Creating an anniversary

Mark and I aren't married, officially.  In our minds, hearts, taxes, and the reflection of our love in our three girls, we totally are. 

The ongoing problem with not being married was not having an anniversary! A day to celebrate us. We have a first kiss day but our first date was kind of a vague 

Just under four years ago Mark dropped a samurai steel engagement ring in a box of Soma chocolate and left it on the kitchen counter. It was a random day in September, a few months after we'd just moved into our house and before L was even six months old. He said he couldn't wait until by birthday to give it to me. How awesome is that? I mean he bought me chocolate from Soma! 

We sort of started to plan out a wedding including gourmet catering of an hors doeuvre reception, an incredible photographer, and possibly holding it in Montreal with a group train ride there! 

And then I was accepted into the Midwifery program at Ryerson. And then we had another baby. And then My sweetheart decided to just plan the wedding and surprise me. I gather from our close friends he lasted a couple of weeks before he told me.

I'm thrilled to be involved because I love party planning, I'm not overly fond of surprises and the anticipation is half the fun.

The thing about getting married after you have a house, three girls, and 9 to 11 years of commitment is that it really becomes about the life you have already built together and celebrating that with the people you love and who love you. Oh and cheap! It becomes about the what you can do cheaply and whether you actually have to invite your family.

The short answer is yes you do. But I refuse to be walked down the aisle. Don't get me wrong, I love my Dad. I consider us quite close but he is so emotional I don't need my mascara running before I even get to Mark! But more importantly, we have been together for at least nine years; and the only person that gets to give this bride away is herself. It's not so much a rebellion of tradition. ( been there, done that) but an opportunity to walk into a celebration of us, together and with our girls. To be sure I didn't offend my Dad I did check in with him and he admitted "it's not really my cup of tea. But whatever you guys need I will be there for you."

While my living in sin status may not show it; I consider myself a person of strong faith. I have a few issues with the politics of the Catholic Church, but they have a few issues with my politics! So we agree to disagree. The only church i rvet wanted to get married in is fortyinutrd outside Quebev City and a revered pilgrammage site, so a logistical impossibilty. I'm more than ok that Mark, (my aethist partner who is kinder, sweeter, and more generous and more forgiving them many communion receiving Catholics I know) and I get married in the home we have created together surrounded by our family and friends. It's truly fitting and very us. And so as we plan our day, we are striving to make it very us.

Along those lines, my sweetheart of a partner is making me giggle at his eye rolling and scowling as he plans the wedding. These are all tasks he chose or rather insisted on taking on, reluctantly surrendering some tasks to me which we made final decisions on together.

Wedding invitations. Mark is designing them. Based on the look on his face here:

he'd obviously rather be chewing rusty nails. This pic is from the first week in July as he starts to design the invites for our September wedding and he appears "mildly" irritated that we don't magically own a copy if Illustrator or Photoshop and that my netbook is slow. But as a small handful of you know, those invites are actually landing on doorsteps this week. We had a lot of fun addressing them as it involved cursing the Internet for not instinctively providing us with missing unit numbers and postal codes while Mark called his parents to tell them and the resulting conversation was hysterical and involved not being congratulated; and wondering aloud if it was just going to be family. Because if there is one reason we waited this kin to get married it wasn't so we could have a kick ass pool party with our friends it was to relive every awkward and irritating dual family get together ever.

Here is a pic of him picking music for the playlists:

That is his expression whenever I actually offer up a song suggestion - at-his- request. Apparently, Bon Jovi and Bob Marley is way too common, sorry, overplayed and " I already added  Livin on a Prayer". Not  sure where it is that -we go- these artists are overplayed. But I trust him with this. So many of our early conversations and dates were around music, concerts, and dancing. I know he will generate a memorable playlist that we can dance to.

And people, there will be dancing. And tequila. And swimming. And food. Throw in thirty friends and a few family members. Add three butterscotch girls with wide grins and sparkling eyes and lots of love- sounds like a match made in heaven to me. 

I'm just hoping I learn how to tread water before September as I'm worried some over enthusiastic friend is you to throw me in the water.

A la prochaine Chef Chuck

Sigh.  I just clicked the cancel button for my dinner reservation at Le Bremner Restaurant in Montreal.  Feel free to take it – 6pm Friday May 10.  It is supposed to be “ahhhhmaaazing”.  Here at home, we love Chef Chuck Hughes.  We watch his show.  We cook from his book.  We may even have a celebrity crush on him.  And by we, I am referring to my girls.  (And myself.) 

I’m fortunate in that my girls will pretty much try anything.  R is acting a bit more like a typical kid due to the influence of her peers (why, oh, why didn’t I homeschool?!) by having an exaggerated reaction to things she doesn’t like.  But R’s version of an exaggerated reaction is probably quite subdued compared to most.  And there is very little she doesn’t like in terms of food.  In fact, all three girls are growing quite adventurous in their tastes.  Add to that, the excitement of being in Chuck’s restaurant, being in Montreal, getting all-fancy…the evening holds the promise of fabulous memory-making!

The reality is, while our recent dinner at Chef Lynn Crawford’s Ruby WatchCo was a huge success in terms of a family dining experience – my girls dressed up, they were excited, they stayed put, they loved the food, they got to meet the chef!! – it was a long night for the littlest one.  Baby C, who will continue to be referred to as such until she actually stands up and starts walking which should be any day now, loves food but is really not a fan of being constrained in a highchair with only a spoon to play with.  I completely dropped the ball by not packing anything else for her to play with.  While this did save Mark from having to play a 90 minute game of  “Uh oh I dropped that.  Will you please pick it up Daddy?”.  It also resulted in her becoming bored.  Thankfully, she allowed Mark to distract her with people watching, And with a bedtime of 7pm but a dinner reservation of 6pm we were racing the clock as it was.  Except.  It’s kinda hard to race a clock in a busy restaurant serving three courses.  Three delicious, melt in your mouth, divine courses.  Three courses that they happily served up free to my children and as soon as they came off the line.  The last course being a scrumptious butterscotch pudding they put a candle in L’s birthday. 

I’m fairly certain, a multi-course meal at Le Bremner is going to take more than an hour.  Add to that, the fact that we will have been wandering around the old city all day, I doubt very much Baby C will take kindly to being strapped into a high chair after being strapped into a stroller (again – learn to walk!). I don’t want to race through a meal at Le Bremner.  I don’t want to watch Mark stalk off with Baby C under his arm, telling me “It’s fine.” When it really isn’t, as he has to abandon his meal and go back to our hotel in Montreal.  That would not be such a fabulous memory. 

So instead, we will lower our dining standards, not to accommodate their palate or but rather the temperament of our youngest because no one wants to drop serious coin on a meal they have to rush through.  Or, one I spill all over myself as not so little Baby C breastfeeds at the table.  On the other hand, Mark thinks maybe we'd get to meet the chef once word got around that I was flashing serious boob. 

A la prochaine Chef Chuck! 

Minor rituals, major pain in the...

My partner Mark has been a parent ten years longer then I have. And as a result his patience with certain rituals and routines of parenting is starting to wear thin. Don't get me wrong, he is a fully committed awesome Dad who just organized a freaking fabulous Robot themed birthday party for L. In fact, the extent to which he is a great dad leads me to whining on occasion that "one more wouldn't hurt". So not going to happen. Here is a list of "last time ever":

-maternity & newborn photo shoots. Mark has stated that he is far too old to be lying on the floor dressed all in black while trying to seduce the camera with his sultry good looks and look like a devoted daddy to be at the same time. He is also convinced that his forearm strength is weakening and if he had to balance one more baby in the "hanging tree branch" pose he would drop her.
-cleaning around a newborns umbilical cord stump. I think just the fact that he has to refer to something on his child as a stump adds to the look of mild revulsion on his face at the not so sweet smelling spot. Sidenote: he is a diaper changing dynamo and I rarely have to change a diaper when he's home. From day one. 

-incidentally he's biding his time to rip off the extra water resistant (read: baby pee catcher) cover on our mattress that makes it delightfully hot and extra difficult to put sheets on
-the dinner explosion. When our delightful girls eat, somehow 90% of their dinner ends up on the floor. We end up sweeping breadcrumbs even when there hasn't been a wheat product in the house.

-speaking of dinner, I'm fairly certain my partner would give up a minor digit or appendage for a dining room table in our...wait for it...dining room. Our dining room currently plays host to an all encompassing play area. Mark's deep resentment for this stems in the fact that there are toys in every room in he house but he can't even see me from where his seat is in the kitchen! So a dining room table where we could all sit and actually see each other is pretty f'n appealing.
-those f'n munsch books. The repetition. The redundancy. The idiot parents. The rude horrid children. I swear, there is a backyard bonfire in our future. Symbolic of course. He doesn't advocate book burning. But if he did, he'd use the starter fluid on that bear family book and throw the munsch ones on while jumping up and down gleefully
-And on a related note, constantly being interrupted, like every 3.7seconds when reading to his kids. By his kids.
-public bathrooms and snow suits
-oversized plastic crap pretending to be toys but are singing vehicles designed by grandmothers hoping to drive you insane so they can smother your kids and raise them better
-the zoo. He hates it.
-the diesel fuelled kiddie rides at the CNE
-public swimming pools and swimming lessons.( I'm not sure how he's going to get out if these until baby C is 14 and can bus it there.)Especially given that we have a pool so it's a life saving skill and also the only lesson they take. Mostly because we aren't millionaires but also because large crowds of parents incite rage in him that I get to deal with as "I'm fine! I'm not grumpy!" My understanding is this IS how introverts express their feelings. Particularly male ones. I admittedly don't like swimming lessons either, but for myself, because it means I have to shave my legs and not wax them. TMI, right? Sorry (not really).

In all fairness, I feel like I should reveal some of the rituals as a mama I can't wait to be done with ( and maybe this will help me get over wishing we could have more babies. We can't.):

-nipple biting. I don't care what Dr.Newman; Dr.Sears; and any other doctor, midwife, or lactation consultant has to say, babies do bite when they are nursing. Repeatedly, hard, despite all preventive and concurrent actions taken. With or without a full breast or fast or slow letdown. With of without your undivided attention. Repeatedly. In anger. Breaking skin! 

You know, after that one solid example, I feel like the rest fade in comparison to the threat of scarred boobs. 

Overhaul

I'm contemplating a major overhaul of my lifestyle. I can't go Paleo just yet but I need to rethink and find a different approach to the way I look at food and fitness.

To put it succinctly, I need to switch it around. I need to look at fitness, being active and healthy, as essential, as fun, and as fascinating. I need to apply what i know and what I read. I also need to not pay attention to food blogs, shows, tweets, articles, and books.

I might not be able to do it because cooking and feeding others yummy food is so much a part of me. I sometimes think it would be easier if I couldn't cook or didn't like to. But having the desire and to a lesser extent the skill, to cook what I see and what I want to eat, undermines my ability to accept a grilled chicken breast in a bed of arugula. Why not add some crispy pancetta, a soft poached egg, and some anchovies? Now that would make a good salad and pair perfectly with a bottle of wine followed by chocolate cake!

Somehow I need to tweak my thinking to look more like this: Hey! I have fifteen minutes, I should do some crunches and lunges and then eat a zero fat yogurt with 12 plain almonds and an orange.

My motivation is multi-fold (which by the way autocorrected as multi "food" so you see my problem!): I'm tired of wearing ill fitting clothes. I'm tired of being tired. I want to set a good example for my girls. I have a significant event coming up at the end of the summer and I don't want to be the most uncomfortable person in the room photoshopping all the pictures to show only my head. And mostly, while from a biochemical perspective I'm healthy; I dread becoming someone who has to see a doctor on a regular basis for unhealthy reasons in another five or ten years. I'd rather see my chiropractor and a massage therapist (and an aesthetician! Because I could use pedicures on a regular basis!!) to optimize my health.

So I'm not committing to anything just yet. But I can say while my Easter menu will prominently feature lamb; our table will also be laden with delicious veggies and maybe this year less cheese and chocolate. Maybe.

(It should go without saying my Mark loves me no matter whether I choose to make some changes or not. He makes me feel pretty fabulous.)

Happiness is health (a post I wrote to enter a blogger contest).

Happiness is health. I made a very conscious decision to enjoy my life and be grateful for what I have. For me, my emotional health is my priority. If I feel good then everything else falls into place. Or, it would if I had the time to clean and make space for it to fall. Napping with my baby, playing with my three year old and meal planning with my six year old all make me happy. I feel rested and emotionally connected when I've snuggled the baby. I feel fit and full of energy after chasing my three year old on her bike or playing Just Dance. And sharing healthy and decadent meals sith my family that I've planned and cooked with my oldest brings me utter joy. A glass of wine or freezer-cold Ciroc with my partner are nice too! It is all about moderation, and not at all about "balance" but rather capitalizing in pockets of time to get what needs to bedtime started even if it can't be completed.

It's a cliche but it is true: if you don't take care of yourself you can't take care of others. But I also like to take care of myself. I can't spend half a day at the spa for a massage and pedicure anymore but as a cook, I love to grocery shop. As an avid reader I love to browse books in store or online.eaching my girls that sometimes Mama needs a few minutes isn't telling them they are unimportant but teaching them to know when to take some "me"'time. And when I hear my six and three year olds say to each and and to me "I need to read (or play) by myself for a little bit." I know I'm doing the right thing.
Capitalize on those pockets of time! What can you get done in fifteen minutes while all three kids are occupied. Don't worry about the most important thing, don't worry about what someone else gets done in that time. I use my iPhone to write out reminders and lists at night just to get them out of head. That way I'm not paralyzed for the first few minutes trying to figure out what to do. And make sure yiu prioritize your children. You will regret it at night when things have finally quieted down if you don't.

Six Tips For A Cranky Cold Car

Apparently, it's a Canadian trait to talk about the weather. I'm not sure if it is or isn't but it is cold out there! I'm not a wimp about winter, but my truck was acting a but cowardly. And so I present a few tips courtesy of my Dad, a professional mechanic and man of little patience when it comes to lack of logic. So all of this should be fairly obvious.

1.Warm your car up. But not the inside. The point of starting up your car more then fourteen seconds before you pull out of the driveway is two fold and neither is about a warm tush. You want your engine running smoothly so it doesn't stall and you want your windows to stay defrosted. Which leads me to...

2. Turn the defrost function on for the front. Take care of the outside of the car. Then turn the back defrost on. Once you can see out the window, switch to heat but don't run everything at once. Unless you want it to stall.

3. I don't need to tell you to clear all the snow and ice off you car: top, middle, sides, bumpers, lights and most importantly under and on top of your wipers before you turn them on.

4. And let's jump ahead and state right now: turn your wipers, heater, defrost OFF before you shut your car off. You don't want all of that to turn on when you turn the key in -17. Because if it does start with your wipers on, that little piece if plastic is going to snap in the cold and the motor that controls it is going to burn out.

5. Don't even think about opening your windows while its this cold. You will hear a click, it won't open and you won't think about it. Meanwhile, the motor that controls it will be buzzing and running and burn out. Awesome. Not really.

6.If you can avoid it, don't lock your car. Auto locks, little button, click and...nothing. Much easier to open a slightly frozen door if it isn't locked.

7.Don't drive with your heels or slick soled shoes on. Key word "slick". You don't need your foot to slide off the accelerator or brake at the wrong time because of the slush and lack of grip. And along with this tip, use the winter mats in your car. No they aren't pretty but they help-just keep them as clean and dry as you can in between.

8. Give yourself lots of time and space. Leave with spare time or realize that your office won't fall apart without you there for ten more minutes. Keep ample space between you and the cars ahead of you. Drive cautiously but go with the flow of traffic. If you are too scared to drive at an adjusted speed, you probably shouldn't.

9. And to my midwifery friends-all of this applies doubly so to you! You are of no help to your clients if you wrap your car around a light post. Make sure your clients know to give you plenty of notice in the winter months and take a pillow. It is better to sleep on their couch then endanger yourself racing to get there.

That's all I can remember right now. Good luck, stay warm, drive safely.

Pockets of Time

I'm sitting here typing this from my phone as my netbook takes forever to start. This ongoing battle with my netbook spurred a discussion yesterday with another parent about trying to function within little pockets of time.

You see, it is not exclusively because I'm used to operating on my iPhone and so all other modes of technology seem snail paced. It is that when I only have fifteen minutes to check my work email because L is watching the one show I allow her watch a day and C is rolling around playing, then I can't lose five minutes to a reboot, motherfreakin' java update, ultimate windows explorer fail followed by Google Chrome being unresponsive. (Don't even tell me I should switch to a Mac! Because I really want an iPad but I'm not sure I can work off of one full time.)

But the bigger question is, why can't I-we-lose those five minutes? Is it instant gratification withdrawal? I don't think so. I think it is the parent in us.

Most of us are accustomed to taking super fast showers, peeing with the door half open, eating while standing, and cooking meals that we prepped during a precious pocket of time.

Those pockets of time need to be capitalized on! They cannot be wasted waiting for my netbook to wake up and not god or anyone can save my partner if he forgot to plug it in overnight to charge after staying up too late watching "YouTube".

Pockets of time must have been the motivator behind text messaging. Ever try to have a conversation on the phone while your child naps or plays? Exactly. Nothing says "I need mama/daddy" like a phone. But a text? I can take all day to respond to that!

And in my case, I work from home with only sporadic day care. i I need to be able to reply to a dozen emails in less time them it takes for the end credits to roll on Dinosaur Train or Sid the Science Kid. I need to fit an hour's work into the twenty minutes I have while C naps and L paints a picture. Because ultimately, the email has to wait. As parents, we are all too aware of the horrors that emerge if someone's sugar crashes mid-spreadsheet update. We have experienced the mid-project update interruption from an early nap wake up.

And we'd rather be hanging out with our kids. So these pockets of time become precious and when they are taken away by technology failures it is destructive to our entire plan! It feels like an insurmountable obstacle that makes me want to hurl my netbook across the room and cry.

So I guess the one benefit of the reboot nightmare is that I can fully and completely relate to my one and three year old. And if you are wondering why I don't spend pockets of time on myself, it is because last week when trying to workout on the Wii, C rolled over and bit my toe-just for fun.