, I know it will.

The tire will die a slow horrible death on the way there but I'll be home in time for my work commitment.

Yeah, so I panicked. I am good at okay? When you are good at something you go with it.

I made it home and immediately burst into tears as I got out of the van since Jay was standing there with a look on his face saying, dude, you know the tire is flat like a pancake, right?

Thankfully he wasn't mad and knowing him, I should have realized he wouldn't be. He just doesn't sweat the small stuff like that.

I was on a roll though. The next morning I trashed the stroller. Well actually I could put the blame on my lovely neighbors who never shovel their sidewalks. I guess if you never actually do anything but walk to and from your car, it might no occur to you that there are people who use the public sidewalks. But that's irrelevant. What is relevant is that Kamden, all 40 lbs of him, plus a jogging stroller plus 2 ft drifts of snow equals too much for the Wal-Mart stroller.

And if you are wondering why my four and half year old needs to ride in a stoller to walk exactly two blocks to drop Jack off at school, here's why. It's -857 degrees or some ridiculous temperature. I am cold. He walks exactly the pace of microscopic snail. That combination makes for much yelling that goes something like this:

KAMDEN! FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY, HURRY UP!

The neighbors, understandably, had started calling social services. At least they care about my children's well being. The sidewalk and my well being, not so much.

Jay managed to patch the stroller together. Dude is turning into McGyver.

So what else could possibly happen you might be asking. Well, that wasn't enough for me. Oh no. Today, after picking up Kamden and his buddy from preschool, I had to go and lock the keys in the car on our very own driveway.

Yes, I did.

Why? I guess I crave excitement.

What did I do next?

You guessed it, called Jay. He's going to need a cape and a theme song.

Of course, today, the van is in the shop, you know, getting new tires, on account of my brillance, so he's at work with no vehicle. He called in a favour and got a ride from a buddy to bail us out.

Us, who had taken refuge at Jack's school so that we wouldn't be ready for storage in liquid nitrogen. By the way, it costs $1,250 for a lifetime membership. Save yourself some money, die here in January. You'll be frozen for free. Of course I might run over you with my patched together stroller as I sprint home in the cold only to find I have locked myself out of my own house.

But for $1,250, isn't that a risk you are willing to take?

Wait, I have a better idea, someone freeze me and store me until winter has been abolished. Excuse me, while I go for a swim in some nitrogen.

Say What?

This is the dreaded follow up post, the one after you bare your inner most secrets.

It's been a week.

I have several ideas for posts but for some reason none have come to fruition. But something happened today that got me irked. This I have to do a post about or I will lie awake at night writing the post in my head. They are always so much better in my head but never make it here.

Today, while I was watching the boys at swimming lessons, the lady I often chat with there, who I know only from there, asked me a question. Out of the blue.

It's the question I dread most.

Because the answer, it comes from deep within. It's been a very long journey that Jay and I have taken together.

A personal and therefore private journey. One that I have only shared with those closest to me until very recently.

"Are you going to have more children?"

Really? You, who I barely know, are asking me that?

There are many inappropriate questions in the world and I happen to think that this is one of them.

I'll admit, before I had kids and even after my first, I asked this very question of people I barely knew. What a fool I was. I had no idea. None.

It ranks right up there with have you gained weight? and when are you due? (dude, don't ask unless you are 100% sure).

It's actually a bit like asking, do you plan on winning the lottery? Why yes, on January 27, 2008, I will become a millionaire, how did you know?

Many people would love to have more children but can't. Or prematurely menopausal, have fertility issues etc. Personal things. Things that we are probably not going to tell you, random lady at the pool. Who, by the way, has two children the same ages as mine.

Here's the rest of the conversation, more or less, because I think it's kind of funny:

Lady: Are you going to have more any more children?
Me: *shocked look* No, we are done.
Lady: Yes, they are expensive and take a lot of time
Me: (in my head - Yes, that's exactly why. I mean, who has time for a baby with all the shopping, lunches with girlfriends and spa treatments to do!) Mmmm.

Silence

Me: That and I am menopausal.
Lady: Oh!

End conversation.

I like to throw that in for shock value. Hee hee. She asked!

One of my favourite Texans, Elaine twittered me a much better response.

"Well, only if my boyfriend knocks me up, my husband's water works don't work anymore."

Why don't I think of these things?

PS. I mean no offense to anyone who may have asked this of anyone because I am pretty sure that not all people would be offended by such a question. I am overly sensitive about it, given what we have gone through. This is just my take on it all.

There's a reason

We have two kids. Not necessarily by chance.

By choice.

The choice was one that was hard wrought, filled with tears, heartache and turmoil. Jay and I agree on just about everything but not on this.

I felt, very strongly in my heart, there was one more little soul out there waiting to join our family.

He, to put it mildly, did not. He couldn't put into words why, he just felt very strongly that we were very blessed to have our two healthy boys. He felt, very deeply, that asking for more was asking for too much.

I'll be honest. About half of my desire to have a third was to attempt to fulfill a dream I have always had of having a daughter. I understand how unique is the bond between mother and daughter as I have had the tremendous luck to share this bond with my own mother. I always dreamed I would someday get to be the mother in such a relationship.

It is not to be.

And that is not to say that the bond between mother and son is not unique. Absolutely it is. But it is different. To be treasured equally no doubt. But still very different.

Mid 2008, after almost three years of going back and forth on this, we came to the conclusion of this story.

For too long we sat on opposite sides of the fence. For this, there is no compromise.

Our only solution, to end the heartache was to medically intervene. As of September, it is no longer medically possible for us to conceive children.

And then I found out I am menopausal. If that isn't classic irony, I don't know what is.

And I wonder, was his ridiculously strong aversion to tempting fate a unique way of preventing us from bigger heartache? I honestly think so. It all makes sense now.

And since I have gone on the pill and my hormones have stabilized, I feel that feeling that for three years I did not have. This:


is our family. It is complete. Full. And it's mine.

In 2008, I came to realize just how lucky I was to have what I have. I have not endured the heartache that others have had to bear. I had two healthy, uneventful pregnancies that resulted in those two precious healthy boys. There will undoubtedly be heartache in the future for us, after all, life is not all roses, but I cannot control that and I will bear it when I have to.

For me, 2008 was a great year. At the beginning of the year, I was in turmoil.

Now I am at peace.

I am in love.

I am happy.

There is nothing more required.