tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-58156648976419428842024-02-18T17:54:32.111-08:00Make Mine DecafAnything else just won't do.Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06108654977114565015noreply@blogger.comBlogger421125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5815664897641942884.post-44333760571969075042020-05-17T20:00:00.001-07:002020-05-17T20:00:54.293-07:00One perfect moment.<div dir="auto">
The Sidney waterfront has seen a lot from me. I've worked a lot out on its paths in the last year.</div>
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I went to Starbucks today, an ode to that former life. I detoured to sit by the pier before making my necessary stops. As I sat down, a man with a banjo took the bench behind me and started to play.</div>
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It was a rainy morning, but the afternoon turned glorious. I was sitting across from a hedge with fragrant purple flowers, populated by big, juicy bumblebees. I could see a sliver of the water, islands and boats over the hedges.</div>
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On a typical spring weekend the path would be busy with foot traffic and tourists, but today it was much slower.</div>
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Looking for a few minutes of peace, I had my coffee and podcast playing, but I turned it off after a couple minutes.</div>
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Sitting there, the sun warming my neck, the smell of the flowers, banjo music in the background, it felt like a significant moment, one I didn't want to forget.</div>
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The Sidney waterfront and I have worked through a lot in our time together. I've cried more than once on my runs or walks with it. I've been feeling the stress and anxiety creeping their way back into me, in my mood, my jaw, my shoulders.</div>
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Today I felt the tears coming again, but it was different.</div>
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Sometimes the nudge to turn left instead of right turns into a perfect moment.Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06108654977114565015noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5815664897641942884.post-80984932505878363232020-05-15T17:00:00.000-07:002020-05-15T17:00:47.527-07:002020: Working titles for my memoir2020: The year that felt like it shouldn't count but probably did more than any other.<br />
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2020: The year that felt like it'll be known as "the dark year" but will be more formative than almost anything else in our lives.<br />
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2020: The year we learned to love our kids more, live with a bit less, and re-watched the office in record time.<br />
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2020: When working from home no longer felt like a privilege.<br />
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2020: The year of the delivery driver.<br />
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2020: The year we had actual things to complain about.<br />
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2020: The year we realized the church is more than four walls, our neighbours are our community, and that going to Walmart actually can get more stressful.<br />
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2020: When Netflix became an essential services.<br />
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2020: WTF, Facebook: Volume 218.<br />
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2020: The year the world united against a common enemy. Kind of. Mostly.<br />
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2020: Does this mask make my eyes pop?<br />
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2020: The year we shopped local.<br />
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2020: The year we realized that grocery pick-up really was essential to our happiness, and got to live order to order, not knowing when we'd get the next one. We also cleaned out the entire contents of our freezers.<br />
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2020: It's only May. We're not even halfway there. Please, Lord, no more plagues.<br />
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2020: The year of cancelled plans.<br />
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2020: Grieving extroverts and emotionally confused introverts.<br />
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2020: The year droplets took down the entire beauty industry.<br />
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2020: My year of baking, re-purposing, gardening, and homesteading in the city.<br />
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2020: But what about the children? The dark years of education for the children of millennials.<br />
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2020: Define "alcoholism."<br />
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2020: The permanent demise of the button fly and rise of the elastic waistband.Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06108654977114565015noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5815664897641942884.post-59699160991493221812020-03-18T15:55:00.000-07:002020-03-18T15:55:03.167-07:00Community.<div style="text-align: left;">
<em><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><strong>--- I wrote this a couple weeks ago. Obviously. I'm looking forward to our next trip to the coffee shop, whenever that may be. ---</strong></span></em></div>
<br />Community.<br />
<br />I’m reading Out of Sorts by Sarah Bessey right now, and she talks about community as being an intimate thing. I don’t disagree, but I find her definition too limiting.<br />
<br />Every Saturday morning, our little family walks into Sidney and we go to our favourite coffee shop. We bring our own cups and almost always order the same things. The kids each get a cookie, I get a peanut butter crunch bar, and Karl gets a muffin. Decaf americano for me, and a dark roast for Karl. Then we sit outside on their patio and eat.<br />
<br />We skipped church on Sunday to go for our walk because we were out of our routine this weekend and did something different Saturday. The kids wanted to ride their bikes in the driveway instead, so I left them with Karl while I picked up our grocery order and stopped for coffee on the way home.<br />
<br />I gave them our order and handed over our cups. I made small talk with the barista who, a couple weeks ago, made my day by remembering my ordering as “Decaf….?” This is all I have ever wanted from life, someone to remember my coffee order and maybe even greet me by name when I go to order it. I have peaked.<br />
<br />As I was leaving, that same barista asked if I wanted to take any chocolate covered coffee beans home with me for the kids. He remembered. I’m not saying that made my day, but I will remember that moment every time I feel sad for the entire rest of my life. <br />
<br />So is community a small, intimate thing? Yes, but it’s also at that coffee shop we go to every week, where they’re learning our drinks, remembering our faces, and will someday be the godparents to our children.Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06108654977114565015noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5815664897641942884.post-82746742431255142082020-02-08T14:26:00.001-08:002020-02-08T14:32:55.786-08:00Influencer StatusWhen <a href="https://www.photowall.co.uk/" target="_blank">Photowall</a> reached out to me to collaborate with them, I thought they were spam. I've had this blog for a long time, and over the years I've had a few emails come in from people wanting to collaborate. They usually want me to write a post and link to them, and offer nothing in return other than a virtual high five. I did it once, because I liked the prompt they gave me, but when they asked me to make some changes to the post after the fact I stopped responding to them. So when a company reaches out to me, a blogger with an average of 26 weeks between posts in 2019 and a private Instagram account of less than 200 followers, I just assume they aren't legit.<br />
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I finally gave in to my curiosity and, after a quick search, found out that Photowall is not only a real company, they have over 48,000 Instagram followers. I figured what the heck, and responded, telling them about my limited sphere of social media influence and that I was interested if they still were, and, to their credit, they said they were.<br />
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Check out their website or <a href="https://www.instagram.com/photowall_sweden/" target="_blank">Instagram</a> and you'll see that their specialty is some really beautiful wallpapers. Initially I thought I would order some for our bedroom. Our bedroom is weird. There are two tall windows that flank the only reasonable spot to put the bed. It if was a single it would fit between them, but our queen does not. We sold our squeaky bed frame when we moved back to B.C. so we don't have a headboard anymore above our bed and it looks kind of bare. A wallpaper seemed like the perfect way to fill the space.<br />
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It was so close. I had the tape measure out at 11 p.m. two Fridays ago, ready to figure out how much we'd need to order for the wall. I think I've heard that painted accent walls have kind of gone by the wayside, but wallpapered ones? I had a beautiful <a href="https://www.photowall.co.uk/search?q=e30581" target="_blank">grey roses</a> picked out that Karl liked, too. Hello, gorgeous. Except - spoiler - we didn't get wallpaper.<br />
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When our house was built, they decided to go with rounded edges for all the windows and walls (not the ones at the corners of the rooms, but ones by the stairs and without doorways). It's great. It makes baseboards really fun to install and adds potential annoyance for wallpapering.<br />
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I thought about it, too, and did I really want this very cool influencer opportunity to add stress to my life? The wallpaper is supposed to be very easy to install, but do you know what's easier than installing wallpaper? Hanging a picture.<br />
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Photowall also offers a huge variety of art. It was almost overwhelming looking at all their options. Canvasses. Frame pictures. Posters. You can even customize them.<br />
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I thought for a hot minute about getting a customized wallpaper to put in our 14 foot entryway. It would be a family portrait, tastefully nude, of course. But then we've got the rounded corners and installation stress again. And nothing adds stress to a marriage like wallpaper on a high ceilinged staircase.<br />
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We almost bought a <a href="https://www.photowall.co.uk/search?q=pirate+map&tab=framed-prints" target="_blank">pirate map</a> because it was fun and late at night and doesn't everyone like pirates? I had it in my cart, then thought better of it. It's one thing to order a super cool pirate map, but it's another to put it up somewhere in your house.<br />
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We ended up deciding on a black-framed <a href="https://www.photowall.co.uk/search?q=floral+damask+on+indigo&tab=framed-prints" target="_blank">floral print</a>. Our walls are grey and our curtains are neutral and I do so love colour. It also felt more grown up. The intention was to put it about our bed, to make up for our lack of a headboard, but I could also think of at least two other places in the house it would look nice if we didn't love it there.<br />
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I ordered late Friday/possibly early Saturday morning (that's how excited I was about it) and could not believe it when it arrived later that week. It shipped from the UK to Vancouver Island in less than five business days. I can't get Christmas cards to ship to Ontario in that much time.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPPp4UK6evoURVSbLRe-0hgFYL0HcD_vHK381thzCEDmFlEZrtGUtEsqJj5IbHeNltSXzJ4E4dtGh5kS9DroVaxuiCO2VJm3v2RwPpydEfe6zLoRh2xtDgEtxq1TsKb9G3ta6XkgyBM4Ab/s1600/IMG_20200208_141104_370.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1163" data-original-width="1080" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPPp4UK6evoURVSbLRe-0hgFYL0HcD_vHK381thzCEDmFlEZrtGUtEsqJj5IbHeNltSXzJ4E4dtGh5kS9DroVaxuiCO2VJm3v2RwPpydEfe6zLoRh2xtDgEtxq1TsKb9G3ta6XkgyBM4Ab/s400/IMG_20200208_141104_370.jpg" width="371" /></a></div>
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I posted this picture to my <a href="https://www.instagram.com/annaleemorton/" target="_blank">Instagram</a>. That's why it's so edited looking. I shared some other thoughts about our bedroom over there, too.</div>
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It's the perfect size for our wall and looks really nice. I do kind of wish I'd ordered a white frame instead of the black, but the black still looks nice. I like that the frame is lightweight and was easy to hang. I find the plastic a bit shiny, though, so when I walk into our room at night time the movement reflected in it usually surprises me. It's only been up for a week, though.<br />
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I almost wish we'd ordered a canvas instead, but the frame looks much more finished than a canvas would have. I also wish I had looked more into their poster options, because I didn't realize until I did a deeper dive into their Instagram how lovely they look.<br />
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I guess what I'm saying is, they have a lot to offer. So much, in fact, that you could probably spend the rest of your life going through their website and trying to find the perfect thing. And, if you do, please don't blame me. Because I warned you.<br />
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I don't have a coupon code to offer you, but they're really easy to find if you want one. With the exchange rate, it isn't the most inexpensive option for art, but I think it's reasonably priced for what you get, especially since there's such a big selection. And if you can find a coupon code, so much the better.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip-6Oi4gD_Jez4NcR3jcVbzNnrxLdm9BEnmcSRFDGzibPMOvYm8AVf8ULLs-8jyka09m0KdyJR6eaMhnFAqobdxQdz9IrdJlliWMCeaZarFvcex9MKXUbAZCgWtoz3lEFPCRMf0tOfRAfe/s1600/20200208_105335.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip-6Oi4gD_Jez4NcR3jcVbzNnrxLdm9BEnmcSRFDGzibPMOvYm8AVf8ULLs-8jyka09m0KdyJR6eaMhnFAqobdxQdz9IrdJlliWMCeaZarFvcex9MKXUbAZCgWtoz3lEFPCRMf0tOfRAfe/s400/20200208_105335.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Thank you for joining me on this journey of becoming an influencer. Like Eminem says, you only get one shot, do not miss your chance to blow.Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06108654977114565015noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5815664897641942884.post-39054796798237007072019-08-15T09:54:00.000-07:002019-08-15T09:54:09.857-07:00Losing<br />
Loss is a strange thing. You can mourn the life that someone has lost, is losing, will lose. <br />
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With cancer there is hope. With most things there is hope.<br />
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With ALS there is no cure. No real treatment. Just a diagnosis and whatever time you have left as your body slowly, but never slowly enough, shuts down. And then it's in this state of almost shut down, but still there.<br />
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Some cancer doesn't give a lot of hope. But it's still there, even just a little. Until it's not.<br />
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With everything we can pray for a miracle, but do we always believe it's going to come?<br />
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With faith, you look at death as an opportunity. It's not an end. There is that hope of eternal life, in a new, better, healed body. A perfect ending to an imperfect illness.<br />
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But without faith...<br />
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It's hard to know how to feel. It's heartbreaking. <br />
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Emotions are complex. You never know how exhausting they are until that grief and loss is weighing down everything. It colours ever day.<br />
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Right now, we're in a season of preparing. Getting ready. I don't know if the waiting for the end will be worse than the end.<br />
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For ALS we've mourned. I think. I haven't been this close to loss before. I don't know what I'll feel. We've done our mourning. We've talked through it all. We've made our peace. But I'm not sure what it will actually look like on the other side for those of us left behind. But when ALS finally wins, I know what's on the other side for her and it will be worth the battle.<br />
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With cancer it's different. It's at arm's length. I am not at peace with this. And it's coming imminently. <br />
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Illness is not fair. Death is not discerning. It comes to us all, but that doesn't mean it isn't heavy. Watching loved ones suffer is excruciating. And what about everyone they leave behind? It's not going to go away for them.<br />
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Oh me of little faith, I find it hard to pray for healing when there is no known cure. But I pray for salvation. For everyone. And, if anything, that is what breaks my heart the hardest. Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06108654977114565015noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5815664897641942884.post-34334068536923861162019-05-06T20:46:00.000-07:002019-05-06T20:46:13.917-07:00Blog's not dead<div>
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;">You can try and make the argument that the heyday of blogging is over. You can say that Instagram killed blogging and that Facebook and Twitter ruined all of our lives. Just because you say something, doesn't means it's true, but I am pretty sure that Twitter did make at least a couple attempts at destroying all of us. It's fine. I finally deactivated my long-abandoned Twitter account a couple weeks ago. We'll call it a failed social experiment.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;">Instagram did not kill blogging, it just stole its lunch money. The Instagram story (yet another potentially harmful social experiment) was probably the biggest culprit in all of that, but the long caption is a big offender as well. Remember when everyone was so offended by the long Instagram caption that you felt self conscious putting anything longer than half a sentence? Don't pretend you didn't care.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;">In a season of life where there is such limited capacity to get the basic things done (I have yet to clean the windows that are so dirty we can barely see through them in our new house that we've been living in for five months) prioritizing is key. Blogging is not what I need right now. I can't put proper words to everything that's going on right now. How do I talk about a terminally ill family member while respecting their dignity and not over sharing? I don't. I hint at it on Instagram. If you know me, you know what's going on. It's not a secret, but it's not up to me to spread it on the internet right now.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;">So I Instagram. I don't have the capacity to spend an hour at the computer writing right now in the evenings or on the weekends. It will never be like it once was, but I will probably always come back here. There are other things I need to focus on right now. But Instagram isn't the time sucker that blogging is.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;">I love to write and someday when we're not deep in the think of it I will do it more. But right now, if you want to know where I'm at, I'm probably sharing a picture of my coffee or kids on the IG.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;">I've had to deal with some of the strange dynamics of internet friends this year and it hurt a lot more than I expected. So I unfollowed a lot of accounts. I don't read as many blogs. Time is precious, I just can't spend it on things that hurt or don't bring as much joy. I think the same goes with what I post. Sometimes I rethink it, and sometimes I need to realize that my identity has exactly nothing to do with what people think of my pictures.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;">I want to encourage and care for people. I want to be myself. I want to bring levity to life. I want to leave long captions on my pictures. I want to accept that we're all different and love each other through that. I don't want to waste energy on pursuing things that don't matter, but I want to continue to work on relationships, whatever that looks like. We don't always have to agree, but shared history is what makes us connected. I never want to discount that.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;">So you're still here (maybe). I'm still around. I'm in other places, but this place still matters.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit;">Blogging's not dead, it just lost its lunch money to Instagram. Beaten, but not defeated. You have to evolve to survive, and it's not going anywhere. It just might be a little dormant.</span></div>
Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06108654977114565015noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5815664897641942884.post-19414119647463536652018-12-31T16:02:00.000-08:002018-12-31T16:02:40.075-08:00Merry Christmas (letter)<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;">Dear friends,</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;">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.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;">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.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;">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.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;">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.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;">Karl and I each have good jobs. We’re lucky enough to have dear friends watching our kids during the week.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;">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.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;">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.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;">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. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;">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.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;">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.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;">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.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;">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. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;">Anna</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">If you're still here, as always, thanks for sticking around.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">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.</span></div>
Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06108654977114565015noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5815664897641942884.post-26132451307220659972018-08-05T14:42:00.000-07:002018-08-05T14:42:09.241-07:00Jesus was in my mom group.One of the greatest joys of 2017 was the mom group I joined.<div>
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I was added to the Facebook group in the fall of 2016 while I was still pregnant with Molly by a casual friend from church. Molly was due in February and the group was for mothers in the city due in March or April. I was due in February, but the group was small and in its early stages then, so they pushed the date back to include February. <div>
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The group wasn't super active in the early days, or maybe I just wasn't very attentive to it. This was my second pregnancy and I had a decent grasp on what was going on. The group tried to get together once or twice in late 2016, but I wasn't very interested. Some of the parents had other children, but most of them were a bit older than Parker and our weekends were kind of our family time anyway. I commented on the page once in a while, but most of the people were total strangers to me, and I had enough going on at home to not really feel the need to get involved.</div>
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By the time Molly was born in January, making her the old lady of the group, I was committed enough to the group to not feel the need to leave and find a local January group. The next baby was born in February, then the momentum grew and, by the end of April, there were over 50 us in the group. </div>
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Once the baby boom was well underway the play dates started. When you have a newborn, a playdate is an excuse for a mom to get together with other moms. Playing is optional, particularly because newborns are glorified paper weights, and it's more about the desperate need for social interaction. Moms with other kids would bring them and they'd play while the moms and babies sat around and visited. </div>
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When Parker was a baby we went to a weekly group at the Y. It was lovely, a huge sanity saver, and how I met other moms. It wasn't something I could attend with toddler Parker and baby Molly, though. Enter the mom group.</div>
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My maternity leaves were so different from each other. With Parker, I loved the downtime we had, and how easy it was to stay home and do our own thing. I loved our weekly visit to the Y, but didn't feel the need to do much more. With Molly, I needed to do far more to fill the time because it wasn't just me and a sweet little newborn anymore. I had a toddler to entertain as well. Parker's not a high needs kid, but being home with toddler Parker all day was very different than being home with baby Parker.</div>
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I hosted my first play date in April. I've always enjoyed hosting, and I found it so much easier to stay home with the kids than take them to someone else's house, a community centre or a park. Parks in Regina in April weren't exactly the nicest places to go anyway. </div>
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I took the plunge and invited the group of (mostly) strangers to my house to come hang out. Many of the moms had not met each other in person before, and only one of them actually knew me. My living room was covered in bucket seats, moms, and babies. I loved it.</div>
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I love hosting. It can be draining depending on the occasion, but hosting those moms and their kids in my home felt like my calling. Whereas I had spent my year with Parker selfishly hoarding my time to myself, I suddenly loved having my mornings with those women. </div>
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It started off slow, because I didn't want to make it weird. I hated getting my kids out of the house, so I assumed other people would, too. I later learned I'm a bit of an anomaly. It was so much easier to make sure the Keurig was on and put muffins in the oven than to wrestle my kids in clothes and car seats. Eventually it picked up speed and, instead of waiting for someone to suggest a play date and waiting to offer to host if no one else did, I just started making invitations to the group and whoever showed up was welcome.</div>
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Our group was amazing. I sometimes had people over once or twice a week. Sometimes someone else would host. Regardless the location, I saw them almost every week. There were around 20 active members in the group that I met at various play dates around the city. </div>
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I have always felt incredibly insecure about myself. Growing up, I never thought people liked me. I struggled with bitterness for years. So many years. It wasn't until Molly was a baby that that bitterness finally started to seep away and my tendency to be judgemental started to wane. I started actively loving people and accepting them for who they were. </div>
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We were a mixed group, coming from all sorts of different backgrounds, but being around that group changed how I approached the world.</div>
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There is no room for judgement in a group like that. Everyone was so different but fighting for the same goal (keep the little children alive and well) that it was hard not to feel united. I'm not saying I haven't struggled to come to terms with some of my friends' choices, but I could love them through it. Instead of feeling the need to snark about them behind their backs I chose not to. I let it slide. I focused on loving them instead.</div>
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If this is making me sound holier than thou, bear with me. I didn't always succeed. Sometimes, but surprisingly infrequently with my judgy track record, I did think nasty things. But more often that not I tried to just love them where they were at and be honest. </div>
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I didn't have the great time with that group of moms because of myself. That was Jesus. 100%. </div>
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There is no way that I, as an anxious train wreck of a person with two kids that weren't the picnic I'd been hoping for, could have hosted such a successful run of play dates without Jesus. He was 100% there for it all. I have no doubt in my mind.</div>
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He ran the Keurig. He baked the muffins. He sat on the floor and wiped the collective spit up of half a dozen babies off the carpet. He made sure there was no room for judgement and shame and insecurity and He wrapped those play dates up in so much love.</div>
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People seemed to genuinely enjoy coming to my house. They'd not so subtly suggest that I should host again. I couldn't believe it.</div>
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I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that those play dates were my job while I was home with my kids. It didn't feel like work. It was so easy it almost felt selfish. No one cared that my floors weren't clean or that I'd just wiped the bathroom counter off with a baby wipe right before they came over. They were there for the friends and community and muffins.</div>
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Our house wasn't huge, but it was the perfect size for those play dates. Some days there were 23 people including moms and kids in my living room or basement. It was cozy.</div>
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All my insecurities were thrown against the wall when we announced that we were moving back to Victoria. I couldn't believe the love that flowed out from people that had been total strangers nine months earlier. When we moved from Victoria to Regina, leaving lifelong friends, I didn't feel the amount of love I did leaving that mom group. I hadn't realized how much people valued those play dates, either.</div>
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Something happens when Jesus gets involved and takes the reins. I didn't used to feel likeable, but suddenly I was. I had helped cultivate something special without even meaning to. I took that awkward step out there of inviting strangers into my home, and in the process met some very dear friends, grew up (finally), and Jesus took over the rest. And it was surprising and it was good.</div>
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Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06108654977114565015noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5815664897641942884.post-83703628267665177082018-06-30T14:27:00.000-07:002018-06-30T14:27:06.855-07:00More party, less business.- I promise to no longer use a certain Bon Jovi song <i>no matter how relevant it feels</i> in my post titles. I'm sorry. I overdid it. I will try better to be better. Thank you for your forgiveness and understanding as I work through this character flaw.<br />
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- I hate walking down hallways at work. When you're walking down a hallway and someone is coming towards you, where are you supposed to look? At your feet? At the wall? The ceiling? Directly into the person's eyes and, by extension, their soul? If it's a colleague you know, what is the reasonable distance to acknowledge them? When you first see them at the end of the hall? When they're close enough to touch? As you're passing them do you go for the high five?<br />
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I think, for the sake of lessening the mental load, all work spaces should be rejigged to no longer include hallways and simply have more corners and walls instead.<br />
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- Molly is getting a mouthful of teeth and woke up shortly after 5 a.m. twice this week. Never, ever has one of my children been up <i>for the day</i> at 5 a.m. before and she did it twice in a row. Because she loves me.<br />
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- I wore my hair in a half bun half down the other day and got a bunch of compliments on it at work. I'm not even sure I like that hairstyle because it's basically the millennial's version of a mullet. Even though I'm on the fence about it, I'm trying to let go of the full mom bun (too much business, not enough party) but am too scattered to do my hair every day when it's down, so I'll just get my validation from others and the style grow on me.<br />
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- I started watching The Let Down on Netflix. It's an Australian comedy about a new mom and her life with a baby. I was really excited about it but had to stop watching halfway through the second episode. It was too painfully accurate about some of the hard things of motherhood.<br />
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- I started watching season two of Santa Clarita Diet instead. I remember enjoying the first season of it but I watched it when Molly was in the hospital at a couple weeks old so it's all a bit of a blur.<br />
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I am loving season two. I don't remember season one being this good. Nathan Fillion only adds to the brilliance.<br />
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- We looked at a house yesterday that had vinyl plank flooring and it blew my mind how nice it looked. I'm curious if it actually lives up to the hype. Anyone know?<br />
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- The house hunt is still slowly going along, but we've officially looked at two houses with our realtor, been to one open house, and driven by two others. That's like a 500% increase in the last eight days. I'll take it.<br />
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- Skinny jeans have their place, but I bought a pair of Gap "sexy boyfriend jeans" from Value Village the other day. For $10 they're like the sweatpants of jeans that I can wear to work on Fridays. The only thing I don't like about them is that I think"sexy" in this case means that they don't go to my belly button, so I think I might need to get a belt or something.<br />
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When I was in high school I used to cut the waistbands off my VV pants and move the belt loops down to make my own low rise jeans. Now I'm wishing I could do the opposite. They call them mom jeans for a reason. My hips were not only made for birthing children, they were made to hold my pants up. Motherhood humbles you.<br />
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- It's Canada Day tomorrow. I haven't gone to the fireworks in years, but Karl and I are going to go with a friend and I feel like I'm 17 again. Ask me how I feel at 6 o'clock Monday morning when Molly wakes up. That's a problem 17 year old Anna certainly never had to deal with. Does anyone else remember when waking up at 9 felt early on a day off?Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06108654977114565015noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5815664897641942884.post-69447214164582871472018-06-24T22:09:00.003-07:002018-06-24T22:10:04.175-07:00Living on a prayer.Hi.<br />
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I am not <a href="https://makeminedecaf.blogspot.com/2018/05/crying-over-boiled-potatoes.html" target="_blank">crying over boiled potatoes</a> anymore. Today. As much. The potatoes were edible, for the record, but I'm not sure I would go through the process again.<br />
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I am feeling so much more grounded and in routine than I was a month and a half ago. We can throw lunches together in less than half an hour now. We all have clothes that are fit and are seasonally appropriate. I took two naps this weekend. Things have improved greatly.<br />
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This season of life still ranks fairly high on the crappy scale, but we're getting there. My job is okay, Karl's job is okay, the kids do well at daycare, and we found a church to call home.<br />
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We also got approved for a mortgage earlier than expected, so house hunting has officially begun. It is the slowest, least eventful hunt in existence, but it's a thing. If it were a TV show, no one would watch it. Not even our moms.<br />
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Part of the reason that the hunt is so slow is that, while we are looking at houses that cost at least double what our last house cost (this is not an exaggeration), they are not as nice and there aren't a lot of them out there that fit our needs. Everything up until this point fell into place so quickly that I can only keep relying on God and trust that the right house in the right neighbourhood for the right price will come up at the right time.<br />
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On that note, I don't think I ever explained on here how quickly and easily everything came together for us these last few months.<br />
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We sold our house for a price we were happy with in 6 days in a buyer's market where the average house sells in 64.<br />
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Where I was struggling to find appropriate work in Regina, Karl and I both had jobs lines up when we moved to Victoria. He had three offers, and I had multiple interviews and was still receiving interview requests a few weeks after I started my job.<br />
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We found childcare. In a centre. For both kids. In an area that isn't too far out of the way. It's painfully expensive but they had room for our kids to start right away. Childcare here is next to impossible to get, particularly in a centre, for siblings, and especially infants. All of those things on their own are huge challenges and, somehow, we got in. People are on waitlists before their kids are even born. It took us less than 45 days. I contacted over 60 places and have the colour coded spreadsheet to prove it.<br />
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We got approved for a mortgage a few weeks ago. I've been at my job for two months. I have a six month probation period and, due to the nature of Karl's work, one mortgage broker told us it could be two years before we got approved.<br />
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God provided.<br />
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I have an opportunity coming up this week that I have been waiting on for over two years. Had it come four months ago, I would have said yes in a heartbeat. Now, though, it looks like I'll likely have to turn it down. This is really hard.<br />
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We're going through some things with Molly that we didn't with Parker and, while I've been mostly okay with it in the past, it's starting to get to me. It's hard.<br />
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Parker and I have been struggling lately, too. I'm not his favourite person (he's obsessed with my mom) and I'm okay with that. He's little, he's allowed to go through phazes and have preferences. Today Parker and I had a big fight (don't judge me, I parented and he pushed back) and it was really really difficult. In the end, though, it had the sweetest resolution. Parenting can be awful and hard and so unrewarding, but today it paid off.<br />
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I know sporadic, kind of downer updates like this aren't why people like reading blogs. Believe it or not, I started out with the intention of talking about a show on Netflix that destroyed me. Then I realized that I needed to give a proper update.<br />
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I'm doing okay. We're doing okay. It feels like we have a lot going on and pretty much nothing at the same time. I know that's weird. My mom's out of town tonight and Karl and I joked about having a party with all our friends over. Then we laughed and laughed and did housework instead.<br />
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I'll be back. I promise. I've got one more serious post rolling around in my head, but I also have a burning desire to share with you the inane and interesting thoughts going on in my head.<br />
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You guys, we're halfway to Christmas. We're halfway there. This year of chaos is halfway there.Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06108654977114565015noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5815664897641942884.post-49370472772255194802018-05-06T15:39:00.000-07:002018-05-06T15:39:10.921-07:00Crying over boiled potatoes.I have been busy. So utterly, agonizingly busy. This move has not been very easy, not that I ever expected it would be, but that doesn't mean it has been anything short of Hard.<div>
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The transition of moving to a new city, leaving our beautiful home, friends, church, and established routine and life is difficult. As is starting new jobs, no matter how much Karl and I both enjoy them. For me, in particular, not having worked full time in nearly three years makes it even more of an adjustment. Living in another person's home is also very difficult, even when they are incredibly accommodating. </div>
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It's all just really hard. </div>
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I've got a draft post from March 20 that was meant to be about our trip to Victoria and back before the big move. I got as far as the title before packing took me away. It hasn't slowed down since.</div>
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Getting into the new groove means that I'm up at 6 or 6:30 and do not stop until 8:30 or 9 at night. Get ready for work, get the kids ready, go to daycare, go to work, work, take an inconsistent lunch break, come home, make and eat supper, spend an hour with the kids, throw a load of laundry in, put the kids to bed, make lunches, then collapse on the couch for 44 minutes if I'm not too tired.</div>
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Our weekends have consisted of unpacking, a quick trip back to Regina for a wedding, or shopping for groceries and clothes. I realized after my first week of work that I needed to buy a new work wardrobe. This is not as fun as it sounds. It took me two Saturdays to feel like I finally have enough professional clothes to get me through a full week of wearing items that fit my large and in charge mom bod. The seasons have also changed here, and not only did I need to get summer clothes for the kids, but Parker can't wear pajamas all day every day anymore so he needed enough jeans to last between laundry days. I am haemorrhaging money.</div>
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Today Karl brought my attention to a large bag of potatoes in the pantry that was slowly starting to spoil. Thanks to extensive googling, I decided to brave new territory and boil then freeze them. We started the process as Molly went down for her nap and Parker was getting ready for his. Molly decided to wake up just as I was turning the potatoes on to boil. Calamity and miscommunication ensued, and the lid to the pot I was boiling didn't get put on and there wasn't enough water in it.</div>
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What I'd thought was going to be a 30-45 minute chore was suddenly taking over an hour and a half. I'd been planning to spend the remainder of naptime reading my book, having a snack, and enjoying some blissful, long sought after time to myself. Those plans were gone, and I stood in the kitchen and ugly cried over our mess of dishes and improperly cooked potatoes.</div>
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I didn't think I had many idols in my life until recently, and today in particular was like a large pink neon arrow pointing right at mine. My comfort, specifically time to myself and the order of my home are huge idols in my life. I do not feel calm and rested living in the state of chaos we live in. Our stuff is everywhere. I do not feel complete without my quiet time to myself every day, time that I used to spend reading or catching up on shows. I resent everything that gets in the way of those two things in my life. And, well, right now that's everything. </div>
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Right now, life is busy. We don't have a great routine, we don't have much space of our own, and it feels like we sprint from moment to moment because there is so much to get done. But crying over boiled potatoes is not the way I should be living my life. I hate it when, in the middle of my grand pity party, I get told I'm wrong. </div>
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What's the expression? Shape up or ship out? Part of me wishes we could ship back to the comfort of six months ago, but I know that's not our role right now. I'm also not moving provinces again if I can ever help it. So, if you need me, I'll be eating boiled freezer potatoes for the next few weeks, and figuring out how to better manage my time and change my expectations. I'll also be working on putting my comfort where it should be.</div>
Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06108654977114565015noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5815664897641942884.post-8039742246873562922018-03-08T08:43:00.000-08:002018-03-08T08:43:32.137-08:00An update on our current state of chaos.Things have happened since I last checked in.<div>
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We sold our house. In six days. In a market where the average house is listed for 64 days. We were so surprised when the offer came in and it wasn't a low ball. It was absolutely an answer to prayer. While on the job hunt at the end of January, I prayed that I wouldn't get the job I wanted if the house was going to sell in February. Against all odds it did and, if you'll recall, <a href="http://makeminedecaf.blogspot.ca/2018/02/somebody-pass-manna-oo-na-na.html" target="_blank">I bombed that interview</a> in spectacular fashion.</div>
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We weren't completely prepared for what selling our house in a week would mean. We are so grateful that we didn't have to keep it on the market for long. Even though it was, in a way, easier to keep the house pristine than just normal level of tidy, it was still exhausting.</div>
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Going into this, we knew we didn't want to move in winter. Four years ago, we moved out here in the middle of a very long, cold winter, and it was brutal. I'm not sure what the rest of the continent is like, but we are still in full winter mode here. It might not be -40 anymore, but we did get 35 cm of snow this weekend and people are still digging themselves out. </div>
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Now that we've finished the uncertain phase of selling the house, we get to enter the next one, which is almost more uncertain. Initially I had dreamed of moving straight from this house into a new one in Victoria. Bless my daydreaming soul, but that isn't our reality. </div>
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Karl and I aren't transferring jobs or moving because we've been recruited (like last time), we're going in with nothing. That means that we're not able to qualify for a mortgage until we've at least both got jobs, so we're going to be staying with my mom for an indeterminate amount of time. She has lots of bedrooms, but only one bathroom so you can pray for us if you think about it. And pray that no one gets food poisoning.</div>
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On the job front, Karl already has a couple offers and is set to start working a couple days after we arrive. I've got an interview already lined up for next week, and a couple other positions I've applied for that I suspect I'll hear back from. Hopefully the job market in Victoria isn't as brutal as the one here. We also have a few childcare options to interview next week. The thing is, if we don't find childcare before I find a job, because Karl already has a job, I'll be turning down any potential offers until something gets lined up. Kids are such liabilities.</div>
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Can we talk about the extreme stress of finding childcare? Never mind leaving your kids with complete strangers that you know next to nothing about, it's going to cost us at least 50% more in Victoria than it would in Regina to have two kids in daycare. It's in such high demand there, too, that I emailed over 70 providers in the last few weeks, and heard back from maybe half a dozen of them that they might have room. Factor in some negative reviews I got on a few of them, and we're interviewing two places this week, maybe three. Pray for no secret sociopaths.</div>
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We'll be doing the move in two trips because we're fun like that. The first trip is going to be really short. It'll take longer to get there than we'll actually be there. We'll be towing Karl's Mustang, bringing as much stuff as we can, and interviewing/being interviewed out the wazoo. After that we turn and burn, come back to pack up the house, say our final goodbyes, and leave before the Easter long weekend. Pray for no more blizzards. And that we can get the car out of the garage.</div>
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When we're not battling colds, I've been slowly packing up the house. It's a weird thing to pack up in phases. We packed some things before we listed the house that we knew we wouldn't need for several months. Now we're packing things and labelling them to go in storage until we get into our own house, or to go to my mom's house with us. Some will get unpacked, some will hang out in her basement. Is it weird how much I'm going to miss my pots and pans? And coffee mugs? And food processor? And blender? I have attachment issues to my kitchen gear.</div>
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While I may be sentimental about my small appliances, I'm surprisingly not about a lot of other things. We've sold our couches, are getting rid of most of our dressers, and are trying to sell our bed frame. And the house. I love this house so much, but I'm finding myself less sentimental about it than I expected. Sure, it's our first house, we brought our babies home from the hospital here, and made a lot of memories here, but it's just a bunch of walls and a really nice roof. We'll see how I feel when we say our last goodbye, but I got more emotional last week after my final appointment with the doctor that delivered our kids and saying goodbye to him (not pregnant) than I do thinking about leaving this house.</div>
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So here we go. Our year of chaos 2.0 continues.</div>
Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06108654977114565015noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5815664897641942884.post-30155045200608101732018-02-13T15:03:00.000-08:002018-02-13T15:03:11.316-08:00Lately/Currently. We've been busy lately. Really busy. So busy. Now that our house is on the market, though, there's not much else to do until there's a sold sign on it. Sure, there's always housework, but when you stay on top of it like you do with a house on the market there isn't actually much to do. Did you know it's actually easier to keep your house immaculate when you're on it every single day than it is to keep it regular level of tidy? I know, it's blowing my mind, too. Except if you let it slide even one night, then you're screwed.<div>
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Anyway, no one cares about super obvious house cleaning tips. Or if they do they're looking on Pinterest.</div>
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<b>reading:</b> Nothing good. I'm reading a book I got from the library's sale table and it's weird. I'm halfway into it and I think I'm starting to understand the plot. I thought about giving up on it, but it's less than 300 pages, and I don't know how to enter abandoned books into <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/60796500-anna/" target="_blank">Goodreads</a>. So I'm persisting. I might read a parenting book next since I'm trying to go through my bookshelves, but that's not terribly exciting either.</div>
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I'm also really enjoying the daily devotional <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/19353106-new-morning-mercies" target="_blank">New Morning Mercies</a>. I started reading it in September, but have been more diligent since January. </div>
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<b>listening to:</b> I just listened to Serial, am almost done S-Town, and listen regularly to Strangerville and Young House Love Has a Podcast. All of which I'm enjoying, except less so the second season of Serial. </div>
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I listened to the audiobooks for Just Show Up and Hidden Figures. <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/25953369-hidden-figures" target="_blank">Hidden Figures</a> made me feel like an underachiever, but I did a puzzle while listening so at least I was flexing my brain muscles. I watched the movie after and I highly recommend both. I think non-fiction is my new favourite audiobook genre.</div>
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<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/24795797-just-show-up" target="_blank">Just Show Up</a> was good, and recommended to me by a friend, but I wish I'd read the book instead. I'd heard of Kara Tippetts before and was kind of familiar with her story, but it would have been helpful to be more invested in her personal story. I struggled with the person reading the book, too. She was painfully sincere about everything she said, and I couldn't wait for her to stop talking. No one talks like that in real life.</div>
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I just bought the latest Matt Maher album off iTunes. Its a fair bet that's going to be playing a lot.</div>
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<b>watching:</b> I'm finally getting into season two of Stranger Things. Season one was okay, but I'm loving season two. I've been watching it at naptime so I can't usually get through more than one episode at a time before Molly wakes up and I turn on something else. She doesn't watch shows with me, but she's around and sees what's on and I just feel like Stranger Things needs my undivided attention, and it's kind of creepy for a one year old. I mean 13 month old. Hold me.</div>
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I've also been watching Don't Trust the B in Apartment 23. It's so dumb that I understand why it only lasted two seasons, and it's pretty salty, bu<b> </b>t it's a great background show for when I'm hanging out with Molly while Parker's having his down time.</div>
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<b>eating: </b>Currently a breakfast cookie and finishing my morning coffee. I'm not sure where the morning went, but I'm not even done my fist cup of decaf of the day and it's practically noon. I'm usually a two cup by noon kind of person. (Well, when I started writing this it was almost noon. Now it's almost supper time and my second cup of coffee is stone cold and barely started.)</div>
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I'm giving up desserts for lent. I don't typically do lent but it starts tomorrow and I need another break from desserts. I enjoyed December and January way too much. I'm not going for 100% success on this, but I'm hoping for 90-95%. </div>
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<b>missing: </b>Fresh air that isn't going to try and kill me. It's February so I'm right on track for that warmer weather craving. I don't even want super warm, I just warm enough to go for a walk without worrying about coming home with popsicle children. It's been -45 with the windchill lately, but today it's a balmy -5. Except with the wind it's -20. I'm really, really hoping that next week we can get around the lake.</div>
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<b>loving: </b>Brunch. We had an open house Saturday afternoon so we had brunch at a friend's house. It was awesome. I'm not sure why we never thought to do it earlier. We're going to do it again next weekend at our place and I'm so excited for mimosas and banana bread cinnamon buns and bacon. And friends, of course.</div>
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I really need to go for that walk.</div>
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<b>wearing: </b>Joggers. If I exercised every time I wore joggers I would be in North Korea right now winning Gold in every single event, men's and women's. I also live in sweaters, leggings, cardigans, and socks. And, on the rare occasion when I actually leave the house, I wear boots. I love boots, I really do, but after six months of winter I miss shoes. I am so excited to put on shoes, TOMS perhaps, without socks. This is my dream. I also dream of not wearing my maternity parka every time I leave the house.</div>
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Don't get me wrong, I'm going to miss wearing <strike>lounge</strike> athletic wear all the time if and when that day ever comes, but I just think my leggings would look absolutely darling with something other than my snow boots.</div>
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<b>anticipating:</b> All. the. pizza. Our small group is making pizza tomorrow night and Friday is date night, where we make pizza and watch a movie without our phones. It feels like a lot of (goat) cheese, but that's a cross I'm willing to bear. Life is crazy right now, but I think pizza is going to be the soothing balm to my life eczema. How's that for an appetizing metaphor?</div>
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Breaking cheese covered bread with dear friends is kind of the perfect way to spend Valentine's Day. Karl and I also desperately need an evening together, not talking about finances, housing, or the darkly impending future. And speaking of darkly impending, I'm really anticipating enjoying a dark beer with my pizza, in my joggers. </div>
Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06108654977114565015noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5815664897641942884.post-61452702028999412612018-02-03T07:00:00.000-08:002018-02-03T07:24:23.040-08:00Somebody pass the manna (oo-na-na)I had an interview last week. It was in an area that I've never worked in before and a change I was up for. While the pay wasn't stellar ($0.03 less than <a href="https://makeminedecaf.blogspot.ca/2018/01/new-week-same-sweatpants.html" target="_blank">the job I turned down</a> the week before), it was a part time gig so I could overlook that. If you're completely confused by my reasoning I can't blame you. When you have kids, they make things complicated. Of course I could have worked that full time job because the experience was great and it was in an area that I get excited about. It just wasn't exciting enough to take me away full time from my kids and everything else going on right now.<br />
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I put on a nice dress and dropped the kids off with the sitter. I had almost 15 minutes to get to my interview five minutes away. I was cruising and living my best life. Then I had to cross some train tracks which just so happened to have a train on them. A train that slowed down and stopped right in front of me. I called the woman that was interviewing me, only to get an out of office that she was sick. I tried, I really did, but by the time I found another number to call the train was moving and I was two minutes away.<br />
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I think there are a few ways to really blow an interview, and showing up five minutes late is definitely one of them. I was lucky and they were really understanding (do trains fall under "act of God"?) so we moved past it.<br />
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Not to toot my own horn, but the interview went really well. I think I might have been made for the position. Everything the company stands for sounded good to me. It was like a match made in employment heaven. I charmed them, they charmed me, we now have a group text going where we send witty GIFs.<br />
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Just kidding, I don't know how to group text.<br />
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So aside from being tardy, I slayed that interview. I knew they were going to hire me. I put on my coat and we shook hands and said our farewells and did the obligatory casual post-interview chit chat.<br />
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"So, what are you up to for the rest of the day?"<br />
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I wasn't ready for it. I should have been. Everyone always asks. They need to kill any potential awkward silence as you leave and do a last minute psychopath check. They're trying to catch you off guard and delve deeper into who you are. They're no longer your interviewers, they're just Steve and Diane and Steve and Diane are just being friendly and you tell Steve and Diane what you're doing.<br />
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"Just going home to clean the house to get ready to sell." ABORT! ABORT! (That was my filter, kicking in a little late.)<br />
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"Oh, are you moving in Regina?" Still calm, still doing the psychopath check.<br />
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"Um... Well..." And that was it. I ruined everything. No more group texts. No more funny GIFs. No more future with the company and climbing the corporate ladder all the way to the presidency because you, my friend, have officially bombed your interview.<br />
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The thing is, that 2018 is another <a href="https://makeminedecaf.blogspot.ca/2018/01/i-see-you-2017.html" target="_blank">year of chaos</a> because we're moving back to B.C. Last week was utter insanity because our realtors, the day before <a href="https://makeminedecaf.blogspot.ca/2018/01/new-week-same-sweatpants.html" target="_blank">I turned down that job</a>, told me that, in this market, it's a good time to list our house. So I spent the whole week scrubbing and packing and organizing and wondering how on earth my children have accumulated so many toys.<br />
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When we contacted our realtors we gave them a large window of time that we wanted to list in. We weren't in a rush, we just wanted to get the most value out of our home as possible. So when they said to list and it was right in the middle of my job hunt we said okay and made sure we had plenty of Tylenol on hand for our tension headaches.<br />
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I cried the whole way home from my interview. If we hadn't had an established timeline for listing I wouldn't have said anything, but I was glad it was out there. I had been feeling a lot of guilt about keeping it secret. Even working for a few months can make a big difference, and we honestly thought we'd be looking at an April list date. That's lots of time to work, wait for the house to sell, then close. I'd been looking for jobs since November so I'd always assumed I'd be committing to around six months of work.<br />
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I've given up. I'm not meant to work in Saskatchewan anymore and I have a lot of peace about it. I did hear back from the job, and they told me that if our plans change and we don't move to give them a call because they'd love to have me. Then we bonded on the phone over migraine cures and now have a meme email chain going so the whole thing wasn't a total loss.<br />
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I prayed before going into my interview that I wouldn't get the job if our house was going to sell in February. Time will tell if that prayer was answered, but I'm confident that my job right now is to stay home with the kids, host as many play dates for my mom group as I can, and get this household ready to go to the promised land. If me not working means that we have to subsist on manna in the process, well at least we're getting biblical.<br />
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I've decided, though, that I'm not a stay at home mom. I don't think that's a title that really fits me. Under different circumstances you could probably call me a home maker. Except, well, I'm packing everything up. I've taken all our pictures off the walls already and made our house feel so much less like our own in order to get it sale ready. So ladies, lock up your books, knickknacks, and family pictures, because I'm a home wrecker and I'm on a mission.<br />
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<br />Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06108654977114565015noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5815664897641942884.post-21681232147420941312018-01-31T12:22:00.000-08:002018-01-31T12:22:10.271-08:00New week, same sweatpants.Remember everything I said in <a href="https://makeminedecaf.blogspot.ca/2018/01/does-this-mean-i-need-to-wear-pants.html" target="_blank">my last post</a> about going to work on Monday? Ignore it. Ignore it all.<br />
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When I got offered that job I was so in shock that I forgot to ask about wages. I knew what the position's hourly range was and there was a generous spread between the top and the bottom. The high end was less than I was used to making but still reasonable and fair. The low end was $0.59 below my minimum threshold for what I needed to make to justify putting the kids in daycare.<br />
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I called the Wednesday before I was scheduled to start to ask the big important question. The higher ups had decided that I was going to start at the bottom of the pay scale. I told them we'd need to negotiate on that, so my manager said she'd get back to me on Friday. I wasn't worried. There's a posted range for a reason.<br />
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Thursday afternoon I finally heard back from another job I'd wanted. She wanted to interview but I told her I'd have to get back to her, depending on how Friday's conversation went. I was committed to start another job on Monday and didn't want to waste time in interviews that weren't going to go anywhere. It's nice to finally be courted, instead of throwing myself/resume at everyone's mercy.<br />
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Friday afternoon rolled around, and I got my long awaited call. She told me there was no room to negotiate and that wage was their final offer. So I wished them good luck in finding another candidate then booked an interview for Wednesday morning with my other employment suitor.<br />
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I was glad they'd made the decision for me because I was so unhappy with the prospect of full time even though it wasn't going to be a forever job. We'd also gotten some news the night before that meant I had a very full week ahead of me anyway, so to be able to take that pesky annoyance of "work" and "getting dressed" and "thinking" out of the way was a huge weight off my shoulders. The tension headache I'd woken up with Friday morning melted right away, kind of like the goat mozza on my pizza that night. Except that melted into my arteries.<br />
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So here I sit in my leggings (Molly had a pediatrician appointment so I got dressed-ish), in my cozy basement with the fireplace roaring while my kids "nap" when I could be in an office, wearing fancier leggings and getting paid less than I'm worth. Right now, I'm totally okay with that.Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06108654977114565015noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5815664897641942884.post-55233914994450792362018-01-17T15:45:00.000-08:002018-01-17T15:45:56.727-08:00Does this mean I need to wear pants?Last year was the year of the stay at home me. I didn't work for a single day (unless you count my failed craft show) and got paid to stay home with the kids. It was lovely but the real world hit and, while I don't necessarily have to work for us to survive, if we want to maintain our lifestyle or have any extra money I really do. I don't actually mind working. I enjoy getting out of the house, and I'm one of those horrendous mothers that actually needs time away from her children. It's good for them, good for me, and good for our bank account.<div>
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Because 2017 was such a chaotic year, I actually ended up sending Parker to the sitter's (aka a friend's house) for three hours a week. I didn't really realise it but I was dealing with some anxiety that was manifesting through some physical symptoms. As soon as I started taking Thursday mornings for Molly and I those symptoms pretty much went away. Parker is a sweet child, but he's two. I'm not at all blaming him for my anxiety, but it was easier to get on top of it when I had a break. We also live far away from our families and I never got a chance to have any time with just Molly. It was also, and still is, incredibly valuable for me to have a few hours to spend with just Molly, put her down for a nap, then hammer some stuff off my to-do list around the house. My only regret is that I didn't think to do it sooner.</div>
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I started looking for jobs in November with a goal of starting mid-January. I've been working in government for several years and their hiring process can take a while. I also wanted to find something part-time that would be a good fit for us and me. There wasn't a big rush for me to start working again, so I could explore my options. </div>
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I applied for so many jobs and only heard back from one. It ended up being the only job I was really excited about. I interviewed right before Christmas and they offered me the job last week. It was posted as a part-time position (hurray!) but will actually be full-time. While waiting for their offer, my old office called to offer me some vacation coverage hours. I wasn't expecting to get the job and, with the new casual offer on the table, was kind of hoping they were a pass. I got the call last Tuesday, the day before Molly's birthday, that they wanted me. It's way too good of an opportunity to pass up so I accepted, then spent the whole afternoon crying about it.</div>
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I'm happy I've got an opportunity to fill the position, but sad because it means working 8-5 every day and I'm not emotionally ready to leave Molly. She still wakes up at night. A week ago she was still nursing four-five times a day. She's my teeny tiny baby and nowhere near as independent as Parker was at her age. She still doesn't crawl.</div>
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So guess how fun this last week has been? Sorry, Molly, but it's been an intensive week of night sleep training and day weaning. She's done okay at the weaning, but decided to be contrary and work on her first teeth. Guess how nights are going? It's okay, I'm just raising a little drug addict now. I figure we're all in for sleep training this week and if it still hasn't taken by the time I start work we'll just consider it a lost cause.</div>
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If you're judging me right now I'll stop you right there. Child number one was so. very. easy. Parker slept like a dream. When we sleep trained him it worked and that was that. I have always tried not to judge other moms, but I seriously thought that parents that said their kids wouldn't sleep train just weren't doing it right. There was a small amount of judgement there on my side. </div>
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Not anymore. I can't believe how different my two kids are in pretty much every little thing. If having Baby Parker was an ego boost on my superior parenting skills, Molly and Toddler Parker have served to humble me so much.</div>
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So there you have it. Change number one of 2018 is that I start a new job on Monday. There are a lot of good things about starting work, but I think the hardest transition is going to be for me, not being able to wear sweatpants all day every day. Lord, beer me strength.</div>
Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06108654977114565015noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5815664897641942884.post-329505235011027042018-01-02T21:19:00.000-08:002018-01-02T21:19:51.464-08:00I 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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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But, no, sprinkles didn't make the final cut. "Chaos" did, though.<br />
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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 <span id="goog_1072782915"></span>is De<a href="https://www.blogger.com/"><span id="goog_1072782916"></span></a>cember (more on that later) but, other than that, nothing really changes.<br />
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I finished off 2016 with a bold statement: <b><a href="http://makeminedecaf.blogspot.ca/2016/12/the-highs-and-lows-of-2016.html" target="_blank">Bring it, 2017.</a> </b><a href="http://makeminedecaf.blogspot.ca/2017/01/the-prelude-to-birth-story.html" target="_blank">Three days later</a> I kind of started to regret that.<br />
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It didn't matter in the end, because <a href="http://makeminedecaf.blogspot.ca/2017/01/mollys-birth-story.html" target="_blank">Molly was born healthy and screaming</a> 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.)<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06108654977114565015noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5815664897641942884.post-81169479672136786542017-11-03T16:02:00.001-07:002017-11-03T16:31:50.080-07:00Recent happenings- I made a mobile for Molly's room when she was brand new. (I just realized we're almost 10 months in and I still haven't posted about her room. I know you're all dying to see it. I've taken photos, I just forget about them. Someday, friends.) I got the idea from Pinterest, and I got so many compliments on it that I thought it would be fun to make some to sell.<br />
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A much craftier friend than me suggested we do a craft show together. I spent most of September preparing for it, and explored my limited creativity to make some other mobiles, too. We decided it would likely be a one and done show, but we made <a href="https://www.facebook.com/BaileyAnnaUpcycle/" target="_blank">a Facebook page</a> and <a href="https://itsjustangi.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Angi</a> saved us by making us some business cards so we didn't die out after the show. The show was fun and my friend sold a few things, but I don't think we'll do another.<br />
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- Parker is obsessed with Moana. My toddler has an idol. I downloaded a few of the songs for him and they are always stuck in my head. Fortunately, I don't actually mind Moana. It's a good movie, with a good moral, and the music doesn't make me want to rip my ears off. Every time I hear the song at the end of the movie, the "I am Moana" song, I get emotional. Every. single. time. And we listen to that song a lot. Thanks, Disney.</div>
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<br /></div>
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- October was hard month for Molly. She wasn't feeling great and it all kind of came to head this week when she got a cold and added suspected teething to it all. When Parker had days like that we'd just hit the couch and wait it out. I miss those days. Now we just try to survive.</div>
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Because she's been feeling not so great for a while, I put off sleep training Molly. A couple weeks ago she was up every hour for three nights in a row. I think that when it's time to sleep train you'll know, and I kind of knew then. It ended up being easier to do than I'd expected and I got five blissful nights without her. Parker, naturally, started waking up every night, something he hasn't done for almost two years, so that was fun. Because of the horrible pain trifecta sleep has gone out the window again. But, whatever, I know it can be done, and little miss has something coming for her this weekend. Assuming that something isn't teeth, of course.</div>
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<div>
- My Keurig is currently soaking a descaling vinegar bath and all I can think of is how much I want another cup of coffee. The struggle is real. </div>
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<div>
- Karl wanted to take Parker trick or treating this year. I could not care less about Halloween now that I can't have Reese's, but I figured Karl wanted to get some free candy and Parker would be really cute. We got him a chicken/pimp costume if he refused to do up the jacket. I also scored Molly a flamingo costume at the thrift store for $6 so we decided to dress both kids up.<br />
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Molly had a hard day Tuesday but chippered up for the evening. Parker, on the other hand, cried every time we brought his costume near him. So he took his Darth Vader bucket door to door, dressed as a selfish toddler, and said "you're welcome" to everyone that gave him candy. He really got into the swing of things, but fortunately hasn't asked to do it again.</div>
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- I've decided to give up desserts for November. I think we need a break from each other for a while. You know, just some time apart to rekindle the fire in our relationship and get our priorities in check. When you have too much of a good thing it a) shows, and b) makes it less meaningful. My sister in law got excited about it and has convinced half her family to join in. I've got a couple other friends that jumped on board, too. I wasn't planning on making it a big deal, but clearly we need t-shirts (a size smaller than usual) and a hashtag. I'm thinking #nocaketilChristmas. It's a work in progress.</div>
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- We woke up to snow the morning of November 1st and just like that, all joy was sucked out of the world. Just kidding, but I still haven't taken Parker outside to play in it and he's going a little stir crazy. The problem is, I can't just throw him in the backyard in this weather and ignore him from inside. I should probably keep an eye on him because of hypothermia or abominable snow men. Friends, I'm from the west coast. We do not snow. I'm hiding in the kitchen while he plays with my blender (take a breath, it's not plugged in) on the other side of the cabinets.</div>
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<br /></div>
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- Now that it's November I need to start thinking about getting a job for January. Even typing those words gave me an intense amount of anxiety. I'm not made of the tough stuff that stay at home moms are, but I have a million feelings about starting a new job in a couple months and leaving my kids with someone else, and most of them involve synonyms for anxiety. This mother of two thing is Hard. </div>
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- A friend recently told me she's expecting her third child and all I could think was, "WHY?" I love my kids, but I'm fairly certain that if I added another to the mix I would lose my mind. Case in point, Parker just put the plug for the toaster in his ear. He also put my hairbrush in the toilet this morning for the second time.</div>
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- I went for all you can eat sushi for the first time on Wednesday and I'm not sure why I'd never done it before. Not only was it incredible, but you got to order off an iPad right at the table. Technology! Next time you come visit, we need to go there. Karl "hates" (read: has never tried) sushi.</div>
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- I never go out for supper, but it's a wild week so I'm going out with my mom group tonight once the kids are in bed. I don't care how much snow is on the ground, there are fish tacos and a mojito calling my name. Especially because family flu shots are on the agenda beforehand. This group of strangers is helping keep me sane through the most chaotic year of my life and we're finally having our first kid-free outing.</div>
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- Have you seen Life in Pieces? It's my new favourite. I laugh out loud every time. I'm bouncing between that and rewatching The Office during naptime.</div>
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- Karl has to work every sixth Saturday and tomorrow is one of those days. I give myself a break from parenting on those days and we just watch movies. I might actually get us out in the snow in the morning if it's not too cold, but then it's Shrek all morning. Or Moana if I lose the arm wrestle.</div>
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- Finally, I joined a Zumba class. I've tried it a few times before and felt like a major fool, but this time is different. Maybe it's the lack of a mirror to see myself in, the larger class size, or the fact that I'm hiding in the back with a friend, but I love it. My moves leave something to be desired, but I take some satisfaction in knowing that I haven't fallen on my face yet. Close, but not yet.</div>
Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06108654977114565015noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5815664897641942884.post-20089328590800034172017-10-06T15:27:00.001-07:002017-10-06T15:27:06.367-07:00The parade of shame.On Tuesday morning I packed the kids up and took them to the library down the street for Toddler Time. I'd never been before, but have several friends that go on Fridays so knew it was a popular destination. Because I'm a terrible mother, I'm not particularly fond of cheesy mom and tot programs. I find the singing awkward and all the feigned enthusiasm makes me wonder if switching away from decaf and adding a healthy swig of Baileys might make me fit in more. Surely there must be a reason all those stay at home parents are so painfully chipper and involved after spending every single day with their toddlers.<br />
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We showed up five minutes late despite my best efforts to the contrary. We were in the parking lot three minutes before it was set to start, but I have a sneaking suspicion that most parents are actually early for these sorts of organized things, even though that flies in the face of all parenting logic I've ever experienced. It certainly doesn't happen with any of the play dates I've been to.<br />
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Getting out of the car involved nothing short of bribery on my part and a near tantrum on Parker's. I'm pretty good at not giving into his terrorist demands, but we were short for time and he wanted to bring his snack cup in. I was not about to waste all the effort I'd gone through of putting makeup on for a Shreddies fuelled throw down in a rainy parking lot.<br />
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Because Toddler Time was in a room in the basement and Molly is still in her bucket seat, it took us a full five minutes to manoeuvre ourselves into the building and into the elevator. It's not that I'm necessarily afraid to lug an 85 lb bucket seat down a flight of stairs while holding my toddler's hand, it's just that we were already late and I didn't want to add a trip to the ER to our list of things to do that morning. I threw my hip in August after getting stung by a wasp on my baby toe (makes sense, right?) so I was already a little off balance to begin with.<br />
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Getting into the elevator itself was an adventure as, apparently, I don't take Parker out of the house enough to know what the outside world looks like. He was enamoured with the buttons that opened all the doors, and that was just to the building. Once I wrangled him into the elevator, after missing the doors to it twice, it was all I could do to block him from pushing the emergency and alarm buttons all at once. I wish elevator designers had seriously reconsidered putting those buttons at toddler eye level.<br />
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When we finally made it to the room, a mere five minutes past 10, Toddler Time was in full swing. The room was full of singing children and parents, all wiggling merrily as they sat on the carpet. All of them, naturally, turning and looking at us upon our tardy entry.<br />
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Parker, like me, doesn't do incredibly well in new situations. I'm finding that, as the supposedly mature adult in our relationship, I have to resort to faking it more often than I'd like. While a large part of me wanted to back out of the room mumbling about that not being the bathroom, I'd been spotted so we sat down and acted like we belonged.<br />
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Parker flat out refused to surrender his snack cup or take his boots off in order to sit on the carpet, so we hung out on the floor, as close to the door as we could and faked it like our lives depended on it. I sang the songs, did the actions, and pretended to care about the story that I could barely see from across the room. Parker eventually got tired of my enthusiasm and shushed me every time I participated. I couldn't really blame him. All the other kids bounced around enthusiastically and Molly just sat in her bucket seat, still in her pyjamas, ready to make a getaway at a moment's notice.<br />
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At the end of the half hour session, the kids all got to take a "musical instrument" and march around the room singing. This is clearly a highlight of the entire morning and eagerly anticipated by parents and children alike. It's true, nothing sounds like more fun to me than watching a bunch of toddlers stomp around in a circle making as much noise as possible. Okay, I'm a little envious. Someone give me a maraca.<br />
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I got Parker some bells to shake and encouraged him to, at the very least, stand up and let loose. Instead, we stayed seated at the edge of the carpet circle shaking our bells while the other stylishly dressed children and parents paraded around us. The parents, bless them, seemed to get it and tried not to look directly at me. The kids, however, were looking at Parker and I like we were some sort of interesting stain.<br />
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"Why isn't that little boy participating, Mommy?"<br />
"Well, Timmy, some people just don't understand fun."*<br />
<i>Not an actual conversation I overheard.</i><br />
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After Toddler Time there's some free play time. In our case, it was back-out-of-the room-as-quickly-as-possible-and-pray-to-God-that-Parker-doesn't-press-any-alarm-buttons-in-the-elevator-time.<br />
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I think we'll just stay home next Tuesday.</div>
Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06108654977114565015noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5815664897641942884.post-42560304198811367272017-10-04T16:40:00.000-07:002017-10-04T16:40:26.483-07:00Yes I can.Last time I left off, an embarrassingly long time ago, I had you all on the edge of your seats with the prospect of potty training Parker. Fortunately, my son had mercy on me and our imminent road trip and decided that, after nap time that first day, he wanted to go back into diapers. Fine by me.<br />
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We have now entered a reality where the potty is around if he wants and he knows that he gets treats when he uses it, but it is no longer controlling our lives. Praise Jesus! He can do it, we're just both highly uninterested in pursuing that lifestyle right now. So we aren't. He'll be done with diapers by the time he's old enough for preschool. Diapers are easy. I'm more than okay with them, especially now that we've discovered Easy Ups. Psychotic toddlers can't take them off in their sleep sacks.<br />
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We did, however, have another big life transition with Parker. When we got home from vacation we decided that it was time, for everyone's safety and sanity, to turn his crib into a toddler bed. He was climbing into his crib and teasing a head injury, never mind that it was exhausting having to watch him Houdini his way out of his sleep sack every night and make sure he didn't concuss himself while he was supposed to be sleeping.<br />
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I was team "crib until high school" but parenting is nothing if not humbling. He did really well with the transition and only fell out of his bed four times on the second night. He did fine, he just felt his way back to his bed and climbed back in. Nap times were a nightmare for a few days until I realized that as long as he can't get out of his sleep sack he'll, for the most part, sleep. Some days he doesn't sleep, but he has to stay locked in his room for 90 minutes because I'm the boss and don't hate my life.<br />
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I've been learning a lot about grace and parenting through the past month and a half. I can't control everything my toddler does, but I can control my attitude towards it. The run up to potty training was just as stressful as transitioning from one kid to two and losing my job. What looked like the end of Parker's naps gave me intense anxiety, too. Embracing the changes and finding a way to make them work for me was the only thing that kept me sane. So, judge away, but locking him in his room for 90 minutes a day while he rearranges his furniture and drawers is the main thing keeping me from becoming a travelling hobo.<br />
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Today's boring yet informative re-entry into my life brought to you by Peppa Pig. I've had a busy couple months, but have really missed blogging. In the grand scheme of things, it gets the chopping block. Today I finally figured out how to balance that parenting and blogging lifestyle. Thanks, Netflix.<br />
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<br />Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06108654977114565015noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5815664897641942884.post-19516428471512149282017-08-22T13:58:00.000-07:002017-08-22T13:58:06.756-07:00Potty is a four letter word.Yesterday I turned 29 years old. I feel like that can't be right, because I'm pretty sure the second I gave birth to Molly I entered my mid-thirties. That's how those things work, right? Either way, I was born allegedly 29 years ago.<br />
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I celebrated the lead up to my birthday with a weekend of strep throat and a couple trips to the clinic. Karl had plans to go away this weekend so when I woke up feeling like death warmed over on Friday morning I asked him to take the day off work so I could have an actual sick day. Because I wasn't feeling any worse when he left Friday night I told him to go and hopefully my antibiotics would work enough to bring me back to life. Praise the Lord they did, and I only missed out on one night of blissful time to myself. Because I love my husband but I also really love an evening all to myself.<br />
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I celebrated my actual birthday with a toddler that only napped for 20 minutes then woke up screaming and raging as I was halfway through a piece of cake. His mood did not improve.<br />
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I strongly suspect I will be gray by the time I'm actually 30.<br />
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This morning while I was getting ready to take the kids for a photo shoot for a friend's Etsy store I noticed that Parker was playing with the toilet brush. He had put my actual hairbrush in the toilet brush's holder. It's fine, I probably needed a new one anyway.<br />
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You know how they say to be careful what you wish for? I have long wished that my son would potty train himself when the time comes. We're going on holidays next week, starting with an 18 hour road trip, and guess who has decided that he's completely in love with the potty? I won't go into any details, aside from saying that I'm utterly traumatized by it all, and that mine and Karl's efforts to downplay any potty interest are not working. He's not even two and a half yet.<br />
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Because I've been strong armed by a 30 lb child into potty training this week I took the kids to Superstore to buy him underwear today. Did you know that Joe doesn't make underwear in Parker's age size? That's because normal two year old boys do not potty train this early. I had to buy him size 3T and hope to God that they won't fall down every time he stands up. They were, however, days of the week underwear (I am so deeply jealous) and 25% off. I'll be going back for more tonight because something tells me that seven pairs won't be enough.<br />
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I had a few other things on my grocery list that I completely forgot about after Parker started pulling shoes off the shelves and slapping all the displays. I checked out with the underwear at the self checkout, thinking I could make a quick, clean getaway with enough energy left over to stop at Booster Juice on the way back to the car for my free birthday smoothie.<br />
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I learned something new today. Life is all about learning. This weekend I learned that Americans and Canadians have different flour, and today I learned that self checkout scanners have buttons on them that only toddlers can see and push. I also learned that it takes three store employees, including one manager, to set that scanner right. I also learned that when you push the wrong buttons on the scanner it will shame beep at you loudly, repeatedly, and it will just add to the impending trauma of potty training a week before 18 hours straight in the car. But at least someone told me about a car seat insert to contain any system failures.<br />
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If you think of me tomorrow, send prayers and cleaning tips.Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06108654977114565015noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5815664897641942884.post-54090695879095605362017-07-16T11:13:00.000-07:002017-07-16T11:13:26.767-07:00Too hot to handle.Karl's parents came to visit last week. They were here for five days. Karl's parents and I don't really have a lot in common. That's a lie, actually. We all really enjoy time to ourselves and watching TV.<br />
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Their visit actually went better than expected. Karl's mom and I went out together a couple times to run some errands and do a little shopping. We've never done much together, so it was fun to go to Old Navy and contemplate buying matching shirts. (It's cool, we live two provinces away so our paths don't cross very often. We can get away with. Except that once she realized we were looking at the same shirt in the same colour she was no longer interested. I choose to believe it's because she didn't want to be hampered by the comparison of who wore it better. Just roll with me on this.) We went to <a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/BWbNKw7Fyjk/?taken-by=annaleemorton" target="_blank">Chapters</a>, Michael's, Winners, and we sat outside the closed knitting store and wept bitter, fibrous tears that we couldn't go in. We had a really nice time.<br />
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My father-in-law got a minor bout of stomach flu that I refuse to call food poisoning and take responsibility for so he missed out on the morning we went to the farmer's market. It was a very authentic experience and culminated in buying deliciously overpriced apple bread and my MIL getting excited about Saskatoon berry jam and hemp hearts. I even bought myself a homemade marshmallow for $1. It was delicious, but I'm thinking the lemonade I washed it down with may have induced Type 1 Diabetes.<br />
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The only downside of the visit, aside from the possibility that I unintentionally poisoned Karl's dad, was that, as you may recall, our air conditioner decided to call it a day. Thankfully, it chose the middle of a heat wave to do so and timed it perfectly for their visit. We got it fixed the day after they left.<br />
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The thing about extreme heat is that I hate it. I do not do well in anything but moderate temperatures. I was not my best self. We were all melting. My coconut oil was so liquid I thought it might turn into a gas. I was worried about the physical well-being of the chocolate in our house. Did you know that if your chocolate starts to melt you have a solemn duty to eat all of it? That's not actually true, but I decided that I'd pretend it was anyway. Thankfully things never got that dire, but it was touch and go for a while.<br />
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I was really looking forward to showing my in-laws how good a house I kept, cleaning the kitchen every night, baking delicious desserts, and meal planning like a boss. Instead my energy level was akin to a sloth and we just barbecued everything. Even using the microwave felt like it warmed the house up and let's not even talk about the necessary evil of using the coffee maker.<br />
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Not only did I fail to impress with my domestic abilities, our fridge decided that it, like the air conditioner, had lived a good life and just couldn't handle it any more. It was a hard week for our milk. I'm also glad that Parker doesn't fully understand how horrible the milk I accidentally gave him yesterday was.<br />
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Karl's parents left Tuesday, my mom flew in 13 hours later, and we got our new AC unit installed the next day, a week earlier than anticipated. I'm not saying I screamed "God bless you" into the phone when they called to ask if they could come a week early, but I'm not saying I didn't. But I did make them cookies.<br />
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We went to a memorial/family picnic yesterday in honour of my great uncle. It was a big day that involved little in the way of naps for either kid, so they were both in bed and asleep an hour earlier. It was magical. Naturally Karl and I celebrated by leaving Mom with the sleeping babies and my Netflix password and went to Lowes, where we bought the cheapest fridge they had. We date night so hard.<br />
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The new fridge is currently sitting in its packaging next to our table waiting for its moment to shine. Apparently it needs to sit upright for 24 hours after being on its side or it might spontaneously combust, so it's just taking up space like a fancy new conversation piece that's very big in Europe.<br />
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We were lucky enough that our tax returns this year worked out to be almost exactly what we needed to cover the costs of the new AC and fridge. There was just enough left over to include the $100 in steaks we splurged on ordering from my mom's cousin. God provided for our needs before we were even aware of them and He said, "Let them eat steak."Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06108654977114565015noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5815664897641942884.post-51422613655917909492017-07-05T16:33:00.000-07:002017-07-05T16:33:55.796-07:00Vacations 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.<div>
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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.</div>
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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.</div>
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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.</div>
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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.</div>
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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.</div>
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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.</div>
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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.</div>
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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.</div>
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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. </div>
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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.</div>
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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. </div>
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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. </div>
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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.</div>
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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.</div>
Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06108654977114565015noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5815664897641942884.post-16586797418545303942017-06-08T14:09:00.000-07:002017-06-08T14:09:09.488-07:00Mary, did you know?Mary, what was it like to be the mother of Jesus? What was it like to carry the son of God in your womb for nine months? Did he kick you in the ribs? Did he press down on your bladder so that every time you stood up you had to excuse yourself? Was your pregnancy easy or were you sick for the whole nine months? Did you gain a lot of weight, or carry it all in your stomach? Did you get cankles? Did that little baby keep you awake at night, rolling, hiccuping, and kicking when you were trying to sleep? When did you first realise you loved him?<div>
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Was it excruciating giving birth? The conditions certainly weren't ideal, and there was no anaesthesiologist to give you an epidural, but did you feel like your insides were being set on fire? Did you have back labour? Did you tear horribly? Did your highly favoured status allow you any relief from the physical agony of childbirth or was it a long labour followed by many hours of pushing?</div>
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Mary, I doubt the songs are true, and I'm sure your baby did cry. Anyone would, entering the world in a dirty, cold and smelly stable. I think he did cry, Mary, because he was a human baby boy. I think if you didn't feed him on time he cried. I think if he was too hot or cold he cried. He wasn't a colicky baby, though, was he? </div>
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Mary, I suspect that sinless little boy you gave birth to was easy to sleep train, wasn't he? He only woke up at night to eat when he needed it, and I'm sure he had a sweet little smile for you when he did. (Unless you took too long.) Did Jesus nurse well from the beginning? Did your nipples crack and bleed? How often did your baby boy throw up on you? Was it easy to burp him or did you have to get creative? Did he cry when he was overtired? Did he need extra snuggles to help him through teething pains? Did he ever pull on your hair while nursing or scratch your chest with his little fingernails?</div>
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When he was a toddler, did Jesus ever need to be told something more than once? Did he ever forget an instruction or rule, or was his young memory already perfect? Did he like all the food you put in front of him and eat it without complaint? Did he sometimes wake up with the sun for no reason, or did he sleep a proper amount and wake up when it made sense? Did he cry when he skinned his knee?</div>
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Mary, did you know what you were getting yourself into when you decided to have other children? Did you have any idea what trials were in store for you? Did you even have the slightest inkling what it meant to be the mother of a sinful toddler?</div>
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Mary, were you surprised when your children bit you while they nursed and laughed about it? Were you prepared to become a canvas for your children's flung food? Did you know the agony of disobedience? Were you ready to watch your seemingly innocent babies turn into wicked people? Could you pinpoint the moment when they started actively sinning?</div>
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Mary, did you know how hard it would be to have more than one child? I'm sure you never had to tell Jesus to stop hitting his siblings, but were you ready to watch your other children fail where your first succeeded? Did you feel like a bad mother for not raising a family of perfect children? Did you forget Jesus at the temple because your other misbehaving children were taking up the rest of your time?</div>
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Mary, did you know?</div>
Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06108654977114565015noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5815664897641942884.post-3388658716892626372017-04-25T20:33:00.002-07:002017-04-25T20:33:48.006-07:00Mom thoughts. I recently had a moment of clarity that was almost like a punch in the gut. Molly is the sweetest little thing, but she hasn't been the easiest baby. I've been beating myself up with all the things she doesn't do that Parker did at her age, mostly regarding sleep. If you didn't already know this, parents with infants obsess over their sleep like some people obsess over sports stats. With Parker we hibernated for the first year of his life and it was most beautiful of times. We did very little and practically all he did was nap in his crib while I kept a tidy house and did puzzles. It was freaking magical.<br />
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Molly just isn't Parker. She's more difficult. She's delicate. The nurse and doctor both bantered around the word colic, but I don't think it's fair to parents of colicky children to apply it to Molly. The thing is, once I really truly realized that she isn't as easy a baby as her brother<i> through no fault or shortcoming of my own</i> it was like a big old burden came off my shoulders. Mom guilt is so real, and we are our own worst critics. <a href="http://makeminedecaf.blogspot.ca/2016/03/survey-says-youre-bad-mom.html" target="_blank">Usually.</a><br />
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Right now I'm focusing on baby steps with her and it's doing wonders for my sanity. Those first 2 1/2 - 3 months as a mom of two were the absolute hardest. Now, I'm just focused on what we are getting done. Molly goes to bed around the same time as Parker. Yes. Thank you, Jesus. She's starting to put herself down to sleep while she's swaddled. Hallelujah. She's not co-sleeping as much. Glory be to God. She is only napping for 45 minute stretches at a time. Well, you can't win them all. Baby steps. I figure that by the time she's 7 months old we'll have her on a spotty morning nap (second child problems) and a killer afternoon one like her brother. And that's really all you can hope for. At least we'll always have bedtime.<br />
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But enough about my daughter's sleep, let's talk about my jeans. There's this beautiful time right after you give birth where you feel like a sexy, slim beast. Your body is amazing, it just ejected a homegrown human, and DANG where did your jumbo belly go? That lasts a couple weeks, then you feel fat and milky and overtired and like you'd like to burn every reflective surface you see because your body is disgusting. Then that goes away, too, and eventually you just accept the fact that you need to do some work to fit your pants and that the body you once had is nothing more than a memory. For me that happened right around the time my belly band started to wear out. I tried and, magically, succeeded in buttoning up my pants. It was a big, fist-pumping moment for me. Then I ate something and they didn't fit anymore.<br />
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My weight has always fluctuated, but I'm currently in that stage of life where if I eat just a little too much junk my pants are too uncomfortable to do up. I'm really looking forward to the elastic waist shorts days of summer, but until then I'm in this weird limbo of wanting to do my pants up and wanting to eat cookies. I'm really glad my kids are too young to see this side of me. I don't want them to ever worry about their bodies, as long as they're healthy, and I certainly don't want them to complain about their or another woman's thighs. But right now, their mommy just needs to lay off the doughnuts and she's got clothes to fit into.<br />
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While Parker and I enjoyed our time together when he was little, he now needs to socialize far more often. The weather still isn't fabulous and I'm not really interested in braving it with a newborn but Parker needs more stimulation than just me to facilitate epic naps. Last week we had four play dates, and tomorrow morning I'm having five moms and their kids over. I know one of them, but the other four moms are complete unknowns.<br />
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You know you've been momming for a while when you start just accepting a certain level of messy for having strangers over. Sure, I tidied and swept the floor, but I didn't do a real clean. I reserve that for visiting family members I need to impress. If everyone wears socks they might not even notice. I will, however, make muffins and coffee. That's all moms really need anyway. And hugs.<br />
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Speaking of affection, Parker has re-entered a sweet stage. When he hurts himself he instinctively knows that kisses make it better. I have no idea where he figured that out, but one day he just started asking. I am more than happy to provide as many as he'd like. It's pretty stinking cute. He also puts himself in a time out when I tell him to. It makes me want to laugh and cry all at once.<br />
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Oh, motherhood. It wrecks you and builds you back up all the time.Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06108654977114565015noreply@blogger.com9