I've been juicing a lot lately which means I've been buying a lot of fruits and vegetables. Unfortunately I went a bit overboard the first week and ended up with three containers of strawberries that were in danger of going bad so the kids and I made popsicles. Now you can too.
STRAWBERRY POPSICLES: KID VERSION
1 large container strawberries—washed and hulled 1/2 cup of simple syrup* 1 cup of water
For years I have put notes in my sons' lunches. For the most part they don't mention them. Quite frankly, I was never really sure they were even being read but I kept putting them in because that's what moms do, right? We do little things that go unnoticed until one day we don't do them and realize they have been noticed. So I continued to put notes of love, warmth, encouragement and humour into their little lunchbags. Notes that told them how proud they make me. Notes with knock-knock jokes. Notes that simply said "I love you".
I fully and completely encourage my kids to read. Spending money on books is the one thing to which I never say no. Words are an integral part of my life, to the point that I have a notebook where I jot down interesting words I've read or heard because, you know, I'm a geek. My memories of getting lost in a book, so entranced by the story I forgot about real life going on around me, are numerous.
It's the reason I'm completely lax with my kids and any rules when it comes to reading. My kids know this and play me like a well-tuned violin.
I don't remember when I first started chatting with Kathleen Tennant on Twitter but I do remember how blown away I was when I saw her art. I am not an artsy person. I've been to a few art galleries and while I'd like to be all fancy schmancy and talk about how the art moved me, it was not meant to be. I just saw pictures. Even the Mona Lisa is just a chick with a smirk to me. I know...there should be banjos playing as you read that last sentence.
Someone pointed out to me, in a not so kind way, that I write more about Son No. 1 than Son No. 2. Which, truth be told, is a fair assessment. Son No. 1 and I share a common interest—speed skating. I take him to meets, go to his practices and partake in the sport myself. I often write about his speed skating experience because it is also a part of mine.
As I mentioned previously, my mother-in-law can grow anything. This woman has more knowledge about plants in her green thumb than I have in my entire body. Every year she starts her seeds indoors—both flowers and vegetables. Here's the kicker. She doesn't even buy most of her seeds. She saves them from the previous year's plants, dries them and voila. Seeds.
Occasionally I come across a product that leaves me feeling confused as to why anyone would ever buy it, let alone use it. I roll my eyes and shake my head in disbelief. Why? I ask, Why?
Until, of course, the Gods of Irony decide to teach me why someone who is getting older and witnessing strange things happen to her body, things you knew subconsciously would happen but never thought in a million years would happen to you, per se, could possibly want to use it.
One of a parent's biggest jobs is learning how to protect our children without enveloping them in a cloak of fear. We want our kids to be street smart but not afraid that every stranger they meet is a potential danger.
Unfortunately, there are situations where it isn't a stranger who can cause harm. In fact, random abductions are very rare and, in most cases, when a child is harmed or abducted it is typically done by someone he or she knows.
Nobody wants to talk about this little issue but it happens. A lot. After you give birth certain muscles become lax. You do your kegels like you're supposed to and think everything is A-okay, then one evening you find yourself at a cocktail party laughing at a joke and budda bing, budda boom....pee.
Or maybe you're an exhausted mom who just discovered your kids drew penises on the wall with permanent marker and started to do that manic laugh that turns into a cry. Or is that just me?
If you don’t already know, when I’m not writing here at YMC, I write on my personal blog Speed Skating Mom where I document my attempt to learn how to short track speed skate. When Erica offered me a chance to talk to Catriona Le May Doan, I was all over it. Who is Catriona? She is a speed skater whose world record-setting wins captivated millions of Canadians.
I read a lot of blogs. A LOT. I have my secret stash of bookmarked blogs set up in organized folders on my computer and go through them almost every morning whilst drinking my coffee. Then there are the posts I find through Twitter and Facebook. All in all, it's about 25 to 30 posts per day. I try to leave comments but only when I feel I can add to the conversation because comments are IMPORTANT. Not the "great post" or "LOL" comments but comments with meaning.
For the third year in a row, our family has gone to Winterlude in Ottawa. I was going to write a whole post about how much fun I had this past weekend and then I said to myself "Self, why would anyone want to hear about the amazing time you had?
I'm just going to throw this one out there because I want your opinion.
Last Friday I was on my way to Ottawa to celebrate Winterlude with my family (more on that to come). It's a five hour drive so when I got tired of reading, I went on Twitter and started going through tweets favouriting anything I thought I might want to read later when I had access to my computer.
The thing is, I think I really might be the youngest old person alive. I am a homebody to the Nth degree and would rather ride naked on a horse than go out for a night on the town. For reals. But I'd totally wear a long wig so I was all covered and sexy and stuff.
Last night I was chilling on the couch watching P.S. I Love You.
It's about a widow (Hilary Swank) who discovers her late husband, who died of a brain tumour, left her a series of ten messages which he had arranged to have delivered after his death.
It is a cry-worthy movie delivering at least three tear inducing scenes.
Santa got Son No. 1 a DJ mixing system for Christmas because it was the one thing he really really wanted. Santa had to get up super early one Sunday morning to make it because DJ mixing systems are very hard to find. Like REALLY REALLY hard. In fact, if you went to look you would find only one in the city you live in and would want to make a mad dash to the mall in hopes that nobody else bought the very last one available.
My mom was a sewer—she could sew anything. She once made my sister a Pink Panther Halloween costume that I COVETED. I couldn't wait for my sister to outgrow it and the year I finally got to wear it was my happiest Halloween ever.
From the faux brick wall and the handmade ceramic dog to the Grease album and needlepoint pictures, there is NOTHING that is not awesome about this picture. The '70s rocked.
I miss my mom. It’s now been almost 11 years since she passed away and in some ways it feels like it was just yesterday.
I was ten-weeks pregnant with Son No. 1 when I got the phone call that she died. Before that day, whenever I watched a movie where people were given bad news and then collapsed, I would roll my eyes.
