DIY Firestar Halloween costume

For the second year in a row, Alexandra set her mind on being an obscure character for Halloween. Last year it was WordGirl. This year, it's Firestar.

Last year's DIY WordGirl costume

Who is Firestar? I had no idea. Apparently she's a friend of Spiderman from the cartoon Spiderman and his Amazing Friends circa mid-1980s. (Thanks Netflix for introducing my kids to these old 80s cartoons.)

(By the way, who is WordGirl? She's from a PBS Kids TV show that Alex was obsessed with last year.)

Alexandra first saw the cartoon last year, but it was when watching a few episodes again this summer that she set her mind on Firestar for Halloween.

At which point, I sighed.

Because everyone knows that I don't sew and being crafty is not really my thing. Thank goodness for the Internet.

After spending much time Googling FireStar kids costumes, I discovered that there were other parents out there over the years in the same predicament as me -- having a kid who wanted nothing more than to be a little-known superhero for Halloween.

Thank goodness for much craftier moms than me, who lay the how-to ground-work that I simply had to adapt. The hardest part was running around to different stores to find the different pieces.

I started with finding a pink, long-sleeved ballet leotard from a dance store and (roughly) matching pink leggings from a children's clothing store.

Then they were dyed yellow (for the record, Ryan helped with this part) using RIT clothing dye.

The red boots, we just so happened to already have in the dress-up box. So, I cut the bows off of them, cut a flame pattern out of orange felt and used a glue gun to stick it to the sides of the boots. 

The same orange felt flame pattern was cut out for the gloves. The gloves were made up of two parts though. The sleeves are the cut-off pieces of long, red witches gloves I found at the dollar store. They were way to big for her, hence the cut-off part. The fingered gloves are simply little red magic mini gloves, also from the dollar store. 

The mask was a great find. I had planned to make it myself, but while buying the Rit dye, I found these plain white masks at the craft store. Alex painted it red.

The hair? An Ariel princess wig. 

The results? One VERY happy girl. 

Race report: The second time was way more fun than the first

Yay me!

On October 19, I ran the Scotiabank Toronto Waterfront half marathon – two years almost to the day from the first time I ran the same race.

It was a cold one. Just 3C – which is fine if you’re dressed for it, but I was wearing just capris and a long sleeved run shirt.

Ryan and I started the morning off by meeting up with my teammates at the Fred Victor office. I wasn’t planning to run with them, but we all fundraised for the same cause so it was nice to get together before hand to motivate each other and take a few pictures. And our team captain had bright green Fred Victor tech-T’s for us to wear for the race.

Team Fred Victor is ready to go!

When we got over to the start line, I felt much calmer than I ever had before a race. I had this ‘Bring. It. On” mentality, rather than one of fear, which is how I felt two years ago. There was no doubt in my mind that I could cover the distance this time, and I just wanted to get started.

That and I was freezing. Once in my corral, strangers simply started huddling together to keep warm.

Finally, my corral start time came and we were off. I was feeling pumped and before I knew it I had covered the first kilometre, with my RunKeeper app telling me it was at a way faster pace than my normal pace. As I passed Ryan (who was looking for me, but didn’t see me until I yelled at him), I tried to tell myself to slow down. I still had 20K to cover after all.

The obligatory selfie. Bring. It. On.

At 2KM, we turned onto Bloor where friends of mine were standing by the side of the road scanning the crowd for a glimpse of me. Their screaming gave me a boost and helped me settle into a rhythm.

Along Bloor and down Bathurst – this is my favourite part of the race and I flew through it easily. The onlookers cheer for everyone and it's so easy to just suck up their energy. I was having so much fun that I barely noticed I was running.

It’s here where it became apparent that the GPS on the RunKeeper app was off from the actual race markers. It was ahead by about 50 metres. Let me tell you, 50 metres is not a big deal at 1KM, but it’s cumulative – so by the time I got to 20KM, it had me ahead by a whole kilometre! (Now that’s frustrating when you’re exhausted – but I’ll get to that part later.)

Me and my race stalker

Ryan, who once again was amazing and chased me by bike for the entire 21.1 kilometres, showed up again as I was running down Bathurst. I was about 6 kilometres in, feeling good, and thinking “I’m ok, I'm having fun, I don’t need you to motivate me through this (but it sure gives me a smile and a boost to see you).”

Kilometre 6, 7 and 8 also flew by and I actually had to remind myself to stop and swallow a gel pack. And then I was on Lakeshore. This was the part of the race that I was least looking forward to, as it’s an out and back to Ellis Ave. And let’s face it; Lakeshore – with the lake to one side and the Gardiner to the other – isn’t that interesting. But I kept going, and as I passed the 10KM mark, I realized (according to my not-quite-right RunKeeper) that I was ahead of my target pace (My official 10K time was 1:09:31 and I was targeting 1:10).

The fatigue and the dreaded wall started to set in soon after that and I was relieved to see Ryan again after a 5 or 6 kilometre break.

Kilometre 14, 15, 16, 17 – they all started to look the same. Because this was on the way back on Lakeshore (with a bike path alongside the road), Ryan was there to cheer me on a lot. At times he was encouraging me (or taunting me) every 500 metres or so.  I even got a little chatty with him as I ran by.

But as the kilometres went on, my chattiness turned to a simple nod of the head acknowledgement of his words of encouragement. He was shouting “you can do it” and I am so grateful to hear it coming from him and not just the random strangers.

By 20 kilometres, I was done (especially since my RunKeeper was telling me that I was), and what motivated me most at this point was being relatively confident that I was ahead of my target pace – meaning if I could just keep it up for 1 more kilometre, I’d come in at around 2:30.

Turning up Bay Street (from Lakeshore) towards the finish there’s a tunnel. It was dark in there – in fact it almost felt too dark. And then suddenly, you’re on the other side and people are lined up along both sides of the street cheering as you run your final 1K.

Ok, yup. I'm exhausted. But I did it!

It was exciting and suddenly I found the strength I'd been having trouble finding for the last few kilometres. As I got closer to the finish line, the crowds increased, as did the noise. And I was scanning every person as I ran – two years ago, I couldn’t find Austin and Alexandra in the crowd and I was determined to see them today.

And there they were, 100 metres from the finish line and yelling like crazy with my sister and brother-in-law. I smiled. I couldn’t wave. I just had to keep going.

Two years ago, I ran this race in 2:31:45 – this year’s goal was 2:30.

Finishing time: 2:27:23!

It’s official, I think I’m addicted – because I’m getting some crazy ideas of what race to run next. There’s a half marathon in Ottawa that looks like fun.

Team Fred Victor post race: Check out all those medals!

Lacing up my runners to raise money for an incredible organization

SPONSOR ME

For those of you who know me, you’ll know that two years ago I ran my first – and only – half marathon.

Running it was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done in my life. And I’ve birthed two kids, and I can still say that running a half marathon was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done in my life. Mind you, my finishing time of 2 hours and 31 minutes was a full 2 hours and 24 minutes longer than it took to birth my daughter!

I was on an adrenaline high when I finished the race, and that high lasted for weeks and weeks. That high led to me wanting to run another half marathon but as winter turned to spring last year, I lacked the motivation to start training again. After all, it’s not only the 2 and a half hours of race running that’s the killer – it’s the months and months of putting in the mileage beforehand.

So I must be crazy when I say I’m training to do it again.

But this time, I’m motivated to run the Scotiabank Toronto Waterfront half-marathon to raise money for an incredible organization here in Toronto. Fred Victor.

Fred Victor has been helping homeless and low-income people in Toronto for the last 120 years. Every day, more than 1,000 people use their programs and services and every person who comes through their doors is experiencing poverty or homelessness.

So why am I running for Fred Victor? Because their much-needed programs and services help people rebuild their lives. And because the issue of homelessness suffers from stereotypes and prejudices. The reality is that there is no such thing as a ‘typical’ homeless person. Very few people choose to be homeless and it can happen to anyone – sadly, in a city as expensive as Toronto, it can happen faster than many of us care to think about or admit. For some, their descent into poverty is swift, with the loss of a job, the loss of a loved one, a family break-up, substance abuse or the onset of mental illness. For others, poverty comes from escaping a violent situation or being kicked out for coming out.

Most homeless people don’t actually live on the streets, but in emergency shelters or on the couches of friends and family. Regardless of how they get there, Fred Victor is a place where everyone is respected and accepted. Fred Victor offers affordable housing units, emergency shelters, food access, job training, health information and support services.

These services are essential because not everyone is lucky enough to have a family that loves, supports and accepts them, as I have always had. And not everyone can easily pick up the pieces if they lose their job, as I once had to do.

On October 19, I’ll be lacing up my runners and running 21.1 kilometres through the streets of Toronto to raise money for Fred Victor. Please visit my fundraising page tosupport me – all money raised greatly benefits everyone in the Fred Victor community.

Learn more about FredVictor.

The last 8 months with my partner in crime

It’s been 8 months since I last wrote on this blog. And 8 months since Alexandra quit going to Montessori School and started coming home every day at 11:30 after Kindergarten. And to quote what I wrote then:

“It means that for 8 months, I'll have to go back to working many evenings. It means that for 8 months, arranging meetings with clients will require creativity. It means that for 8 months, we'll put together a hodge podge of care -- a sitter's going to come in one afternoon a week, etc. It means that for 8 months, my friends and family will be relied on from time to time and I'll be less available for a coffee break or a lunch date. It means that for 8 months I'm going to be juggling a lot of balls.

But, most importantly, it means that for 8 months, our child will be happy again.

It means that for 8 months, I get to spend a little extra time with my baby.” 

 And apparently, it meant that for 8 months I wouldn’t write on this blog.

So here’s what happened in 8 months. It took a few weeks to find our groove of being together every afternoon and Alex slowly started to return to being that happy and easygoing child we once knew. She once again started eating, she became less clingy and she slowly came around to sleeping better as well.

After that, it took a village to get through the school year. As much as I said I’d scale back work, business was booming. And as I’ve said before, when you work on contract it’s hard to say no when business comes calling.

And so I have a lot of thank yous to pass around. Some days Alex and I had time to just hang out, and other days friends and family all came to my rescue when I was sinking in work and suffering from a severe lack of hours in the day. And some days, Ryan would come home from work a little early or take the kids out on the weekend for a few hours just so I could get back to work. Working full time with just two hours to yourself every day ain’t all it’s cracked up to be!

But because of the village, some days and weeks I got much more than two hours a day. And on the days and weeks that I didn’t need more than two hours to get the job done, I got to spend time with my baby. And, in a way, the two of us became partners. The one thing I hadn’t considered back in October, was that at 5 and a half years old, she ‘gets it’ when I say ‘mommy has work to do’. She rarely ever complained on the days that I had no additional care for her and after lunch I’d have to hole back up in my office for a couple of hours. She found something to do – which wasn’t always just sitting in front of the TV.

And sometimes, 'my partner' would sit and work with me. We'd print off worksheets from the Internet or simply get the craft bucket out. And while I sat with my laptop at the kitchen table, she worked away as well. 

And I discovered that I really enjoyed the time I got to spend with her. Not that I thought I wouldn’t but despite the stress, the constant time crunch and the feeling that I was always running to somewhere (or to pick someone up from school), I enjoyed this school year. I enjoyed having my baby home with me.

And so as the school year wraps up this week, it’s a bittersweet feeling. Gone forever will be my afternoons alone with Alexandra. Gone forever will be Kindergarten as she makes her way into the brave new world of Grade 1 in the fall. And although I’m looking forward to getting some me time back (and getting back to having more work hours in the day) – I’m also going to miss the company.

And the solution to our impossible situation...

It's been a long month. From my last post, you all know that Alex was having trouble at her Montessori school.  (Quick recap: Alex's new French Immersion school is only half-day Kindergarten, unlike the full-day Kindergarten she went to last year. So to fill the gap, we registered her at a nearby Montessori school for the second half of the day.) Here's what's happened since.

The mornings before school continued to get worse, not better. Most mornings, she'd start crying and whimpering when she work up around 6:30 and would continue to do so until it turned into all out wailing at 8:30 when we got to school. That's until it turned into me having to drag her, screaming, through the school yard into school. Yes, I was that mom with that kid.

And again, we knew the only reason all this was happening was because she had to go to Montessori school. Not because she had to go to the new French Immersion school -- she likes it there  Why do we know? Because she didn't cry on Fridays -- the one day of the week that she didn't go to Montessori.

During a particular bad morning just before Thanksgiving weekend, I lay all the cards on the table; if she went to both schools for the rest of the week, she could come home after school the next week.

So last week was project boredom. Every day, she came home on the lunch bus after half-day Kindergarten to sit around the house with me while I worked. The goal was to show her that being with mommy isn't that much fun because mommy is sitting in front of her laptop all day long.

Project boredom failed miserably. Despite interacting with her as little as possible, she was happy. Every morning she ate her breakfast (something she had stopped doing weeks ago) and went to school without a single tear. Some mornings she even forgot to hug and kiss me goodbye. And every day she came home, had lunch with me and then found something to do.

Flash forward to yesterday (Monday) morning when it was time to go back to Montessori. On the weekend she said she was going to go back and although Ryan thought that her decision to do so was a good sign, I was more skeptical. I had this feeling that she was telling us what we wanted to hear, not what she really wanted to do.

And so, Monday morning came around and the bawling started, along with the chant 'I never, ever want to go back.'

And so, she's not. What it came down to is that we realized that we had to stop deluding ourselves into thinking that she needed more time to adjust (it's been 2 months after all!) and accept the fact that she's actually trying to tell us something. She's trying to tell us that although there's absolutely nothing wrong with the school, it's just not the right fit for her.

So, what does this all mean? For me, it means that for the next 8 months I have to be selective with the work I take on. Unlike 2 years ago when the kids were both in half-day school, I now work basically full-time. I have several retainer clients with a fixed number of hours of work per month. They'll be my priority and I'll have to be choosy about any contracts I take on above and beyond that. (Although there's certain people I'll still take contracts from.)

It means that for 8 months, I'll have to go back to working many evenings. It means that for 8 months, arranging meetings with clients will require creativity. It means that for 8 months, we'll put together a hodge podge of care -- a sitter's going to come in one afternoon a week, etc. It means that for 8 months, my friends and family will be relied on from time to time and I'll be less available for a coffee break or a lunch date. It means that for 8 months I'm going to be juggling a lot of balls.

But, most importantly, it means that for 8 months, our child will be happy again.

It means that for 8 months, I get to spend a little extra time with my baby.

And isn't that why, 5 years ago, I decided to stay home with the kids and start my own business? So that I could be there for my kids as they grow up? I have 20 + years left to work -- and if I'm lucky those 20+ years will be in running my own business. So what's 8 months in the grand scheme of things?

Our impossible situation

My 5-year-old daughter is putting us in an impossible situation. It's the 5th week of school and we're still stuck in the same place we were on day 1 - the crying place.

Our problem is this: last year at age 4 she started JK. And when she did so, she was one of the lucky (unlucky?) ones to go to an all-day kindergarten school. It was the first year of the program there and that's just the way it was. She cried a lot for the first few weeks - going to all day school was a huge adjustment for her as a child who, with the exception of a couple of hours of preschool a day, had never really been away from mommy.

And even with preschool, she cried for weeks. She suffers from separation anxiety, social anxiety or whatever you want to call it - she doesn't deal with change. And so, last year, once she got over crying, she liked school. And although I was told by her teacher that she occasionally still had 'I miss mommy' moments, we never really had a problem again.

Which brings us to this September. Alex changed schools this September to go to the French immersion school with her brother. You have to start in SKor you can't go through the system at all. We expected tears at the start - tears for the separation, tears for having to make all new friends.

The problem was that the SK school is only half-day kindergarten. So after being used to being in school all day, she suddenly had to go backwards. And me, who after spending a year building my workload up to full time, would have to scale it back to part time.

And so, Ryan and I decided to register her in a Montessori school for the other half day. It seemed like a perfect fit - I could work, she would still be around other kids and because it wasn't daycare, she'd still be learning and stimulated. And the woman who runs the school would pick her up at her French immersion school every day. How much easier could it get? And as a treat to Alex and me, Fridays would mean no Montessori school but instead come home to be with mommy.

It was a great plan on paper. But here's how, 4 weeks into school, it has worked out: Alex cries every morning. And I don't just mean as we get to school - most mornings it's from the moment she wakes up (which is anywhere from 1 to 1.5 hours earlier than usual lately) at first the crying was about school in general but now it's more focused. Now it's about Montessori school only. She doesn't want to have to go there. Here's the catch, she seems to like it when she's there, and her teacher there says she's doing fine and seems fine. But she doesn't want to go. She says her days are too long when she goes (they're the same length as her all-day kindergarten days give or take 15 minutes). She says it's too much work (which it's not).

What it comes down to is the transition of having 2 starts and 2 ends to every day is too much for her to handle. It's stressing her out, it's causing her anxiety, it's wearing her down. How do I know this? Because she doesn't cry before school on Fridays.

This is where the impossible situation comes in. I'm feeling incredibly guilty for sending her there. Someone (a social worker) suggested to me that she may be feeling feelings of abandonment. A sort of 'why doesn't mommy want me, why do I have to go here?' Yeah, that made me feel so much better.

So now I'm seriously wondering if I should pull her out of Montessori and just have her come home everyday. She's such a happy, easy going kid and she looses all of that when she even thinks about having to go there.

So I'm thinking of pulling her out. It's only one year, I can manage one kid in the afternoons while I also have a workload for one year, can't I? Will I regret it if I have her home every day and start losing my mind when works gets busy? Will we be teaching her that you can just give up when you have to do something you don't want to? Or will we be causing her long-term emotional harm my forcing her at 5 years old to basically 'suck it up buttercup'?

Isn't this one of the reasons I like what I do, so I can be flexible and be there for my kids? Do I really want to scale back my work after working so hard to build a successful business? And whats wrong with it if I did? Well I'd have to start saying no to some clients if the workload gets to difficult to handle.

It's a impossible situation without a good answer.

*Since I wrote this, Ryan and I had a long talk. We're going to stick it out until Thanksgiving and really talk to her and try to work her through this every day. We're wondering if it's not only the transition that's difficult for her but if it's actually the school work. Half-day kindergarten is definitely more of a sprint to get through the curriculum than full-day kindergarten is. And she's used to the more leisurely pace of learning. So now she's got the sprint learning in the morning, followed by more learning in the afternoon -- maybe sending her to montessori school wasn't the right idea after all.
I'll keep you posted.

Holy crap, I haven't posted in 3 months!

Um...I think I forgot about this blog. More to come

Memories captured: Our very first 5K

My kids have watched every race I've ever done. My first one was in October 2009 -- a 10K -- and at the time, Austin was 31/2 and Alexandra was 18 months.

My cheering squad with me after my very first race

Every time I decide to run a race, the kids make signs, stand on the sidelines and yell 'Go Mommy Go'.

At the starting line

Last year, as I was training for the half marathon, Austin decided that he wanted to try running with me. Shortly after that race was done, I figured 'what the heck' and took him out for a Sunday afternoon run. The kid ran 2 and a half kilometres!

And he was pumped about it. And so, we decided to run a 5K together. We trained together throughout the spring, although to be honest, we didn't train a whole lot. Once he got up to being able to do 5K, he figured all was well. And so, on Sunday June 9, we ran our very first 5K together.

I loved running beside him, encouraging him along and enjoying his awe at running along the streets in the downtown core ('Mommy, look up at the streetcar wires!')

And my amazing 7-year-old finished the race in 45:01. I'm so very proud of him for such an extraordinary accomplishment. Goodness knows when I was 7 years old, I couldn't run that far.

5KM completed!

Mother's Day 10K

It's been over two weeks since my last race and I still haven't written a race report. To be fair, things have been a little hectic around here.

On Sunday, May 12 -- Mother's Day -- I ran in the Sporting Life 10K down Yonge Street for Camp Ooch. This was my third time doing this race, and it's definitely my favourite course. It's just so much fun to run straight down Yonge Street.

This year, I set a goal of running a 10K faster than than last year -- actually I wanted to run a sub-65 minute race. But as the winter dragged on and on, and I felt extremely unmotivated to train, I believed that such a finish time just wasn't possible. I just didn't train enough to feel I could achieve that goal and as race day approached, I figured I'd be lucky if I could shave a minute off my best time (which was 1:09:37 by the way).

But on the morning of the race, I made a pact with myself. I decided that if I wasn't completely exhausted when I got to the end -- then I hadn't tried hard enough to go faster. I mean, what's the point of having energy in reserve at the finish line?

And so, at 8:30 a.m. on a rather chilly morning, I started out down Yonge Street with 27,000 of my closest friends. Apparently it was the largest charity race in Canada -- or something like that.Whatever it was, it's the first time I've participated in a race where it actually feels crowded. After the first kilometre or so, it spread out, but even then, you still had to be careful as you weaved around people and passing definitely involved an extra burst of speed.

I decided not to use my running app -- figuring the voice in my ear would just frustrate me if I wasn't at a pace I thought was acceptable -- and just decided to run and enjoy myself.

And I did. At the 1K mark I gave high-fives to my cheering squad. At the 5K mark I took a short walking break to have a drink. But I felt good and felt the need to keep moving on rather than resting. And so I did.

By 7K, my legs wanted to quit but I told myself to keep pushing on. By 8K my brain wanted to quit but I told myself to keep pushing on. I barely remember 9K -- I was too busy telling myself to keep pushing on.

About 500 metres to go

When I crossed the finish line, I was exhausted but didn't know my exact time. The clock at the finish line said 1:37 and change -- so since my corral started 30 minutes after gun time, I easily subtracted 30 minutes from that time and figured I finished around an hour and seven minutes.

I was pretty damn happy with that.

And then...about an hour later, I was finally able to log in and see my actual time -- 1:03:37!

I had shaved off exactly 6 minutes from my previous personal best time! I don't know how I pulled that off -- but the sore legs the next day proved to me that I did.

I was ecstatic and still am. That's probably the last time I'll run that specific 10K race (27,000 people was just too crowded for me) but there'll be other 10K races in my future. That personal best time motivated me to run again.

Now it's time to look forward to my 5K with Austin and to decide if I'm crazy enough to run the half marathon again this fall.

My cheering squad

10 years ago, I married my best friend

Ten years ago today I married my best friend.

When we got married, we had already been dating for almost six years – living together for almost three. So I think that many people figured it was about time we got around to getting married. Which is a far cry from the people who thought we wouldn't last six months when we first got together!

I still don’t entirely know why some of our friends thought we wouldn't last when we first got together. (We’re still good friends with many of these people, so there’s no hard feelings or anything.) I guess they thought we were too different. But I didn't think so. And Ryan certainly didn't think so – he after all had had his eye on me for close to a year before I finally realized it.

Ten years ago on a cloudy Saturday afternoon, we stood before a minister in a cute little chapel downtown and promised to love, honour and cherish each other. As part of the service, three people read poems. This is the one that still stays with me today:

Sometimes in life, you find a special friend.
Someone who changes your life just by being a part of it.
Someone who makes you laugh until you can't stop.
Someone who makes you believe that there really is good in the world.
Someone who convinces you that there really is an unlocked door just waiting for you to open it.
This is forever friendship.
When you're down and the world seems dark and empty, your forever friend lifts you up in spirit and makes that dark and empty world suddenly seem bright and full.
Your forever friend gets you through the hard times, the sad times and the confused times.
If you turn and walk away, your forever friend follows.
If you lose your way, your forever friend guides you and cheers you on.
Your forever friend holds your hand and tells you that everything is going to be okay.
And if you find such a friend, you feel happy and complete because you need not worry.
You have a forever friend, and forever has no end.

Ryan, I love you more than words can say. You lift me up when I am down. You support my ambitions and respect my decisions.  You make me laugh and you love me for all my flaws and imperfections. And you’re a wonderful father to our children.

Here’s to 10 amazing years – I can’t wait to see what the next 10, and more, bring us. 

Goodbye to a very special lady

Me and my grandma

Last Friday afternoon, the world lost a very special person. My grandma died, peacefully at the age of 98. I know I am so very lucky to have had her in my life for so long, but I will miss her more than I can possibly say.

For 37 years, my grandma has been an inspiration in my life. And although the last few years have been challenging as she struggled with the effects of Alzheimer’s disease, she still showed me that life is a gift and that a smile and a kind word go a long way. She always had a smile on her face, always had compassion and understanding, and always lived life to the fullest.

There’s a story that’s been told so often in my family, that’s it’s almost legend. It’s the story of the night I was born.  I was born at 11:30 at night; and soon thereafter, my father called everyone he knew to announce the news – his brother, my mom’s parents, my mom’s brother, some friends and his mother. The only person  he couldn’t reach was his mother – my grandma. By the time he reached her to tell her of the birth of her first grandchild, it was after 1 a.m. She had been out dancing.

My grandma (with her sister) dancing at my wedding

Flash forward 27 years to my wedding day and there was my grandma at 1 a.m., and one of the last people on the dance floor. She was 88 years old and every time someone

asked her if she wanted to go up to bed, she’d always respond ‘oh no, I don’t want to miss this.’

She was so very proud of all of her grandchildren – always eager to know everything we were doing. One of her most cherished possessions were the photo albums she kept for each of us. We all had our own set of albums and, over the years, she must’ve spent hours upon hours putting our pictures in. There were pictures of us at Halloween, Christmas holidays, graduations, birthdays, summer vacations and of us, just being us. One of my most treasured memories as a child is going to grandma’s house, sitting on the floor in the tartan room and pouring over my photo albums. I wonder if part of my love of doing scrapbooks today is because of how much fun I had looking through those albums.

Another treasured memory  of mine is Christmas lunch. From the time I can remember until my late 20s, every Christmas morning was rushed through so that we could get to grandma’s house in time for (more presents and) lunch. And lunch was always the same every year – scrambled eggs, toast and cocktail wieners. And yes, my sisters, cousins and I used to compete to get the most mini hot dogs.

I’m so very lucky, because I’m one of the fortunate few who got to know my grandmother as I matured into an adult – and she got to know me as I grew from a child to an adult and into a mother of my own. In my 20s, I took several solo trips to Montreal to stay with her (and yes, I stayed in the tartan room, and yes, I spent time looking through my photo albums). We visited, we talked and we learned about each other.

Grandma holding Alexandra

It’s difficult to put into words what made my grandma so special to me – I could write thousands of words recounting memories and special moments and I still wouldn’t be able to get the right words out. Simply put, she was a very special and wonderful lady.

And so, when my daughter was born – her first great-granddaughter – we gave her the middle name Margaret in honour of my grandma. Now, at five years old, my little girl lives up to her namesake. She’s always smiling, she lives every day to the fullest and she loves to dance. Her great-grandmother would be very proud.

I’m so blessed that I got to spend 37 wonderful years with you grandma and that my children even got to know you, and you them. Goodbye Grandma. I’ll miss you more than I can possibly say.

Summer 2012

Grandma on her 90th birthday

Riding for heart

Last year was a tough year.

On February 14, Ryan's grandmother passed away after suffering from a heart attack two months earlier. She was 82. On  April 2, my great-aunt Joan passed away after suffering a massive stroke less than a week earlier. She too was 82 years old. On October 6, my dad had a heart attack. He was 65 years old and until then had been in nearly perfect health. He is (thankfully) on the road to making a full recovery.

While I'm on the topic, more than 40 years ago, my grandfather -- my father's father -- died of a massive heart attack. He was in his early 60s. And because of that, I never got the chance to meet him. 

Now that I've thoroughly depressed you with my own story, let's look at the facts. Every seven minutes someone dies from heart disease and stroke in Canada. Heart disease and stroke takes 1 in 3 Canadians before their time and is the number one killer of women. Nine out of 10 Canadians have at least one risk factor for heart disease or stroke.

On June 2, my husband Ryan will be biking 50 km up and back down the DVP in Toronto in the Ride For Heart to raise money for the Heart & Stroke Foundation. If I was a biker, I'd raise money for Heart & Stroke by doing this ride. But I'm not a biker -- so I'll stick to being the rah-rah fundraising supporter. Funds raised by this ride support research, healthy communities, healthy children and youth, and awareness and prevention. Every dollar makes a difference.

He's training hard already -- 50 km is not exactly a short, leisurely ride -- so visit his fundraising page and support his Ride for Heart. On the day of the ride, the kids and I will find a spot somewhere along the route to cheer him on. I'll try to get a picture or two. 

While I'm on the subject of heart health -- it doesn't just start with funding research to save lives (although that research certainly helped save my dad's life). It starts years and years before; by educating our children about the importance of eating well and being active. Alexandra is also getting in on the heart health campaign as her school is doing Jump Rope for Heart on May 9. Although at age 5 she won't exactly be skipping all that much, I'm glad that her and the school is taking part. Although my kids are very active and healthy, so many kids today aren't. Childhood obesity has tripled in the last 30 years, affecting the future health of our children. If you'd like to support her, call or e-mail me. 

A rainbow birthday cake

I've been not-so-subtly told that I'm a very poor blogger lately. And I guess since it's been over two weeks since my baby turned 5 and I still haven't posted about her cake, I guess that's a fairly true statement.

Anyway, without further ado, my princess Alexandra turned 5 a few weeks ago, and for her birthday this year, she requested rainbow cupcakes. The catch -- we'd booked a birthday party for her in the community room at our grocery store (where the kids got to make their own pizzas and decorate their own cupcakes for loot bags) and as part of the package, we had to order a birthday cake from their bakery. That meant no cake from mommy :(

So, for her actual mid-week birthday, I went to the effort of making her rainbow cupcakes -- a cupcake pull-apart cake in fact.

I arranged all the cupcakes side-by-side and then used blue icing (to make the sky) to ice them all together like a cake. And then it was just a matter of arranging a lot of Smarties, just right. (And then drawing in a few clouds with the extra icing!)

The surprise part of the cake was when you chose your cupcake and took a bite: 

Yup! I coloured the cake batter with the colours of the rainbow! I must say, I was pretty happy with the way it turned out -- and so was the birthday girl!

When you work by yourself, there's no one to talk to

I really enjoying working by myself -- most of the time. But sometimes I miss that camaraderie that comes with working in office. You know, the 'water cooler' chit chat.

Today, I need to vent because I'm having one of those days where nothing is going my way. So, since I don't have a water cooler to chat by, my blog is going to be my next best thing.

So this morning started out with a screaming fight with my 7-year-old over his inability to listen. He wanted to be in his sister's room. She wanted him out. He didn't wan't to get out. I yelled at him to get out and start listening. He started crying. Stupid stuff really, but not exactly a good start to the first hour of my day. Although he did hug and kiss me goodbye when he got out of the car at school so I guess all was forgiven.

After dropping Austin at school, Alex and I drove to her school to drop her off. And what does she do? Start telling me that she doesn't want to go to school today because it's too long and she misses me. I suck up the heartbreak I feel for that statement and encourage her to go on because school is fun. No sooner does the bell ring that she runs out of line bawling and clinging to me, refusing to go in. She hasn't done that since September.

When I finally detangle myself from her and get her through the doors while tears are still streaming down her face, I drive my car over to the repair shop to get it looked at. The brakes started acting funny yesterday, and I figured that's probably not a good thing. After a quick look, they tell me I need new ABS sensors and it'll take a few hours. I go home to wait. Now they call me and tell me that it turns out the part they had delivered wasn't as advertised and it doesn't fit my car. So, the right part will cost several hundred dollars more and, oh yeah, it won't be ready until tomorrow at noon. So now I have no car to drive my kids to school with tomorrow.

There. I vented. And I actually feel a bit better. But I think I need to add a little something-something to my afternoon coffee to really feel better. At least that'll make anything else that comes my way today easier to deal with!

May the force be with you

After two years of Cars birthday cakes, this year my Star Wars-obsessed son decided that he wanted a Star Wars cake to celebrate his big day.

After a little research, I found this great idea for doing a light saber cake.

First, I baked a simple, 9x13 chocolate cake and iced it blue (which was a colour that was more-or-less chosen at random). Then, I iced three Vachon chocolate swiss rolls with green icing and placed them on the cake and then I iced three more swiss rolls in red. Finally,I used a little bit of black icing to ice two more swiss rolls, and placed them on the cake as light saber handles.

And for the finishing touches, a couple of LEGO Star Wars guys.

I must admit, I was pretty happy with the way the cake turned out. But more importantly, Austin loved it. And so did his friends at the party -- for a few short minutes before it was cut up and devoured, I was the cool mom who made a cool cake. 

Reclaiming Valentine's Day

Valentine's Day has never been a big deal for us. Ryan and I have never celebrated it -- no presents or flowers; no big fancy dinners or date nights. It's always been just another day for us.

But the kids like Valentine's Day. Alex especially. When she woke up this morning she was SO excited. 

"I'm going to get hugs and kisses and give Valentine's cards and get Valentine's cards and it's going to be so much fun!" she said to me this morning.

But I didn't know what today would be like (actually, being only 2 p.m., I still don't 'know'.) Last year, Valentine's Day was a tough one. Ryan's grandmother died mid-afternoon on February 14, 2012. By the time Ryan got home from work, him and I both knew and we were both pretty somber  After dinner, we had to tell the kids -- who were 5 and 3 at the time.

Fast forward one year to today. Facebook is filled with messages of loss one-year later from family members. I don't know how Ryan feels because I haven't seen him yet today (he's leaves for work before I'm up). I feel a little sad, but personally, I try not to remember the date someone close to me died. I'd rather remember them as they lived rather than when they died. The kids remember their great-nana well, and still talk about her from time to time, but they don't remember the exact day she died and they don't need to remember that. They want to have fun on Valentine's Day, and that they should.

And so, this is my long-winded way of saying that I decided to claim what was a meh day and turned into a sad day into a happy one. 

Last night, I quickly made cards for the kids -- nothing fancy, just some cute dollar store heart stickers on the front and a little love note inside. The kids' were glowing when they saw them on the table when they came to breakfast. I stuck a little love note in Ryan's lunch bag too.

For dinner we'll have these heart-shaped pizza pockets that I just finished making:

I was going to bake cookies but having to work and all, I didn't have time. Maybe the kids and I will make some after I pick them up from school.

Nothing fancy, just a way for the kids to have fun and for mom and dad to remember that we're surrounded every day by the people we love. 

So Happy Valentine's Day to everyone. May you always be surrounded by the people you love.

My very expensive cat

Our 11-month old kitten taught us a very expensive lesson last week.

It started on Sunday Feb. 3 when she seemed to be getting sick. We didn't think much of it -- in other words, a cat puking on the carpet was nothing new. Monday was much of the same, but it was Monday night that I realized she didn't come for dinner. Weird, I thought, because this cat eats everything in sight as fast as she can.

By Tuesday she had pretty much disappeared and by Wednesday evening, we were worried. She was lethargic and moaned when you touched her. And I started to realize that she hadn't eaten or drank in days. So off to the emergency vet clinic we went.

One x-ray and a hospital admission later and we had one very sick cat. And a very difficult decision to make -- do we pay what it's going to cost to make her better or basically let her die. In the end, it was an easy decision to make -- we'd pay the money. After all, it's not like she's an old cat, she's not even a year old. But more importantly, she's the kids' cat and losing her would devastate them -- especially if we knew that there was something we could have done to help her.

And especially since she wasn't 'sick' in medical terms. Instead, she had eaten something that wasn't edible and it was now lodged in her intestine.

What did she eat you ask? She had gnawed off a piece of the kids' foam playmats. You know those inter-locking coloured mats that you put down on floors to make them fun, or in our case, on top of the carpet to protect where the kids' will be colouring with markers. Yeah, those $25 mats.

So after spending a small fortune for one night at the emergency vet clinic on tests and treatment (because did I mention that she was severely, severely dehydrated from not eating or drinking for days), we moved her to our vet clinic on Thursday morning.

She was monitored there for the day on the off-chance that she'd 'pass' the obstruction on her own once she received enough fluids by IV.

No such luck. And on Friday morning she had surgery where the vet pulled two of these chunks out of her intestine:

Lovely, isn't it? How she managed to swallow them I'll never know.

Saturday, Sunday and Monday were spent recovering from surgery at the clinic and even though the vet took pity on us and gave us a break on certain fees, you don't want to know how much we spent to save this cat's life. I can think of a lot of other things I could've spent that money on.

Was it worth it? Yes. Moo loves the kids and they love her (and so do we). She really is a part of our family....albeit now, a very expensive part of our family. Oh and those mats...they're about to go on the curb for garbage pickup.