How has it been over a month since I've posted? Sheesh.
It's been a busy stretch, but I'm thankful and excited to be heading into the very slow time with work. Last summer, I was so concerned about what it would take to put a monthly magazine together, I sat at my desk for hours not doing anything but petrified that if I left my desk I'd some how not get the job done.
This year, I know that when I need to work, I work hard. But after doing three issues a month, one a month is very manageable. I've accepted this so easily that I've even decided to actually take holidays. And real ones! Not ones where I still work. No, a real vacation, a week away without interviews, notes, editing and proofing.
First, we're spending a week in Ottawa in early June. Then we'll have a stay-cation in July. Then in late July I'll take a week in Winnipeg. In early September, we're going to Victoria to visit friends and celebrate our sixth anniversary. All of this might seem very ho-hum to most, but for me, for us, we never, ever do this. And I cannot wait.
What are you doing for fun this summer?
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Three
Miss Chou Chou Magoo is no longer two. She is three, or, as she informed me on the ride home yesterday, "I don't want to be three. I'm four." Which essentially captures what it means to be three — smart enough to be sassy and willful, but young enough to be cute and endearing (making it easier to take the first part of that statement).
I know that I've long fallen off the Chou monthly update wagon, but on this her third birthday, I thought I should at the very least make an effort to jot down what life is like with her now.
First, Chou is a...um...stubborn/smart/willful/determined/bright/friendly/temperamental/musically inclined/loud/athletic child. See? A good mix of the trying and the terrific. Chou is active, mentally and physically, loves singing, playing make believe, colouring and painting, playing king of the castle and some sort of "Bees attack!" game she learned from her friend Jack. She's more aggressive lately, I think because of all the time she's spending at daycare (it's not daycare so much as the group of kids she's playing with, and it's not bad, just different). She still loves to help me cook and bake, and we still have pre and post supper family dance parties. She'd rather be outside and moving than inside watching TV, but she's decidedly in love with certain shows (Dora is a recent addition, but Ruby and Max and the Cat in the Hat are favs). Her vocabulary grows daily, and I love that she uses uncommon words for a girl of her age. Chou still loves her routine, so much so that fits erupt if someone, namely me, has the audacity to remove the lid of her yogurt before she can. The Horror! And yes, that is one of the fun things about being three — the drama. Oh, the drama. As in, I may not call her "babe" as it's far too close to "baby" of which she is NOT, I am often reminded.
But she's also a magnificently confident child, makes friends easily and is willing to climb new hills and explore new lands with courage and wonder. She is actually upset when I show up to pick her up from daycare in the car. "Where's the Chariot?" she demands. Our walks home full of puddle jumping, snow hill climbing, rock collecting and mail fetching take f-o-r-e-v-e-r, but I savour our time outside in the fresh air. Which makes this winter that will never end that much harder, as I simply can't wait to spend as many hours as possible hiking and exploring.
When it comes to describing Chou, the words come easily, but any parent knows that when you try and convey all the love and pride and wonder you feel for your child, words always fail. And so it is with me. Quite simply, she is my everything and each and every second she's away from me I feel incomplete. I love her more than I ever thought someone could love.
And then she comes home, throws a fit over nothing and demands a Baby Bel cheese. Yup, that's my girl.
7 a.m, watching "kid shows" as she calls them. Couch snuggling is one of my favorite things to do. Hers too, I think. Happy birthday, babe.
I know that I've long fallen off the Chou monthly update wagon, but on this her third birthday, I thought I should at the very least make an effort to jot down what life is like with her now.
First, Chou is a...um...stubborn/smart/willful/determined/bright/friendly/temperamental/musically inclined/loud/athletic child. See? A good mix of the trying and the terrific. Chou is active, mentally and physically, loves singing, playing make believe, colouring and painting, playing king of the castle and some sort of "Bees attack!" game she learned from her friend Jack. She's more aggressive lately, I think because of all the time she's spending at daycare (it's not daycare so much as the group of kids she's playing with, and it's not bad, just different). She still loves to help me cook and bake, and we still have pre and post supper family dance parties. She'd rather be outside and moving than inside watching TV, but she's decidedly in love with certain shows (Dora is a recent addition, but Ruby and Max and the Cat in the Hat are favs). Her vocabulary grows daily, and I love that she uses uncommon words for a girl of her age. Chou still loves her routine, so much so that fits erupt if someone, namely me, has the audacity to remove the lid of her yogurt before she can. The Horror! And yes, that is one of the fun things about being three — the drama. Oh, the drama. As in, I may not call her "babe" as it's far too close to "baby" of which she is NOT, I am often reminded.
But she's also a magnificently confident child, makes friends easily and is willing to climb new hills and explore new lands with courage and wonder. She is actually upset when I show up to pick her up from daycare in the car. "Where's the Chariot?" she demands. Our walks home full of puddle jumping, snow hill climbing, rock collecting and mail fetching take f-o-r-e-v-e-r, but I savour our time outside in the fresh air. Which makes this winter that will never end that much harder, as I simply can't wait to spend as many hours as possible hiking and exploring.
When it comes to describing Chou, the words come easily, but any parent knows that when you try and convey all the love and pride and wonder you feel for your child, words always fail. And so it is with me. Quite simply, she is my everything and each and every second she's away from me I feel incomplete. I love her more than I ever thought someone could love.
And then she comes home, throws a fit over nothing and demands a Baby Bel cheese. Yup, that's my girl.
7 a.m, watching "kid shows" as she calls them. Couch snuggling is one of my favorite things to do. Hers too, I think. Happy birthday, babe.Tuesday, March 8, 2011
A conspiring universe
For anyone who hasn't read The Alchemist, I suggest you go and read it now. I'll wait.
***
Back? Good.
I'm not a religious person at all, but I am a rather firm believer in that which we cannot see. I believe in energy — that the more good and love we put out in to the world, the more it goes around and comes back to us, that people are intrinsically good and that when you put your wishes out to the universe, the universe conspires with you. No, I haven't had too much coffee, I've simply been practicing a bit more patience, and trying to be more content and aware of all that goes on around me.
Let's back up a bit.
I recently hit my one year mark at my current job. I expected a raise. Not a big one, mind you, just a raise. I had all these plans and goals of what I would do for the magazine and all the extra work I'd put in and all the travel I'd do. Then, I didn't get the raise. The boss says all is well, but no, no more money for you. My first reaction was to get pissy. Then I stood back and thought about what kind of message this might be.
For starters, I now know just how tough and time consuming this job is from December through March. As balance, I now know just how NOT tough it is May through June (there's a shoulder season on either side that's so-so; I do know there are 12 months. Duh). I also know that I've been craving more time with Chou Chou Magoo who is soon no longer two. And I have a doula client due now, one next month and another in July. Doula work fulfills me in ways a desk job never could, and spending time with Chou is priceless.
The connection? I think that if I'd been given a raise, I'd feel more obligated to spend every spare moment of every day working, thinking about work, considering work. Instead, I feel like I can draw a line ME time vs. WORK time. I can feel good about this line — I can be proud of my work achievements and my work ethic, but I can take my evenings, weekends and early afternoons and savour them, guilt-free, with my daughter and any other hobbies or interests I choose to pursue. I can cultivate friendships, spend time working on my own health and offering my support for labouring women. My job, as it is, allows that.
And so we come around to International Women's Day and our conspiring universe. I have a doula client due next week, but I feel that baby is going to arrive any day (as in, today, in fact), and I was worried that my deadline this week would derail those plans. Yesterday, I had two things on my plate that I HAD to deal with, and one this morning, that, had she called, would have meant I either couldn't attend her birth, or would have had to attend only part. I asked the universe to just give me 'til Tuesday at lunch. Pretty please? And here we are, no baby and work "musts" getting crossed off the list.
What does this have to do with Women's Day? Not much really, except that I think my most valuable contribution to this day is to be there, fully and present with an open mind and heart, at a woman's most powerful and vulnerable point in her life — giving birth — and I'm just too happy to know the universe agrees.
***
Back? Good.
I'm not a religious person at all, but I am a rather firm believer in that which we cannot see. I believe in energy — that the more good and love we put out in to the world, the more it goes around and comes back to us, that people are intrinsically good and that when you put your wishes out to the universe, the universe conspires with you. No, I haven't had too much coffee, I've simply been practicing a bit more patience, and trying to be more content and aware of all that goes on around me.
Let's back up a bit.
I recently hit my one year mark at my current job. I expected a raise. Not a big one, mind you, just a raise. I had all these plans and goals of what I would do for the magazine and all the extra work I'd put in and all the travel I'd do. Then, I didn't get the raise. The boss says all is well, but no, no more money for you. My first reaction was to get pissy. Then I stood back and thought about what kind of message this might be.
For starters, I now know just how tough and time consuming this job is from December through March. As balance, I now know just how NOT tough it is May through June (there's a shoulder season on either side that's so-so; I do know there are 12 months. Duh). I also know that I've been craving more time with Chou Chou Magoo who is soon no longer two. And I have a doula client due now, one next month and another in July. Doula work fulfills me in ways a desk job never could, and spending time with Chou is priceless.
The connection? I think that if I'd been given a raise, I'd feel more obligated to spend every spare moment of every day working, thinking about work, considering work. Instead, I feel like I can draw a line ME time vs. WORK time. I can feel good about this line — I can be proud of my work achievements and my work ethic, but I can take my evenings, weekends and early afternoons and savour them, guilt-free, with my daughter and any other hobbies or interests I choose to pursue. I can cultivate friendships, spend time working on my own health and offering my support for labouring women. My job, as it is, allows that.
And so we come around to International Women's Day and our conspiring universe. I have a doula client due next week, but I feel that baby is going to arrive any day (as in, today, in fact), and I was worried that my deadline this week would derail those plans. Yesterday, I had two things on my plate that I HAD to deal with, and one this morning, that, had she called, would have meant I either couldn't attend her birth, or would have had to attend only part. I asked the universe to just give me 'til Tuesday at lunch. Pretty please? And here we are, no baby and work "musts" getting crossed off the list.
What does this have to do with Women's Day? Not much really, except that I think my most valuable contribution to this day is to be there, fully and present with an open mind and heart, at a woman's most powerful and vulnerable point in her life — giving birth — and I'm just too happy to know the universe agrees.
Friday, February 11, 2011
Yoga-tta love it!
I'm a little sick of pity parties this week. I've been throwing them for myself for two days, two weeks, two months... you get the picture.
I weighed in on Wednesday. I was actually looking forward to this weigh in, as I had worked out regularly, maxed out on fibre and veggies and colourful deliciousness and stayed within my PointsPlus. So as the instructor wrote down +.4 I couldn't keep the edge out of my voice when I said "WHAT?" That's right, in four weeks I've lost ONE pound. One! Last time, on the Points system, I never lost less than .5 (even at Christmas) or more than two pounds. I was happy with that. Anyway...
I nearly rolled my eyes at the instructor all evening (somehow it's HER fault, right? I know it's not, but I don't like her much. What's with all the WW leaders being b!tchy?), but managed instead to focus on my beautiful daughter running around making everyone laugh and giggle.
On the way home I was ticked right off. I managed to avoid emotionally eating when I got home, but spent the better part of the evening looking up "pointsplus doesn't work" on Google. Turns out, not everyone is loving the new system...that was a bit of a consolation.
But I said no pity party, right?
Yesterday, I went back to the Jillian fat blast workout and tough yoga and then today I switched it up and did Level 1 Shred (yoga tonight).
Well, well, well. I'll say this much about yoga - it sure as heck works your core and upper body. I haven't done that well at Shred (especially the push ups and ab work) in forever.
I'm taking this little victory, re-focusing my WW attempt and going to stick it out a bit longer. Because more important than the scale is strength and fitness — and that part is working.
I weighed in on Wednesday. I was actually looking forward to this weigh in, as I had worked out regularly, maxed out on fibre and veggies and colourful deliciousness and stayed within my PointsPlus. So as the instructor wrote down +.4 I couldn't keep the edge out of my voice when I said "WHAT?" That's right, in four weeks I've lost ONE pound. One! Last time, on the Points system, I never lost less than .5 (even at Christmas) or more than two pounds. I was happy with that. Anyway...
I nearly rolled my eyes at the instructor all evening (somehow it's HER fault, right? I know it's not, but I don't like her much. What's with all the WW leaders being b!tchy?), but managed instead to focus on my beautiful daughter running around making everyone laugh and giggle.
On the way home I was ticked right off. I managed to avoid emotionally eating when I got home, but spent the better part of the evening looking up "pointsplus doesn't work" on Google. Turns out, not everyone is loving the new system...that was a bit of a consolation.
But I said no pity party, right?
Yesterday, I went back to the Jillian fat blast workout and tough yoga and then today I switched it up and did Level 1 Shred (yoga tonight).
Well, well, well. I'll say this much about yoga - it sure as heck works your core and upper body. I haven't done that well at Shred (especially the push ups and ab work) in forever.
I'm taking this little victory, re-focusing my WW attempt and going to stick it out a bit longer. Because more important than the scale is strength and fitness — and that part is working.
Monday, February 7, 2011
It's not you, it's me. Or, We're just on a break (and so it's not really cheating)
I had to break up with running again.
I know, I know. At this rate, he's never going to take me back, but it had to be done. At first, the decision put me into a bit of a tailspin. For whatever reason, in the back of my mind I equated "no running" with "no weight loss." I was convinced that not running would mean not ever getting back to a healthy weight and not ever being fit again. Which is stupid, of course, but when I starting taking my health seriously, running was a huge factor in my success. It's no wonder that now, as I re-focus and re-commit, the absence of running made me feel defeated before I even started.
Enter common sense.
After finally finding an experienced, knowledgeable massage therapist who gave me my first relief from pain since August, I sat back and re-evaluated my situation. First off, the damage to my hip is not muscular it's connective tissue damage and therefore is going to take a very long time to heal. Second, the best thing I can do for the hip is to strengthen my core, butt and hamstrings. Third, running is not going to do those things or, put another way, there are better, more effective ways to build strength than running. Fourth (and here's the big one), running is the only exercise that actually hurts. Yes, the hip gives me grief if I sit too long, or drive, or sleep funny, but all in all, yoga, Shred and Jillian's Fat Blast DON'T hurt it.
And so, I broke up with running. Not forever, no, we're just on a break, I say. But for now, there are other ways to drop weight and build strength and none of them have to hurt.
Sorry, running. You're just going to have to wait.
I know, I know. At this rate, he's never going to take me back, but it had to be done. At first, the decision put me into a bit of a tailspin. For whatever reason, in the back of my mind I equated "no running" with "no weight loss." I was convinced that not running would mean not ever getting back to a healthy weight and not ever being fit again. Which is stupid, of course, but when I starting taking my health seriously, running was a huge factor in my success. It's no wonder that now, as I re-focus and re-commit, the absence of running made me feel defeated before I even started.
Enter common sense.
After finally finding an experienced, knowledgeable massage therapist who gave me my first relief from pain since August, I sat back and re-evaluated my situation. First off, the damage to my hip is not muscular it's connective tissue damage and therefore is going to take a very long time to heal. Second, the best thing I can do for the hip is to strengthen my core, butt and hamstrings. Third, running is not going to do those things or, put another way, there are better, more effective ways to build strength than running. Fourth (and here's the big one), running is the only exercise that actually hurts. Yes, the hip gives me grief if I sit too long, or drive, or sleep funny, but all in all, yoga, Shred and Jillian's Fat Blast DON'T hurt it.
And so, I broke up with running. Not forever, no, we're just on a break, I say. But for now, there are other ways to drop weight and build strength and none of them have to hurt.
Sorry, running. You're just going to have to wait.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
BFFs
I realized some time ago that since getting my laptop, I don't really post photos on my blog anymore. BORING. I'll work on that, eh?
Also, I've spent the day knocked out with a stomach bug (nothing too bad, it just keeps me on the couch. Typing this way is difficult), but only after a morning of Chou having one last play date with her BFF Amaris. A didn't want to leave, and Hannah hugged her as hard as she could. We promise to meet up this summer either in Alberta or out on Vancouver Island where they will soon live. I just hope we do, because they are the cutest things ever when they play.
Saturday, January 29, 2011
The week that was
It's been a big week, but mostly for everyone else.
Ms. Smithers became a Mama to baby Z.
Our neighbours announced they're moving...on Monday (they decided Wednesday)
Chou ended up sick for the third time in her life. And it's horrible.
I gained .2 lb in three weeks (but have only myself to blame)
Jen P signed up for races and eluded bears.
But back to the neighbours moving thing. I've been the "friend to move away" suddenly twice. Being on the receiving end really, really sucks, but even more so now that Chou is of an age to actually miss her friends. When we left Ottawa, I was heartbroken but Chou didn't really notice (she was a year old at the time). This time, Chou's best friend, who she talks about and asks about daily, is moving away. Chou's face lights up at the mention of her BFF. The two of them play so well together, and they're the only family I've met here that I can visit while Chou plays.
And that's the part that bothers me. After nearly two years here, I have made some friends — but most are stay at home mums that get together during the week days, making it nearly impossible for me to participate. One other mum did start running with me, but her son is a full 2 years younger than Chou, and so when we get together the kids can't play (yet). Meredith and her family were the only family with kids that we'd become friends enough to just drop in and share dinner with at the drop of a hat.
The night she told me she was leaving, I realized just how few real friends I've made out here. My heart aches for Chou, as I know it's going to take a very long time for her to wrap her mind around Amaris being gone. I was so looking forward to Chou having a real friend at her birthday (the first time that would have happened). But I'm sad for me too. There are some lovely people in this town, don't get me wrong, and a couple really neat mums and babes that I'd love to spend more time with, but it's just not happening.
For the first time in perhaps forever, I'm really struggling to fit in and be me. It's not fun and is weighing on me more than I'd care to admit most days. Let's blame the epic failure of round two of WW on that? Sure, why not.
To the good, I'm officially 4 for 4 for interviews/hiring of doula clients. This latest client is due mid-March (not the best timing), but after meeting this woman, I so wanted to attend her birth, and thankfully she feels the same. The doula-ing aspect of living here has been nothing but positive. That's something.
Ms. Smithers became a Mama to baby Z.
Our neighbours announced they're moving...on Monday (they decided Wednesday)
Chou ended up sick for the third time in her life. And it's horrible.
I gained .2 lb in three weeks (but have only myself to blame)
Jen P signed up for races and eluded bears.
But back to the neighbours moving thing. I've been the "friend to move away" suddenly twice. Being on the receiving end really, really sucks, but even more so now that Chou is of an age to actually miss her friends. When we left Ottawa, I was heartbroken but Chou didn't really notice (she was a year old at the time). This time, Chou's best friend, who she talks about and asks about daily, is moving away. Chou's face lights up at the mention of her BFF. The two of them play so well together, and they're the only family I've met here that I can visit while Chou plays.
And that's the part that bothers me. After nearly two years here, I have made some friends — but most are stay at home mums that get together during the week days, making it nearly impossible for me to participate. One other mum did start running with me, but her son is a full 2 years younger than Chou, and so when we get together the kids can't play (yet). Meredith and her family were the only family with kids that we'd become friends enough to just drop in and share dinner with at the drop of a hat.
The night she told me she was leaving, I realized just how few real friends I've made out here. My heart aches for Chou, as I know it's going to take a very long time for her to wrap her mind around Amaris being gone. I was so looking forward to Chou having a real friend at her birthday (the first time that would have happened). But I'm sad for me too. There are some lovely people in this town, don't get me wrong, and a couple really neat mums and babes that I'd love to spend more time with, but it's just not happening.
For the first time in perhaps forever, I'm really struggling to fit in and be me. It's not fun and is weighing on me more than I'd care to admit most days. Let's blame the epic failure of round two of WW on that? Sure, why not.
To the good, I'm officially 4 for 4 for interviews/hiring of doula clients. This latest client is due mid-March (not the best timing), but after meeting this woman, I so wanted to attend her birth, and thankfully she feels the same. The doula-ing aspect of living here has been nothing but positive. That's something.
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