This past week or two has been the crappiest in a while, I must say. First I find I have a sinus infection, which, is unbelievably painful. For those of you unfortunate as to have had one in the past, you know two things, one, you cry from the pressure behind your eyes, with out actually feeling the crying emotion, and every time you breathe, you feel like your head will explode. IF you are a parent, you know that the only thing worse than being sick your self, is being sick while your child is sick too.
Gem contracted an ear infection around the same time and just when I thought she was on the mend, she spiked a fever and this morning woke up with spots on her chest. I took her to the Doc who informed me, again that is was viral induced, and much like her fever , it will just have to run its course. Woo Hoo, I guess its back to tylenol, t.v, and books.
I had picked up a copy of Chatelaine to read while we waited for the Doc. I flipped through the unending - "this will make you _________ (skinny, tall, beautiful, young, sexy etc.) "adds, looking for something interesting. Then a little article caught my eye. Can Someone find their calling at age 22? It talked about how a few famous people eg. Coco Chanel, Jane Goodall and a few others discovered at an early age, what takes some people years to figure out- what they were meant to be and do. Now, some of them are famous and millionaires.
So did I? Did I at 22? NOPE. Are you kidding? I kept waiting for that "A-Ha" moment to hit me like a ton of bricks. At the time I was struggling to complete a Fine Arts Degree, adjusting to health changes and family drama.I continued waiting for the door to open, I didn't aggressively search for it. I just figured it would happen. But life doesn't always turn out like you thought it would.
Now, with a degree under my belt, people often ask me what it is I do with it. Truth is I don't have a job or a career from it. And when I tell them I'm a stay at home mother of 2 kids ,they just shake their heads at me and say "What a waste."
I am grateful that I have the opportunity to stay home with my kids. Sure it has it's demanding times. Dealing with sick kids, when I too am under the weather, generally just sucks! Living on a single income is difficult, and sometimes I wish I was in an office somewhere bringing in money, because lets face it, a single income doesn't always cut it when it comes to bills.
But I love that I can cuddle Gem through her fever, make cookies with her or walk her to school. It doesn't bother me that a career is on the back burner. It's more important, that I be with my kids right now. And if I think about it, we actually do make six figures, as long as I include the decimal points.
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
Are You Itchy?
Friends of mine said," What did they do? Tell you after you stuck your hand up?"Actually I didn't have to stick my hand up at all. Not many people were brave enough to do so. It's so not the most glamorous of volunteer jobs. In fact its down right creepy. But as the saying goes, "It's a dirty job, and someone has to do it."
That some one over the last few years has been my neighbour and friend, Jo. She has organised volunteers, researched the problem, and has contacted the appropriate authorities to help with the problem. When most people would have backed away, at the very mention of it, Jo has been there willing. I truly admire her character for this, and thus I felt it was high time I joined her in the fight against head lice at our school.
Head lice, unfortunately is not considered a heath issue, Jo was politely informed by the local Heath nurse, but rather a nuisance like dandruff. Though they have a disgusting stigma attached to them that gives an itchy meaning to the phrase "Bite me!", no one has actually died from having lice crawling over their scalp. Even if we had an epidemic on our hands, the health nurse wasn't about to come out of her office.
There was five of us who dedicated our Friday morning to this unsightly task.We hung up our coats in the school office, rolled up our sleeves, sprayed on extra hairspray, and filled our pockets with Popsicle sticks. (Lice like clean heads of hair, and products like hairspray, and gel deter them. Drops of tee tree oil in your shampoo has been known to do the same) We rallied in the School foyer after the bell rang and Jo laid down the attack plan: We were checking from class to class, Ask the child if you can look at their head. We were debriefed on how to look for the little suckers; look behind the ears, the nape of the neck, base of the crown. It kind of looks like dandruff, but dandruff flakes away. Lice won't move, or they will crawl away on their own. The eggs are stuck like glue to the hair follicle. And what ever you do, try to keep a poker face. Do not under any circumstances say out loud that the girl /boy you've just checked has lice, get their name or remember what they are wearing and tell Jo after we've left the room.
As we went from room to room obeying the rules of anonymity as best we could, our very presence let the children know that indeed there was a problem. Someone among them had lice. There was a stigma, and that unfortunate person would be ostracized for a long time. Children were on the look out for reaction on our faces, or a double check of someones hair.Those that were nervous about having their hair analysed almost always had an infestation.
As I sifted through one nervous boy's hair, he was itchy, and asked me constantly about lice. I could not believe what I saw. I was literally stunned. I thought only Hollywood special effects could make such creepy crawly suckers, come alive. Now I know where they got their inspiration. I memorized his clothes, walked away and caught a glimpse of disgust flash across the faces of his closest classmates. I suddenly felt sorry for him. It may not be a heath issue, but for a preteen like him, it was about to become a psychological one. Unfortunately, the answer wasn't quite as simple as a wash or two with "Head and Shoulders" shampoo.
I had two showers and washed my hair twice when I reached home. I couldn't get rid of the itchy sensation on my skin. I spent the rest of the day cleaning the house and trying to forget what I saw. At dinner time Carpenter asked how my day was and from my reaction he said, "Guess we're not having rice?"
That some one over the last few years has been my neighbour and friend, Jo. She has organised volunteers, researched the problem, and has contacted the appropriate authorities to help with the problem. When most people would have backed away, at the very mention of it, Jo has been there willing. I truly admire her character for this, and thus I felt it was high time I joined her in the fight against head lice at our school.
Head lice, unfortunately is not considered a heath issue, Jo was politely informed by the local Heath nurse, but rather a nuisance like dandruff. Though they have a disgusting stigma attached to them that gives an itchy meaning to the phrase "Bite me!", no one has actually died from having lice crawling over their scalp. Even if we had an epidemic on our hands, the health nurse wasn't about to come out of her office.
There was five of us who dedicated our Friday morning to this unsightly task.We hung up our coats in the school office, rolled up our sleeves, sprayed on extra hairspray, and filled our pockets with Popsicle sticks. (Lice like clean heads of hair, and products like hairspray, and gel deter them. Drops of tee tree oil in your shampoo has been known to do the same) We rallied in the School foyer after the bell rang and Jo laid down the attack plan: We were checking from class to class, Ask the child if you can look at their head. We were debriefed on how to look for the little suckers; look behind the ears, the nape of the neck, base of the crown. It kind of looks like dandruff, but dandruff flakes away. Lice won't move, or they will crawl away on their own. The eggs are stuck like glue to the hair follicle. And what ever you do, try to keep a poker face. Do not under any circumstances say out loud that the girl /boy you've just checked has lice, get their name or remember what they are wearing and tell Jo after we've left the room.
As we went from room to room obeying the rules of anonymity as best we could, our very presence let the children know that indeed there was a problem. Someone among them had lice. There was a stigma, and that unfortunate person would be ostracized for a long time. Children were on the look out for reaction on our faces, or a double check of someones hair.Those that were nervous about having their hair analysed almost always had an infestation.
As I sifted through one nervous boy's hair, he was itchy, and asked me constantly about lice. I could not believe what I saw. I was literally stunned. I thought only Hollywood special effects could make such creepy crawly suckers, come alive. Now I know where they got their inspiration. I memorized his clothes, walked away and caught a glimpse of disgust flash across the faces of his closest classmates. I suddenly felt sorry for him. It may not be a heath issue, but for a preteen like him, it was about to become a psychological one. Unfortunately, the answer wasn't quite as simple as a wash or two with "Head and Shoulders" shampoo.
I had two showers and washed my hair twice when I reached home. I couldn't get rid of the itchy sensation on my skin. I spent the rest of the day cleaning the house and trying to forget what I saw. At dinner time Carpenter asked how my day was and from my reaction he said, "Guess we're not having rice?"
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
Stand in Line.
4:50 am, they said was the earliest people stood in line. It broke a record. They came from across the street, and several blocks away. They came dressed for the cold winter weather, holding a cup of coffee, most likely TimHortons or Starbucks. They were not there to buy tickets to the next box office hit, entertainer of the year, or brodway musical. The doors did not open until 7am. They came to register their child for a chance to be enrolled in school this fall.
The school is just an ordinary school. It is not an over -the - top school. The people whose children attend there think highly of it, the teachers, principal and the staff. They do work hard at prioviding a good learning environment for tthe students, and as a whole the parents help out as much as they can. Parents try to enroll their children in this school over the one that is actually closer to them, because they like the learning environment.
There are no boundaries anymore, so just because you live in an are a near a school, does not mean your child will attend that school. Some one in parliament decided that the boundary rules were unconstitutional. And they are. So if you want , you can drive your child half way across town, if that is where you want your child to attend, provided there is room. There are only so many seats in the school district. They fill up fast. And if your child isn't registered somewhere, they will find a spot for you, no matter how inconvienient it may be.
So, to secure a spot, people line up early on the first day. A few years ago I braved blowing snow and pushed two children in a buggy two KM, to give Gem a chance to be at this school.
Even still, by the time I filled out the paper work the principal told me to have a second plan in place, because , they were pretty close to their max.
A time is stamped on your registration form, and as the principal welcomed potential new parents after 11 am she told them to have a second plan in place.
It has come down to first come first serve, in the school system. That's how you enroll your child in the school you want them in. But this year, I have an edge. Yes, there is a trump card. Gem is already attending school, and her sibling has priority over those who do not have siblings in the school, because they will not break up families. As heartbreaking as it is, I could register in march, and still bump someone who came in at 9. And if someone comes in next week, they will be told, "Sorry no such luck." I just hope they don't live across the street.
The school is just an ordinary school. It is not an over -the - top school. The people whose children attend there think highly of it, the teachers, principal and the staff. They do work hard at prioviding a good learning environment for tthe students, and as a whole the parents help out as much as they can. Parents try to enroll their children in this school over the one that is actually closer to them, because they like the learning environment.
There are no boundaries anymore, so just because you live in an are a near a school, does not mean your child will attend that school. Some one in parliament decided that the boundary rules were unconstitutional. And they are. So if you want , you can drive your child half way across town, if that is where you want your child to attend, provided there is room. There are only so many seats in the school district. They fill up fast. And if your child isn't registered somewhere, they will find a spot for you, no matter how inconvienient it may be.
So, to secure a spot, people line up early on the first day. A few years ago I braved blowing snow and pushed two children in a buggy two KM, to give Gem a chance to be at this school.
Even still, by the time I filled out the paper work the principal told me to have a second plan in place, because , they were pretty close to their max.
A time is stamped on your registration form, and as the principal welcomed potential new parents after 11 am she told them to have a second plan in place.
It has come down to first come first serve, in the school system. That's how you enroll your child in the school you want them in. But this year, I have an edge. Yes, there is a trump card. Gem is already attending school, and her sibling has priority over those who do not have siblings in the school, because they will not break up families. As heartbreaking as it is, I could register in march, and still bump someone who came in at 9. And if someone comes in next week, they will be told, "Sorry no such luck." I just hope they don't live across the street.
Saturday, January 13, 2007
A Sacrifice for Ginger Snap Cookies
It's cold. The kind of cold that makes me hibernate indoors and stoke my fire. It has been days like these that make me grateful I have a wood insert in my fireplace. My windows, original as my house itself are a serious waste of energy. Right now they are completely frozen shut, and the large one in my living room is completely covered in a layer of ice and frost. It happens every time the mercury drops close to -15 C. It makes the kids dread playing outside, and the walk to school with kids in tow painful experience. I found Gem a ride to school, and Jules and I can spend some quality time baking. It's cold, a perfect day for turning on the oven!
I flipped through my favorite cookbook looking for an interesting recipe, I can always throw an old stand-by together later. Chocolate chip, even though its Carpenter's favorite, is wearing thin. Jules comes up to me and says " Mommy, can we make gingerbread cookies today?" I looked at her as she folded her hands under her chin, batted her big eyelashes and added "Please, please, please?"
"Okay," I said, "How about this, We'll make Ginger Snaps and put SUGAR on them !"
"Yay!" she shouted, "I can help you too, Mommy? I'm a good helper!"
I sent her off to wash her hands and find her apron. I congratulated myself on having avoided the messy disaster that follows with cookie cutters, not to mention the icing sugar and decorating that comes later, when making cut out cookies. I still had powdered sugar left over from Christmas baking, and a small stash of candies that could be used up, after all it was just sitting there. But then I'd have to save some for Gem to decorate when she came home from school, to be fair, and I wasn't about to let the mess drag on. Ginger snaps, yes, much better choice. Besides, they were still to be sprinkled with sugar, and that's all that mattered to Jules. It's always, all about the sweet stuff when it comes to cookies.
So we set out beating the ingredients together , as Jules fetched eggs, and butter from the fridge, and constantly tried to lick every spoon that had any batter on it. Then she asked, "What do we need next?" After measuring out some flour, I looked at her and said, "We need Molasses." A look of horror flashed across her face.
Jules, up until now had only ever known Molasses as one thing. She had never tasted it. She did not know that there are people who enjoy it on top of morning porridge. She could care less that horses and cows love it mixed in with grain. Molasses was her teddy bear.
Molasses came to Jules her first Christmas. He has rich dark brown fur, black eyes, and nose. He has a small checked ribbon around his neck , and is very soft and cuddly. His name was printed on a tag, and that's what Carpenter, Gem and I called him. But Jules called him "Go- Asses", the best she could do at pronouncing his name for the longest time. He was the only teddy bear that she dragged everywhere; Inside, outside, in the truck, and to Grandmas. He comforted her through every storm, bad dream and sickness. He has survived being dragged through the mud, being painted, puked on, and a spin cycle or two. (Yes, I put him in the washer! It was PUKE) Molasses has stood the test of time, and can honestly say, "I am loved"
"We need Molasses?"She repeated, "We NEED Molasses? Mommy?" "We need Molasses?"
"WE NEED MOLASSES?"
"Yes" I said putting down my measuring cup.
"Okay, I'll go get Go -Asses." She hung her head as she climbed down off the chair. Surely these cookies that we were making somehow justified such a large sacrifice. A most beloved teddybear that would become cookies. Cookies covered in sugar, no less. The power of sugar.
"No, sweetie," I stopped her and pulled her close. Her eyes were full of tears. It never occurred to me that she could actually say the word "Molasses". It hit me very quickly the thoughts that were running through her mind. A vision of fur, beaters and eggs flashed through my mind and I almost chuckled.
"No honey, this is molasses," I pulled the container down from the self and began to pour it into the batter. " See, its like syrup."
"Can I have a taste?" She asked climbing back up onto her chair.
She stuck her finger into the thick rope of molasses flowing into the bowl, and tasted it. " This isn't Molasses- This is YUCKY Syrup!"
I flipped through my favorite cookbook looking for an interesting recipe, I can always throw an old stand-by together later. Chocolate chip, even though its Carpenter's favorite, is wearing thin. Jules comes up to me and says " Mommy, can we make gingerbread cookies today?" I looked at her as she folded her hands under her chin, batted her big eyelashes and added "Please, please, please?"
"Okay," I said, "How about this, We'll make Ginger Snaps and put SUGAR on them !"
"Yay!" she shouted, "I can help you too, Mommy? I'm a good helper!"
I sent her off to wash her hands and find her apron. I congratulated myself on having avoided the messy disaster that follows with cookie cutters, not to mention the icing sugar and decorating that comes later, when making cut out cookies. I still had powdered sugar left over from Christmas baking, and a small stash of candies that could be used up, after all it was just sitting there. But then I'd have to save some for Gem to decorate when she came home from school, to be fair, and I wasn't about to let the mess drag on. Ginger snaps, yes, much better choice. Besides, they were still to be sprinkled with sugar, and that's all that mattered to Jules. It's always, all about the sweet stuff when it comes to cookies.
So we set out beating the ingredients together , as Jules fetched eggs, and butter from the fridge, and constantly tried to lick every spoon that had any batter on it. Then she asked, "What do we need next?" After measuring out some flour, I looked at her and said, "We need Molasses." A look of horror flashed across her face.
Jules, up until now had only ever known Molasses as one thing. She had never tasted it. She did not know that there are people who enjoy it on top of morning porridge. She could care less that horses and cows love it mixed in with grain. Molasses was her teddy bear.
Molasses came to Jules her first Christmas. He has rich dark brown fur, black eyes, and nose. He has a small checked ribbon around his neck , and is very soft and cuddly. His name was printed on a tag, and that's what Carpenter, Gem and I called him. But Jules called him "Go- Asses", the best she could do at pronouncing his name for the longest time. He was the only teddy bear that she dragged everywhere; Inside, outside, in the truck, and to Grandmas. He comforted her through every storm, bad dream and sickness. He has survived being dragged through the mud, being painted, puked on, and a spin cycle or two. (Yes, I put him in the washer! It was PUKE) Molasses has stood the test of time, and can honestly say, "I am loved"
"We need Molasses?"She repeated, "We NEED Molasses? Mommy?" "We need Molasses?"
"WE NEED MOLASSES?"
"Yes" I said putting down my measuring cup.
"Okay, I'll go get Go -Asses." She hung her head as she climbed down off the chair. Surely these cookies that we were making somehow justified such a large sacrifice. A most beloved teddybear that would become cookies. Cookies covered in sugar, no less. The power of sugar.
"No, sweetie," I stopped her and pulled her close. Her eyes were full of tears. It never occurred to me that she could actually say the word "Molasses". It hit me very quickly the thoughts that were running through her mind. A vision of fur, beaters and eggs flashed through my mind and I almost chuckled.
"No honey, this is molasses," I pulled the container down from the self and began to pour it into the batter. " See, its like syrup."
"Can I have a taste?" She asked climbing back up onto her chair.
She stuck her finger into the thick rope of molasses flowing into the bowl, and tasted it. " This isn't Molasses- This is YUCKY Syrup!"
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
Just Another Day
While we walked home from school , I watched Gem from behind; her stylin' new Christmas coat from Grandma fit perfectly, her jeans covering her boots, and her hair loose over her shoulders. She just seemed so much older than what she was, and for a moment I caught a glimpse of what my little girl would look like in ten years.
And then she fell, because of course the sidewalks have been covered in sheer ice most of this winter. She giggled and laughed, got back up and kept "skating" sliding around on the sidewalk in her boots. We've been practicing that "skating technique" especially in the last few days because of all the melting and freezing going on , and no one seems to want to clean off their sidewalks.
I love walking her to school, even though she'd rather me find someone to drive her. It does mean getting up earlier and ready sooner than if we drove, and she lets me know that she's not impressed: The deep dramatic sigh, the roll of the eyes... Yeah, if she's like this now, I am certainly in no hurry to have her hit the dreaded teen years. She is the oldest one, has a bossy streak once in a while, and likes to tell on her sister. She does enjoy quiet moments coloring and crafts, and my fridge, serves as a gallery for her Creations. I don't mind even if the fridge is new. It's a fridge, that's what it's for.
Jules' art is on there too, not as much though, because she chooses to express herself in less subtle ways. She has, in the past, painted her face and dress with bright orange paint , when it was within reach. She scooped a nail from Carpenter's tool belt only to draw permanent happy faces on the tailgate- actually I believe Gem caught a bit of that action too. The dress survived a vigorous wash, but the paint stayed, and the tailgate... received a coat of paint after two attempted break in's by a frustrated keying thief.
But my frustration with the kids' expression happened after Carpenter came home with some night tables for our room . We have been in need of these bedroom furniture pieces for quite some time.But the need has become more urgent since we have been investing in "marriage enhancing" products thanks to my dear friend Ferf. It was high time to have a drawer or two to hide these things in. I'm sure those of you who received a little black bag for Christmas this year know exactly what I'm talking about.
Carpenter worked late into the night putting these Home Depot specials together. He left them in the Living room until I had time to clean our room and move them in.
I awoke the next morning, To Gem yelling "Mommyyyy! COME see what SHE is doing!" That annoying screech that just makes your skin crawl, and kids know that perfect pitch that will send you flying out of bed. Which was what I did.There was Jules coloring away a gift for "Mommy and Daddy"in front of the TV with her art pack, ON MY NEW TABLES. They hadn't even made it into the bedroom before they were decorated with FELT PEN. I freaked, like any parent , I'm sure, scolded her appropriately and sent her to her room. I began scrubbing away with anything and everything I could think of that would remove felt pen. The list isn't long.
It could have been worse I suppose; the felt pen she happened to use was just one color, yellow, which can actually blend into wood, my Mr Clean Magic eraser took care of most of the felt, and Jules' decoration concentrated on just one table, which is now on Carpenter's side of the bed.
Crisis dealt with. Jules an Gem are happily coloring again, this time on Paper to be posted on the fridge, I've had a cup of coffee, and dinner is waiting to be made.
And then she fell, because of course the sidewalks have been covered in sheer ice most of this winter. She giggled and laughed, got back up and kept "skating" sliding around on the sidewalk in her boots. We've been practicing that "skating technique" especially in the last few days because of all the melting and freezing going on , and no one seems to want to clean off their sidewalks.
I love walking her to school, even though she'd rather me find someone to drive her. It does mean getting up earlier and ready sooner than if we drove, and she lets me know that she's not impressed: The deep dramatic sigh, the roll of the eyes... Yeah, if she's like this now, I am certainly in no hurry to have her hit the dreaded teen years. She is the oldest one, has a bossy streak once in a while, and likes to tell on her sister. She does enjoy quiet moments coloring and crafts, and my fridge, serves as a gallery for her Creations. I don't mind even if the fridge is new. It's a fridge, that's what it's for.
Jules' art is on there too, not as much though, because she chooses to express herself in less subtle ways. She has, in the past, painted her face and dress with bright orange paint , when it was within reach. She scooped a nail from Carpenter's tool belt only to draw permanent happy faces on the tailgate- actually I believe Gem caught a bit of that action too. The dress survived a vigorous wash, but the paint stayed, and the tailgate... received a coat of paint after two attempted break in's by a frustrated keying thief.
But my frustration with the kids' expression happened after Carpenter came home with some night tables for our room . We have been in need of these bedroom furniture pieces for quite some time.But the need has become more urgent since we have been investing in "marriage enhancing" products thanks to my dear friend Ferf. It was high time to have a drawer or two to hide these things in. I'm sure those of you who received a little black bag for Christmas this year know exactly what I'm talking about.
Carpenter worked late into the night putting these Home Depot specials together. He left them in the Living room until I had time to clean our room and move them in.
I awoke the next morning, To Gem yelling "Mommyyyy! COME see what SHE is doing!" That annoying screech that just makes your skin crawl, and kids know that perfect pitch that will send you flying out of bed. Which was what I did.There was Jules coloring away a gift for "Mommy and Daddy"in front of the TV with her art pack, ON MY NEW TABLES. They hadn't even made it into the bedroom before they were decorated with FELT PEN. I freaked, like any parent , I'm sure, scolded her appropriately and sent her to her room. I began scrubbing away with anything and everything I could think of that would remove felt pen. The list isn't long.
It could have been worse I suppose; the felt pen she happened to use was just one color, yellow, which can actually blend into wood, my Mr Clean Magic eraser took care of most of the felt, and Jules' decoration concentrated on just one table, which is now on Carpenter's side of the bed.
Crisis dealt with. Jules an Gem are happily coloring again, this time on Paper to be posted on the fridge, I've had a cup of coffee, and dinner is waiting to be made.
Friday, January 5, 2007
Desicions
We had friends over for New Years, Just a quiet dinner, the four of us, sipping wine and playing UNO SPIN, a great game to play, and it gets pretty loud after a drink or two. My friend turns to me and says "So have you decided to do anything different this year?"
Yes. It is that time of year again, when most of us vow to change some how over the course of the next twelve months. In the past I've said: I'm gonna loose weight, become more organized, have stuff ready for my accountant BEFORE the deadline, and finish my craft projects before I start a new one. I've always started out with a serious commitment, and then somehow wander away and the resolutions I made disappear into that ever evolving pattern of "Life Happens".
I remember about 5 years back after yet another "push yourself away from the table" comment my father dished out. My resolutions for that year were to 1) Loose 30 lbs and 2) finish every sewing project that I had ever started or wanted to start. I started loosing weight, but when I still had only lost ten pounds after two months I gave up. As for the sewing, well, let's just say that it's all still packed away in a box, waiting, for my spare time.
I finally decided to commit to loosing weight 8 months into 2005. It was a hard decision to make, and even harder commitment to keep. It wasn't easy. Eat my veggies,not chocolate, drink water, lots of water, and walk. It was a resolution I didn't need New Year's for, it was just time. It took me until April of 2006 to meet my goal. A goal I am truly proud of. I did it, and every time there is a whistle in my direction, I soak it up like a sponge.
Yes, those whistles, and comments like "damn girl, you look great!" make all those nights I watched Carpenter eat a bowl of ice cream, while I drank yet another chalky protein shake, all worth it.
So to keep those whistles coming in my direction, I am committed to keeping the weight off this year. But I also want to fix up my yard, plant a few more flowers and shrubs, prune the roses, and weed 'n' feed the lawn. I want to make it look nice, so that when I find that perfect sexy bikini on ebay, I'll have a great time lounging in my back yard sipping on an ice tea, and potentially give my neighbour a heart attack.
I sipped on my wine, threw down my cards as I pondered all of this, looked at my friend, and smiled, "I want to paint my dining room this year."
Actually I need to do that too.
Yes. It is that time of year again, when most of us vow to change some how over the course of the next twelve months. In the past I've said: I'm gonna loose weight, become more organized, have stuff ready for my accountant BEFORE the deadline, and finish my craft projects before I start a new one. I've always started out with a serious commitment, and then somehow wander away and the resolutions I made disappear into that ever evolving pattern of "Life Happens".
I remember about 5 years back after yet another "push yourself away from the table" comment my father dished out. My resolutions for that year were to 1) Loose 30 lbs and 2) finish every sewing project that I had ever started or wanted to start. I started loosing weight, but when I still had only lost ten pounds after two months I gave up. As for the sewing, well, let's just say that it's all still packed away in a box, waiting, for my spare time.
I finally decided to commit to loosing weight 8 months into 2005. It was a hard decision to make, and even harder commitment to keep. It wasn't easy. Eat my veggies,not chocolate, drink water, lots of water, and walk. It was a resolution I didn't need New Year's for, it was just time. It took me until April of 2006 to meet my goal. A goal I am truly proud of. I did it, and every time there is a whistle in my direction, I soak it up like a sponge.
Yes, those whistles, and comments like "damn girl, you look great!" make all those nights I watched Carpenter eat a bowl of ice cream, while I drank yet another chalky protein shake, all worth it.
So to keep those whistles coming in my direction, I am committed to keeping the weight off this year. But I also want to fix up my yard, plant a few more flowers and shrubs, prune the roses, and weed 'n' feed the lawn. I want to make it look nice, so that when I find that perfect sexy bikini on ebay, I'll have a great time lounging in my back yard sipping on an ice tea, and potentially give my neighbour a heart attack.
I sipped on my wine, threw down my cards as I pondered all of this, looked at my friend, and smiled, "I want to paint my dining room this year."
Actually I need to do that too.
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