My immediate family is not a religious one. We enjoy the holidays, but not for the reason they were intended when it comes to Lent, Passover, Easter Sunday, and especially Christmas, much to my grandfather’s chagrin. He is a very religious man and I think it hurts him that his great grandchildren have not even been baptized. But holidays mean different things to different people; holidays, for us mean family and love.

Holidays are a time for our family to spend together without running around completing last minute errands, going from activity to activity or dragging the kids around for mundane tasks. We indulge in cuddles and kisses while hanging out in our pajamas and gorging ourselves on delicious treats.

I’ll admit, I am totally sucked into the commercialism of some holidays, especially Easter. I love that Easter means baby bunnies, kittens and ducklings. I love that the kids eat chocolate for breakfast and I adore the fuzzy stuffed animals delivered by the Easter Bunny.

Holidays are a special time for us to celebrate love and friendship regardless of one’s religious beliefs. Everyday is special and should be enjoyed with those we love, but only holidays, memories are made and shared however you choose to reflect. Life makes the best story.

No matter how you choose to spend this Easter holiday, I hope you are surrounded by loved ones. If you chose to spend this time in reflection, I wish you peace and love. If you spend the day in your jammies eating Peeps and chocolate eggs, I hope you have someone to peel the wrappers for you.

Most of all: take some time to press pause. Take in your surroundings, your family and your friends. Enjoy their company and shower them with love; today and every day.

:::

I am a member of Hallmark’s Press Pause Panel and have been sent a number of items to share with my friends and loved ones as we celebrate Easter and upcoming Mother’s Day, including: Totally Ticklish Duck who giggles when you tickle her under the wings; the Memory Keeping Recordable Frame which allows you to record a 10-second explanation of your photograph; and the adorable Watson the Raccon who participates as the story is shared aloud.

Hallmark has been the go-to holiday card company for years and now carries on the tradition with other memorable keepsakes which can be enjoyed all year long. Life is a special occasion. Enjoy.

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I quit taking antidepressants cold turkey over a year ago after a weekend out-of-town. I forgot to bring my pills with me and the withdrawals were debilitating: the dizziness; the nausea; The Rage. It was enough to have me committed. I knew then I needed to try something else. I wasn’t comfortable with the dependency my body had on these synthetic drugs.

I am in no way advocating for anyone else to stop taking their prescription medication on their own, just so you know…

In lieu of the medication I began working out (running, swimming and Jillian Michaels DVDs), taking regular vitamins (Vitamin D and One-a-Day) and made a conscious effort to cut the shit food from my diet – or at least minimize it. I very much believe that avoiding any and all junk food is a real contributor to binge eating and yo-yo dieting. It’s about moderation; learning to eat chips; pizza; ice cream in moderation is key. Or at least that’s what I tell myself; if I force myself to avoid that deliciously craptastic food then that’s all I can think of. Besides, for me, this wasn’t – and isn’t – about weight loss, but a lifestyle change. The fact that I’ve dropped almost 50 pounds is a bonus.

Within a few weeks of cutting the drugs and starting a regular workout routine , I noticed my attention span improve, my attention to detail increase dramatically (which is crucial in my role as a cost estimator) and I was no longer living in a drug-induced haze. Looking back, I really believe my lack of performance at work was related to living in this drug-induced fog which allowed me to just get by but not really function.

I still live with depression; that hasn’t changed. There are definitely days where I still fight the urge to stay in bed all day, to veg out on the computer and to answer to no one, but running has given me an outlet. It gives me space, time to think – TIME ALONE. Sure, I have the beat of the music to distract me from hyperventilating, but for the time I am hitting the pavement, it’s about me.

This all sounds so cliché, I know. I feel like I’m a fuckin’ Nike commercial or something.

Seriously though, I have really noticed my ability to handle stressful situations has improved, I am so much more level-headed than I was before (just don’t ask Mike, he’ll tell you I’m still the same old crazy bitch I’ve always been).

May 1st, I am running a half marathon with Karen Sugarpants. I will admit: I’m scared. I’m scared to fail. I know it’s not about winning; there are no delusions of grandeur here. I am not in this to win it; I am running for me. I have trained (as much as one can while working 60 hours a week and raising two small children) but I think because I have invested so much time and energy into this, I really want to meet my goal of finishing this thing RUNNING.

The past two weeks were pretty tough mentally. I have been sticking to the The 10% Rule – the Golden Rule of Running and not training beyond that point at all, until one unfortunate day when I didn’t manually check my route on Google Maps and relied solely on the GPS of my iPhone and Nike+ app. Well, the well-planned distance of 16.4km (10.3mi) was miscalculated by the GPS and became 19km (11.9mi) – which I only realized after hobbling home once I completed 3 additional kilometres. After that, just walking was painful. There was very little running because my knees ached so bad. I thought I was finished. I thought I had blown this whole race and wasn’t even going to be able to compete. I reached out to some friends on DailyMile and after realizing the distance I had put on my shoes in the past year (700km or 440mi), I was more than due for some new kicks.

Long story long: I bought new shoes; they feel great. Instantly my knees thanked me and I feel like I am back in the game.

I think I can finally say: I am ready.

Guys, I’m running a half marathon!

• No More Running on Empty
• Rejection, Dejection.
• In Stride

It’s really the same old story with me, isn’t it? I say something and seem to never follow through. It’s not for a lack of trying; work has taken on a life of its own. Freelance, web design, as well as my day job have begun to boil over to the point I’ve actually been forced to organize! my life. I began (finally) using my calendar – and syncing my calendar! In fact, I may have even gone overboard and set up five: home, kids, freelance, work, and personal. They’re all synced with my Blackberry, iPhone (I know! I went from two years of whining about not having one and now I have both. Go figure.), and Outlook. Now there’s really no excuse, is there?

Part of this whole organizing my life had made me realize I desperately need an office space at home. We have a spare bedroom which currently holds a beautiful roll-top desk (as well as a dead desktop computer) and a queen size bed for when we have guests (never). It’s still in desperate need of updating, but the room is functional and quiet with a washroom (also in dire need of up updating) just outside the door. When we moved here I had every intention of making this room my home office/guest room. I envisioned it painted in a lilac purple, with white lace curtains and deep mauve bedding. The roll top desk would be clean and tidy with all my stationery (Heh.) and computer stuff organized, and maybe even labeled. Eventually it will happen (or at least some semblance of what I want to happen), but for now, my office is my dining room table.

Which is really an improvement from the recliner I was sitting on, for the past year and a half, in my 70′s throwback family room. If you think I’m kidding when I say throwback, then you didn’t see this room. Unfortunately, my peaceful, tidy home office will have to wait just a little longer while we tackled the family room. It’s really the most used room in our home and also the one which needs the most work. It’s dark, dingy, and smelly. No one likes smelly.

The awesomeness that is the stale, musty wood-flanked room really isn’t captured in that real estate photo. What that photo isn’t showing you is the 30 years of dust and unmentionables captured behind the wooden wainscotting-like boards. Nor does it emanate The Smell that will forever be ingrained in my memory.

Finally (in January) we decided it was time to rid our house of this tired, no good, room. Our intention was to remove the boards and scrape the white-painted plaster from the walls in an effort to save money and keep the drywall. It sounded promising at the beginning, but we all know ideas like that are usually too good to be true, no?

Real wood paneling.

No, I didn’t mess up the photo that’s really the shade of the wood above the door.

The shelves where of the same wood as the walls. We’ve kept it stacked in the garage since we’re unsure what to do with it at this point. Some of the pieces could be planed down and reused to create a coffee table for the space later, but others are just too badly worn and dry to do anything with. Some of the shelves were so brittle, they were basically saw dust held in place with humongous spikes.

(The quality of the photo isn’t exceptional, but it gives you an idea of the NAILS! For the record: this particular shot, there are NINE nails holding in one 3/4-inch board ON ONE SIDE.)

You can see in the bottom left of the photo where the drywall had stopped. In fact, even on the far right, where the black paper stops? That’s where the insulation stops too. Nice, eh?

The walls have been protected with the vapour barrier on the outside against the concrete foundation with a paper-backed insulation. This, my friends, means that in order to update this room to what is now industry standard, we would have to remove everything – EVERYTHING – right down to the bare concrete and then reframe and re-insulate the entire room.

I am stuck between wanting to do it properly and OMG it’s going to cost me WHAT?. The insulation is in good condition with no signs of moisture or mould so we we’re currently leaning towards keeping it but I keep waffling back and forth.

The beams on the ceiling are solid wood. Worn and dated, but solid. They will be replaced with new faux beams and these ones will likely be refurbished for something else in this room or another.

Notice on the right side of the beam there’s a copper pipe?

The original wood burning fireplace was converted by a previous owner a number of years ago, and instead of removing the ceiling and routing the natural gas line properly, it’s been supported just outside the faux architectural beam.

At least it’s clearly labeled?

Where we are right now? Well, after pulling all the electrical work out, it became apparent a previous owner had doubled up a lot of the breakers and we were in desperate need of a new panel. We’ve since installed a new electrical panel complete with additional breakers for future work (like a kitchen).

We’re currently at a stand still as our contractor, who was to help Mike, is now MIA. I suspect he realized he had his work cut out for him and bolted before he was in too deep. We now have another guy coming this weekend who has done work for us in the past. Hopefully he doesn’t run from the house like his hair has caught fire…

~

Here’s what we’ve done with the kitchen (Part 1 and Part 2) and the kids’ rooms, if you’re interested.

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I’m a coffee fan. Big Time.

I typically have a large mug when I get up, an extra large Tim Hortons’ on the way to work and a mid-morning Tim’s. Some evenings I like to have lattes and cappuccinos.

But this isn’t about me, or my love for coffee, it’s about YOU and YOUR love of coffee.

Because I have a Tassimo T20 single-cup coffee machine for YOU.

The Tassimo machine is so simple to use that I’ve forsaken my traditional perk coffee for a much faster, and just as delicious, morning brew using their patented T disc technology.

Just pop the disc into the front of the machine for a store-quality brew in just minutes. For someone who habitually forgets to set the timer the night before, this has been a Godsend, people. Godsend.

The discs are bar-coded so the machine knows exactly what temperature, pressure and time is required for the perfect brew.

There’s no mess, no forgetting how many scoops you may have put in, and no leaving behind that remaining last lowly cup-full that sits in the pot as you rush out the door.

Genius, right?

In a matter of milliseconds, the machine is ready with the green light indicating you can brew. There’s nothing sweeter than that little green light at 5am, my friends.

And it’s not just coffee. Hot chocolate, lattes, cappuccinos, espresso – even my favourite Chi-Tea Lattes.

Myself, I prefer the plain ol’ coffee as I’m not big on the milk-like creamers which come with the packages. I’d prefer to be able to steam my own milk, but for making me a quick, tasty cup of coffee or tea, I can’t complain. From well-known brands, like Gevalia, Maxwell House, Twinings and more there’s really more than enough selection for everyone.

:::

I’m not big on reviews and giveaways, but when I was asked to try out the new Tassimo T20 and then give one away to one of my readers (okay, there’s probably one reader left. *waves* Hi Dad! And you can’t even win because you’re Canadian. Isn’t that the pits?) how could I turn down that opportunity?

The only drag is the winner has to be US-based. Sorry, my fellow Canadian winter bunnies. But! for you, I will add $20 via auto-fill to an existing coffee-shop card, or send one of the same value to you in the mail. Fair?

Now, Americus, leave a comment on this post. Any old comment will do. Say hi, tell me which hunk-a-hunk-of-burning-love you would share your Tassimo coffee with, tell me about the snow, whatever.

Giveaway closes on Thursday night at 11:59pm EST.

Tweet this for an additional entry. Make sure to come back and put your link in the comments!

It’s as close to a coffee IV as you’re going to get. Visit @temptingsam to #win a #Tassimo T20 http://bit.ly/hWNJY8

And the business of disclosure: I received the Tassimo brewer free of costs and all opinions are my own.

***

WINNER’S ANNOUNCED!

Congratulations to ginnette4!! She is the winner of the Tassimo T20. Enjoy!

And alimartell has picked herself up a $20 gift card to (one of) her favourite coffee shops! Yay Ali!

• The Ultimate Coffee Giveway! Trust Me.
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It’s been a while since I’ve posted about my boys.

(Okay, it’s been a while since I have posted about anything; I get it.)

Growing like weeds, those two. One thing I’ll never get used to is when I take a second glance at them and suddenly it dawns on me just how old they’re getting.

Five and two, already; I can’t even believe it.

A coworker mention just the other day that his son was to be transitioned to the preschool room at the daycare shortly, and quickly I was hit with the realization that Carter starts Grade One in the fall. I know the fall is sometime away considering we’ve just had our first real dumping of winter snow, but people: GRADE ONE.

I have childhood memories of Grade One. I’m pretty certain that most of what I can remember is from that time forward. Very, very few from any time before then, but from that point on, I remember things that happened, people in my life, teachers, friends, even things my parents did.

That terrifies me.

It’s great to have those memories, sure; but what I now worry about is my boys will also likely retain bits and pieces of happenings from these days forward into their adult lives. It will likely be spotty and somewhat hazy, but there will be instances where a random recollection of something we’ve done (or didn’t do) will stick out. I want, more than anything, for those moments to be special ones. My heart aches when I think of their memories being ones of conflict or even me telling them, “Not now”.

It’s inevitable they’ll have some reminiscences of those darker moments, and some may even be important one which will guide them towards the men they will become. But, as most parents do, I want their childhood memories to be those of fun times, trips, playing games, wrestling with each other, and a happy home life.

I want to keep them in a protective bubble; free of parental fighting, tantrum-induced yelling, and time-outs. Memories of night-time cuddles, whispered giggles, sleepovers in the same bed, laughter, and love should be recollections of their childhood, because what child doesn’t deserve that?

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I never thought I’d run out of things to blog about. How could I? There are funny, amazing moments to capture almost daily. Not just kids and their poop, but real, awesome moments of enlightenment, stupid shit people do, rants about anything.

There really is so much stuff to write about, but I’ve found myself: a) without time, and b) stuck in this idiotic place where I feel that whatever I write here has to be profound; it has to troop-rallying awesomeness that invokes emotion! and either makes people laugh or cry, dammit. There’s enough drivel on the internet and contributing to it just well, sucks.

At BlissdomCanada, Scott Stratten’s (Mr. UnMarketing if you’ve just recently fallen off the turnip truck) keynote touched on having something to say. Scott talked about how at one time or another we all suck. Everyone sucks; we just have to try to suck less.

Do you know how hard it is to suck less?

Everyone has their own standard of “suck” and to meet or exceed another person’s expectations of what exactly “suck” is; it’s impossible. It’s like trying to please everyone: you just have to accept it will never happen.

But we don’t have to suck less by anyones standards but our own.

And if you’re going to suck? Own your suck.

So this year, I will own my suck. I will work towards writing more, even if it’s not published here. I will write in my voice, I will document more stories and care less about their delivery. Delivery can come through editing later, my goal is just to write something. Anything.

2011: Suck Less.

• For Me
• A New York Minute
• Pants Optional

I opened my reader for the first time in months. Had it been able to show me a number greater than 1000+, I’m certain it would have read 143,657,356,334. Or something like that. Instead of hitting “marked read”, I went through some of my daily reads, which were once part of my morning ritual: kids, TV, coffee, reader, it was confirmed that I’m not the only one who’s behind. It seems many of us who were once ritual bloggers have slowly found other means to occupy our time: twitter, facebook, other writing obligations, freelance work, jobs, businesses, the list goes on.

Work, for me, has picked up considerably this year. Things have improved immensely from where they were six months ago. With working out regularly I’ve found that running’s offered me the stress relief and me time that I’ve really needed, but I’m still trying my damnedest to find that work-life balance.

All-in-all, I’ve been pretty successful despite a couple of craptacular mess ups, like: being perpetually behind on my web design projects, and missing my parent-teacher interview this past Monday. Except, it’s not really a parent-teacher interview so much as it is spend an hour in your kid’s class to talk about their progress while PARTICIPATING in their daily routine. And I forgot about it because I’ve been so overloaded at the office. Awesome. Thankfully, Carter didn’t care all that much and I was able to re-schedule, but I still feel like an asshole.

But despite my asshole-ry, and my insane not-so-balanced work-life balance, I’ve taken on a couple more tasks.

I know. Insane, right?

I am now writing a bi-weekly-ish column for UrbanMoms.ca on auto reviews, which I’ve happily renamed: Not Your Mother’s Minivan. It’s going to cover the typical test drives, but also product reviews, some tips, tricks and events. So please, feel free to pop by, check it out and say hi. Because I’ve missed you so!

And the other task? Training for a half marathon race which I’ve registered for and takes place in May. I figured I’d register for it now and that way I wouldn’t NOT do it, because I’m cheap and I’d be pissed that I wasted 50 bucks. Training began yesterday, and based on the program I’ve selected, I’ll apparently be running 21km (13.1 miles) in 12 weeks. I am half way there though! Since the last time I bored you with my running stuff I’ve increased my distance to 10km (that’s 6 miles or something).

Oh, and I’ve decided to start reading The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, because I didn’t already have enough going on.

If ever I’ve needed a nanny, housekeeper, a driver, and a personal assistant, it’s now.

Anyone?

Bueller?

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I vividly remember my grade eight class speech. It was about dreams and REM (rapid eye movement) sleep. I worked so hard on it, practicing endlessly in my bedroom as I watched myself in the mirror. I remember, when the day came, just how scared I was standing in front of my peers, trying desperately not to read from my already soggy, battered cue cards.

I stumbled over one particular paragraph and as the giggles ripple through the classroom, I tried to regain my composure. I could feel myself begin to blush. I remember becoming increasingly hot, sweating, and trying not to cry.

:::

Three years ago, in an effort to help me step out of my comfort zone, my boss asked me to prepare an abstract for a paper I would co-write and submit for consideration to be presented at a world-wide symposium. The article, which was later published in Civil Engineering Magazine, pushed me beyond my comforts as a technical writer, but the presentation portion was my nightmare come true.

The abstract was submitted and was accepted as part of the proceedings for the symposium. I was elected to present this piece to the best in the field: doctors and engineers, pioneers of their craft. Many of whom may be considered, by others, to be my peers; but to me, I was (am) a lowly little grunt worker who was to tell these people their business.

I was beside myself.

I had panic attacks just thinking about traveling out of country to speaking in front of thousands of people about something they knew considerably more about that I. I just couldn’t fathom this being the best way to help me overcome my fear of public speaking. I mean, this was what most would consider the Holy Grail of public speaking.

I bailed. Someone else (another co-author) went in my place. I disappointed so many people, but no matter how hard I tried to come to terms, I just couldn’t will myself to stand up there in front of such an esteemed group of people.

It’s likely I’ll never have that opportunity again, and for that I regret my decision. Yet, despite that regret, I continued to avoid speaking engagements for years.

When Catherine asked me to participate, my first reaction was “Um. NO.”, but I hesitated. I hesitated because I knew I wanted this, and also didn’t want to pass up another wonderful opportunity.

I agreed.

I willingly put myself in a position where I could (hopefully?) gain control over this all-encompassing fear.

I participated in my first ever blogging conference panel at Blissdom Canada.

For weeks I fret over what I would say, how to keep my hands, how to remember key points I wanted to share, or how I would react to the faces of those staring back at me. Were they judging? Were they listening? Were they bored? Did I know what I was talking about? Would they think I was (am) a flake?

I wore layers of clothes as if they would protect me from the watchful eyes of the audience. Not only are scarves comforting, they provide a buffer between myself and those around me; as if to protect me, help me feel less exposed.

The ladies I spoke with were so wonderful and supportive, I am certain I wouldn’t have made it through without them. Yet even with their encouragement, each beat of my heart felt as though it were inches closer to leaping from my chest. I was certain the entire table was pulsing as I leaned in for support. I was so hot, yet shivering. My mouth felt like cotton balls each time I went to speak and though I really can’t remember all that I said (except I know I WAS RAMBLING) I am certain of one thing: I survived.

And then I sang karaoke. In a pink wig.

Dawn, Tanis, Karen, Me, and Angella

All photos belong to Casey, @mooshinindy.

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I can run a mile in 9:15.

My personal best for 5 kilometers is 30:18.

I can run 7 kilometers without stopping.

I have ran (and walked a little) just over 350km (230 miles) since March. Prior to that, I hadn’t run in over 12 years.

I have shed just over 20lbs and 3 pant sizes.

Sometimes I feel self conscious when I am passed by other runners.  But that doesn’t stop me, I muster a smile and keep moving.

I run in the rain, in the heat, mid-day and in the evening.

I run when and where I can.

Despite my flabby, bouncy belly, I will run opposite traffic.

I will run through pain but know it’s okay to slow down.

I will run at my pace and reach my goals in time.

I don’t run for your approval; I run for my overall health.

I don’t run to fit in your clique, but to be alone.

I run for me.

:::

If you’re interested in following along, or starting your own journey, there is a fabulous group of people who have been working hard for months and keeping each other motivated. We run, bike, walk, and complete DVD fitness training with Bob Harper and Jillian Michaels from The Biggest Loser. Find #shredheads on twitter! A great social media-ish site to help track and motivate is DailyMile. I use to to track all my workouts, share tips and comment on friends workouts too. Find me there!

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I am indifferent when it comes to shopping.

I can’t remember the last time I’ve bought something and loved it so much I would find any opportunity to wear it.

I can’t remember ever buying something that I would wash in the delicate cycle or take out to get dry cleaned.

In my office, anything including jewelry or high heels is extremely overdressed.

I have a hard time finding myself anything that I really like and can justify the expenditure. Everything is so damn expensive – or at least to me. I mean, spending more than forty dollars on a pair of pants pains me. I think of all the other things I could/should be using it for. Like a credit card payment, dinner, clothes for the kids. My mind spins with these other needs to the point it makes me feel ill and I leave empty handed.

With my fat ass being heavier (even though I’ve lost just over 20 pounds in the past 4 months), trendy, cute clothes are all so tricky to find: something that covers my rolls; works to accentuate the good stuff and hide the bad; is comfortable; is not too expensive… COMES IN LARGE ENOUGH SIZES… it’s really just more trouble than I have patience for.

Grabbing a size I think is right and heading to the change room, which seems to be lit by 1,000 watt blubs and reflects off the three-sided mirrors, to stuff myself in to said item only to find that it’s actually too small is not my idea of a good time. So, I try and convince myself that I’m still losing weight and buying something would just be a waste because I (hopefully) won’t be able to wear it after a few months.

But damn, people. Lately, I have really wanted to shop. But… I think I’ve forgotten how…

I am seeing clothes as fun! and exciting! again. For years I have lived with hiding my body under thick turtleneck sweaters, layers of clothing and simple items so not to draw too much attention to myself. I am sick of it. I am sick of hiding. I am sick of being uncomfortable in my own skin.

Shortsleeve Tops by Givenchy
Pumps by Jimmy Choo

Clothing images link to my Stylesense account, feel free to click through if you like. May help me get closer to getting my very own pair of Jimmy Choo’s!

Now, I am feeling slightly more confident, slightly braver, and proud of my results. I am trying to branch out from my typical boring look – of t-shirts and jeans – but I’m finding it hard to put things together. I don’t even know where to start. Where to shop, what to look for, deals to be had; I truly suck at this.

Cocktail Dresses by Valentino
Platforms by Michael Antonio

I need to find myself a style guru. I need someone to hold my hand, pass me clothes over the change room door, accessorize me, then pat me on the head and tell me everything is going to be alright.

Oh, and if the came with an open-ended credit card and a proper bra fitting, I would be in heaven.

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