Merry Christmas (letter)

Dear friends,

What a year it’s been. Welcome to the first (and possibly only) edition of our annual Christmas letter. It’s been such a big year for us, full of so many changes, we thought it would be prudent to try to sum it up for those of you that haven’t been able to keep track.

As you’re likely aware, we sold our sweet little house in Regina and moved back to Victoria at the end of March. We always knew Saskatchewan was a 3-5 year plan for us, but that didn’t make the transition any less difficult. We left behind incredible friends, a greater community than we could have ever dreamed of, and the best coffee shop. We were back in April to see Jeff and Kim get married, and are hoping to make it back for a visit in 2019.

My mom graciously let us stay with her for 8 long months while we got settled and looked for a place of our own. With three adults and one bathroom, it was hard, but we persevered and are the stronger for it.

When we sold our house in Regina the only thing we knew for certain was that my mom would take us in. We had no jobs or childcare lined up, just the faith that Victoria was our next destination and the hope that God would provide so we could hit the ground running. And that we did. We had childcare and jobs lined up before the UHaul was even loaded.

Karl and I each have good jobs. We’re lucky enough to have dear friends watching our kids during the week.

If you’re a little behind, you might not know that we recently bought a home with my dad. We are now the proud owners of half a pink duplex in beautiful Sidney by the sea. Dad is living in the main level suite, while us Mortons mostly occupy the upper level. The house needed some work done to make it livable and hygienic, but the bulk of it is scheduled for completion right before Christmas. As you read this (likely in the new year, let’s be honest) we will be done all the renovations that I naively thought could be completed in two weeks.

The kids are doing great. Parker never stops talking and is so curious about the world around him. He wants to know everything, and has a great imagination. Molly is incredibly sweet, but also becoming very strong willed. They have both done so well with all the changes of the last year and totally exceeded our expectations of them.

We’ve settled back into life in Victoria and have found a new church, new community, and reconnected with old friends. It’s so good being close to family again, and the kids absolutely adore seeing their grandparents regularly.

We accomplished a lot this year. Moving, starting new jobs, putting the kids in daycare, and doing a renovation are all big things. We’re also currently navigating through some serious health issues in the family. While I’m not sure we’ll be sorry to see the other side of 2018, it was a big year for us. We grew, we stretched, and Karl and I got our first ever night away from our kids.

We did not do a great job at keeping in touch this year. We’re sorry. You’re important to us, we just got overextended.

Please consider this your formal invitation to come over for dinner in 2019. If you’re from out of town, bring your pajamas and spend the night. We don’t have a proper guest room anymore, but our laundry room fits an air mattress quite nicely and we promise to make it cozy for you. You’re also welcome to bunk with Parker, who transitioned into a double bed this year and would love to tell you about dump trucks as you fall asleep next to him.

Merry Christmas, friends. We hope 2019 brings you much joy and happiness. Thank you for all you’ve done for us. We’d be nothing without you.

Anna

If you're still here, as always, thanks for sticking around.

My kids are currently eating popcorn and I'm introducing Parker to The Santa Clause. My tree may be coming down tonight as part of our roaring New Year's party, (I also plan on binge watching Travelers and eating Oreos in my sweat pants) but we'll finish the season strong with Tim Allen in a fat suit, just like Jesus always liked to.

I see you, 2017.

November and December got away from me, as time sometimes tend to do. All of 2017 kind of did. I blogged a grand total of 15 times last year. Compare that to 32 in 2016, 44 in 2015, 43 in 2014, 49 in 2013, 205 in 2012, and three times in 2011. I wasn't going to count back through my entire blogging "career" thus far, but it was kind of addictive so I couldn't help myself. In case you lost track, that makes this my 377th presently available post on this blog. Over the last six years there have been a post or two that have been deleted or archived for the greater good but, like some of my older stuff, they probably aren't worth remembering anyway.

If you're worried that this little retrospective is the prelude to my retirement, don't be. You're still here so you're clearly still invested (bless you). Dear friend, you can take comfort knowing that I have no intention of retiring Make Mine Decaf. I, too, am still here and I'm not going anywhere.

2017 proved to be a year of chaos. I'm not one to decide on a word for the year until after the fact (mostly because I really don't care) but at one point I thought my word of the year might be "sprinkles." I used a lot of sprinkles in the first half of the year and it brought me a lot of joy. Who can't find joy in rainbow sprinkles? Serial killers, that's who.

But, no, sprinkles didn't make the final cut. "Chaos" did, though.

I've never been big on New Year's resolutions. (Except for the one year in high school I didn't eat McDonald's for an entire year and beyond. For the record, it wasn't very hard.) I find January 1st to be an arbitrary date on the calendar that doesn't really mean much. Of course everyone plans on eating better but it's hard not to after the food marathon that is December (more on that later) but, other than that, nothing really changes.

I finished off 2016 with a bold statement: Bring it, 2017. Three days later I kind of started to regret that.

It didn't matter in the end, because Molly was born healthy and screaming but there was no denying that 2017 showed up and made a point that it wasn't just going to be an arbitrary date. (I sometimes think of last year as The Year of Molly, but that's kind of unfair to Parker so we won't pursue it any further.)

Spending an entire calendar year at home with two really little kids proved to be nothing short of chaotic. There's a lot more that can be said about that, but for now just believe me when I tell you that an 18.5 month age gap (I know, I can't let go of the .5. It feels important.) is straight up chaos. Looking back I'm not sure how I did it. At times it felt like an incredibly long year, but now it all seems like a big blur of sleep deprivation and decaffeinated coffee.

I had to let go of a lot of expectations in 2017. Molly, although incredibly sweet, is just not the easy baby that Parker was. We're a week away from her first birthday and I'm still really hoping we get her sleeping through the night by then. Forget next week's cake, that would be the best belated push present ever. I'm not holding my breath.

I've learned a lot about myself as a wife, mother, and person this year. If that sounds cliched it's because it is, but kids wreck you, guys, and I'm one good cry away from pouring my heart out in a deeply sincere Instagram post that ends with a #blessed.

On that note, I feel like I should appologize for treating my IG as a blog. And for just calling it my IG. I've been prioritizing my time lately and, it may not seem like it, but when I blog it takes about an hour to get a post out. This is partially because of the novellas I write, but also because when I'm only posting once a month I feel like my content needs to be a little more thought out than it was in 2012, the year of plenty. On Instagram it's so much faster, easier, and I don't need to consciously neglect my kids while doing it. I Instagram on my phone and blog on my laptop. It's easier to hold a phone over your head and out of your toddler's reach than a computer.

This past year has been hard in a lot of ways. There's been a lot of joy, but also struggles. The year didn't start off as planned and our new baby was more complicated than I'd expected. (Apparently it wasn't my superior parenting skills that made baby Parker so easy.)  There was also tragedy and heartache, parenting woes, and minor health issues.

I made a lot of new friends, found a new rhythm in our day to day lives, and kept two tiny people (never mind Karl and I) alive and well. If survival is how you determine success, then I'd say it was a good year. It wasn't a bad year, but I'm not sorry to see the back of 2017. Onward and upward to the future, where hopefully we all get to sleep through the night and Parker learns how to give foot rubs.

The coming year is likely going to be Chaos 2.0. There are big changes heading our way and with them comes a lot of stress. I anticipate that the next six months will give me a lot of grey hair and bigger eye wrinkles. (Seriously, when did I get old enough to wrinkle?) I'm really looking forward to the last half of 2018, though, because in my mind it involves a lot of sleeping.

So cheers to 2017 for the good and the bad and the babies. Thank you and goodbye. And cheers to 2018 for exciting new things, the terrifying unknown, and the year I blog more than I ever have in Molly's life.

Vacations with kids are like vacations from sanity.

We went on a mini vacation for Canada Day. June was a painfully busy month for us, with something happening every weekend that meant we didn't get to spend any Saturdays together as a family and Sundays are always busy. We were tired, forgetting what it meant to spend proper time together without other commitments, and I was looking forward to napping on our 7 1/2 hour car ride to Edmonton to visit Larissa's family. Somehow I always forget that children don't like to nap in the car as much as I do.

Last week Parker skipped a nap and I almost kicked him out of the house. I contemplated going back to work then and there. Sorry, Molly, maternity leave is getting cut short. He napped the next day, though, so I forgave him and gave him a terrible haircut instead. I didn't mean to, it just sort of happened and, really, I'm punishing myself more than anything. I'm the one that has to look at him all the time.

When we left Friday morning we got the kids up an hour early so we could make it to the doughnut shop in Edmonton before they closed. Naturally that led to two overtired children that screamed for a solid hour before our first stop. One would start to calm down just in time for the other to start up and they'd feed off each other's cries. Nothing gets your heart rate going in the morning quite like two kids having a scream-off.

We had a great time with our friends, having one last Alberta hoorah before they move next week. We ate doughnuts, went to the zoo, visited IKEA, and played games. It was wonderful, with one small exception that's about two and a half feet tall and suffers from some serious bedtime FOMO.

At home Parker doesn't always want to go to bed at designated sleep times. I get it, I'm a lot of fun to hang out with and he just wants to keep the party going. Unfortunately for him, I take sleep very seriously. Very, very seriously. This sometimes leads to him resisting sleep times and me walking away with my figurative fingers in the air to have my own party without him. Basically what I'm saying is, Parker screams and for the most part I just let him.

While we were away, Parker decided he didn't want to nap. Forget that he hadn't gotten much sleep on our way there, he just really didn't want to miss the fun party. On Saturday, the day he walked around the entire Edmonton Zoo, we eventually we got tired of his screaming and let him skip his nap.

That night, he raged a bit at bedtime but went down relatively easy. I tiptoed downstairs to check on him and Molly and stepped on a noisy toy. There is nothing more heart-stopping than trying to spy on your freshly sleeping child and having animal noises come from the vicinity of your feet. When I picked up the toy I set it off again. I hustled as quietly as possible out of the room to get rid of the offending so I could try one last time to look at the kids. I put the toy down on the chest freezer only to have it slide off and start making noise again the moment I opened the door to sneak back in. At that point I gave up. Either the kids were asleep or dead because they didn't react and it was out of my hands anyway.

The next day we tricked him and did some driving around right at nap time. He slept for 45 minutes in the car. Not great, but better than nothing. We figured he'd sleep like a boss that night. We were so very wrong.

On our last night there Parker decided he was done with the playpen. So done, in fact, that he taught himself to climb out of it and stand, screaming, at the door to the room he was sleeping in (the living space of our friends' vacant suite). He's a resourceful child so he managed to lock himself in a couple times, but thankfully there was a spare key. It funny and sad all at once when your tired but raging child keeps locking himself in a room he's trying desperately to escape from.

I was not ready for the stress of a rabid toddler. Hell hath no fury like the uncaged two year old that knows you're hanging out without him. I won't go into all the details, lest you think I'm a really terrible parent, but I'll just say that nothing we did could soothe him or coax him to sleep. After three hours of his raging (I cringe just remembering it) he didn't pass out in front of the door, so we gave in. I, like the United States of America, have a policy not to give into terrorists but I would like to see any president, past or present, stand up to my son longer than I did. 

We brought him upstairs to happily terrorize our card game. Eventually I ran out of steam and we all went to bed. And when I say "we all" I'm obviously not including Parker in that because it was only 11:30. Karl let me sleep (or try to) while Parker played in the main room and he lay on the couch. Finally, at 1 a.m. Parker literally fell over and passed out. Only, of course, to climb out of his playpen at 7 a,m, and scream at me through our closed door.

I decided we were never taking him anywhere again, at least not until he was out of his crib in 3 - 4 years. Then I remembered that we've got plans for a month and a half from now. As tempted as I was to cancel all future holidays with children, someone reminded me that sleep sacks are great containment devices. 

I was desperately hoping that Mr Playpen Houdini wouldn't use his newfound skills to ruin my life at home but, sure enough, Monday night he got out of his crib shortly after I put him to bed. 

I didn't cry, I just shoved him in a sleep sack, sent Karl to the store to buy more, and have since invested in stocks in them. I'm happy to say that Parker is now lovingly contained in a pink floral Aden & Anaias number because that's all they had at the store. It certainly brings out his eyes, though.

Parker also picked a great time to need to sleep in a blanket bag because our air conditioner died on Monday and our house is hotter than the face of the sun. But he's still in his crib and that's all that really matters.

The highs and lows of 2016.

I read something online the other day where someone said that they get together with their close friends at the end of the year and share their high and low points of the past 12 months. I thought that was brilliant. I've always loved going around the room and hearing everyone's high points of the year, but I like the idea of sharing the low moments, too. It's good to look back on where we've been in the year and see how far we've come or, maybe, still have to go.

I know a lot of people that have had big struggles in 2016 whether it's health, professional, or personal. Breakups and health scares and job drama have all been big players in the lives of many of our friends this past year.

Looking back, it seems like the high and low points of my year should be fairly straightforward. High point: getting pregnant again. Low point: losing my job. It's not all black and white, though.

Losing my job was hard. It really was. The funny thing is, before I knew that my job was gone, I was struggling with the prospect of returning to work. Having the choice to return to that hard job taken away from me was actually a blessing. It taught me something about my faith, and it reinforced for me that God's plan is so much bigger than ours. There is no part of me that wishes I still held that position, and I'm so grateful for the part time opportunity that was dropped right at my feet when I needed it the most. I applied for a dozen jobs and got only got one offer and it was the perfect offer. God was there, holding my hand the whole time.

I was searching for a different post today and came across one I wrote a few years ago on the cusp my 24th birthday. So many years later and it seems to echo so perfectly a lot of the same sentiments that I felt this year.

It's hard to put into words the high points of 2016. We spent a lot of time with my side of the family, and accidentally spurred a family reunion in Ontario when we visited. I hadn't seen my dad's siblings since I got married in 2010 and most of my cousins for almost 15 years. It was wonderful to discover that not only are were connected to these people through blood, but that I also really like them.

This was also the year that I ate some many vegan/dairy-free doughnuts that I almost got tired of them. 2015's word of the year was "baby" and 2016's is "doughnut." 2017's will probably be "thighs."

Getting pregnant again has, of course, been a huge highlight. Not that pregnancy is the most fun thing in the world, but I feel like I've been better at it this time around. I'm looking forward to welcoming our little girl in a month or so and have, for the most part, gotten over the nerves I initially had about it. Raising a boy and a girl is going to be a wild ride, I'm sure, but I'm ready. Bring on the headbands and frilly bums.

How do you round up your biggest moment of a year without feeling like you've left things out? Visiting friends, doing puzzles during Parker's naps, the anticipation of a new life in our home, sharing in the joy of friends' pregnancy announcements, months at home with Parker and now watching him grow into a little person with a fabulous personality, working on a women's ministry, discovering a dairy-free bakery, and finding a new hairdresser all made up the high points of 2016 (some more so than others). It's been a wild ride of a year, but was ultimately so good to us.

I know that 2017 is going to be its own beast. We'll be growing our family and I won't be the only one wearing dresses anymore. I'll likely be off work for the entire year. Towards the end of the year we'll (hopefully) start making gradual plans for moving back to Victoria. I'll read a lot of books, paint a lot of things, and knit through my ever growing yarn stash. I'll also drink a lot of decaf coffee to make up for lost time.

Bring it, 2017.

Merry Christmas, you filthy animals.

This is our first Christmas in our own home and we don't any family visiting. My mom is coming out on the 27th, but she won't be here for any actual Christmas festivities. I thought I would be sadder about not seeing my family this year, but I'm looking forward to a quiet Christmas morning with our little family for a couple hours before we visit with friends and have brunch. And when I say quiet I'm anticipating chaos and an over-stimulated toddler. I thought we would be having a low-key, less-gift Christmas this year but our little downstairs tree is practically dwarfed by the mountain of gifts around it. And that isn't even including Parker's play kitchen. It's a bit overwhelming.

Because we're doing a Christmas morning brunch we opted to do turkey Christmas Eve. Karl's work gave us a free turkey this year so I decided to go all out. I have never in my life cooked a turkey. I'm not even sure how big the turkey we have is, but I'm hoping not too big to defrost in the sink tonight. Karl and Parker are excellent eaters, but I doubt the three of us can polish off a whole turkey this weekend so we've invited a friend to join us. I bought a roasting pan. I bought brussel sprouts and turnips for the first time in my life. I'll be making my mother's traditional stuffing (Stove Top) and trying my hand at gravy. (I've got a Swiss Chalet mix in the cupboard in case of emergencies.) I am ready. I am capable. I am borrowing a meat thermometer so I don't kill us all.

Parker surprised us with an early Christmas gift this week and now we're all getting over colds. The only surprising thing about it is that it's the first cold I've had since the summer, and my son likes to lick shopping carts and gives the occasional open mouthed kiss. We were well overdue, but it looks like we'll be healthier for Christmas. I decided to give in to the cold and have spent the week taking it easy and staying hydrated the best I can. It's helping, but has kind of done a number on my Christmas baking. I've been meaning to try my hand at dairy-free butter tarts (as per Karl's request) all week, but I blinked and now it's two days before Christmas. This is probably a good thing. Christmas baking is my weakness.

I love our church, but they always add modern lyrics or choruses to traditional songs and it kind of drives me crazy. I don't mind updating traditional songs once in a while, but sometimes I just really want to sing about the joy of Christ's birth without getting distracted by the other song randomly spliced in there. I love Christmas music and I know that sometimes the same songs get tedious year after year, but there's a reason they still resonate as true. Nothing reminds me more of why we celebrate at this time of year than O Holy Night or any of those traditional songs. "Truly he taught us to love one another." Those words really convicted me last year. Non traditional Christmas music is great, too, though. I Celebrate The Day by Relient K is one of my favourite Christmas songs. When you listen to the words it just blows my mind. "The first time that you opened your eyes did you realize that you would be my saviour?"

Merry Christmas, friends.

Bring back velvet overalls.

Sometimes I just want to ask clothing designers what kind of person they think wears a turtleneck. I guess they're kind of coming back into fashion, but I don't get it. I vividly remember wearing turtlenecks as 90's child, but I think I was fashion forward enough even then to shy more towards the mock-turtleneck. Even still, who wears a mock-turtleneck? Most of mine back then were velvet and had distinctive outfits. Like my velvet floral one that I wore with my purple velvet overalls. I also had a lime green mock-turtleneck velvet dress. My bff had one too, and we wore matching lime green hair claws with them. (What were those claw things even called? Whenever I see someone wearing one I wonder if they know it's not the 90's anymore. Then I feel mean.)

So yeah, I'm fashion savvy. Which explains why I decided it was a good idea to wear patterned maternity leggings to work today. To be fair, last time I was pregnant I wore leggings almost every day to work and this time around I only wear them once a week or so. I'm just pushing the fashion envelope again. It's too bad they aren't velvet. Or colourful.

After today, I have nine days left of work. This is hard to wrap my head around. In 16 days I will be waking up unemployed and rocking out in my sweatpants/leggings when I'm feeling fancy. Because that's what the stay at home me wears.

I've been working full time this week, so we need to get out of the house a good hour earlier than usual. This usually means waking Parker up to change him and throw him in the car, then picking him up 10 hours later. This morning he was not feeling the routine and he cried all through getting dressed and ready to go. I can relate. There's nothing worse than getting woken up to go outside into -36 weather. I almost cried in the car after I dropped him off (he was fine once he was in the car, but I got some good snuggles going into the babysitter's) but that might have had to do with not having time to eat breakfast this morning. I'm so looking forward to a lazy January at home with him.

I used to say that hot showers have healing powers. This is probably still true, but Christmas trees and lights seem to have the same affect on me. I'm looking forward to a weekend of wrapping gifts, seeing Star Wars, and cleaning out the closet in baby's room. Then, when I'm tired of it all, I'll sit in front of the tree and just soak up the goodness of it. In my sweatpants. Probably listening to this playlist.

This year I had grand aspirations of making sugar cookies and then letting chaos reign and decorating them with Parker. My cookie recipe was too crumbly to cut into shapes, though, so I ended up making bars with it instead. There's always next year. I am okay with this. Especially since it takes a fraction of the time to smoosh cookie dough into a pan than it does to use cookie cutters.

Last year Christmas cookies stressed me out, especially when my ginger snaps all turned into bricks and I gave them to the neighbours anyway. This year I pounded out three different recipes and some rum balls in three evenings, while working full time. I'm not sure what my deal was last year, but I dominated it this year. And no, I didn't eat the rum balls, but I wanted to. There's always Easter. And when I delivered the cookies to the neighbours last night I promised they were better than last year's, so please keep shoveling our sidewalk.

And, to finish things off, I thought I would share with you how busy I've been at work this week. I took a nap, watched The Crown (all ten episodes) and The Santa Clause 3 (it was better than I expected), fixed a hole in my pocket, finished a baby blanket, knit newborn booties, and made a cowl, decided I didn't like it, and ripped it all out. The joys of being a phone-answering warm body. If I were wearing my sweatpants and sitting in front of my Christmas tree it would be perfect.

Lately.

- I have entered that irrational, stressed out phase of pregnancy in which I feel overwhelmed by the number of things I need to do at this very second but also like they are impossible to accomplish in any imaginable time frame. This is reflected in the chaotic nature of what follows.

Of course it's all completely doable, I'm just tired and round and fell the other day and hurt my bum (everything's fine, except my balance). In other words, I just need a bath, some liposuction, and a couple days off from every one else that requires anything from me. And a good audiobook, because of course the one I'm listening to is entirely mediocre. Hit me with your recommendations.

- I'm hosting a Christmas ladies night with the church next week. I have one week to bring the Christmas cheer to our house and am really looking forward to it. So far I've pulled our bins out of storage and stuffed our advent calendar. The plan is to get the other crazy house tasks out of the way so I can decorate the tree Saturday night with a big glass of amaretto mug of tea and a Christmas movie on in the background. This is what is keeping me motivated.

I'm stumped on what to serve at my party, though. I've got a recipe for casserole cookies I'm going to try and I think I'll buy some shortbread. Other than that I'm lost. If you were coming to my party (and if you're in the area, you know you're invited) what would you want to eat/drink/be merry about?

- On an unrelated note, my boss is 81 years old and rather old fashioned. He's a very successful man that has had a very impressive career. He's done well for himself, and has a housekeeper to help him and his wife out. He's still very mentally with it, but he's, you know, old. He calls me his secretary (I think all the secretaries died when we entered the new millennium), asks me to photostat things, and doesn't understand how to turn his phone off of vibrate. He also calls his winter walking shoes his rubbers.

My boss is not great at tidying up after himself and we finally got our winter dump of snow Monday night. All week, he's been lamenting about the mess his rubbers make on the floor when he takes them off and puts them back on. All week I have been dying holding in my laughter. Because I am 12.

- I know everyone is anxiously awaiting news on how the baby's room is coming and the answer is: slowly; very freaking slowly. I needed to paint some furniture before I could move on to the actual setting up of the room. I did that this weekend with the giant bucket of white paint we've had kicking around the house for a couple years. I hate it, it's not glossy at all, and scuffs like no one's business, but we already have it so boom. Free. I was on my third and final coat on the bookshelf when I finally bothered to read the label on the offending bucket. It's a primer-sealer combo, clearly leftover from our basement reno. And now my hatred is completely justifiable.

I'd cry and weep at my own ignorance (I've painted our doors, door frames, and entertainment centre with it) except that it's nice to have an excuse to buy something new. I also used the better part of three gallons of that junk, so we got our money's worth. It won't take much to get a quick coat of semi-gloss on the doors next summer so they stop scuffing, and those suckers are well primed so let's pretend it's all good.

When it came to my dresser and bookshelf I knew in advance I'd need to put a couple coats of poly on it because of the horrible scuffing. Boom. No problem. I threw a couple coats on easy peasy Sunday night. It was dark, though, and I was tired so guess what? My poly streaked, it looks like cat pee, and now Karl needs to get in there and give it a gentle sand to get rid of the ugly. (I could do it, but I'm emotionally done with that paint job.) Fortunately, the dresser turned out really well. It was white to begin with and just needed some touch ups. The bookshelf could use another quick coat of white, but I've already poly'd it and it's just going to be storage furniture in baby's closet. So I quit before we ended up in worse shape than we started in.

In short (too late), a couple pieces of free furniture in okay shape that have been in dire need of painting for years, a bucket of wrong leftover "paint," some poly, and a couple hours of painting just saved us a couple hundred dollars. I'll take it. And I only cried once over the cat pee stains. I'm pregnant, though, so if I'm not crying every other day my tear ducts will probably explode.

- Tonight I'm planning on tackling the book explosion that has become our office/guest room. I sold our bookshelf and bought a new one from IKEA. That's the goal. It's also been a couple days since I cried so I'm going to watch Call the Midwife.

And now you know.

And I always thought I was Phoebe.

I used to think that meal planning was something for other people to do. I was too good for it. Then I realized that meal planning is not actually a big deal, and just involves three to five minutes of sitting at the table before we go to the grocery store asking Karl what he wants to eat this week. My descent into adulthood is well on its way.

I heard myself tell Karl yesterday that Parker would be around to play with tomorrow, but the kitchen wasn't going to clean itself tonight. I know, I should get a freaking mom of the year crown. At least my kitchen's clean.

My blissful four day vacation back home wasn't nearly as relaxing as I envisioned, but it was still lovely. I crammed so much Christmas shopping, eating, visiting, and baby snuggling into those four days that it made up for the lack of downtime. I had a delusion that I would go for coffee (hot chocolate) with my book and just spend a couple hours in a coffee shop, alone, relaxed, at peace. Then when it came time for it, I had to decide on a solo trip or taking that drink to go and walking along the water with my parents. I can be alone at home, but the ocean and my parents don't come to Regina very often. And if Game of Thrones has taught us anything, it's that we really don't want the ocean coming to our landlocked homes.

I also enjoyed the now unfamiliar luxury of flying alone. The last time I took an airplane by myself was nearly three years ago, during the interview process for the job that brought us to Saskatchewan. This was much more relaxing. I had a giant bag of sweet and sour Skittles (my new favourite candy in the whole entire world) to keep me company and awake several hours past my bedtime. That and the very near presence of my seat mates on the teeny tiny plane. Our thighs touched regularly. It was not magical.

While I was gone Karl informed me that Parker was sleeping in at least an hour every day. I'm not sure how, but my son has gone from toddler to teenager over night. He slept 14 hours Sunday/Monday. This is not remotely normal, but considering my flight got in at 1 a.m., I got home at 2 a.m., and I couldn't fall asleep until 4 a.m. (WHYYY?), I fully embraced it. Sometimes you don't have to understand something to know that it's magic. Don't question magic.

Today I realized I had made a significant miscalculation and will not, in fact, have enough hours for my maternity leave. I almost had a panic attack. There were nearly tears. I had visions of myself dressed up as a pregnant elf at the mall, herding children onto Santa's lap to make my few remaining hours. Thankfully, my boss is amazing and going to let me put in extra hours (even though I'm not busy) to hit my goal. I will be bringing cookies into the office every day from now until the end of December to show my appreciation.

I am 90% done my Christmas shopping. All I have left to do is get Karl something, figure out stocking stuffers, and pop our Christmas cards and a couple packages in the mail. This is what happens when you see your family over a month before Christmas and won't again until February. I feel like such a Monica. It's terrifying being so on top of things, but also incredibly empowering. If I can conquer Christmas shopping over a month early, what else can I do? Make it through an entire episode of Call The Midwife without weeping? Look out, world, I'm coming for you.

Flying with a toddler.

Last year I rocked your world with some tips on flying with a baby. This year I thought I'd give you a couple helpful updates for the not-so-baby in your life.

We just got back from a week in southern Ontario and, while Parker did really well while we were there, it didn't matter what time our flights were at or how tired he was, that child fought sleeping on the airplane like he was the one flying it.

When it comes to flying with a toddler, the best advice I can give you is simple: Don't.

Instead of booking expensive airplane tickets, I recommend instead investing in transporter technology for those distances that are just too far to drive. Surely Gene Roddenberry was on to something way back in the day. We're sending people to Mars so I think we're clearly moments away from molecular transportation. Get on it, people, and do us all the favour of never having to get on an airplane with an over-tired toddler again.

When life hands you doughnuts you eat them.

Parker and I drove seven and a half hours to Edmonton by ourselves last week. You may think I'm brave for road tripping with a baby by myself, but really I'm just reckless. I also needed a vacation. Having that long to just focus on the road and listen to an audiobook was actually very therapeutic. So were the hundreds of Skittles I ate.

We visited some dear friends and their trio of offspring and while I had a grand old time going to IKEA and eating dairy-free doughnuts from new favourite bakery, Parker found the whole thing to be a little much. I guess he's gotten used to the quiet life around here, and the energy of a preschooler and toddler kind of got to him. But the friend time, chunky baby snuggles, and baked goods more than made up for it. I didn't cry once!

There's a reason the Jews are God's chosen people, and I think it's because of these kosher and dairy-free beauties right here.

My dad flew into Edmonton and drove back to Regina with us. The drive out was uneventful, but the partied out baby certainly appreciated the grandfatherly distraction on the way home. And I did, too. There's only so much crying and whining one person can take before they're wishing they'd bought a dozen more doughnuts. And since Parker isn't allowed to eat doughnuts anyway, Grandpa really helped fill their void.

We put my dad back on a plane this morning and I decided that today was going to be another write off. Not in the sense that February 29th was, but in the sense that I needed to catch up on the Downton finale (I laughed, I cried, I cheered) and some other shows in my leggings all day while eating the random things I found in my fridge. The dishes and laundry will wait until tomorrow while Parker and I recover from a highly delightful week and a half of interacting with people all day every day. Even though I'm 51% introvert and 49% extrovert (or so the tests tell me), the introvert has definitely been feeling rejected and has taken over today.

Parker is getting very old all of a sudden. Someone asked me at church if I was back at work yet and I almost threw up on them. Ten more weeks to go and I will be. Ten weeks and I will have an official toddler. One that can't toddle to save his life but will, in all likelihood, be crawling within the hour. One that moved out of his bucket car seat this week and into a real big boy car seat and loves it.* Even though he hasn't actually watched any Star Trek or Firefly yet so he has no reference point, I'm fairly certain Parker thinks he's a spaceship captain in that seat. The way he puts his arms on the sides and sits there like a boss, you can tell he thinks he's the one running the (rear facing) show.

I realized yesterday that my time to hammer out those maternity leave projects I've been meaning to do is quickly coming to an end. Let's not dwell on it too much, but I see a lot of painting in my future. A LOT. Good thing my wrist is getting better and I've got some good audiobooks on hold at the library.

Right now, though, it's snowing,and my son is practicing his forward motion on the floor so I'm just going to soak it all up while I can and take a million videos of him, while eating leftovers for dinner.


*You know you're a mom when you start saying horrible things like "big boy car seat" and you get excited about things like standing in line for children's consignment sales. A couple weeks ago I stood outside in the freezing cold for an hour just to buy used onesies and board books. I brought coffee and friends and everything. A year ago I scoffed at the very thought.

First post of 2016. I talk about poop.

A month or so ago I saw something on Pinterest talking about how to potty train your baby. I scoffed at it because it seemed like an absurd waste of time. Who wants to spend their days holding a grunty baby over a toilet? Do you know how often babies do their business? All. the. freaking. time. I figured diapers weren't that bad in exchange for some independence.

Well. Now that Parker's more interested in solid foods (and trying to jam the spoon as far down his throat as possible) I have changed my story. I've decided that the whole "food before one is just for fun" line is a load of b.s. There is nothing fun about what happens to that food. With out next kid, I'm going to breastfeed exclusively until potty training is done. You can say that's weird, but I would so much rather have a two year old hanging off my chest than deal with that diaper. That mom that potty trained her newborn clearly knew her shiz.

On that note, we had a lovely Christmas. Flying with Parker was a bit harder this time because he seems to know when we have to get up early and adheres to the teenager's logic of "Why even bother going to be bed?" I also, foolishly, thought that taking him on a 6:30 a.m. flight would mean he'd sleep through the whole thing because that's his normal sleeping time. Don't make the same mistake I did. It wasn't too bad, especially since airplanes are full of babies at Christmas, but we did have to have a little chat with our screaming, over-tired baby on the second flight of the day. I like to think the passengers around us appreciated our magnificent parenting style of telling Parker that no one on the plane liked him and that he should probably just be quiet. WestJet will be sending us our parents of the year award shortly.

We painted our living room last weekend and it wasn't as hard on our marriage as I anticipated. The hardest part for me was living in a mess. We didn't live in squalor before Parker was born, but our house was never this consistently tidy before. That's what Saturdays were for! Going back to work in a few months will probably kill me. I hope Parker's figured out how to work a vacuum by then.

There's an extreme cold warning for the city tomorrow. Naturally, I made Oreo ice cream today. It's hard to believe it's -30 out when you're at home in your sweatpants all day. Instead of doing the rational thing and hibernating tomorrow, we've decided to abandon Parker with some friends and go to the movies. You just can't beat going to the movies in the middle of the day.

I finished watching Gilmore Girls last week. It was an emotional time and, even though I'd seen bits and pieces of it over the years, I never actually saw most of the last season because it came on at 10 and I got off work at 10:10 back then. Memories. They ended it so well, though, and I may have cried a little. I'm now very, very excited about what they come out with next. All I can say is, I hope Jess has sorted himself out and that I don't think I'll take much parenting advice from Lorelai.

You wouldn't think Fridays would be so magical, staying home all the time, but they really are. In my great attempts to not eat junk throughout the week five p.m. on a Friday really means something, especially with the teething that's been going on around here. I find that ice cream and Kahlua really help take the sting away.

The west coast, in brief.

We/ve been home from vacation for a couple weeks. Last year when we came back from our west coast holiday I cried as soon as we got to Regina. This year I fist pumped. After three weeks away, Parker and I were ready to sleep in our own beds, watch our own TV, and roll around on our own floor. The second we got him in the house we plopped him down on his mat and he told his blue monkey all about his wonderful adventures. And what wonderful adventures they were.

Parker was champ while we were away. We only had a one hour time difference, so it wasn't hard to push his bedtime back an hour. We finally figured out how to breastfeed in public without flashing everyone so we spent a ton of time outside of the house, visiting, socializing, drinking coffee, and making new friends (Parker did, anyway).

Parker also learned to love his car seat. It was a milestone for us and made going out all the time much less traumatic. Except for the last 50 km outside of Kamloops on the drive home where he had the biggest meltdowns of his life on the side of the highway. It was fine, though, because we just walked the last 14,000 km home.

I'm pretty sure Parker met more people in those three weeks than he had in his entire life. In true form, he practiced judging each and every one of them.

We went for walks and drives and ate more sushi than I've ever had in my entire life. It was amazing. I was so happy to introduce Parker to his ancestral homeland.

We dipped his feet in the ocean and he didn't even scream, he just took it like a boss. You'd never guess the kid was born in a canola field instead of on the island.

Or, I don't know, maybe you would...

You had me at four days off.

Thank the good Lord for long weekends. Due to my inability to do math, I ended up having another holiday to burn before my leave so I got to celebrate by taking Friday off. And it was so good. When I tell you that I did all of the housework you should probably believe me. It was like full throttle nesting, over four crazy days. Not to brag, but I decimated my to-do list. And then I decimated my laundry room and its layers of drywall dust that have been there since September. In my defense, our basement renovation wrapped up about five seconds before I found out I was pregnant, got the sickness, and then slept until Christmas. Then there were other things to do aside from clean a laundry room, such as everything. Cleaning laundry rooms is like a bonus job when all the other jobs are done. Which is why I spent yesterday doing just that. Because I’m insane and reorganizing my kitchen is way more bending than necessary.

I got foundation on a brand new white shirt this weekend. Rather, my belly did. It was a dark moment for me. I’ve never been able to get foundation out of clothing before. I did everything I could possibly think of and then looked to Pinterest for help. I sprayed stain remover, used shaving cream, washed it, used other shaving cream, sprayed stain remover, scrubbed in baking soda, used blue Dawn dish soap, sprayed stain remover, scrubbed more baking soda, washed it again, and then sun bleached that bad boy for hours. It was a 48 hour process and I would say I was 99% successful, but I’ll need to go back for another inspection just to be sure. And now I have to wait for a good time to wear it because it’s too casual for the office. Go figure.

So, in case you were wondering, being full-term pregnant (17 days until my due date!) makes you a bona fide sociopath that finds all her joy in housework. Seriously, poor Karl. I told him Monday was going to be a day of rest but then it was sunny out and I found a new muffin recipe and he needed a haircut and we didn’t do a great job organizing baby clothes the first time around so let’s go through them all again and then set up the baby swing and reorganize the laundry room. Yay! Yay! Yay! He may have gone to hide in the garage for an hour.

One of my co-workers went to the promised land (WEST COAST) this weekend and she brought me back a vegan apple fritter. I don’t care that it was three days old, it was like heaven in my mouth. And then I went to the doctor and he asked if I’d gone on a diet because I didn’t gain any weight in the last week and I almost laughed in his face. Four days of house cleaning and a stale apple fritter for breakfast do not equal a diet, but maybe in the realm of “I can’t walk anywhere because I’ll need to pee in five seconds so I should probably just eat cookies” they do. I’m going to lay off the excessive housework this week (maybe) and try to eat more cinnamon buns so that my doctor doesn’t worry at next week’s appointment. I just want to be the best mom I can be.

Can we stop talking about food now? I’m suddenly craving cinnamon buns and have a need to try a new recipe. Actually, I have a need to bake all the things to put in my freezer/belly so that I can be prepped and ready for baby D-Day. Not that I’m not ready right now. I mean, I’m kind of ready. Can you ever be truly “ready”? I say let’s go and have this darn baby and move forward with our lives. Except maybe we should wait until the weekend’s over because it’s our last weekend together just the two of us forever and ever amen. The weekend after marks the beginning of a long train of visitors, which we’re super excited for, but it means if we don’t go for dinner just the two of us this weekend goodness knows when we’ll get a chance to ever again. And that’s a little terrifying.

We’re also binge watching Friday Night Lights (like the rest of everybody ever) trying to finish it before we can’t. Why is that show so good? I don’t even like football! The only thing I understand is a touchdown, and apparently there are things that look like touchdowns but aren’t. That just blew my mind.

And now I’m going to go feel sorry myself with my spreading hips and aching ribs and stiff back and decimated bladder. Just kidding, I’m going to drink some raspberry leaf tea and will my baby to fall out of my uterus. Just not today, because it’s Karl’s parents’ birthdays/anniversary and that would be way too much for one day to handle. It would cause a tear in the space-time continuum that no amount of baby snuggles could repair. But the chocolate cake I’m currently ruminating on might. With extra icing, the way God intended. I need to eat some carrot sticks.

Lately. Again.

Cheers to the weekend!

I had a crazy (like practicing my bounty hunter skills crazy) morning at work. Then a co-worker found a spare IKEA dark chocolate bar in her desk and gave it to me. I ate half of the stupid thing without even really realizing it. It was just so creamy and good and sane. And then the caffeine and sugar kicked in and I swear my hair was vibrating from it all. 

Last night we set up the baby’s room. And by “set up the baby’s room” I mean I vacuumed and we put together the crib. Then I reorganized the three pieces of furniture half a dozen times before getting them in some sort of formation that didn’t keep me up at night. Rest assured, I’m not happy with it yet but it was unwrong enough that I could walk away at 9:30 and not be stressed out. And now that we have furniture in there I can focus on the other important stuff like making the room not echo.

I have this weird fascination with faux animal skin rugs right now. We’re getting one of the IKEA sheepskin ones and Jysk has a zebra skin one I can’t stop thinking about. Does this make me a psychopath? I even had the thought that it would be so cool to get a real goat skin rug because I love goats! Then I realized that might make me a total lunatic, wanting the actual dead skin of an animal I love under my feet. But only after it had been milked, cheesed, soaped, and put in a stew.

I might be psychotic.

We’re at that grownup stage in our lives where we’d really like to get a big area rug for our living room. The bigger the better, I just don’t want to spent mortgage payment on it. I found some nice ones for $250 online, but it feels like a big commitment (no pun intended) for something you’ve never actually seen in person. That and we should probably buy baby things first because they’re more of an imminent need. But a big beautiful rug will be important for tummy time, too. I’m just hoping that someone gives us a blank cheque as a shower gift and tells us to go nuts and buy whatever will make us the most sane parents we can be. It’s pretty obvious an area rug would fall under that banner of sanity.

It’s a good thing we don’t have a lot of floor space that I’m okay with rugging. I feel like the baby is bringing on this weird obsession in me.

My mom comes at 12:01 am. We are going to drink so much tea and find so many sales over the next week. I need to hit the thrift stores hard to fill the walls of my boy’s room. I hurt my foot last week going for a walk and it’s finally feeling better. So we’re going to hit the gym, too. You know, walking for the first time in a week to the sweet scenes of HGTV. That and the snow is going away. Again. Forever and ever amen.

I have a dream of sitting on our deck, drinking tea and eating scones. As long as the snow melts off our patio furniture and the sun shines I don’t care how many layers I need to wear. This is my goal. This is my dream.

Now, time to live the before part of the dream and finish the housework.

Lately.

I made lame bruschetta last night. I gave myself three minutes to do it and didn’t bother toasting the bread. We were 20 minutes late to where we were going. It was still a hit, though, although not enough to not have leftovers. You’ll never guess what I’ll be eating for my bedtime snack tonight.

Every time I come home to dinner in the crockpot I feel like I’ve won the lottery. I made beef dip yesterday and tonight we have leftovers. Today it’s like I’m reliving my victory all over again.

My mom is coming to visit. Her flight gets in late Friday/early Saturday. Every time she comes our house looks different. This time the living room’s been reorganized and has new bookshelves, our office looks like a book bomb exploded, and we’re setting up the furniture in the baby’s room tonight.

For weeks I’ve been saying that I’m going to get the baby clothes washed and sorted but I haven’t pulled the trigger. I have Monday off and to myself while Mom visits family out of town, so that’s my goal. Now that we have a dresser for the clothes to go into I actually have a place to put them.

I’m also tempted to pull out the summer clothes. It’s too cold for shorts, but I wouldn’t mind seeing if I can fit into my old capris with my belly band. I will miss all the room in my drawers when that happens, though.

The beauty of houseguests is that there’s no more procrastinating the housework. We really do need to clean the bathrooms now and make the guest bed. Someone’s going to be sleeping in it tomorrow night. The bed, not the bathrooms. I could buy groceries or something, too, but it’s just my mom. She’ll understand.

This the beginning of a marathon of house guests. Mom’s coming for a week, leaving next Friday night, and Karl’s brother’s family is coming next Thursday until Easter Sunday morning. It’ll be a good test run. Thursday night we’ll have three extra adults, a toddler, and a dog all running around.

I finished painting our glider last week. I might be biased, but I think it’s gorgeous. The cushion isn’t my dream cushion but it’s good enough for now (or possibly ever). And the colour? It’s everything I dreamed it could have been. Painting a glider is no joke with all the little bits and moving pieces, but it was a labour of love and Darth Vader impressions in my respirator mask. Because I’m that person.

I am currently in negotiations for a KitchenAid ice cream maker attachment. I talked the seller down to $75 from $100 so I’m feeling pretty good about myself. And my new ice cream maker attachment. All I can think about is homemade blizzards.

Just add a bigger crockpot and a new food processor to the mix and boom, I’m ready to have this baby. Who needs diapers? Not me, I’ve got at least three kicking around somewhere.

It snowed again this week. Karl had to shovel twice. We got about 15 cm one day. Last year it snowed at the exact same time, although not quite as much. I remember how distraught I was. This year I’m handling it all much better. I thought that winter would be harder this year, being here for the whole long and agonizing thing. Somehow it’s not. I’m ready for it to be done but it’s not as traumatic as before. I must be getting tougher. I must also have more to look forward to. I must also have more windows.

I’m really looking forward to Easter. Karl’s brother’s family came out last year, too, and I gave them all an egg hunt. Our nephew will be 16 months old this time around so I’m not sure how much he’ll enjoy it but I’ve already gotten him a non-edible gift to hunt for. There’s also something fun about watching three adults hunt down plastic eggs like children. Like the adults are children, not like they’re hunting down children.

Company is also a good excuse to do some baking. Because I fear fancy dinner meals I opted for an Easter brunch last year instead of dinner. I’m going to do the same this year and use it as an excuse to make banana bread cinnamon buns. With respect to future Anna I’m trying to lay off the baked goods, but Jesus wasn’t crucified and raised from the dead for me to not celebrate, right? I will not do him that disservice. Since I can’t drink wine like the real biblical folks, cinnamon buns will have to do. And bacon. You know, as a nod to the fact that we don’t need to follow the old food laws anymore. He is risen indeed!

All this talk of food has sent me over the edge. I need to go eat a banana now.

Travel tips from the pro.

So this is new and entirely different. I’ve been asked to write a post about my must-have travel essentials and travel tips by RelayRides, which sounds like the Airbnb of renting cars and seems like a neat idea. It’s the first time anyone outside of Russia has contacted me to do anything for them. At first I was a little hesitant because a) they’re not in Canada, b) I’ve never used them, and c) it’s free advertising for them because I'm in no way, shape, or form sponsored by them.

Still, is this what selling out feels like? They suggested I could make a mood board or something. I think I know what a mood board is, but I don’t have the first idea how to make one. Does it involve construction paper and scissors? Because my mood is now perplexed and I feel like that would involve a lot of purple construction paper.

Then I thought a little more about it and realized that I do have something to offer the world. I have some world-class travel tips that you might not read anywhere else. And by world class, I mean I travel through western Canada a lot. Name a city between here and Victoria and I’ve probably used the bathroom in their Tim Hortons. I like to think I know a thing or two.

Bring a water bottle. Whether you’re driving or flying, you need water. Less when you’re driving because of the whole pulling over to pee thing, and more when you’re flying because of the whole endless waits, inflated airport prices, and dry cabin air. Now, I love me a water bottle with a sippy  straw. The odds of me spilling all over myself are greatly reduced and even though I look like an oversized toddler it’s so much easier to drink, walk, and talk simultaneously.

 

There are two things you need to remember about those water bottles, though, when flying. First, dump it out before going through security. Try to bring a water bottle full of water through security at an airport and they’ll treat you like a terrorist. And by that I mean they’re going to confiscate your water bottle. Second, and most important, unhook the straw from the sippy part of the bottle. Why? Well, airplanes are pressurized and that translates into your water bottle become the Trevi Fountain when you open it. The Trevi Fountain all over you and potentially the people sitting behind you. FYI, the same thing goes for when you’re driving through the mountains. Take that straw out.

Push the limits with your carry-on luggage. When I travel it’s not to go on crazy mountain climbing adventures. It’s typically to visit family, friends, or Disneyland. Packing light is not a necessity. When we’re driving, Karl and I always bring our pillows. Because we’re better than everyone else’s pillows. Just kidding, ours are from Costco but they’re nicely conformed to the shapes of our heads. When flying, though, pillows get cut.

I bought a rolling suitcase this summer for my trip to Disneyland. I went to the store with tape measure in hand and the official allowances for what you’re allowed to carry on and you know what? It’s way more than you think. Those suitcases that get advertised as carry-on size are significantly smaller than they have to be. Is your mind being blown right now? Because mine was, that fateful day in Winners when I realized that. I left the store that day with a suitcase that is technically half an inch too big for carry-on but fits just fine in the Alaska Airlines carry-on police’s measuring device. Coincidentally, it didn’t fit as well in the Air Canada one four months later, but I think that’s because I over-stuffed it.

Another thing I’m not sure everyone knows is that you’re allowed to bring a carry-on piece of luggage and a personal item on the plane with you. A personal item is typically a purse or backpack sized item. I like to push that limit too, by using the biggest purse I have. You can’t tell me it’s too big because that lady has her dog and this is a purse. Oh, it’ll fit under the seat no problem. And if not, I hear they have extra room on the wing.

Check-in 24 hours early. I’ve mentioned this before, but I think it’s too good not to share. Airlines can be real jerks and tend to overbook planes. Because when you buy a ticket for an flight you’re not actually buying a seat, you’re just getting the honour of fighting someone for a seat. Thank God this isn’t Ryan Air, because someone might be on someone else’s lap if it were. No, you’ll just run the risk of getting bumped off your flight. But, and this is a big important but, if you are flexible and maybe didn’t really want to fly home that day anyway, by all means don’t check-in 24 hours in advance. You might get bumped. And if you’re flying with your spouse they can have the opportunity to get bumped if they don’t want to travel without you (which they don’t, obviously). And that can mean an impressive amount of travel vouchers coming your way. Hello, Hawaii. But, and this is another big one, there are no guarantees here. You might just end up sitting beside a stranger or possibly end up in some sort of airport purgatory. If you have any sense of adventure, though, I dare you to not check-in 24 hours in advance just to see what’ll happen.

Bring snacks. Airport food can be very hit or miss. I’ve been spending most of my time in the Regina, Victoria, Calgary, and Vancouver airports lately. Small airports like Regina and Victoria don’t have much to offer. Regina just has a pseudo-Tim Hortons, a convenience store, and a couple vending machines. Victoria has a bit more to offer, and Vancouver and Calgary both have the requisite Tim Hortons’ and a couple other options. I really appreciate the Booster Juice they have in the Calgary airport. It helps balance out all the Tim Hortons bagels.

If you have any kind of dietary restrictions (like me!) I recommend bringing your own food. Actually, unless you live and breathe Tim Hortons, I recommend bringing your own food. When travelling domestically, bring an apple or something along with banana chocolate chip muffins and Skittles for good measure. It’s going to be a long day.

When we flew down to Disneyland this summer it was an early early flight. We had about an hour to kill in the Seattle airport and I figured Seattle is full of hippies so surely I would be able to find something without dairy in it for breakfast. It turns out Americans love their dairy-filled baked goods and I ended up settling for a $4 fruit cup. Note to self, always bring a homemade muffin.

When road tripping, the same snacking rules apply. Maybe bring some sandwiches, too, along with some sliced up oranges. While I would never bring tuna or egg salad (or PB&anything for that matter) sandwiches onto an airplane, it is perfectly acceptable to eat them in your own car.

Have a game plan. When travelling with someone else it’s always good to lay out your expectations. For me, this means that if the cut off to drop off your checked bags is 45 minutes before flying time, I want to aim to be at the airport no later than 60 minutes beforehand. My underwear’s in there and I’m going to need it wherever I’m going. The thought of being too late to check my luggage gives me indigestion.

When road tripping with someone it’s good to have scheduled stops. When Karl and I drive from Victoria to Calgary, as soon as we hit the mainland we stop in Kamloops, Golden, and at our destination. One or two extra potty breaks are allowed but they are not for dilly dallying. We do not detour. We have purpose.

It’s good to know if the person you’re road tripping with has the same sense of purpose as you. If you’re a get-there kind of person and they’re a stop-at-every-photo-op type, one of you will probably get left on the side of the road. It’s good to have that conversation before confining yourself to a motor vehicle with them for untold hours. Wars have been started for less.

Dress appropriately. Airplanes are warm. And then they’re cold. And then all the air stops moving and you wonder if that’s what it feels like to be buried alive. No, I’m not claustrophobic, but I imagine people that are don’t fly very well. Wear layers, but not too many layers. You don’t want to irritate the person beside you by stripping off your sweater and then elbowing them in the face when you put it back on. Wear comfortable clothes that you can wear in both desert and artic conditions. TOMs are very comfortable on an airplane because they help your feet breathe when you’re overheating, but they aren’t great for security. Security is going to have to scan your TOMs to see if you’re hiding a rocket launcher in there and then you’re going to be walking barefoot where millions of strangers have gone before.

I highly recommend wearing shoes without laces whenever and however you travel. Security at the airport will make you take them off, and if you’re a passenger in a car you might want to take your shoes off, too. If you don’t, I think you’re weird.

Road trip clothing should be even more comfortable than when flying. You’re going to be in a car for ten hours so you might as well wear leggings all day. And layers. Because even in -40 the sun can get hot coming through that window.

 

I hope you don’t feel too spoiled, getting two posts in a week. Happy birthday to you.

New year, new stuff.

I got a new phone today because my screen finally cracked after the millionth time of dropping it. My new phone looks almost exactly like my old phone except the icons are a little bigger and it doesn't have a big crack in the screen. I'm having a hard time letting go of the old one now, though.

Air Canada overbooked our flight home on Friday and I forgot to check-in online 24 hours in advance so I ended up with a seat that read "gate." If you're not familiar with this tragedy, it means that they've oversold the flight and you're probably going to have to sit on the wing unless someone with a seat either doesn't show up or agrees to take a travel voucher. So in case you're wondering if you really need to check-in that early the answer is yes, but only if you mind -60.

I didn't get along with the lady at the luggage counter (I almost pregnancy cried at her. It's my latest party trick. I can do it on demand. And also when I least want to.) but the people at the gate were amazing. They actually got us on a flight that landed in Regina an hour earlier than our overbooked one but they tried their hardest to get us out the next day instead so they could give us $1600 in travel vouchers. And then the mean lady came up to us as we were boarding our (in my mind) VIP flight to give us new luggage tags and she was very pleasant. I was so happy I wanted to hug every Air Canada staff member I could find. But I didn't because airports have weird security and that lady looked like she might bite.

As it's the new year, it's the time of year where people always talk about their word of the year. Last year's word might have been stress for at least the first part of it, but this year's word is baby. Because really, is there anything else going on? Or it might be sleep, of which I am currently lacking thanks to a ridiculously late night Friday/Saturday morning and a two hour time change. I don't know, I'm soft.

Our trip to Victoria was lovely, by the way. Two weeks at home seeing so many wonderful people and eating so much wonderful food and having the most wonderful chai lattes. And now I really really appreciate how large our queen sized bed is and how glorious it is to have more bathrooms than people in the house (for now, anyway). It made coming back to -40 and nearly a foot of snow totally bearable. Who needs Hawaii when you have the Hawaii of Canada to go to?

I bought a diaper bag on our last day there, really kicking off the whole year of baby. It's the first baby-related thing I've bought for us since finding out we're procreating. It was embarrassingly expensive but is unbelievably gorgeous and I'm resisting the temptation to carry it everywhere I go now because I'm worried someone will call me out on carrying a diaper bag when I clearly do not need one. But I totally carried it on the plane because it was too big to pack and the lady at the store said that some people buy them even when they don't have kids. But like I said before, I don't want the moms to judge me yet. I want them to admire my beautiful bag when I'm wearing sweatpants, muffin top, and baby poop to the grocery store. It's going to be my distraction technique. And Karl has already told me that no way is he using it ever. Which is good, because he isn't allowed. We'll buy him something from Walmart.

I have to be at work in less than nine hours. It's a chilling thought and one I've been avoiding since the moment I left the office on December 19th. Only five months left! Hold me.

Lately on Christmas Eve

I see a lot of these so I'm going to be incredibly original and take the plunge. Sometimes we all need a little guidance in our lives.

Loving: That it's Christmas Eve. That I'm in Victoria. That it's raining. That I have energy again.

I walked around the golf course yesterday and didn't even need a nap. A snack, maybe, but not a nap.

Goat ice cream. Did you even know this was a thing? It's just plain chocolate and I never knew that chocolate ice cream could taste so good. We accidentally ended up with two containers of it in the freezer (God bless us every one) so I figured I'd do my part and have a second bowl. No regrets. Now that I have the itch to go back to the gym (FINALLY) I know that at least some of my extra calories will get worked off eventually. And the rest will just keep baby warm on that cold Saskatchewan prairie. Win win and more ice cream for ME.

How many babies are going to be born in the first half of 2015. We don't even know about life after June yet. Okay, I'm also kind of terrified of this because I want to knit them all beautiful things but my needles might catch on fire they're going to be working so hard.

Listening to: The fridge whirring away and the occasional siren going by. And the radio.

Watching: Last night we watched National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation for the first time. And then when that was over we watched Jack Ryan. The Christmas movie was better.

Eating: Raisin bran. I switched to it once I got pregnant and things started to slow down. TMI?

Reading: Bossypants. I'm late to the party and I'm enjoying the party, but I'm not losing my mind over how great the party is.

Wearing: My pajamas. Because it's Christmas Eve and we only need to leave the house for church tonight. And maybe a last minute trip to the mall because the consumerism is getting me down.

Wanting: To be on vacation forever. I'm starting to worry there won't be enough time to see everyone and do everything we want to while we're here.

A Christmasy sweater. Life is hard.

Needing: Clothes that fit me.

Smelling: Strawberry rhubarb pie.

Missing: Being somewhere with more than one bathroom.

Thinking: That the words to Oh, Holy Night are something we should reflect on a little bit more. Because truly He taught us to love one another and His law is love and His gospel is peace. How do we forget that all the time?

Feeling: All the happies.

Anticipating: Today, tomorrow, the next day, Saturday, Sunday, ALL of it. So many people to catch up with, so many Christmas movies to watch, so many scones to eat, so much fun, so much good, so much happy. I love you, Christmas.

Making: A toque for recipients unknown.

Merry Christmas, friends!

Lately

Two days from now my blog will be turning three. Part of me wants to be nostalgic and look at how much life has changed since then. I could comment on it, but I think having a blog and an archive kind of does the same thing, doesn't it? Long story short, I'm on my fourth job, moved away, bought a house, and got knocked up. I also bought a couple different pairs of boots and knit some mittens.

I'm officially on vacation. I'm sitting on my mom's couch in Victoria, using her laptop, trying to stay up past 8 o'clock. Thanks, two hour time difference. It's so glorious. I decorated her tree.

This is the second year in a row I've gotten two weeks off at Christmas. It's okay to hate me. And next year I'll be taking an extended 365 day Christmas vacation starting at the end of May. Because maternity leave is a year in Canada. It really is okay to hate me.

I made 349 cookies last weekend. I'm still high fiving myself.

I just signed up for Pinterest and started pinning cookie recipes. I feel so dirty. Except I made four of those recipes already so I think I'm owning Pinterest. I also have three followers so I'm kind of a big deal. Next up I'll be adding a Pinterest button to the blog because I'm so 2011. I still have a long way to go.

It's so good to be back on the west coast. It's so wet. The air is so humid. It's so above freezing!

I went to the library earlier this week. I got three books and haven't gotten enough sleep since.

Lemon lime goat cheese. Go out and get thyself some. It's like the sorbet of goat cheeses.

9:00 p.m.? Sounds like a reasonable bedtime.

Lately

Looking at pictures of peoples' instagramed hot chocolates with mini marshmallows in them fills me with a longing like none other. I went so far as to buy mini marshmallows the other day but haven't gotten around to actually making hot chocolate with the mini marshmallows. I'm not sure I really want it, I just love the idea of it.

I love the Minimalist Baker blog. I've made their pumpkin soup, biscuits, and pumpkin swirl cheesecake in the last month or so since discovering it. The soup I've made twice. The cheesecake (made with tofu, so no actual cheesecake) I made the mistake of eating right before bed. My dreams involved eating really dense cake and dealing with bad guys at the same time.

I almost accidentally deleted my entire iTunes library. I found it, but it was a distressing three minutes. I found out when I tried to put on the Relient K Christmas CD and it was MIA and so was pretty much everything else. It's okay, while it all restores itself to its right and proper folder YouTube is filling the void.

I made blueberry muffins yesterday for the first time ever. I took a recipe for reference and then completely bastardized it to suit my needs. It was the closest I've ever come to not using a recipe. I felt powerful. Karl was sceptical but after he ate four muffins for dessert I figured he approved. 

I decorated this weekend. Last week was an exhausting week at work and it was perfect. We're going away this next weekend and then it's December so it was necessary.

I have to say, having a mantle is wonderful. I haven't quite mastered decorating it yet, but I expanded into the realm of garland this year so I'm branching out. All we need is a baby Jesus sitting in our unused fireplace/manger and it'll be like the first Christmas all over again. I will drum on the Tupperware to make it really authentic.

I can't believe that we start advent calendaring on Monday. This year I'm sharing in the joy by co-parenting a tea advent calendar with a co-worker. It might be the only thing that keeps me going to the office next month. It's really hard to work when you have a Christmas tree that needs to be stared at, candles that need to be burnt, and cookies that need to be baked. Not to mention a husband that needs to be coerced into a haircut for a Christmas photo, let alone the photo itself. And, of course, Christmas movies that need to be watched.

I watched A Christmas Story 2 with Karl on Sunday. Did you know that was even a thing? There's a little less fa-ra-ra-ra-raing but it was still entertaining. Not as good as the old school original (this one's from 2012) but I liked it enough up until I fell asleep at the end. To be fair, though, I'd had a rough night digesting faux-cheesecake in lieu of getting a proper sleep.

Speaking of sleep, my bed is calling.