Snow Thank you

Today we decided to take advantage of my husbands days off, and take the kids tubing on a local ski hill.  Because of my hubby's crazy work hours, and the ages of our children, we rarely have the opportunity to do things like this, so today was a really big adventure for us. Both kids were really excited, and I was anxious to see some snow! Having grown up with snow, moving to the coast and having winters full of rain, can grow exhausting.  Frankly, some days I'd rather shovel it, than see the gloomy, wet, depressing sky....day, after day, after day, for months on end sometimes.  Even my 3 year old complains about not seeing the sunshine. I have been on the coast for nearly 10 years now, and I must admit, that I have become a "west coaster".  My winter jacket has been packed away for years, and I can usually get away with my hoodie while taking my kids to school. My mittens are warm enough to handle the cold steering wheel in the morning, but certainly aren't meant for any winter activity.  I wear my Ugg boots everyday, and no longer own a pair of real snow boots. I traded in my winter gear for rain gear and at the time was happy to pack it all away, only to bring out for special occasions, such as this one.
So, as we began to drag out the "winter gear", it began to occur to me. Holy crap....I was about 60 pounds lighter when I wore this last time.  With bated breath, I put on the snow pants. "Shit". To say they don't fit, is an understatement.  I could probably use them as hand puppets. They stop abruptly at my ass. So, that's awesome. It's now 7:45pm on Boxing day. 
I take my son's snow pants out, only to read that they say size 4...and he's a 6.  I dig around in the closet for my daughters....only to realize that I have sent them back to my best friend in the last clothing swap we did.  "Shit" again. 
Off to Superstore I go. I get there just as the doors are being locked. "Shit...shit...shit"! Off to Wal-mart, on Boxing day, at 8pm I go. I am in sweat pants, melted off makeup, a baseball hat, and my hair is about 3 days dirty.  Do I seriously want to be doing this right now? "Shit"....I mutter, yet again.
Miraculously, Wal-mart is not busy.  Raped and pillaged, yes, but relatively quiet.  Thankfully.  I was quite surprised at the selection of snow pants. However, I suppose most of the Boxing day shoppers were probably looking for big ticket items.  Since we live on the coast, I suppose that there was no need for a mad rush to buy snow pants. Unless you're me.  I was thrilled to find one last 6X that I promptly threw in my cart.  Off to find some for me.  Now, there are some things in life that suck. Being forced to buy snow pants simply because you have gotten too fat for your last pair, is one of them.  I recall when I bought those snow pants.  I bought the entire outfit.  Snow pants, winter jacket, boots, hat, scarf, and mittens. This was 10 years ago.  That's right....10. Wow, I must admit, that's slightly depressing.  Not only that I remember it so vividly, and remember how great it felt to look so "hot" in my snow gear. More so, that I STILL own it all, and couldn't cram my fat ass into it if I had to.  That my friends....NOT so "hot".  
So as I try on pants, after pants, after pants...all the while going up size, by size, by size, it occurred to me....."son of a bitch, I bet my jacket doesn't fit either". However, being tight on funds, since it was just after Christmas, I decided that I would attempt to "make it" fit.  Besides, the cute jackets didn't come in fat sizes, and I'll be damned if I'm going to be fat AND wear an ugly ass jacket.  That's were I draw the line. 
So, as this morning rolled around, and I packed up my fat pants, my too small jacket (that's 10 years old), and may family...we were off.  After we arrived, I promptly realized that I left my boots sitting on the stairs at home. Of course I did. Thankfully at the last minute, I threw on my trusty Uggs to make the journey. I suppose they'll have to do.  In case you were wondering...they are NOT a good substitution. Especially when you drag your feet, as I do, and have rubbed off all the grip.  I promptly ended up on my ass with in the first 10 minutes.  Not surprising at all.  
The entire ride up, my kids were almost jumping out of their skin at the sight of snow. Big R was thrilled at the prospect of tubing, and Miss C was squealing with excitement at the fluffy, white banks outside the van. "This is going to be awesome" I thought to myself.....
As we approached the hill, tubes in hand....already having fallen down at least twice, we make it to the top!  Yay!  Just as we do so, Miss C begins to cry.  Shocking....she never cries....(she says dripping with sarcasm) "It's too scary"...."I want daddy"....I want to go home".  
Of course you do. After all of 10 minutes, she was done before it even began.  So as I wait for my hubby to make his way back up the hill, I listen to her loose her marbles.  Thankfully my hubby has a way with her, and managed to "convince" her to give it a try, all the while she is screaming.  He managed to get her to go down 5 times...maybe? Each time, she is sobbing with fear.  However, soon as he would get to the bottom, she would ask to go again.  Get to the top....hysterical tears. This behavior makes family outings a ton of fun.  I believe we had been there for 45 minutes before the giant meltdown occurred.  With my daughter, you can always be assured that there will be at least one of those. Thanks again Karma...ya bitch.
We spent the last half hour or so, playing in the snow banks.  Miss C would play for a few minutes, and then remind herself that she was "cold, tired, hungry..." the list rotates and is long.  However, as I listened to her loose her mind over "cold feet", I was reminded, yet again, about my own drama.  There have been MANY an outing ruined by my own complaining, and I myself am willing to admit that cold feet will send me off the deep end. So as she finished playing, and I soaked up the minutes with out tears, and watched my son and hubby having a snow ball fight, I was reminded once again about the happiness journey that I am on. I take my little girl, tears and all, for who she is.  I understand that she is high maintenance, but truthfully, she comes by it honestly. I am able to be a much more understanding mommy to her demands, because I myself have walked that road. Today, I was able to see my blessings through the tears, hysteria, snow pants fiasco...and come out the other side. I myself over came fear. I didn't want to admit to my son, that the hill made me want to cry. Frankly, I was terrified. But, I overcame it for his sake, and the moments flying down that hill, listening to him laugh, were worth every second.  Miss C, like me, will need to take baby steps in life sometimes. But I am happy that today, I had the chance to take some. As I stood in the snow, and listened to my children laugh, and watched my hubby, I was truly happy.  Cold feet, soaked mittens and all. I could have however, done with out the giant avalanche of snow that came cascading down on my head, at the exact moment I recognized my journey.  Hubby thought it was hilarious....."couldn't have planned it better if I tried".....I think it was Karma...reminding me that even in moments of "happy" it's still there, waiting for the perfect moment to kick your ass.

We wish you a Hairy Christmas.

With Christmas just a few days away, and nearly all the last minute items crossed off my list, that leaves me with the task of tackling my list of "beauty" items prior to "the" day.  Over the past few years, I have begun to let myself "go".... so too speak.  I suppose it happened slowly, and really for the most part, I didn't even realize it was happening.  I swore that I would NEVER be one of those mom's who stop doing their make up or hair everyday. Ha! That's the least of my worries!  Do I spend more time in either pajama's or sweat pants than any other item in my closet? I sure do. Do I wear my hair in a ponytail everyday? I sure do.  Do I wear makeup less than 3 days a week? I sure do.
So as usual, I decided that it was time to tend to my bi-yearly cleanup.  The usual, waxing, pedicure, nails, and some hair color.  Now the benefit of being a hairstylist & esthetician has the added bonus of being able to do this all yourself.  The downside....being able to do it all yourself.  Most of the time it's a rushed job, squeezed in at the last minute, and that's if I get it done at all. Often I am applying hair color, in the mirror while my kids are in the tub....or bent over the toilet applying polish to my toes.  All the things that previously were things I did to spoil myself, now are rushed and often messy excuses for my "beauty" routine.  Today, as my kids were in the other room fighting, I was madly applying wax to some very delicate area's, with a thick layer of hair removal cream on my upper lip, all the while hoping that they resolve this themselves, because NO body wants mommy to break in on a fight after I've just finished ripping hair out my body.  It has began to perplex me, why as the years tick by, has the hair on my body seemed to appear in places that I would never have expected.  Why exactly has my upper lip decided to grow a sweater?  
As I work tirelessly at removing hair, trimming hair, shaving hair, coloring hair, my husband on the other hand has decided that he should grow some.  A beard. Can you sense my enthusiasm over this?  I actually make my living by tending too and removing hair. It's probably my least favorite thing to see on a man....after bushy chest or back hair.  Hence the fact that this is my career. Now don't get me wrong, my hubby is a VERY good looking man.  I have been blessed by this fact. I am reminded of this fact constantly when either friends or clients let me know, just how hot he is.  I am flattered. However facial hair is where I draw the line. In fact it got me to thinking. What if I stopped ALL my primping?  What if I just let myself turn into a sasquatch?  I mean some days, I'm practically there anyways.  Why not let it go a little further? What if during the winter months, I didn't shave my legs at all?  What about letting that uni-brow that I love so very much, grow in completely?  How about my underarm hair....how far would it actually grow?  Bikini line...would it just join up with my furry legs and become one solid patch of fur?  
Then it occurred to me.  I don't actually do the things I do, for my husband.  I do think it's an added bonus that it makes me more attractive to him , because let's face it, once your husband has seen you during child birth, any little bit helps.  I do it for me.  It makes me feel like I can face the day, and anything that it throws at me.  And frankly, let's be honest here.  Not one single part of me wants to run into either one of my....or God forbid, his exes, while I'm looking like a just crawled out of a cave.  So this Christmas season, I am very happy that I managed to find a few extra minutes in the day to make myself look a little more presentable.  I'm happy knowing, that perhaps one day, when my kids look back on our family photos, they can look at me as someone who took care of themselves....on special occasions at least. I will suck up my own personal distaste for my hubby's personal grooming choice (or lack there of) this year, and let him grow out the beard because, at the end of the day, I love him...hair and all.  I do wonder however,  if he will feel the same about my fur pants that I plan to let grow in promptly after the new year.  I mean really, what a special Valentines gift.  Don't you think?

Thanks for the memories.

As this Christmas season is upon us once again, it has lead me to thinking.  Thinking about the past and how it relates to my present.  Those memories of yesterday that mould us into who we become.  Some of my favorite memories of my childhood are of Christmas.  Being raised an only child, and grandchild on my dad's side, led me to believe that life was handed to you on a silver platter.  By no means were we wealthy....far from it.  But from a child's perspective it appeared as though we were.  I never wanted for anything.  In my Gran's words, I was "blessed"...not spoiled.  However, no one ever says that you are a "blessed brat".  And believe me, at times I was....according to my husband, I still can be.  I have been blessed enough to have an amazing relationship with my parents, and grandparents.  They have always supported me enthusiastically, and have always picked me up when I have fallen and failed miserably.  After all, don't we all?  When we are on the ground, face down in a puddle, don't we all pray for someone to drag us up, wipe us off, and encourage us to keep going, no matter how scary the road ahead.  I have been lucky enough in my life to have the most amazing family and friends who stand far enough behind me to help me if I fall, but close enough to cheer me on as I forge ahead into the unknown.  That is truly the greatest gift.
Christmas in our home was always magical.  Although my parents have been divorced for several years now, my greatest memories will always be when we were a family. As I think back to those days, I no longer see it through a child's eyes.  I see it as a mother.  They worked tirelessly to make the holidays special. So many of the traditions that my mother started, I have passed down to my own children.  They are the ones that are the most special to me.  The ornaments that I have collected since I was born, adorn my tree and tell a story of my life.  I have the very first ornament that my parents gave me.  I was 4 months old.  I have my parents first ornament from when they married....I have the last ornament from before they divorced, given to them by my Gran....who has been gone now for nine years.  This is something that hangs on my tree every year to remind me of the love that at one time filled our home.  To remind me of something that is much bigger than the presents that we all rush to buy, the hours spent rushing around to make everything perfect, the baking, the cooking, the wrapping.  What I have realized as a mother, is that the memories that have stuck with me all these years, weren't the presents that I opened.  Some of my most valuable gifts, had no value to anyone else. Years ago, after my parents had split up, my aunt had sent me a a picture frame with 3 images in it.  They were of my cousin B and I, and we were children.  I don't think I was more than 6.  I broke down in tears.  It is still, to this day, close to my heart.
My best memories are the moments that we shared as a family.  My mother in her infinite wisdom, would fill my stocking with a barbie and barbie clothes.  This would keep me happily occupied for the next several hours, while my parents slept. This is a little tool I will be using for my own daughter, I think it's awesome. She always thought of the details.  That is something I have inherited from her.  She is creative, and always had the best ideas to keep me busy...or in hind sight, to get me to do what she wanted. She was a teacher after all. She was, in her own right, Martha Stewart.  Our tree was always fabulous! Each year she picked a different color for the decorations.  I hated that.  I thought every ornament should go on the tree....she did not see my vision. We usually fought about it.  Some years I won, some years she won. This year, I decorated my tree with my kids....it is red and silver.  My kids wanted to put every ornament on...I did not. This year, I won. The "ornament" doesn't fall far from the tree....


My dad usually worked, driving snow plow, on Christmas day. He would rumble into the yard and pick me up so I could go do a pass with him.  It would be dark, and snowy, and the truck would be loud and rumbly, and it was something that was special between him and I. I was thankful that, although he had to work, I would get to spend the day with him. He and I would stuff the turkey, while my mom made breakfast.  She always made the best Christmas morning breakfasts. As the day progressed, my Dad, Gran, Mom and I would all be in the kitchen. Because of those moments, I have no fear in making a full blown turkey dinner. For that I am thankful....I am however, less thankful that my husband hates turkey dinner. Who hates turkey dinner? 
As an adult, there are always going to be events that I wish my parents were still together for.  There will be moments with my own children that I wish I could share with my mom and dad, but I suppose a large part of growing up is acceptance.  Although I miss our family traditions, I am so thankful to see my parents happy.  They have both moved on to be with people that make them happy.  Although the images that I grew up with are forever changed, the love that my mom and dad have for me, isn't.  I have so many wonderful memories to make with my own children, and my husband and I have come together to create our own traditions.  We are a family.
This year, I have tried to use my creativity to make a lot of my gifts. I think that love comes through in things you make with your hands.  I am trying to see the happy in things that maybe I have missed in the past.  I want my children to know that "Christmas doesn't come from a store, maybe it means just a little bit more." I am happy for the love I have been given. I am happy for great friends and family.  I am thankful that my children and husband are healthy and safe.  So this Christmas, as I try to tie up loose ends, I am not going to worry so much about perfection. I am going to take the time to enjoy these moments with my children, for they grow up way too fast.  I am going to remember the joy from my past and I am going create joy for our future.  I am going to hold my husband a little tighter, because you never know long we have in this life time together.  I am going to be happy if I burn Christmas dinner.  I am going to be happy if the tree falls over.  I am going to be happy if the house is a mess.  This Christmas, I am going to just be.....happy. For at the end of the day, this is truly the best gift we can receive.

Christmas spirit....and beavers?

So this evening I had the pleasure of taking my children to the annual "candlelight parade".  Now I say pleasure, but I really mean pain in the ass. I say that, simply because it was something that my hubby and I were going to do as a family, instead I had the pure joy of going it alone.  For anyone who has a husband with an unpredictable job, you feel my pain.  At 2:00 this afternoon (been planning it for a couple weeks now) he tells me that the second job he had to do will take longer than expected. This has become a typical conversation in our home, which leads to the typical decision for me to go it alone, or not go at all.  First I tried to convince the kids that we could do something else during the weekend....I also tried to punish them for not cleaning the play room....then the little buggers pulled out all the stops and not only cleaned the playroom, but their bedrooms AND ate all their dinner in record time.  Damn....looks like we're going to the parade.  So happily we got dressed.....and angrily I decided it was a "hate parade"....
Not only do we leave the house late, forcing us to park in the grungy part of town (yay!) but we had a fairly crappy walk to the parade route.  Turns out that the path I chose, sure didn't have an elevator for the giant stroller I happened to have in my car.  Nope....just stairs! Perfect...now I've added "hate stairs" to my evening.  Out comes my daughter, the hot chocolate, my purse, all the mittens, scarves and other paraphanalia, and I proceeded to fold up the enormous stroller, and lumber it up the stairs by myself. I am however thankful for the kindness of strangers, and between the "can I help you's" and "I can take that's", I kindly smiled and thanked them, all the while powering through the ridiculous heaving of this stupid object.  All the while trying to stay composed and self reliant.  Secretly swearing in my head at my husbands job, or more importantly, his girlfriend that I have now invented in my head who probably works out, and could lift this damn stroller effortlessly. She's probably blonde too.  Then she goes on the "hate list", and I carry on.  
Muttering in my head, smiling through my teeth, I hear "Desja'? from somewhere behind me. I turn to see my amazing friends J & G and their boys.  Instantly, I am relieved, thankful and grateful that through this mess of people, we happen to meet up.  Whew!  If my own hubby can't be here, I'll totally take yours!  G saves the day and unloads me from my stupid, self inflicted burden.  
Isn't that truly the irony of life?  Just when you think you can't take one more second of the burden that you have inflicted upon yourself, an unexpected good friend swoops in to share part of your load. Friendship is a funny thing.  It can carry such responsibilty, and yet, if timed just right, it can be the most amazing thing that two people who aren't sleeping together can share.  That's pretty awesome if you think about it.  
So what started as a "hate parade", quickly become full of laughter and joy. I was so thankful, and dare I say....happy!  Happy to have found my people in all these strangers. What are the chances?  Either way, I'll take the blessing, no matter what the cause.  Because frankly, who else would have laughed with me over the  "Christmas beaver".  If J wasn't there, I would have just been some weirdo in the audience muttering "beaver" under my breath and laughing hysterically.  Now that would have just been ridiculous. 

The Happiness Journey...

It has recently occurred to me, that there is a fairly good chance that I'm not happy.  Let me rephrase that. I'm not "actively" pursuing happy.  How many of us are?  How many of us find ourselves blurry in the lines between who we were, and who we are trying to become? Since this blessing of motherhood has bestowed itself on me, I  find myself lost in the madness that is daily life, routine, schedules, and everything in between. Good or bad.  I started asking myself lately....am I happy? Happy...happy? What the hell is happy? There are many things I do know I am.  Blessed, loved (mostly), needed, thankful, grateful, humorous, frumpy....but happy? Not sure if I have really taken the time lately to confirm if that is something I am.  

Mother hood kicks your ass (and nobody warns you about it)

That's right ladies. I hate to be the elephant in the room (I'm not talking about my ass, we'll discuss that later), but why as a culture of educated, intelligent, smart, wise women, are we not really willing to share the nitty gritty about motherhood? Now don't get me wrong, it's the most rewarding thing you will ever do in your lifetime, and I cherish every single thing that my children have taught me.  However.....let's be honest here, I would have really liked to have known that I was going to run the risk of peeing my pants every time I jump on a trampoline, or take a yoga class.  Had I known, I might of taking the chance to jump on many a trampoline, pee free up to childbirth.  That's right girls....a good sneeze has the potential to become a severely embarrassing shopping trip.  Remember that next time you miss a pill.  So many women concern themselves with weight gain during pregnancy....how about worrying a little bit more about what happens to your boobs.  Had I known the day would come that I would have to roll them up to get them in my bra, I probably would've taken the girls out for one last victory spin....and bid them farewell. 

So it has gotten me to thinking.  Would I really be happier if I had that body back? What would I do with it if I could take 23 year old me out for a spin again?  Firstly, I'd totally grocery shop naked...but that's beside the point.  I would appreciate and LOVE the clothes that I had in my closet.  The clothes that I wore with confidence. Don't get me wrong, I still wear my clothes with confidence, but it's easy to do that in sweat pants.  They're fairly forgiving.  I do mourn the loss of my relationship with Le Chateau. There was a period of time where we were really good friends.  I think 23 year old me would be sad if she knew what was coming.  However, I will admit, while I'd be naked at Superstore, I would absolutely be nicer to the people waiting on me.  And not just because I'd feel obligated because of the nakedness, but truly be kinder to people.  If there is nothing else I've learnt in my short 32 years, it's that you truly never know what others are going through.  Although there was a period of time where I will admit, I thought I was pretty hot....and I was a total biotch.  That's right.  I'm owning it.  I was a mean nasty person.  Selfish, really (OK I still am). However, I learnt a very valuable lesson from my amazing grandfather.  "Treat people as you want to be treated". We can all get caught up in our own bs...(especially me), but at the end of the day, I try to treat people with the kindness and respect that they deserve. There are SO many people that I am grateful for on this journey called life, and have made me the person that I have become.  I hope that is a lesson that I can pass on to my children.  "Karma's only a bitch if you are". Yes, it's taken 32 years to figure it out.....damn, I still have so much karma coming my way...don't I?  

So I suppose that on this journey to find true happiness, I can add one lesson to the list.  It makes me happy to know that my children are being taught how to treat people with kindness. There you have it.  I found a small bit of happiness right here, and I didn't even know it was there;) Thanks Bump....lesson learnt.