Fourty: The year the beep hit the fan

I have heard that once you hit 40, that's when the s__t hits the fan.  I guess it's true because it's been quite a year. Probably one of the hardest I have been through. I am grateful to have gone through it though because I learned more than I care to admit.

I am over nine months out from the start of the trouble and only just now ready to put my thoughts down into words.  I have been open and honest about it all with my family and friends because that is just how I am wired. I can't pretend or lie very well. I am finally ready to share it here.

In mid-December 2014, I started having trouble sleeping. First it was waking up in the middle of the night and not going back to sleep for hours and then it morphed into barely sleeping at all. After a couple of weeks, I was a disaster. I have always needed 8-9 solid hours of hard core sleep. I love sleep. I am a champion sleeper.  Trouble sleeping, what the what?  It's never lasted for long when I have had the odd bad night and then it was always easily attributed to some stress factor I was conscious of.

By the last week of school before Christmas, I was having anxiety.  That's fun.  I have never experienced true anxiety. It's not mental. Nope. It's a full blown physical chain of events that comes and goes almost randomly.  Of course by this time, due to the lack of sleep, I was but a shell of my former self.

My doctor subscribed sleeping pills. Like as in the ones that you can get addicted to. I didn't care at that point, just knock me out for all that is good and holy in the world.

I took the first one and slept for....a whole hour.  Mother trucker. Now what? She told me to I could take up to two. So I popped another. Great, another whole effing hour of sleep. And then I tossed and turned and went down to the spare bed and back up to our bed and maybe slept another hour in total and not consecutive. The best part? Almost falling asleep and twitching so hard I woke myself up only to have to start all over. Good times, I tell you, good times.

It was one of my own personal  hells. There are many. Another involves spiders, as in tarantulas. I could go on but for the sake of preventing nightmares, I'll stop there.

By this point the anxiety was 99% related to sleep. Will I finally sleep tonight? OMG what if I don't sleep tonight? What if I die of lack of sleep?  (yes, it was all completely logical and well thought out can't you tell?)

Two days later and a day before we were heading to visit family for Christmas, I was done. I was having full blown anxiety the whole day through, not sleeping and basically a basket case. It was a Sunday I think so I had to go to a mediclinic rather than my family doctor. At this point, I needed some way to control the anxiety so that I could hopefully have more success with the sleeping pills.

I was prescribed an anti-depressant/anti-anxiety drug.  Stop for a minute. That was heavy. How did it come to this? HOW?  A phrase I uttered often was "why is this happening to me?".

The kicker? It takes 2-3 months to take effect. Awesome. He also suggested I see a psychologist. Luckily enough I got in the next day and right before we left for Christmas.

She was great and she provided me with some podcasts that were supposed to relax me.
I listened to one in the car on the way to Saskatoon and finally was able to relax.

Later that night, as I talked with my parents, the anxiety ramped up again. It was always worse in the evening. I go into the bedroom and listen to the podcast and proceed to have an awesome panic attack. 

Let's just stop right and here and point out that my mom was my rock at this point. I was like a child again and wanted my mom to fix this. She wanted to fix it too. I am sure it was really hard for everyone to see me like this. It wasn't me.

The next morning after yet another crappy night of little to no sleep, my mom calls my brother and they are brainstorming. He is a pharmacist and finally suggests that maybe it's my thyroid acting up. At this point, no one especially me, could consider anything other than a physical issue.  Off my mom and I go to the ER because it's the week of Christmas and I am not in my home city so the family doctor is not an option.

After a very long wait that involved me losing my shit after the doctor came to see a girl that had stubbed her toe (I kid you not - who goes to the ER for that?!) before me.  I was a mess. I wanted help and so I lost it when this occurred right in front of me - in the waiting room - a whole other story. The resident asks me if I am okay as I am sobbing in the middle of a busy waiting room. No, I said, I am NOT okay, that is why I am here. Can I please be seen?!

The solution? To give me effing Ativan. At this point they could have shot me up with heroin. If it would make me sleep, I would have done it. The doctor makes us wait another two hours because she wanted to see if the Ativan could calm me down. No it actually didn't, I am a logical person who had a tantrum to try and get action and I calmed down on my own.  She then tells me she won't test my thyroid because she can't treat it anyway and I should not be taking the sleeping pills but should be taking Ativan and sends me home.

She was lovely, in an I don't want to deal with you, you have a mental issue and I wash my hands of you, just go home and sleep kind of way. Merry Christmas to you too, lady.

So at bedtime that night, I take the Ativan as lovely doctor beyatch prescribed and after a half hour of practically hyperventilating go out of the bedroom and my mom takes one look at me and we head to a different ER. Ativan was not at all helpful, to say the least.

We had a much better doctor. He tested my thyroid even though he was 99% certain it wasn't the issue. It wasn't but at least knowing that the test showed that, I had some closure.  He also suggested taking both sleeping pills at the same time. I had not idea I could.

Mom had me pop them in the car before we drove back out to their place (25 min drive give or take). I was out like a light and mom had the pleasure of escorting a rather inebriated adult daughter into the house. It was comical. I reached for something and fell over.  You have to laugh at these times.

Christmas was a blur. While taking two at once helped, it was not the final solution. I spent Christmas Day in bed resting because by this point, I had absolutely no energy to even sit upright.  We then headed off to Kimberly, BC for a ski trip after Christmas and I loved the car ride. It put me right to sleep! Once we got home, I was able to see my family doctor and she finally got me on the right mix of anti-anxiety meds to get me sleeping through the night (can you say, triple the normal dose!).  It took me weeks before I felt "normal" again (ie no anxiety) with weekly visits to the doctor to check in.

Fast forward 9 months and I have been through the process of weaning off the sleeping pills (huzzah!) and have cut the dose on one of the anti-anxiety drugs to 1/6 the original dose. The side effect of that drug, 20lb weight gain thankyouverymuch.

So. The moral of the story is that all of this was caused by stress. Did I feel stressed? No. Not at all. I had it all under control. I  knew how to manage the demands of being on call 24/7 for my job. I prioritized! I was confident none of this was stress related for a long time.

I had to finally break down and admit that it had to be stress. There was no other reason. Thankfully changes were easily made to my job to cut my stress by half or more.  I am so lucky to work with the organization I work with. They are so great to me.

I also had to make some significant changes in my personal life. I had to give up my one personal training client. That was hard. Really hard. I cried that day. I was pretty proud of my accomplishment and the fact that I could by dynamic enough to have my accounting career and a side gig as a PT. But I did learn my lesson. And I really do think that this had to happen for me to learn.  It was hard but without having gone through this much hell, I don't really think I would have admitted to myself that my life was not manageable as it was. 

The other huge change that is still a huge work in progress is my self body image. Gaining 20lbs will put that in perspective in a damn hurry I tell you.  This is me last summer when I decided to get "serious" about my fitness:

  Can you see why I needed this slap in the face?  What in the hell did I think was wrong with how I looked? That day, I could have given you a list of at least 10 things. Today? Not a one.

Like I said, 20lbs will put that in perspective in a damn hurry. I will not likely ever look like that again. I still wasn't happy so why why why?!

Right now I work out because I enjoy it, I feel strong and fit and because I am good enough just as I am right now at this very moment not when I lose the 20lbs. Okay, I gotta be honest. I would at least like to get close to where I was in that picture above. But I am working on that because as I compare these two photos, I wonder if there is really that much of a difference. I see a huge difference but I am biased and skewed.

I have been reading the book that the founder of GoodLife Fitness wrote. His mantra is "Good enough is good enough".  I was searching for perfection and it ended up with me in the ER having a tantrum like a child. I don't need perfection. I need a body that can live my life and I already have that. 

I am good enough.

This post has no name

After I posted last week, I instituted a new approach to help Kamden with his anxiety. I completely stole it from someone I follow on Instagram.  She's kind of famous and kind of like someone popular in high school (except that she seems like a very nice person) that I admire from afar. 

Anyway, it appears that they use a reward system to help fight anxiety. It got me to thinking. I was taking the approach that this was out of Kamden's control. What if we turned this around and taught him that he has some control over this?

This was after we made a decision, a hard one, to have him miss his best buddy's birthday party because it involved seeing the new Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles movie. He knew it would haunt him at bedtime, the bad guys, the fighting, etc. It wasn't an easy decision but we thought if we could avoid adding to his anxiety, it was the right decision.

So what did he worry about that night instead? That his friend would be upset that he didn't come to the party. *facepalm*

(Exhibit A: found on my phone - goofball)

I may or many not have lost my s--t at that point. My conclusion was that he was going to worry no matter what. I mean, sometimes he is just anxious about being anxious, for goodness sake.  

That's it, we have to take the power away from the anxiety. He had to take control.  So what better way to have a kid take control than by providing a reward? We must use a language that speaks to them. That in itself is a sad state of affairs but that's another post. I may write it too....helicopter parenting is failing us. I work with the adults it creates. Be afraid. Be very afraid.

 

We are now over two weeks into the reward.  It's $5 a night. His anxiety always hits at bedtime complete with dizziness and a look on his face, not unlike the one below, no wait that his deadpan look, not quite the same.

He gets $5 for every night he can fight the anxiety and go to sleep without excessive worry.  The "worry" involves coming into our room after we have all gone to bed upset about the anxiety du jour - examples include but are not limited to:  he has a major health problem (the same night he ran for two hours straight at football practice....um no, you are fine), something will happen to Mom and Dad (we are good dude, no worries), scary noises in his room (house shifting, car doors outside etc), school (pick random worry and insert here) etc.... lather, rinse, repeat.

(we ran a 5 km race a bit back, at least we ran some of it)

It was something new every night. Oh yeah, then there was my epic parenting fail.  EPIC.  It's possible this entire anxiety thing could be blamed on me.

I shouldn't even write about it here. Maybe. Oh what the hell. It's sort of funny. In a I suck as a mom kind of way.

This summer, we lost Jay's dad.  It was sudden and it hit Kamden pretty hard. He hasn't dealt with death yet in his young life except when my cat died and my parents dog which I think we can all agree is not quite the same thing.

One day, he came down while I was working to relay something that happened that he couldn't figure out. He was putting the stuffed animals he sleeps with back into his bed before he made it one morning. He grabbed one, leaving the other at the end of the bed. When he turned back around to grab the last one, it was gone.

He found it in his hamper.

I had no explanation and so without thinking (me? speak without thinking?  So out of character for me) I said oh maybe Granddaddy was messing with you.

I mean, I watch Long Island Medium, it could totally happen, right? And it would so be something in character for Jay's dad. One of his favourite words was buffoonery after all. 

(Exhibit B - buffoonery defined)

So yeah. Not a good thing to tell a 10 year old boy, in case you were wondering. About a month later, he came to in tears me as I was falling asleep saying maybe it's Granddaddy making all the scary noises he hears when he's trying to fall asleep. That was my first clue about the epic parenting fail. Yes, I am slow on the uptake.

After much reassurance and the use of the word buffoonery several times, I convinced him that his granddaddy would NEVER try to scare him. EVER.

Mess with him to make him laugh, absolutely, but the noises are just the house, or possibly his overactive imagination or its paranormal activity that I am too old to hear or something.... Oops. I went too far again, didn't I?  Kidding, I didn't say the part about the paranormal activity.  This time.

The are several morals points  here:

- I didn't cause the anxiety with my fail (it was already gaining its own momentum) but I did exasperate it exponentially
- he does have control or at least some control because we are well over two weeks without a late night of excessive worry. He is always a bit apprehensive at bedtime but we each have to think of at least two good things that make us happy before I hug him goodnight. That gives him something else to focus on. Take that,  "worry".
- he takes some awesome pictures that make me smile daily. See Exhibit A through C:

(Exhibit C)

I might be married to a human giraffe.

Now that's something to worry about.

(I take his anxiety very seriously. I may have made up this system of dealing with it but it seems to be working for now. I am also saving for future therapy costs as Plan B.)

Right Where I am Supposed to Be

I started the post last week when I was having a moment of complete gratitude. Then then the weekend hit and my feeling got unhinged. Monday was, well, exactly as one would expect Monday to go. The complete opposite of the feeling the picture below creates.

 

Summer, you  let old man winter push you around again and only graced us with your glorious presence for a short time. We made the most it. Fantastic smiles from time spent with friends and cousins in the beautiful sunshine accompanied by too many hamburgers, hot dogs and s'mores.  Perfect.

 

The summer included birthdays, Jack is now a teenager though still not overly acting like one (*sign of the cross*) and Kamden is 10.  Time flies.

Kamden is trying his hand at tackle football this fall. He was pretty anxious, as was mom, but it's going really well.  

This picture cracks me up. His face. White pants to practice on a grassy, muddy field...so funny. Oh wait, no, that's a reminder to buy stock in a laundry stain removal company.

 

This boy of mine is a conundrum. So happy and easy going by day, by night, anxious and full of fear. That is the cause of my Monday blahs, this.

 

It's hard to watch him struggle.  In this, we are in new territory.  My arsenal of possible tools is quickly running dry.  We are in the process of seeking help but in what is typical of my style, I think, just one more day and we'll be through the worst.

It involves many peaks and valleys. All I want is my happy go lucky boy back.

Yesterday, if at all possible.

 

I am so very grateful that I am not doing this alone.  Also, what I wouldn't give to be back on that beach in Jamaica right at this moment. Oops, sorry, not being overly grateful, really, am I?

September has arrived with crisp mornings and falling leaves just in time for school. The boys were less than impressed with the arrival of the first day of school but have settled in nicely.

Grade 8 for this young man and grade 5 for his brother. As has become typical in the last couple of years, the first day of school photos have more outtakes than goodtakes but I kind of love it like that.

These two can make me laugh like no one else.

 

 

   

 

And that's what I will hold onto as we weather this minor storm because I am right where I am supposed to be.

Change Takes Commitment

2013 had a bit of a rough start for me in my second gig as a personal trainer. I don't want to talk about the situation in detail because that's not cool. And those of you whom are my confidantes are likely sick to death of hearing about it already. I have to give a shout out to you all though, you all know how to do the support and advice part of friendship right.  Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

My first client broke up with me.  Before I started this new adventure, I thought I would feel like a total failure if that ever happened.  It turns out I was wrong.  The break up was mutual.  I let the client make the first move though because I am, after all, the "professional".  The jury is still out on that, hence the quotes.

I don't feel like a failure because this actually isn't really about me at all.  Okay a little bit, but I will get to that later.

My experience is fairly limited in that from the perspective of someone starting on a journey to getting fitter and healthier, I have only my own to draw from.

By the time I started working with a trainer, I had made the commitment to make it happen.  It being the journey to fit.  It's not a destination, it's a journey that I began five years ago and continues to this day. 

So when I came to my workouts, I was ready, willing and going to do whatever was asked of me. Except when the nausea set in because, of course,  that was my body saying "that's my limit" thankyouverymuch.

I wanted to be pushed past what I thought was possible for me. And I was almost every time.  I kept getting stronger and it would take more to challenge me and I loved every minute of it.

Okay, maybe I am weird but I also happen to know a lot of other people who feel the same way. 

To this day I love the strength and endurance my body can handle.  I would say with ease but that would be a bold faced lie.  But the key is that what it can handle now with a bit of duress is about 100 times more than it could way back then.  I think I did a total of three push-ups during my first fitness assessment, and I am probably inventing two of the three.  The other day, I did 30 consecutively.

In the meantime, I have become a runner, completing two half marathons, about five 10 km races and at least as many relay races.  Five and half years ago, I would have laughed like a hyena if you told me that I would do that.  Hysterically.

My point, right, I should get back to that.  My point is that if you want to make a change, whatever it might be, lose weight, get fitter, make a pinata, or remove the possibility of being on an episode of Hoarders,  you have do the work. With a smile.  And the smile comes with the fact that you know, despite how hard it is, that this pain will get you closer to that goal. 

And tasting that goal is a reward so sweet you will have a bounce in your step and grin on your face for a month.

I know from experience.  So trust me a little, okay?  Just a little.  But more importantly believe. Believe in yourself. Believe that the work will get you there.  Not today, not tomorrow but slowly and surely and safely.

And when you are working out, building a pinata, or cleaning out the pile of stuff that is beginning to resemble an application to be on Hoarders, give it your best effort.  No excuses.  Excuses are just you standing in your own way.

And if someone is helping you out, your trainer, your glue maker, or your daughter who can no longer come visit because the couch has disappeared, make sure that your personalities gel.  If they annoy the snot out of you from day one, they are probably not going to be able to motivate you.  Oh and this can be measured in direct proportion to the number of eye rolls and critical comments you direct at them, just in case you were wondering.

That's where this whole break up was about me.  Personalities are personalities and if they do not work together, they just do not work.  It's not you, it's me....or actually it's both of us.  So there is no feeling of failure because that is out of my hands just like the level of commitment and self-belief of the client.

It's part of the gig.  I was a bit naive going in but this was a great learning experience.  And I will appreciate my other clients (Hi C & RL, you rock!) and my trainer even more (she kicked my butt today and I loved it from the bottom of my  heart).

Amended to add this very fitting quote:

"What if I told you that ten years from now, you life would be EXACTLY the same? I doubt you would be happy. So why are you so afraid of change?" - Karen Salmansohn

What Not to Do

I did something quite dumb just the other day.  I am still mortified that I, of all people, did this but here it is.  Mostly because maybe if I air it on the Internet I will stop replaying the 1,000 things I will do differently every single time I fly from now on.  The perfect time to do this appears to be as I am trying to fall asleep.  Related: I am very tired.

I have to start out by saying that I am the one at the gate a half hour before the boarding pass even suggests boarding will begin.  Always.  Me and my husband agree on this.

On Sunday, however, after a work trip to Kelowna and spending the weekend with my aunts, mom and cousins visiting in Vernon, I did not do this.  In fact, I did what I mock other people for doing.

We arrived at the airport and I was checked in and ready to go through security in plenty of time for boarding.  Then I looked at the departure screen and noticed a delay. 

So instead of going through security, I stayed out and had tea with the aunts and my Mom. 

About a half hour before the scheduled departure of the delayed flight I went through security found a bathroom and sat down to wait for boarding.  I even noticed that the sign at the gate still had the original departure time but didn't even think anything of it. 

*smacks forehead*

Moments after I sat down, a co-worker came up and told me that they had been calling me - she had stayed in town for the weekend too and happened to be there too.  Isn't that awesome?

At this point I started to think that was weird. I approached the gate but no one was there so I waited.  Then the agent came back from the plane.

Yes, the one I was supposed to be on that was now taxing away from the bloody gate.

The point at which I knew I had screwed up royally was when he said, "You have missed your flight."

He then kindly (and I am not being sarcastic) showed me that the flight that was delayed was a different airline that was going to the same place and the original departure time was only 5 min different. My flight was right above it.  For some reason I didn't notice this - these were the first two lines on the monitor, maybe that is why. 

HOWEVER.

Check the airline and flight number much, Kami?

*smacks forehead again, harder this time*

For the record, the delayed flight only started boarding when I was finding all this out so I was perfectly on time for that one.  Hey, I feel like an idiot, I had to point that out, just for the record.

I was mortified, embarrassed and at this guy's mercy.  I apologized, called myself a moron several times and asked why they don't call people on speakers outside of security. I asked nicely, not in an accusatory tone because I was curious mostly.  It was my responsibility to get myself to the gate on time not theirs.  The airport doesn't allow it was what he told me.  Fair enough. 

Here's the part that steams me - as in I am mad at myself for.

I WAS BLOODY AT THE AIRPORT. 

I can see missing a flight because you get delayed in traffic or encounter an accident or...about a thousand other legitimate reasons.  But sitting in the Whitespot having tea with your mom and aunts?  That has to be a new brand of stupid.

Anyway, the WestJet agent (totally plugging the airline) was beyond fabulous.  He was very nice and treated me with respect and really went above and beyond to help me. 

He quickly checked my options and found that he might not be able to get me all the way home that day on Westjest due to full flights.  He even ran over the other airline to check if he could get me on that delayed flight (yeah the one I thought I was on).  They wouldn't do it since it was so close to departing.  I couldn't fault them for that and for him to do that? Seriously. I can guarantee that airline wouldn't do the same.

I was so thankful that I was flying WestJet.

Basically, to get home that day, I had to hope a seat would open up on the next flight out.  He gave me a 10 -20% chance of that so I didn't get excited.  This happened to be the same flight my mom was leaving on.

Somewhere in here I called Jay to tell him what happened.  I have to give him credit here too.  He could have berated me for my stupidity but Jay is Jay and he wouldn't even think to do that.  He was calm even though I know he was upset.  We all missed each other. I had been gone 5 days by this point and I had to tell him I might not make it home until the next day.  If things had been reversed I am not sure I would have been as forgiving.  Thank you honey.  It means a lot.

The agent took my credit card (there is, understandably, a fee for this kind of stupidity that is very small in comparison) so that he could scoop up the seat as soon as it opened up.  He assured me he would keep checking to see.

I sat down to wait, called Jay again and told him the status and almost started crying as I hung up with him.  I didn't though and I was proud of myself.

Then my mom walked up and I lost it.  I started sobbing like an infant.  Thank goodness my co-worker was gone and did not witness this.  It's bad enough that there were strangers there.  Awkward.

There is just something about your Mom, you know?  Even at 38, I can't help but unleash my inner distress in the middle of an airport waiting room the second I see her.  Isn't she lucky?

So we waited and I did not get my hopes up.  I was prepared to overnight in Calgary and take the first flight to Regina in the morning.  Or alternatively try and make it to Saskatoon so Jay could meet me and my parents half way in the morning.

About 15 min before the flight I was hoping to get on boarded, I checked in with, by now, my favourite airline agent ever and his exact words were, "It's your lucky day!  A seat has opened up!"

My response was, "I could hug you, but that would be inappropriate!"

What he relayed to me as he printed my boarding passes was that he not only waited for seat to open up, he actively found ways to open a seat up - he had three people flying through Calgary re-routed onto a direct flight to their destination and he was also prepared to ask a WestJet employee to switch flights if he had to.  In the meantime, a seat just randomly opened up anyway.

If that isn't going above and beyond, I don't know what is.

He even thanked me for being so understanding.  Um.  I guess that goes to show you some people can't admit they are idiots.  Me?  I have no problem with that.

I have already commended him through the feedback option on the airline website because how could I not?

So.  The lesson learned is that I will always go directly to the gate no matter what.  Oh and maybe check the airline and flight number. 


*alternate title "WestJet is Awesome"

Seriously? And Halloween Pictures

I have a rant. A serious one that started building years ago. There is this teacher at the boys' school that makes me crazy.  She isn't a classroom teacher but teaches a couple of subjects to give the classroom teacher prep time.  Jack had her in grade 3 and low and behold, here she is again now that Kamden is in grade 3.

I was utterly elated when Kamden came home in September with the news.

And last week, he brought home is first grade from her.  Smoke may have come out of my ears as I saw the same ridiculous grading she used 3 years ago with Jack.

The subject is health, more specifically the four food groups.  To demonstrate their knowledge of the unit, they had to prepare a poster and draw meals for each of breakfast, lunch and supper.

Kamden's comment and I quote word for word was: "She gave me a horrible mark!"

The first two categories are Graphics and Use of Time in Class.

Let me go though each in detail because are you kidding me?

"Graphics are in focus and easily viewed from 6ft away" is worth 4 out of 16 of the available marks.  That's 25%.

Let's ponder this for a second considering two things.  This is health.  HEALTH.  Not art, not media relations, not graphic design but health.

And they are in grade 3.

In no way does this evaluate their knowledge of the topic at hand.

And the second one, use of class time.  This is important but is part of an area in each report card where the student is assessed on the term as a whole, not on one specific project.

I don't think I need to say it but how in the name of Pete does this evaluate the students knowledge of this particular topic? 

Right, it doesn't.

By my estimation, the first 50% of the grade is completely irrelevant to the purpose of the project. 

Excellent. 

Let's move on to the other 50% of the grade, shall we?

"Required Elements" is up next. This one might actually be a fair assessment but let's not hold our breath.  The poster needs to include required elements.  Not that she indicates what those are.  For all we know, one of them was to draw a broccoli floret like Picasso.

 

I am going to assume that was the one element Kamden missed and call it a day.

 

Next up is "Attractiveness".  This one doesn't have a hope in being relevant for a health project.  So Kamden lost 2 marks because the poster was, in her opinion, "a bit messy".  At least it was still attractive, I mean thank goodness for that.

 

I don't want to sound like a broken record but THAT DOESN'T EVALUATE THEIR KNOWLEDGE.

 

To summarize, at best 4 of the 16 marks were relevant. 

 

This is exactly the same crap we saw with each project Jack brought home from this teacher. I never bothered to discuss the issues with her for two reasons.  One, it's health.  In the grand scheme of things, it's not a critical subject.  And two, I have a feeling it would be futile.  I leave the above discussion as Exhibit A.

 

Now that I got that off my chest, here are the obligatory Halloween snaps for the Grandparents.

 



 

Mario with his two pumpkins.  He designed and drew them, I carved.  I love love love.

 

 

And Captain Rex of The Clone Wars fame with his two.  The one on the left is his trademark face - going on 3 years I think.  The other is MineCraft themed.  Love love love.  This is the first year Jack both drew and carved his own.  He's growing up.

 

Marioooooo!

 

 Hope you had a happy Halloween free from teachers who clearly wish they taught at a post secondary art school.

Emotional Purge

A number of years back, there was an incident that still to this day make me ill to my stomach when I think back on it. I have never written about it because it was too raw, there were too many other people involved.   It's now been 6 years and I need to write about it.  This may change your opinion of me but it's part of me so out it goes.

It's the only time in my life that I have ever been looked at with such hate and vehemence. I won't forget that. EVER.

I'll start at the beginning.

About 6 years ago, I met a girl, about my age at a mutual friend's birthday party. She lived in the same city as us, had a child close to Kamden's age (at the time - babies they were!) and didn't know a lot of people as they were new to the city.

We hit it off and I invited her to be part of a splurge group I was part of. We were just finishing a round and had open spots.

It seemed perfect. A new friend, very exciting. I am not a very outgoing person and don't meet and hit it off with people that easily.

She brought another friend into the splurge and it all seemed to be going reasonably well. Though there were observances of eye rolling and such when some of us talked about our older children. I chalked it up to the fact that preschoolers just give more fodder than toddlers and thought, whatever, they'll understand later.

It was the first time in my life that I was part of a large group and felt comfortable.  The ladies were all wonderful, we had fun, we ate good food.

A well known fact about me, for those who know me, is that I am not a bubbly outgoing social butterfly.  Nope.  More of a wall flower, much more at ease in one on one or two on one situations.  Always have been like this and my children are every ounce the same.

After a while the fact that either of them could never bother to RSVP to a gathering was getting to many of us.  It was always requested.  Never once did it happen. Personally, I find such things rather rude and down right uncourteous.

People are busy yes, but too busy to write a one line email, c'mon.

I was quite subtle (oozing sarcasm) when they showed up at the gathering I  hosted having to frantically find chairs for them, I believe I even said, "oh I wasn't sure you would be coming as I never heard from you."  Oh yes, that subtle.

It was either too subtle or as became apparent later, they just thought the whole idea of RSVPing was so not 2006. 

Then came the kicker.  The event that triggered a fall out that even the most pessimistic Kami could not have predicted.

A good friend was organizing a team for the an all night relay event for charity.  Naturally she invited the group to join.  Via email.

Most of us responded.  Via email.  A foreign concept for 2006? I don't think so.

Long after the team was established, said girl asked if she could still be part of it.  The first question from the organizer was, didn't you get my emails?  She let her know that she wasn't sure at that point if we could add another but she would do her best.

I have no idea if this played a role in the fallout or not.  I had nothing to do with this part so probably  not.

Later, when it came to collecting the money, again, no response from this same, now infamous girl.

By this point I had it.  I mean REALLY? Is common courtesy gone by the wayside?

The funny thing is that in person, she oozed friendliness and courtesy. 

*Cough*  "Act* *Cough* *FAKE* *Cough*

Sorry, there I go again. I guess I still haven't learned my lesson.

I made a comment in an email to the team thanking the friend who had done all the work to organize us and collect the money to deliver.  It takes work to do this even when everyone is on their game and when they are not, well, it's more work topped with frustration.

The comment I made was something to the effect of thanks, who knew it would be this much work to organize a bunch of adults.

Was it the truth? Damn straight.

Was it okay to say?  Probably not.  And I was told as much by one person.

All in all, it wasn't the best way to handle an already bad situation.

During the charity event I sensed serious animosity from said girl.  I wasn't surprised, I knew she wouldn't have liked my comment. Of course, THAT email she read.  Murphy!
The kicker though was at the end of the very long night (it was an all night event. ) I chased after her to give her something she had forgotten.

She looked at me with such hatred and venom that it still makes me ill to think about it.

I simply turned on my heel and walked away. I wasn't going to deal with at that point.  No sleep.  Not going to happen.

So I didn't deal with it.  The next group gathering was at her place the week following.  I wasn't going. I mean, why would I?  It was clear she loathed my guts. I wasn't putting myself through that.  Also I have zero ability to be fake and act like nothing is wrong.

Selfish.  Yes, because when I wasn't there, she attacked my good friend who had organized the whole thing.  In front of the entire group.

That's right folks.  I still cannot believe that happened.

And this friend is one of the nicest, most loyal people I know.  She did not deserve one word of the hate hurled at her.

I wasn't there so I only heard about it second hand.  But from people I love and trust.  It got ugly.  Like into the nitty gritty about about why she felt there was no reason to RSVP to the gatherings -  she didn't care how many people would come so why is it necessary.  Etc. Etc. Etc. 

I have not seen this girl since she looked at me with hate.  And if I never see her again, it will be too soon. The whole situation is not something I can ever forget.  Forgive sure, but forget, never.

She never turned up at another gathering, and if I recall right, her gathering was the end of a round.  I stayed in the group one more year but the whole thing left such a bad taste in my mouth and I was no  longer comfortable with the whole group setting.  I loved each and every one in the group, I just preferred to see them individually or in smaller groups. 

After writing all this, I am not sure what my point even is.  Just that it stays with me.  I think I understand why it all happened but I am just making assumptions about her that are either true or false but it helps me forgive her and myself.

It's over.

And I hope I have learned that stating the blunt truth is not the best option.

Peace out.

A Rant and The Bright Side

In no particular order, things that miff me:

- spam phone calls, that when answered either by me or the answering machine result in loud beeping. Are you kidding me? What possible purpose does this kind of thing serve? Someone, somewhere needs to find a life. These are annoying during the day (3 times in 20min yesterday thankyouverymuch) but at 2am? Someone is going to pay. I registered on the National Do Not Call List but am skeptical yahoos who create this kind of crap refer to that list.

- Sledding etiquette, learn it, know it, live it. WALK UP THE SIDES OF THE HILL. Seriously. If you walk up the middle of the sliding area I will run you down. Okay, okay, Jay wouldn't let me, something about setting a good example for the kids...whatever. Also of note, if you are there with your 12 year old son and his friend, please deal with them when they lay down in the middle of the sliding area and there are 20 people at the top waiting for them to get up. I felt like a complete ass when I had to go ask them to please (said in my head - for love of Pete, get the HELL out of the way) move as they were holding everyone else up. They had found a toonie and where trying to dig it up, completely oblivious.

- Extra Christmas pounds. Enough said.

- that I no longer write like this

However, often for every con there is a pro:

- okay I actually don't have a pro for the spam phone calls. I lied. Sue me.

- Sledding was ridiculously fun. And we are currently experiencing non-winter like conditions. We are all scratching our heads and bracing for it because it's obvious Old Man Winter is seriously messing with us.

-LuluLemon Studio Pants and LuluLemon Quick Step Pants. I have two pairs of the Quick Step pants (on sale right now - looks like they are discontinuing them....boo) and one pair of Studio pants. I live in these pants (bonus to working at home, holla!)

- Converse to the extra Christmas pounds, some serious endorphin inducing workouts. Also walking is a bit on the difficult side today. No worries, boot camp tonight will loosen things right up.

And lastly, these two are a pro, if ever there was one.

So....

Here I am two weeks later, trying with all my might to eke a blog post out.

See that above? That is my day planner. No it isn't as full as some people's, I am sure. But it's busy for me.

I am not going to compete with anyone to see who is busier. Oh how I hate that. Your busy does not outrank my busy. My busy is my busy. (or something...)

I have always believed that we make choices and "the busy" is just another choice we make.

I made a committment. So I have to be busy. But, I don't necessarily have to like it.

My biggest issue is that I don't seem to have the energy to do the things I love to do anymore. My camera is dusty. This blog is dusty for goodness sake. Don't ask about the coffee tables.

Sure, if I never sat down to relax for five minutes, I would have the time. But without the relaxing there is nothing left for the creative energy to do the things I love. Without the creative energy, there is no creativity. With the relaxing there is no time. See my problem? Vicious circle.

Sure I could cut back on sleep but what purpose would that serve? None, I assure you. Life is too short to go through it sleep deprived.

The problem is, how can life be fulfiling without the things we love?

So.

This is where I am. Trying to figure it all out.

For myself.

The TV That Temporarily Came To Be

My husband had a dream. This guy who asks for so little that is materialistic. But this he wanted.

A flat screen TV of the ginormous size.

He hummed and hawed. For years.

This Fall I told him to go and buy it already for the love of Pete.

One day, a few weeks later, he calls me from Best Buy telling me to bring the van.

He finally made a decision!

We set it up - which given we have a fake fire place brick wall for a TV holder was no small feat (don't ask!) - and enjoyed it.

Until today.

Around 2pm this afternoon I was working away in my office while the boys played in the family room just outside my door. No school today - they pretty much get every second Friday off. I am pretty sure the school board is training them to be government employees.

So Kamden comes in and asks me to come look at the TV. I find this odd since it wasn't on but go to investigate.

I see this.

Should we look a little closer?

Apparently, a plastic connector to one of their foam fort sets when flying through the air. Accidentally.

Somehow, I was very calm. Shock probably. I didn't even yell once. I did, however, try to turn it on.

It fizzled. Loudly. No picture.

Quickly, I turned it off and as I wandered back into my office (the shock again) muttered, "Way to go boys, you just wrecked a $1,000 TV."

Guess who's college funds are going to be a little (a lot) leaner in the very near future?

Positive Spin

Grumble, grumble, bother, bother.

That has been my mood for the past couple of days. It is totally explainable (I'll take hormones, for a $1,000, Alex) but also ridiculously annoying. Top that off with a Monday morning that was less than stellar and here I am.

It is time to spin to the tune of the positive instead of the grumble, grumble, bother bother.

Onward ho.

I am thankful that when Jack called from school at 9:12AM this morning to let me know he wouldn't be coming home for lunch today because they were going a field trip today (not tomorrow like I was sure the note from the teacher said - oh right, keeping it positive) he was calm, cool and collected. If you know Jack, then you know stuff like this phases him. I am sure I will hear about it later as he told me it was Monday not Tuesday like I was sure the note (which I could no longer locate) said. But in the moment, he held it together. And he got a lunch from somewhere. THAT should be intersting, he is notoriously picky.

Coffee and dark chocolate. Why? See above re: hormones.

My family. They love me. Miraculous in itself most days.

My friends. They open my eyes. They make me think. It is a good thing.

My job. I had a dream last night that I was working back at my old job. Scratch that. It was a nightmare. So despite the fact that this morning kicked me in the butt, I love my job. Challenges are good. Mistakes are good because I learn.

Onward ho, hauling a positive spin with me. Perspective is always a good thing.

Anger Management

So, you know when things build up and you find yourself yelling at the dude in front of you who drives 10km under the speed limit down a one lane street for 5 km and then you, because fate is bitch, follow this same dude into a parking lot where he stops smack dab in the middle of the driving lane to let his overweight wife out in front of the door?

No? Great, well now you know where I am at anyway.

I am mad that a friend can't just move on with her life already.

Mad that there are those that I will never agree with and even worse, we can't even agree when one of us doesn't understand how to be civil. The match is lit and the gas has been poured on that bridge, let me tell you.

Mad that I barked at Jay last night over something completely and utterly ridiculous. Just to prove my point... he was drying the pots that I had handwashed and I got upset that he didn't put the dirty dishes on the table in the dishwasher first.

Uh huh, I did.

50% of men in the world will only dry dishes if asked to do so directly. Another 25% won't even do it when asked.

Um yeah, consider me slinking away with my tail between my legs.

I am just mad that I am mad.

And it's snowing. Consider yourself warned.

*cracks open vodka at 10:24am*

Arbitrary Thursday

I feel like writing a blog post but have no concrete subjects so arbitrary bits of random it is.

Jay bought me flowers a week or so ago to congratulate me on a new work contract that I was offered and accepted. It means that I will have more contract work over and above the work I have been doing over the last five years. It couldn't have come at a better time, really and truly.

I love when things just work out like that.

The pictures in my blog header are from 3 years ago. Or so. I haven't the foggiest on how to go about changing them. I should try and figure that out. Maybe.

I might just about be ready to change my blog layout. Maybe. But I haven't the foggiest how so that would require hiring a professional. I might get around to in sometime in 2012.

On Friday, I purchased three pork tenderloins from that big grocery store we have in Canada that carries a lot of products packaged in yellow. Saturday morning, in anticipation of hosting a dinner for Anna and Jen and families, I began cutting up the meat to marinate for souvlaki.

The first package, when opened stunk like rotting meat and the meat was the texture of what I envision Jabba the Hut feeling like. Slimy disgustingness.

The second did not. I cut that up and when I got to the end of it, guess what? Jabba the Hut consistency again. And now it is in the marinade with the peppers and onions.

Package three was as rank as the first.

I put all of it in a bag and marched it back to the Yellow Store. I was polite. I didn't even threaten to take the meat to the health department.

In return, the lady tried to take away my free gift card earned when I spent over $250 since the return of the meat (no exchange thankyouverymuch) would put my total below $250.

I am not even kidding.

I politely noted that under normal circumstances, I would completely agree. However, given that the meat was ROTTING, I would think that an exception could be made. I should have added "for the love of Pete", it was fitting, no?

She had the gall to note that for all she knew, I could have left the meat out overnight. Wow. I was stunned for a second or two, regained my composure and said that I had not, in fact, left the meat out overnight (insert yelling comment in my head - "because I am not a complete MORON!") and that it was doubtful, in my opinion, that the stench coming from the bag could have occurred overnight.

Again, not even kidding.

She begrudgingly let me keep my gift card. Wasn't she just the sweetest thing?

Guess where I will refrain from buying my meat from here on out?

Where I've been at

Wow, I left that last post up for 2 whole weeks. Not my best work and potentially my most offensive. Sorry about that folks.

I have been busy summer holidaying along with a cold. It started the day we left. And that was two weeks ago tomorrow. It's made itself at home and seems to have no plans of returning from whence it came (Hell I believe).

When we arrived home, the cold was hitting second gear and I had a work commitment. One that took me outside my home office, face to face with real people. I was a hot mess. But it was good work because it involves hanging out with some really fantastic ladies who have become friends.

Then Jay and I had the pleasure of seeing Bon Jovi again.

Oh how I love me some Bon Jovi. Judge not, music is a very personal thing. Their music is something that Jay and I have in common. And our boys love them too. That is a good thing. Excuse the photo, my phone is not high in the pixel area. Real cameras were not allowed in but had they been I could have photographed the sweat beads on his forehead. We had good seats.

Did I mention the cold? Oh yes, I did. Imagine how I feel because I am still in the midst of it as I type this. By this point Jay was enjoying company of the cold that would never end too.

We blame Jack. He started it. He was sick for over two weeks too. So stuffed up and coughing like a two pack a day smoker for so long we actually went to a medi clinic while on our holiday to pump him with antibiotics.

Day 9 of the meds - hives. All over his legs. By the next morning they had made their way all the way up to his cheeks.

Penicillin allergy confirmed.

And now that Jay and I are enjoying the benefits of this virus from hell, we know that Jack likely didn't need the antibiotics anyway. But finding out he is allergic to penicillin isn't a bad thing. So.

Jay and I will ride it out and hope that by September it will have packed its snotty phlegmy bags and retreated never to be seen again.

Oh and could someone please remind me about June 15, 2011 that summer is NOT less busy than the school year. Please! I keep weaving myself into this fantasy that summer will involve lazy days by the pool or spray park. Someone throw a pail of water on these fantasies already because yesterday was the first time we had time or were well enough to even consider the idea.

And summer is half over.

Excuse me, it's time to ply myself with wine, maybe that will kill this virus and if not, I should certainly feel better for awhile, no?

The One Where I Eat My Words*

Does anyone remember me ranting about being sick of hearing about
Blackberry's and iphones?

Guess what that is? Yes, that's right, it's my new (kinda) Blackberry Curve.

Let me explain and then I will eat my words.

My old phone was a flip phone and the spring that flipped it broke about two months ago. It still worked fine, my face held it open. I was still being stubborn. I didn't need a new phone!

Then it happened. The screen came off the base. As in, my phone was no longer a flip phone but more of a two piece phone. It still worked though! Jay taped it back together and honestly, I thought no worries, I'll keep using it.

Then he said, "Get a new phone!"

Well okay then. And I had a phone credit from the phone company which meant I could pick from a few different models and pay nada, zilch, nothing. This version of the Blackberry has been discontinued so it was mine for a whopping $0.

Then I was getting someone named Jody's email. And the battery cover is scratched. Hmm, maybe it's not so new after all.

But it is FREE.

The Internet charges per month?

Not so free.

Crunch, crunch. My words need a little Frank's Hot Sauce.

*Not to be confused with the one where I eat my shorts.
** Feel free to welcome me to the new millenium. I am only 10 years late.
***Now we might have to upgrade our 10 + year old TV's that we got for free too
****Nah, why?
*****No Jack and Kamden, we are not getting a Wii. I needed my Blackberry for work. (shh, don't tell them I can't actually use it for my work website)

It's my blog and I'll post what I want to

Well I sure was encouraged by how many comments there were on my last post. I am always encouraged by how many comments other bloggers get when they talk about the lack of comments. I post about it and I get crickets. Duly noted.

Anywho, as you can tell, I am not bitter. At all. Nope. To see 46 plus visitors on Friday alone and get 8 comments. Why would I be? The 8 that commented are my favourites. So there.

Mature no?

Moving on.

After more days of rain than we could possibly count, the sun came out. We had almost fogotten what it looked like so I took a picture. You know, for future reference.

We headed over to the school to play.

I am not sure you could park a bike here for the jungle of dandilions. At least they aren't in my lawn. Yet. The school isn't that far away, no doubt the seeds travel on the winds that blow endlessly *curses under breath*.

I love it when he actually let's me take a photo. And if it turns out too, gravy.

This one co-operated once. But that was his limit. Twerp. I guess he's cute though, so maybe I'll still keep him. For now.

At least Daddy was willing.

The only use of a basketball net, in my opinion. What? I don't enjoy team sports.

Kamden was not willing to pose with his brother so I asked Jay to. You know when Kamden was ready to pose? When the rest of us had started making our way home.

We made our way back. He posed but he didn't say he would smile.

Can't win them all.

Trouble Comes in Small Packages

If you have been reading my rants here for a bit, you know about my love hate relationship with coffee (I have, on more than on occasion, snuck it into a movie theatre). I did a post about it sometime but I have no patience to scroll through old posts, does anyone actually click on them and read them, anyway? That's what I thought.

Anyway, the love hate relationship causes me to go from drinking it daily to swearing of it forever. I usually last about a week if I am really serious. The problem is that the caffeine and even decaf makes the symptoms of menopause much, much worse. And if you have been reading here for a bit you will also recall that despite the fact that I am not quite 36, I am indeed suffering from hot flashes, night sweats, mood swings and sleep disruption. It is as awesome as it sounds.

So at 5am this morning when I woke up sweating like a hog, I swore I would not drink a drop of the stuff EVER again.

Then later today when I got a call telling me I had won a raffle, I thought maybe it was a sign.

That maybe, giving it up FOREVER, was a bit harsh.

Afterall, this coffee has Ganoderma extract in it. Of course, this makes it extremly healthy such that the extract counter acts all the negative aspects of caffiene - or so they claim.

It's like giving crack to an addict or a beacon from heaven. I'll keep you posted.

Anonymous Comments of the Dumbest Kind

Lately, I have been back and forth between allowing anonymous comments or not. I like to allow them because I have friends and family that comment via this method.

Here is one of the reasons why I had to shut them off:

"good morning fellas. I'm honestly into shoes and I have been searching for that exact model. The prices as regards the sneakers are approximately 210 pounds on every site. But completely I set this location selling them as a remedy for half price. I absolutely love these (url removed). I will definetly buy these. what can you tell me about these?"

NO. I cannot tell you about some stupid shoes that you have already decided to buy. And for the love of Pete, I am a girl, not a fella. Trust me. And I don't want to be mean but English is not your first language. Sorry it was the composition of pretty much the entire comment that gave it away.

And just to keep me fuming, here is a good one:

"Do You interesting of Viagra 100mg dosage? You can find below...(url removed)"

We may be the house of khlopchyk (boys) but none of them have any need for this crap for at least another 30 years, if ever. And also, guessing English is not your first language. Yup, it was the composition again, kind of gives you away.

Or this one, it's a repeat offender:

"Nice post and this post helped me alot in my college assignement. Say thank you you seeking your information."

Boy do I feel good, I mean here I am contributing to post secondary education and all. I should be getting paid for this. A post about how I printed off my blog into books must be integral to many college assignments....at the University of Ridiculous anyway. And by the way alot is not a word. It's two, a and lot. That's $25 more, this advice is invaluable.

I have received many of these in the last couple of months. And here's the dumbest part, even dumber than than the bad English, they are all on old posts. Um, if you want someone to see your ridiculous link to some probably illegal store selling Viagra, putting it on an old post of mine is not your best line of defence. I might have a big ego but even I know that I don't have a huge audience on current posts, never mind posts from three months ago.

Who does this crap? I am assuming it's some techno geek in Malaysia or someplace who created some computer program that posts these comments and he thinks he's the cat's ass, only better because he doesn't need spell check. But why on God's green earth? I kind of get why they post comments with links...they are trying to drive traffic to their site. I am going to go out on a limb and say my site hasn't be a big contributor. But some of them don't even have a link. And some are addressed to Alice. I have been called a lot of things but Alice? C'mon people, play nice.

Just think what these people could accomplish if they channel their abilities to more useful projects. I have many suggestions, like world peace, and reducing human impact on the environment, just to name a couple. Maybe when their spam program comes by in a couple of months and attempts to post a dumb comment, it will read this and pass on the message.

What can I say, I am an eternal optimist.

Until these yahoos give it up with their hokey spam programs, I am leaving anonymous comments off, sorry y'all.

Negative Nellie Be Gone

Grrr. That's me these days. Negative Nellie. Or Negative Nancy, whatever floats your boat. And I really have nothing to complain about. We are all healthy. Spring is in the air and the snow is melting. On the whole, life is good.

But my mood is on the foul side. If you are a Facebook friend you will have noticed the tart flavour of my recent status updates.

On Monday my status read as follows:

"Sometimes I want to comment on a student's assignment, "Did you read my revision comment, at all, before you made your changes? I thought not."

For a living (ha!) I do contract work for the education system that trains Chartered Accountants (CA) in Western Canada. My weekends are spent providing feedback on weekly assignments. Students then use these comments to revise their assignments. It never ceases to amaze me that someone with a university education (a requirement to become a CA) can't read. And there is at least one in every group of students I work with. Likely they are just having a bad day but after a few like that, it really increases my use of profanity, you know?

Then Tuesday I kicked it up a notch (or three):

To Whom it May Concern,

Yes, while breastfeeding is beautiful, natural and wonderful (blah, blah, blah) I do not, I repeat, I do not want to see pictures of you or others you have photographed breastfeeding. It's private, personal and should be kept that way.

Much love,

Kami

Huh. Single handedly trashed both my students and breastfeeding in two days. The talent abounds. Actually it isn't breastfeeding that I have issue with . I bf'd both my boys for part of their first year. And I did it in public. Discreetly. What I don't want to see are photos of people feeding their babies. Because these are not usually overly discreet and also, why? I get, on some level, the desire to have such photographs taken. What I don't get is the need to share them with others.

There a lot of beautiful things in life that do not require photographic evidence. In fact, as friends commented on my status it occurred to me that a classic example of this is taking a really good bowel movement (welcome to my mind, it's frightening).

It's a beautiful thing.

C'mon, you know what I am talking about. Don't pretend to be grossed out, we all poop.

Did the picture of flowers help? No? Bear with me. My point is that some things are not meant to be shared.

But is it the pictures in specific that have my panties in a knot?

No. But the fact that Superstore appears to no longer sell my favourite tea, President's Choice Green Chai, does. In fact, I think the black cloud appeared above my head precisely at 10:12 AM this morning when I discovered this. What they do have is black tea with Chai spice. H-E-llo, menopausal 35 year old can't have black caffeine, unless waking up in night sweats is what you call a good time. I have it on good authority that this 35 year old does not.

And speaking of groceries. Has a pack of 400 lb gorillas moved into the basement? I am forever getting groceries to the tune of $250 plus. A week. There are only four of us. I haven't yet found the gorilla's hiding spot but when I do, they are all out on their ears.

And these gorillas don't make meal requests. And you are going to think I am crazy (hell, you already know I am crazy) but I wish they did. I love to cook. No really, I actually do. What I hate is the daily question, "What should I make for supper?"

Correction. It's not the question I loathe, it's the fact that I seem to always be the one who has to answer it. My family is just really laid back. Every now and then someone will throw out a request but for the most part, I get the generic, "I don't know" or my all time favourite, "That's the million dollar question, now isn't it Mommy?"

Is it wrong to say, "No shit Sherlock" to your kids? Right. I knew that.

Also contributing to my gloom and doom is my seeming inability to keep things organized around here. Opening a closet requires lightening quick reflexes that rival the Karate Kid. Get in and out before the crap, er, I mean, stuff swallows you whole. In fact, we are not sure, but we may have once lost a child in that catch all closet we like to forget about. No worries, we toss some granola bars in there every once in a while, he'll be fine.

But when I have time to organize and clean this stuff, do I? Oh no. There are 1,000 other things I'll find to do before organizing a closet.

Then again, do I want to be defined by my immaculately clean and organized home? I am thinking no, but I'll get back to you, just as soon as I am finish complaining.

Don't hold your breath.

Awesome Abs

Ever since I got my DSLR (Cannon Rebel), my point and shoot has been sitting idle. That is until Kamden picked it up a few months back and started shooting random photos of things around the house.

Like his Christmas blanket lounging about eating bon bons (also what I do all day, in case you were wondering).

He even does self portraits.

Not bad, though clearly he's been hanging about with me too much. And don't worry, he only saw stars from that ridiculous flash for a few minutes. Nothing to worry about here.

Every now and then he focuses his camera on me. Yes, in the most attractive poses you will ever see. Exhibit A, while I am fixing his afternoon snack.

I haven't taught him about not placing your subject right in front of a windw so there's that. But what I love about this photo is that I look three months (or more) pregnant. And while it's wonderful and fantastic and beautiful to look three months pregnant, that only applies when you actually ARE three months pregnant. Of which, in case you missed it, I am NOT.

Um, lower abs, any chance you could, you know, do some work and hold that there ponch in?

Which lead me to the point of this post, (ha, fooled you, there is actually a point other than showing off my son's exempliary photography skills) self body image.

I don't know a woman who hasn't struggled with it. I am no exeption. Looking good is important to me because it makes me feel good. I know that sounds vain and shallow and it likely is but if I feel good about how I look, I have more confidence in myself, am more outgoing (which is all relative given that I am not a social butterfly by any stretch of the imagination) and gosh darn it all, happier.

And for the most part, I do okay. Mostly I feel like I have never looked better.

Then.

Then I see a photo like that and it's almost enough to make me give up and eat poutine. Three meals a day. And I don't like poutine. At all.

The point is that all the crunches and running and boot camps and healthy eating (within moderation since life is for living and living means eating tasty treats whether they are good for me or not) will not fix the one thing that makes everyone look their best.

Good posture.

And using the muscles that were given to us.

Hello, lower abs. Guess what? Time to train you bad boys into working 24 - 7. And quit your griping, you've have had 35.5 years of vacation (before I had kids they likely didn't need to work too hard, there was nothing to hold in and since I have had kids they haven't worked too hard at all,trust me). Lower abs, we'll call you Labs for short, it's time you pulled your own weight.

Because in my head, this is what I see.

And these pesky bad photos are not good for my self image.

And also, because I know you are thinking but are too polite to say, if this is my biggest concern, life is good. And you are absolutely 100% right but it's better than no post at all, isn't it?

Wait. Don't answer that!