10 & 2 My Ass, or How I Ran Out of Gas On The I-5

Let's just start by saying that I am fully aware that I'm an idiot. Now that's out of the way, I will tell you the story.

For the Victoria Day long weekend, like any good Canadian celebrating a national holiday, we headed south to the US for some outlet shopping. We booked us and three other families into our timeshare in Birch Bay, WA. Eight adults, six kids under four and good times to come.

The ladies made a plan to drive to the Premium Outlets at Tulalip, just over an hour south of Birch Bay. The men folk stayed home with all the kids, with the exception of the little miss who joined us for some girly fun. We decided to take the "Magic Van," the Awesome family vehicle. (It's really a Honda Odyssey, but the little man believes the doors open by magic so it's now known as the Magic Van.)

The I-5 between Bellingham and Tulalip on a Monday morning is somewhat intimidating when you're not used to driving alongside huge semi trucks that seemingly pass each other for sport instead of necessity. I held my own, but I also held very tight to the steering wheel, at "10 and 2" as we were taught in driving lessons way back when. I didn't dare take my eyes off the road for more than the split second needed to check mirrors when I occasionally got brave enough to change lanes.

Mr. Awesome typically drives when we go out as a family, and he's always on top of the gas situation (insert all the gas jokes you want here, he won't mind). Well, I didn't realize it, but I've basically fallen out of the habit of checking the gas gauge when getting in the vehicle.

This in no way exonerates me, but I just want to point something out. As I mentioned, while driving my hands were basically glued to the steering wheel at 10 and 2, as if on a clock face. Well, thanks to the geniuses at Honda, when your hands are in this driving instructor-recommended position YOU CANNOT SEE THE GAS GAUGE. At least, not all of it. Especially that little yellow light that indicates that maybe you should think about refueling at some point.

We were about 55 minutes south when I felt an awful sensation under my right foot...nothing. Or at least the promise of nothing. "Um guys, we're out of gas" was all I could say as I checked all my mirrors and proceeded to get us safely across two lanes of traffic and one on-ramp to the shoulder. (Despite all evidence to the contrary, I am a reasonably good driver.) Apparently the ladies just thought I was saying that we would need to stop for gas at the next exit, because SURELY I would have noticed earlier that we were getting low. As we glided to a stop on the side of the interstate I assured them that no, we were well and truly OUT OF GAS.

There was an awesome moment of silence, followed by a smattering of nervous laughter and then some mild hysterics...mostly from me. Huge trucks thundered past, shaking the van as we discussed our options. Do we walk the unknown distance to a gas station? Who does the walking, given we have the little miss fast asleep in the back seat? Do we call 911, or GOD FORBID, call the men to let them know what's happened? Given the onslaught of sarcastic comments I was sure to receive from Mr. Awesome the second he found out, calling the men was not an option.

We looked ahead and behind us and could see no signs indicating a magical gas station within 100 feet. We looked to our right, as to our left were only hundreds of screaming trucks. There was a rather steep, rather overgrown embankment that ended in a rusty barbed wire fence, then a side road and some house-type buildings. And a sign. Wait a second, did that say POLICE? Next to one of the houses there was indeed a sign that said "Police" with an arrow pointing up the driveway. In the best of times I might have questioned the fact that this didn't appear completely official, but this was not the best of times.

The four of us aren't really the types to sit around waiting for something to happen, so Michelle stayed with me and the other two jumped out. Okay, I guess that means Michelle and I did actually just sit around waiting for something to happen, but SOMEONE had to stay with the van and the baby, right? Before we knew it, they were down the hill and crawling under the barbed wire. I have such good friends.

We watched as they made their way up to the quasi-police station, spoke to two gentlemen who we assume were police officers, and pointed to the van. They looked up the hill, obviously to get a glimpse of the moron that ran out of gas on a simple 60 mile trip. The next thing we know, one of the two cops has a gas can and is climbing over the barbed-wire fence and up the hill. Four minutes later we have a gallon of gas and we're on our way to the gas station a half mile up the highway. I offered to pay for the gallon he'd given us, but our knight in cream-coloured cable knit (again, not looking all that official) refused.

What are the chances that EXACTLY where I run out of gas there is a police station in sight that actually has gas at the ready? We considered stopping at the Tulalip casino to take advantage of our incredible luck, but there was shopping to be done and we were already 40 minutes behind schedule.

And yes, we did tell the men what had happened. We pretty much had to after Michelle texted her husband with pictures of the cop climbing the hill with the gas can in hand. I guess there isn't really a "Hos Before Bros" rule when one of the "hos" nearly strands her friends on the side of the highway.

And yes, Mr. Awesome is still making fun of me. And yes, I am letting him.

Baby Jogger City Elite Stroller - An Unsolicited Review

I really, really like our stroller. I wasn't asked by anyone to do a review, but when I really like something I tell anyone and everyone I can.

Our stroller is the Baby Jogger City Elite. When I was expecting the little man, we went a little Craigslist crazy and bought as much stuff as we could on there. We really liked the Peg Perego strollers, and found a decent (we thought) one on Craigslist for a fairly good deal that came with the matching car seat and base.

What we didn't think about was any future babes that might come along. For such a planner this was very unlike me, but I was a little obsessed and have been known to make the constant occasional impulse purchase. When we were pregnant with the little miss, we realized that the stroller we had was not going to cut it with two kids. The little man was showing no signs of being done with the stroller so we needed to find a solution.

We started to investigate double strollers. Man, those things are WIDE. And now please allow me to go off on a brief rant... Why is it that stores that are designed specifically to cater to parents of young children (i.e. toy stores, kids clothing stores, etc) have the NARROWEST aisles on the planet? It is guaranteed that 95% of the people shopping in these stores will be wielding some sort of stroller, and at the best of times the space between racks is barely enough for one person to walk through. I cannot even imagine trying to get through one of those stores with a double-wide, and I'm not really okay with leaving my kiddies unprotected at the front of a store while I peruse the merchandise. While they try to increase sales by stuffing as much product into their stores as possible, they are in fact losing my business because I CAN'T GET AROUND THEIR STORE! Rant complete.

Obviously I was not leaning towards a double-wide. Some inline double strollers are so long it's like wheeling three stacked shopping carts around. The one that did initially catch my eye was the Phil & Teds Sport. You see them EVERYWHERE in Vancouver, and they offer a jumpseat option that doesn't add too much size to the profile of the original stroller. It also had beefy inflatable wheels which is something we were looking for (because apparently I think I'm going to go for long sporty walks over bumpy terrain).

For us, the drawbacks with the Phil & Teds were a) once the jumpseat is in place, the child in the back effectively takes up all the basket storage as foot space, or steps on anything you might be carrying in there and b) at 6'5", Mr. Awesome kept banging his knees on the jumpseat. This was the deal breaker. Bye bye Phil. Check ya later Ted.

Here is what we were looking for in our dream stroller:

• some sort of jumpseat
• an adjustable handle so Mr. Awesome could push it without being hunched over
• easy set-up and collapse
• inflatable tires
• a seat that can recline to almost flat
• Something that didn't cost $700+

Really, our list wasn't unreasonable, but we were having trouble finding what we wanted. My friend Michelle was expecting and told me about the Baby Jogger. It was only just starting to sell in Canada, but the woman had done her research and discovered this somewhat hidden gem. It sounded good and they had just picked theirs up so we went over to check it out. SOLD! It had everything on our list and it even had things we didn't KNOW we wanted!

Here are my favourite things about our stroller:

• The jumpseat (pictured on the right, on a different stroller). It sits in front of the main seat and holds up to 33lbs. Once your baby is 6 months old, they then move up to the jump seat and the older child moves to the main seat. It clicks in to the "universal mounting bracket" that can also accommodate a car seat adapter bar, a snack tray, etc etc etc.
• The quick-fold action. You literally grab the fabric handle in the seat and the whole thing collapses and folds in half to a surprising small size.
• The inflatable tires. They are 12", beefy and release very easily. While we were in Hawaii we couldn't get through a smaller-than-average door on a train and Mr. Awesome just whipped off one of the wheels, drove through and popped it back on again. (He kind of looked like a superhero in that moment, but maybe that's just to me.)
• The giant canopy. This wasn't something I realized I needed, but it is fantastic. It's huge and requires no creative draping of receiving blankets to ensure your little darling is protected from the elements.
• The adjustable handle. There are so many positions on the handle that I swear this stroller can be pushed by anyone 4ft - 7ft tall. Andre the Giant could have pushed this thing comfortably.
• The details. There are peekaboo flaps and storage pockets that I am still discovering. They're everywhere!

The things I don't love (yes, there are a couple) are:

• The main storage compartment. The basket itself is a decent size, but it's kind of difficult to access. Not difficult enough to be a deal breaker, just kind of a pain sometimes.
• The drink holder that you can buy to clip on. There is one reason I haven't bought it. It's grey and blue. My stroller is black. All the City Elite strollers have black handles and no component of them is grey. So WHY did they design an add-on that doesn't "go?" Just a pet peeve.
• While writing this review, I checked on the Baby Jogger website for the jumpseat and couldn't find it. Maybe I wasn't looking in the right place, but did eventually find it on Amazon. I'm hoping it hasn't been discontinued - that would definitely fall under "don't love."
• That's it. Everything else is awesome.

As for price, it really depends on where you look. It's way cheaper in the US, but that's a fact of life for us Canadians most of the time. I just checked on Amazon and it ranges from $329 to around $400 ($450-500 in Canada). Where it gets a bit pricier is with the add-ons, but it's still way cheaper than some other options out there when you add it all together. The jump seat will run you around $80-90, the car seat adapter around $60-70, not to mention all the other goodies you could possibly want. We lucked out and found ours on www.leftoversstore.com for just over $300US and had it shipped to a friend's PO Box. My forward thinking, good friend Michelle, while pregnant with Baby #1, purchased the jumpseat with their second child in mind. They were kind enough (thank you, thank you, thank you) to loan us the jumpseat until they need it, but it is absolutely worth the price if you don't have a Michelle like I do.

There you go, that's my review. It's a great stroller and I recommend it whole-heartedly.

My Lawn Obsession Continues

This post will make a whole lot more sense if you've read the earlier post, This Lawn Will Be My Bitch.

I vowed a few months ago to make our lawn my bitch. It had been decimated by construction but I had dreams of a lush, green carpet fronting our property and BY GOD I was going to make it happen. This pathetic, patchy mess would bow down before my gardening prowess, my giant green thumb if you will, and grow into something my dad would have been proud of. It had a way to go, as you can see here:

Okay, so it had a hell of a long way to go, but I was not to be deterred. Yes, it was embarrassing when neighbours walked by and there I was "mowing" the few patches that were actually showing through. I could sense, well actually I could plainly see, their pitying looks as they watched an obviously delusional woman seeding, fertilizing, and seeding again in the hopes of coaxing SOMETHING out of the ground. It's like I have a third child, and I am an overbearing stage mom. I'm a little obsessed.

There was one day in particular where I went a little over the edge. I knew a few days of rain were coming. The growth that was there needed mowing and I also wanted to aerate and reseed the patchy parts before the rain arrived. I completed the mowing and moved on to the aerating. Now, I am not a gardener by any stretch of the imagination. Put that together with the fact that I can only convince Mr. Awesome to spend so much on gardening equipment at a time, and sometimes I have to get creative. We don't have an aerator, but I was sure this was what was needed to save my sad little lawn. Necessity is the mother of insanity invention, so I took an old metal rake and started plunging its teeth into the hard earth in an attempt to break it up a bit. Over and over I whacked the ground, confident that this would do whatever the hell aerating is supposed to do. I really must have looked like a crazy person, but that was nothing compared to what came next.

It started to rain a little. The patchiest parts of the lawn are along the front curb (thanks to the district municipality road crew) and under the large cedar tree on the side. Most of the work was to be done under the tree, so I was fairly protected from the rain. I managed to get the whacking done to my satisfaction and then started on the grass seed. It started to rain harder, and I was quickly running out of space under my cedar umbrella. I ventured out from under my shelter and proceeded to seed along the front curb.

That's when it started to hail. It was me against Mother Nature but I was not going to stop. Once you're soaked through, what does it really matter? I had a LAWN to seed, people! Students from the nearby highschool were sprinting by on their way home, trying to outrun the raindrops, but that didn't mean they didn't have time to slow down and stare at the crazy lady seeding her lawn in a hailstorm.

All this hard work and insanity has paid off. The lawn is looking great. I AM A GARDENING GODDESS.


When I first started working on this, I vowed I would make my lawn my bitch. Oh, she's a bitch alright. Yes, my lawn is flourishing and looks awesome. Yes, our neighbours are constantly commenting on how great it looks. But my bitchy, gorgeous lawn grows FAST. I go away for two days and she's grown three inches. She requires almost constant maintenance, with mowing at least twice a week. She's taken all my hard work and actually DONE WHAT I WANTED HER TO DO.

How dare she. Doesn't she know that as the mother of a three year old I'm not used to ANYONE doing what I want? How am I supposed to handle this type of obedience?!

Planning For The Future

My parents would have LOVED if my early desire to be a lawyer had actually panned out, but they never pushed me into what they wanted. They just wanted me happy and lovingly supported me in the choices I made, as long as they were fairly well thought out and somewhat realistic. (No, I am not an Oscar-winning actress, so maybe "realistic" is overtstating their priorities a bit.)

Following in our parents' footsteps, when the time comes for our kids to make some choices, we won't push them into one "life path" over another. As long as they're happy and safe, right? If they're happy and safe and making enough to keep us cared for and tipsy on red wine for the rest of our lives, so much the better.

That being said, we do enjoy spectulating whenever the little man develops a new interest. Given his latest passions, it's been looking like he will either be an excavator operator or a farmer, and married to "Natalie," a girl in his preschool.

Today, however, opened up two new possibilities as to a chosen career. I was playing with the little miss in front of the couch and the little man disappeared from view, as usual. I heard coins dropping, so I peeked around the couch and saw him reaching down the front of his pants. I inquired what he was doing and he said "Putting money in my pocket." (He must have inherited this money-saving tendency from Mr. Awesome.) I applauded his actions, but when I looked closer something was amiss. The money wasn't going into his pocket per se, it was going straight down the front into the Y-front "pocket" on his underpants. He had accumulated $2.20 (yay for Canadian coins) in there.

So I figure, we're now either looking at a future banker or a future exotic dancer. Either way, he'll have a good income. Bring on the wine!

Follow Me Friday Blog Hop!

It's a Follow Me Friday Blog Hop, hosted by Trendy Treehouse!
Enter your link below & follow the blogs you love.

It's that simple. Have fun!

If you would like to share this blog hop, just go to the link below and grab the code.

A Good Old Fashioned Game of Put and Get

We love to entertain, but since the arrival of our kidlets the entertaining has been somewhat limited. We now pretty much just host family-friendly events, and this past Christmas we invited everyone over for a Kids' Christmas Party.

The little man is usually very outgoing with adults, but put another kid (other than the little miss) within 50 feet of him and I develop a 2.5 foot tall shadow for at least the first half hour. He's happier sitting on my lap watching the other kids play with his toys than to venture into the fray.

I feel bad for my friend's son, as he and the little man are the two oldest kids in our crowd and all the others are babies. He desperately wants to play with our little fraidy-cat, and at the tender age of three doesn't really understand why his "friend" won't play. I can sense his frustration, but he has found a way to work with what he's got. Once the little man has warmed up a bit and ventured off my lap, my friend's son will gently take him by the hand and amazingly, they'll go off to the little man's room to play cars, trains, or, as they did at the Christmas party, a game of hide and seek.

The hitch is, the little man had never played, nor fully understood the rules of hide and seek. What ensued was the little man being placed in a hiding spot, his friend leaving to go and count, and then returning to "find" him. It was their own special version of the game and they were having a great time.

And there you have the now famous game of Put and Get. Not sure it will really catch on in wider circles, but it works wonders in our house.

Be Careful What You Wish For

If you've been reading this blog for any length of time, you're fully aware that we are living with one of the most horrific of creatures known to man...the whiny three-year old. The whining has been day and night, literally from the moment he opens his eyes in the morning until he shuts them again at night. The only reprieve we've been given, oddly enough, is when we're not at home. The minute we step back over our threshold it starts again, sometimes even as we pull into the driveway.

I'm scared to even put this in writing, but it appears that we MAY be seeing a downswing in the whining. I actually wondered if the Little Man was suffering from Seasonal Affective Disorder, because the second the weather took a turn for the better it seemed to abate slightly. I assure you however, it is by no means gone. We are now down to whining only 65% of the waking hours we spend at home, as opposed to the 90% we've been living with for the past six months. I'll take any improvement I can get at this point.

This post is less about the phase we've been living with and more about the phase that seems to be starting. Let me say this very clearly: BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR. We've been hoping for so long that the whining phase would end that we never even considered what might come next. I bet you're sitting there with bated breath just waiting to hear what we're facing now. Well let me tell you, this phase is a whole new level of excrutiating Hell joy.

This phase is what we like to call Selective Hearing. I'm sure you're familiar with it, as most men suffer from this affliction from time to time...selectively, if you will. This condition only flares up when the Little Man is doing something he is not supposed to be doing, quite often when he is on the verge of breaking something, be it himself or a household item.

We calmly and clearly ask that he stop what he is doing. We calmly and clearly ask again. And again. We then suggest a time out might be in order. Then we ask again. It's about at this point that I lose all conscious memory and Angry Mummy starts to wake up. I think some yelling ensues, some crying (sometimes him, sometimes me), and a time out.

Where it gets really difficult is when we're out in public. What do you do to a) stop your child doing what he's doing, b) teach him that he has to listen to Mummy and Daddy, and c) not look like a raving lunatic that is completely governed by their three year old?

As this phase is so new, I really have NO idea how to effectively deal with it. We're seeing some success with claiming we simply cannot understand what he's saying when he whines, but any tactics on how to deal with being ignored and blatantly disobeyed elude me completely. Being ignored really doesn't work for me. Maybe it's my need for attention, but that's an issue for a whole other post.

I'll keep you posted on how this develops. Comments are appreciated... it would be nice to know SOMEONE is listening!

Saving the Ta Tas, One Step at a Time.

Do you have boobs? Well, I am here to save them. You can thank me later.

Did you know that 1 in 9 women in Canada will be affected by breast cancer in her lifetime? The good news is, the earlier it's detected the easier it is to treat. With scientific advancements by the really smart people out there, we are getting closer to a world where the words "You have breast cancer" won't be so scary. We can get there in our lifetime, but it takes work. And money. Lots of money. Research is bloody expensive.

I have just registered for the Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation CIBC Run for the Cure on Sunday, October 3, 2010. It's Canada's largest single day, volunteer-led fundraising event dedicated to raising funds for breast cancer research, and education and awareness programs. It's a mouthful, but it's important.

Disclosure time. When I'm not on maternity leave, I work for the Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation. Yes, CBCF is technically my employer and it's a hell of a fulfilling reason to get up every morning, but that is not why I raise money for the Run. I have known people living with breast cancer, and through my work with the Foundation I now know a LOT more. These women (and men - yes, men can get breast cancer too) are amazing. They speak publicly about their experiences with breast cancer, encouraging people to get annual mammograms, to know their own bodies, and to speak with their doctors if they feel anything is out of sorts. They are strong and inspiring and I am running for them.

The reality of working so closely with this disease is that I also know women that have died, and I know a lot of families that have lost loved ones. Fewer and fewer people are dying of breast cancer, but people still do. This isn't good enough. I truly believe we can get to a "future without breast cancer." This doesn't necessarily mean a cure, but we CAN get to place where it's detected early enough and the treatment is so minimal that it won't limit the way you live your life.

If you're in Canada and want to register for the Run in your area (it happens in 56 cities across the country), go to www.cbcf.org. It's an awesome, one day event where you can walk or run 1 or 5K with thousands of people all in it for the same reason - a future without breast cancer. If you aren't able to participate, please consider making a donation. Every dollar makes a difference.

Thank you. Public service announcement concluded.

Do I Pee on YOUR Lawn?!

Behind your bushes once when I was a tipsy teenager, maybe, but on your lawn? Never. So WHY is it okay for you to parade your dog onto my property to do his business right in front of me??

Don't get me wrong, I love dogs, I really do. They are awesome and loyal and goofy. It's certain dog owners I'm not too fond of. Really one in particular. I understand the need to walk a dog, and to let him relieve himself every 20 feet along the route. And there are a LOT of places in our neighbourhood where this is perfectly fine. I do not, however, feel it is appropriate to discolour the lawn I am working so hard to maintain with your dog's urine. There is a perfectly good boulevard area 20 feet east of my lawn with a very lovely telephone pole just begging to be marked. And if you ARE going to create a blond patch in an otherwise lovely sea of green, at least have the decency not to do it when I'M STANDING RIGHT THERE. That's just plain rude, not to mention disrespectful.

This rant is a result of the altercation I had with a grumpy old man the other day. Not only did his dog pee on our lawn, he also peed right on top of an ornamental grass plant that had obviously been planted recently. Right while we stood and watched. When we took exception to it and asked him nicely to not let his dog do this, he claimed that the boulevard is district property and not ours to comment on. Excuse me? The "boulevard" is the four feet that runs along the front of every home in our municipality, and yes, technically it is district property. Does that mean we should just ignore it, not water it, mow it, or take care of it in any way? That sure would make for some lovely curb appeal now, wouldn't it?

Please walk your dogs. Please let them pee. But PLEASE when your furry friend does need to release, just try and take note of where he or she is about to go. Could this be a place that is being lovingly and painstakingly cared for by someone? Is that person working in their garden at that very moment? Is there a spot a few feet further down the road where your dog's urine won't be like a knife in the heart to your neighbour?

Maybe I should go around to the grumpy old man's house and let the little man pee on his "boulevard." After all, it's not HIS property, is it?

But When Does Mummy Get To Poop?!

The little man, as I've described in previous posts, is getting into EVERYTHING. He has also lost the ability to listen to ANYTHING I say, and will go so far as to blatantly do the opposite of what I'm asking.

I know, I know, this is par for the course for a three year old. Let me tell you, although there is some comfort knowing this phase will eventually end, that "par for the course" nugget of information doesn't actually help in the day to day dealings with my little hellian. He's not particularly mischievous, he's just utterly curious and always on the move. He cannot be trusted for a fraction of a second to sit still and not get into trouble, destroy something or tick off his sister.

And despite the hip-to-toe cast on the little miss, she is somehow on the verge of crawling. Through an intricate dance of inch-pivot-inch-pivot-inch, she can move amazing distances with surprising speed and agility. We're afraid that when the cast does come off next week she'll be off like a shot and we won't be able to catch her.

I've written about not being able to keep up with the household maintenance, but we've entered a whole new dimension now. With Mr. Awesome working or away, showers alone have become a thing of the past. Luckily, we have a large enough shower that the little man can happily play with his plastic cups while I manically clean off the spit-up/farm funk/potting soil/workout sweat that has him gagging and saying "Mummy stinks." Thanks for that, I already felt so pretty.

Although not relaxing or private, showers are fairly manageable. At least he's confined to a small-ish space and can't get into too much trouble. But there's another time that's not so easy. A time when some privacy would actually be kind of nice. A time when my movements (pun unintentional, I swear) are somewhat restricted to an arm's reach at best. And God forbid I lock the door to keep him out. That would either result in a knocking and yelling extravaganza, or him wandering off out of earshot and getting into some new adventure... think Thomas the Train meets the Dishwasher of Doom. Even having him in the room with me while I take care of business isn't the answer, as he can very easily just open the door and walk out.

It's fine in his world, as he still refuses to poop on the potty and continues to deposit "presents" ranging from grapes to grenades in his underwear on a twice-daily basis. HE doesn't need any privacy to get the job done.

And now, please refer back to the title...

We Are Officially THOSE People

We are now either the coolest house in the neighbourhood or the bane of every parent's existence. Potentially both.

For the little man's third birthday, Mr. Awesome's brother (Uncle Awesome) bought him his very own bouncy castle. Let's just say it's not small.


It is too big to fit in the backyard and should also really be set up on a lawn, so the front yard it is. Our front yard is pretty exposed, and as I said, this thing ain't tiny.

I have to say, it's pretty damn cool. It has two slides and an enclosed bouncy area. It inflates in under a minute, deflates in about three, and it packs up into a fairly compact storage bag. We've had it set up twice so far and the ecstasy on the little man's face is indescribable. The peals of laughter and squeals of delight are awesome.

We should have known what would happen. Uncle Awesome has essentially given us a high-powered kid magnet. Kids from every corner of the globe seem to be able to sense its presence and are somehow drawn to our curb. Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating. A little. Kids walking by slow down to a snail's pace. Kids riding by on a connecting street change direction to ride by our house. The other day a pair of teens walking by just kept repeating "Oh. My. God."

Some neighbour kids arrived home and were desperately eyeing the air-filled behemoth. Mr. Awesome felt terrible not inviting them over, but we really don't know the family well enough to know if they're the sueing type. We joke with our friends about having them sign a waiver before their kids climb on, but we're only half-joking. What if someone did get hurt? I'd like to think reasonable parents would accept that kids are kids and they do get bumps and bruises, but is it worth risking our house? Have I just watched too much TV, or am I paranoid because our neighbour across the street is a very successful litigator? Is this the future of neighbourhood play?

So, we may be the coolest house on the block for a while, until word spreads that the Awesomes don't share. At least not without a signed, legally binding release form signed in triplicate by a parent or guardian and witnessed by two unrelated parties. Too much? Nah.

Well, Excuuuuuse Me!

I used to be the Queen of Excuses. I always had reasonable explanations for why I didn't work out, why I didn't lose weight that week, why it was okay to quit Weight Watchers... I could explain away anything. I was really very good at it. Maybe that's why I ended up in marketing. I could "spin" anything.

In early 2002 I started dating Mr. Awesome. I had been on WW for a few months and had lost about 25lbs. Immersed in the honeymoon phase of my new relationship I began to forgo workouts, neglect my points tracking, etc. Who could blame me? I was newly in love! I would have WAY rather spent time with my man than (God forbid) leave him for an hour to go to the gym. That was the beginning of the end of my fitness regime.

In June of that year my dad passed away. I was understandably devastated, had to take a leave from work, and the last thing I cared about was taking care of myself. Slowly but surely, Weight Watchers and the gym became things of the past.

Thinking back to who and how I was back then, I hadn't truly made a lifestyle change - I was just on a diet and exercise program. The necessary mind shift hadn't happened so I was likely doomed to fail at some point. I'm not saying I would have powered through my grief with workouts, but I may have gotten back on the proverbial horse after a few months.

Fast forward to 2008. I started thinking about getting in shape and FINALLY getting rid of (most of) the excess weight when the little man was just over one, but I knew we were planning on having a second baby in the next couple of years and I just couldn't fathom working that hard to lose the weight and then gaining back anywhere from 20-50lbs. I knew then that when I finally made the decision to change my habits, it was going to be for good. If I didn't get there for another couple of years, so be it. When I DID do it, there would be NO EXCUSES!

The little miss was born in late October 2009. I'd only gained 16lbs during this pregnancy (no idea how or why, but that's all I gained) and then pushed out a 9lb 6oz bundle of love, so by the time she was three weeks old I was already lower than my pre-pregnancy weight. It was time. Two years is a long time to plan to do anything, so I was pretty psyched to get going.

Before beginning, I had to acknowledge a pretty undeniable fact: I am lazy. If this was going to work, I had to have reasonable expectations and not make anything too difficult to achieve. If it got too hard I was likely to let the excuses creep back in and be back where I started.

So here I am, 20 weeks in and 42.6lbs down so far. Suffice to say, it's working and there have been very few excuses. I am nowhere even close to perfect at this. I've missed a few workouts and eaten over my points allowance quite a few times, but I've made up for any slips within a few days.

When my dad quit smoking after 50 years, he smelled smoke everywhere. We'd get into elevators and he'd know that there had been a smoker in there minutes before. It was like his nose was now fine-tuned to smell smoke. I feel kind of the same about excuses. Not only did I not notice (or let's be honest, admit) when I was making excuses before, but I didn't usually notice when other people were making them too. Actually, I kind of welcomed other people's excuses, because I could then either use their excuses for why I couldn't do something, or use them as the excuse. Jen can't go to the gym? Well shoot, then I can't go either.

I was sitting in my WW meeting a couple of weeks ago and the leader was trying to get a discussion going about ways to find time to exercise. I could not believe the excuses I was hearing. Yes, absolutely, life does happen and get in the way. I get that. But these people were complaining about how hard it was to find time to exercise, or to resist temptation, basically victimizing themselves and defending their choices with excuses. It's like they wanted the leader to tell them "It's okay, it's not your fault you gained this week. You didn't bring those brownies into your work lunchroom."

If you really and truly want to get healthy, you WILL find a way to make it happen. You will find at least a little time each week to be active. You will resist the treats in the lunchroom, or if you do indulge, you will track it! Yes, it might take a long time to get there, but you will do it. It's about planning ahead and thinking things through. At my work, I KNOW that come Christmas time there will be trays and trays of goodies in the lunchroom. But it is MY decision whether or not I eat something.

Don't get me wrong. I am tempted every single day and I do indulge. I do miss the occasional work out. But I accept responsibility for that. I don't make excuses because I have to OWN my behaviour. It will be my own doing if I don't succeed. No one is going to lose weight for me. If they did, then they would look fantastic and I would still be 230lbs.

Excuse me? I don't think so. I'm the one who is going to look fantastic, thank you very much!

It Ain't Easy Bein' Green

We are a somewhat earth-friendly family. We recycle a lot. We try to use "green" household products where possible. We've talked about starting a compost and installing a rain barrel, and likely will do both at some point (like the next time they go on sale at Costco...does that counteract the good we'd be doing by buying them?).

We at the very least try to make responsible choices where possible. Which is why I was intrigued when I read a recent post by Christie at Honoring my Health. She made her own deodorant. What?! Yes, it's true, and it's not as scary as it might sound.

I really suggest you go to her site and read the full post, but basically you take 8 tbsp of melted virgin coconut oil (available at Whole Foods), 1/4 cup cornstarch and 1/4 cup baking soda. You mix it all together, then pour it into an empty, clean deodorant tube and put it in the fridge for an hour.

I tried it. I made sure I wound the thingy (technical term) all the way to the bottom and then poured in my magic mixture. Here's the hitch. I used an old Dove deodorant tube. The "thingy" had holes in it, so the liquid seeped through and when it solidified it wouldn't budge an inch up the stem...another technical term.

I chiseled it all out, remelted it and put it into a different container that had a more solid thingy. Worked like a charm! Thank you, Christie, for showing me the light. The only info I would add to her post is to be careful when selecting your used deodorant tube and to make sure your thingy is solid...um, yeah. Always make sure your thingy is solid. Advice for the ages, really.


On a somewhat related sidenote:

Another reason I wanted to try this was that, in addition to trying to be earth-conscious, we are also trying very hard to eliminate parabens from our home. Parabens are preservatives and are used in a LOT of personal care products. They can actually mimic estrogen and have been linked to breast cancer. Breast cancer can be caused by the exposure of estrogen to mammary cells over time, so why on earth would we want to expose our body's largest organ to MORE of it?!
Even some products for babies contain parabens, which completely blows my mind. It's an uphill and expensive battle to try and get parabens out of our home completely, but we are definitely trying. Cosmetics Database is a fantastic source of info, but you might end up throwing EVERYTHING in your house out if you take it as absolute gospel. Everything in moderation, right?

Biting Off More Than I Can Chew

I was just catching up on my Google Reader feed and was reading a post from Confessions of a + Sized Girl. Although her post wasn't about this, she mentioned that she was currently enrolled in a self-defense class. I found myself thinking that I should really sign up for one. It's something I've been talking about for years, really, and I've just never gotten up off my still (somewhat) fat ass to actually do it. What's stopping me? Nothing.

I've actually found myself inspired by a number of posts lately, by people doing things I really should be doing. I was also inspired by this week's Biggest Loser episode, which explains my completely unexpected interest in jogging.

With all the inspiration and only so much time in a day, I figured I better write down some of these goals or I will be sitting here a year from now, writing my 545th blog post without having done any of it. Here is a list of things, some big and some small, that I would like to do before I return to work on October 18. This seems like a good deadline because once I'm back at work I will be spending all my non-work hours with my kidlets (with a couple of hours here and there at the gym). I may not get them all done, but at least I'm further ahead now than I was half an hour ago.

So here goes, in no particular order:

1. Reach my goal weight. Actual number to be determined in the next couple of months. I also need to do this by the end of August because we have a big back-to-work shopping trip to San Francisco planned for September!
   
2. Take a self defense class. I'm a wuss at heart and should really toughen up.
   
3. Run (jog) a 5K. I have registered for the Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation CIBC Run for the Cure, taking place on Sunday, October 3. Only 154 days to go!
4. Raise $500 for the Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation CIBC Run for the Cure.
   
5. Potty train the little man completely, once and for all. (God help me)
6. Try a kick-boxing class. (Hopefully Michelle at im.seeking.balance will help me check this one off the list soon!)
   
7. Get back into indoor rock climbing. Mr. Awesome and I used to go a lot when we first got together, so I'm hoping we can both get back into it.
   
8. Take a first aid class. I took one years ago, but my brain is like a sieve and I would not know what to do now. That scares me to death.
9. Take a finance course. I'm a math ignoramus. I could really use some financial management training if I ever plan for any career advancement.
10. Paint the house and window trim. When the new siding was put on during the renos we had pre-painted boards put on but it's now time to give them a 2nd coat. Good times.
    

Alright, that's 10 and that's enough for now. I will update you on my progress and maybe modify the list as we go.

In addition to the list above, this is a list of things I would like to do that have no particular deadline. But I am writing them down to commit to making them happen at some point.

1. Try curling.
2. Attend a blogging conference. (I'm hoping for Bloggy Bootcamp 2011 in San Francisco, as we simply can't afford another trip this year while I'm on mat leave...unless someone wants to sponsor me...anyone? Anyone? Bueller?)
   
3. Go to New Zealand. I lived there for six months in 2000-2001 and have been itching to return ever since. We're hoping for a trip in the next five years, depending on how many points we can accumulate.
   
4. Become a Weight Watchers leader. This one is more of a maybe. Just something I'm thinking about.

Well, that's certainly more than enough to get started, but I always was biting off more than I could chew. I'm likely kidding myself, but I never said I was realistic!