Sunday, February 1, 2015

Seven Quick Takes: Vol. 28

This will be my 75th blog post, which is kind of surreal.

There's something strangely liberating about having put myself out there 75 times, even though a lot of it was just catch-up-with-the-family moments and some ranting about parenting, breastfeeding being hard, breastfeeding in public, breastfeeding toddlers, and why I don't cover... Yeah. I feel like I wrote a lot about boobs. But hey, if you've got em.... no, I'm not going there.

I'm linking up with Kelly today for Seven Quick Takes, which I love, because I have many topics floating around in my swimming pool of a brain that I am always up for sharing a little about. And I'm counting this as a take, because, time. Mine and yours and not wasting and all that.


For those just tuning in, we've been in a constant state of renovating since we bought our house 4 years ago. Scenes like the one above are not uncommon. That's my new laundry space just FYI.

I'm pretty excited about this. It'll be pretty and functional with the right amount of storage, a folding table, and most importantly, heat! The current space is not heated, so we have this hose freezing problem that has me leaning over the freezer with my hair dryer to get the machine to fill or drain on days when it's below freezing, which, in Canada, is quite a bit. MUCH frustration. MUCH expletives muttered under the breath.

But despite all that inconvenience and the mess you see here, it does not drive me crazy.

Most visitors to our house just see a big mess and ask me when I'll crack the whip to get it finished. But since my husband is an actual carpenter, not just a handy dude who thinks he can DIY who then eventually hires someone at his wife's insistence, I am basically at the mercy of time. His time. AND, since he has a business to run and needs to eat and rest, and spend time with our children, time grows short.

Maybe I've just been given some sort of miraculous gift of "renovators vision" but when I look at that space, I see the finished product.  I see cupboards and a sink and pretty, witty, painted laundry signs and a vase full of flowers and a sunbeam. If only I could pin that on the wall for the whip-crackers.

But mostly, I just like the guy, a lot. So as much time as I've spent sitting watching him work with a cup of tea in hand (my hand, not his)... a snuggle on the couch and a movie is just so much more fun. So you could say, it's my fault. Me and my feminine wiles.

I've just discovered podcasts this year.  It's a little ridiculous that I didn't jump on this train sooner, because there are some gooders.

But this one, from Christy and Haley at Fountains of Carrots with Auntie Leila was my favourite ever. I think it might have changed my life.

I have struggled so much with passing on the faith to my little ones. I've Pinterested and whispered wonderful things to them during Mass, and prayed little books with them, and taught them prayers, and just felt totally inadequate always. Especially when my oldest said to me this week, "Mom, Mass is horrible. I hate it. The only thing I like about church is cookies."

I tell you, if you listen to nothing else for encouragement in this area, this podcast.

{Mass Destruction}
Just as things got back to normal after a horrendous, illness filled December, and then a wonderful vacation, Zachary has entered a new phase of life.

This sweet little baby?

Yeah him. He's now in the phase referred to as "Mass Destruction". Of what? Anything he can get his little dimpled hands on. Mostly, my sanity. Every time I turn around there's another one like this:

Or this:

I'm sure this happened with the other two kids, but at that time, I didn't have the other two kids. But I just keep breathing in and moving stuff, and realizing that hey, his little newspaper mess helped me prep lunch rather peacefully, so win?


Being mom of three, or really, any number of boys is a special job. It constantly surprises me.
Lately my four-year-old has talked a lot about guns and weapons and fighting of "bad guys". His 3-year-old brother of course, plays right along, and together they make elaborate plans for the demise of these enemies.

At bed-time last night, I said, "I really don't like it when you talk so violently about shooting and hurting and blowing up people. It doesn't sound nice."

"Mom," Patrick said, "I just want to protect my family, and that's nice, isn't it?"

It is. It really is. I still would like him to know that guns are not toys, and that killing is a very grave thing, not to be taken lightly, but his basic thought is to defend and protect. And that's noble and good.

I went away from that tuck-in slightly less disturbed about the day's play.


I recently integrated a workout into my day. Before 7 a.m. AND, I've stuck to it.  But I also realized my pattern every time I begin a workout routine:

I start excited.
I stick to it for a week.
I do a workout that's a little too hard for me and actually injure myself, or I get sick.
So I stop.

So, I just have to stop stopping! That, and injuring myself by getting a little overambitious.  Usually what leads to this is my hearing about a workout that someone else is doing, and deciding to power through it. Seriously, at my level of fitness, I should have realized that I needed to work up to Jillian Michael's House of Pain. <---not actual="" br="" its="" name.="">This is what makes working out unappealing for me, PAIN. But not just the dull ache of having worked muscles - that's ok - even awesome. I'm really talking about overdoing it. Not working up to it. Not challenging myself slowly and pushing a little harder over time. I'm talking just deciding to go for it because other people are doing it, and paying the consequences of a strain.

So. Ridiculous.

So, turning over a new leaf, I'm not working out for other people. I'm working out for me. I'm not working out to make other people think anything about my body. I'm working out because I want my body to last till my kids are 40+. I'm not working out because I hate myself. I'm working out because I love myself, and I will nurture my body into health, not break it in the process.

{Grocery store visions}

Since I really don't get out much, I seem to have all my unsuccessfully-evangelizing-people-to-more-than-2-kids moments at the grocery store. But I haven't had one lately. All I've had are really positive experiences. So maybe this means my kids are now accustomed to our weekly trek to obtain sustenance - and know that if they're good, I'll buy them animal crackers or some other devil-food; or I'm just putting on my rose-coloured glasses and seeing the good in everyday life.

This week, I saw a mom with 4 kids. She was calm. The kids were fairly calm but acting normal, asking questions, wanting this, wanting that, and she... she was radiant amidst it all. I mean this was a gorgeous woman.  I would have snapped a picture but I didn't want to be a creeper. It wasn't just her stylish boots and her cute hairstyle, but also the way she talked to her kids (who I'm sure were all hers because they looked like little mini-me's and called her mom). I was seriously in awe. I briefly considered following her beyond the canned vegetables aisle just so I could see if her kids acted up or she lost it on them and made them stand by the oranges while she shopped the rest of the aisle (no experience there or anything...).

Normally I would envy someone like this, but this particular day was a better one, and she gave me hope. Hope that maybe I could be like that, and hope that there are other moms out there trudging through the trenches of life, and succeeding for the world to see. So I abandoned all thoughts of stalking and let her go on with her day, thankful for this little moment of clarity.

Well there you have it dear readers, you beautiful people who've made it to the end once again.

Have a wonderful week, wherever you are.

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