Showing posts from 2009


I tell you people, 2010 is my year. I can feel it! 2010 is the year the Captain comes home safely from Afghanistan. 2010 is the year I take my very first warm-weather winter vacation. 2010 is the year that Rosemary's Baby and I have our first back-and-forth conversation. I am already counting down the minutes to midnight. I am entering the new year ROARING! My resolutions are the most unimaginitive things ever. Like everyone else on the planet, I need to step up the exercise a notch. For a long while there, I was a runner. In fact, after losing my baby weight when Firstborn was a wee one, I went on to lose another 30 lbs and three dress sizes. It was exhilarating. But last year when I started having a little knee pain (due entirely to my half-assed stretching regime), I took the workout down a little. And then a little more. Now, I take the treadmill at a leisurely senior-citizen's pace, sometimes while eating chocolate. Even the music on my ipod has taken a downturn. FYI, REO

Christmas Recap

I know you've all been on the edge of your seats wondering if I pulled off the big Doggie caper. Well, wonder no more! Firstborn found Doggie under the tree on Christmas morning and was impressed enough with Santa's magical search-and-rescue powers that he informed me over breakfast "Doggie was the best Christmas present of all!" This is pretty good, considering ALL I have heard about for the last month is how desperately Firstborn wants " Lego Indiana Jones: Ambush in Cairo ", which, for those of you not familiar with these things, is a piddly little $13 set that there was never any question he'd be getting in his stocking. By Christmas morning, I'd heard it over and over so many times, it had become our family's version of the "official Red Rider carbine-action 200-shot range model air rifle with a compass in the stock and this thing which tells time." So, I think it's safe to say that Firstborn had a very Merry Christmas. Rose

A Christmas Miracle, By Design

Firstborn has, since the time he could crawl, been dragging around this stuffed dog that Sister #3 gave him. We call him "Doggie". We're not very creative around here. In the beginning, Doggie was soft and fluffy and cute. But over the years he's taken a bit of a beating. Here's a recent shot Firstborn took of him with my camera. That's a computer cord he's wrapped up in. And notice he's had eye surgery. Doggie has definitely seen better days. But, like a good friend or beloved family member, it doesn't matter what he looks like. Firstborn still loves him more than any of his other stuffed animals. He comes in the car with us. He sleeps on Firstborn's pillow. He can often be found sitting all floppy-eared on the dining table watching us eat. Doggie is no less a member of this family than the real dogs. He just sheds a lot less. So when Doggie goes missing, it's quite a frantic affair. We're turning over couch cushions and reluctantly r

It's Just Not Christmas Until the Pee Starts Flying

Rosemary's Baby likes to clean the toilet for me. Only, his version of "cleaning" really just involves taking the toilet brush, or plunger--it doesn't matter which--and splashing toilet water all over the bathroom. It's delightful. Really. So, this afternoon I was busying myself with all kinds of important Christmas preparations. Or, I was browsing Zappos for sale-priced open-toed shoes with a four-inch heel that I can't afford, or ever possibly use. I don't remember which. But anyway, it occured to me that Rosemary's Baby was giggling in the bathroom with the door closed. And that could only mean one thing. So, I hot-footed it in there to find him in his favourite toilet-cleaning position, grinning at me from ear to ear. There was water absolutely everywhere. And then the smell hit me. Someone hadn't flushed. Rosemary's Baby is still not partial to peeing in the toilet, so it wasn't him. I don't subscribe to the "if it's yel


I'm not doing too well with posting OR commenting lately, so forgive me. I feel like I'm running out of creative steam for the year. But rest assured, my mojo will return. Firstborn's last day of school is tomorrow, and for two weeks, I will have the alarm turned off and I'll be enjoying that extra cup of coffee in my pyjamas in the morning. Unless Rosemary's Baby has other plans. And he probably does. So, in lieu of a proper post, here's a glimpse at what I've been up to this week. Any longtime follower of my blog knows that Rosemary's Baby has a history of poo incidents. And by history, I mean dating up until this past Tuesday. But it's gotten a lot better. Back in the summer, I lost my temper and decided it was just more hygienic to remove the carpet from his basement bedroom. For the next 4 months or so, his room looked like this: Well, okay, not exactly like this. I forgot to take a "before" picture until I was a couple of rows of tile

My Christmas Wishlist. Aaaaayyyyyyyy...

I am now less than two weeks away from the night when Santa squeezes himself down my chimney and rewards me for being good all year! My only major transgressions this year were betraying the Captain by buying a fake tree, and occasionally forgetting to water his plants (RIP aucuba japonica ). So naturally, I'm expecting a serious haul when I wake up on the 25th. Here's my wishlist: Adobe Photoshop Elements 8 : I decided to take my (VERY amateur) photography to a new level this year by learning to use the manual settings on my camera. It really changed the way my photos came out, and while I will never be someone who cares about the technical information associated with each and every photo, I do like to fool around with my pictures after the fact. Something a little less basic than the program that came with my camera would really kick things up a notch. Dyson DC25 Vacuum: Last year around this time, the Captain went to do a little light vacuuming in the living room. But when

I Heart Edward

I've been a little remiss in keeping up with my blog lately. I could blame it on being alone here with kids, the snow, Christmas etc etc etc. But the real reason is this: Yes, it's true. I've finally given in and joined the cult. So far, I'm about ten chapters in. I haven't seen the movies, and I'm not sure I will. All those teenagers, and me being closer to 40 than 30? I dunno, it seems a little creepy. But ask me again when I've finished the book. Because, make no mistake, what this author lacks in her writing, she makes up for in plot. And smouldering. Lots of smouldering. In any case, I'll be back with my Christmas wishlist and all kinds of festive chatter soon. In the meantime, Firstborn doesn't have to be gotten up for school for another eleven minutes. And that can only mean one thing. I have a date with Edward.

A Little Love for My Siblings

Blah. We are well and truly into December. We now have six inches of snow on the ground and the temperature out there makes me wish the Captain had chosen a job that allowed us to live somewhere a little less frigid. Is it so much to ask my 38 year-old husband to switch to professional surfing? At this time of year, I naturally start thinking about family. I saw an Anne Taintor inspired card in Paper Crafts magazine a while back and vowed that when I came across the right vintage picture, I was going to make it for my sister. Recently, I came into some old children's books from the 60's and because I so love to repurpose old junk, my one card turned into one-after-another. So, today I would like to send out some heartfelt greetings and a little holiday cheer to my six (yes, I said six) younger siblings. * Sister #1 is adjusting to life with 3 kids and trying to get Christmas organized just like the rest of us: The sentiment was lifted straight from that Paper Crafts project.

I'm A Wreckerator!

Those who know me know that when I screw up, I like to screw up BIG. So there's nothing more comforting for me than to go lurking at Cake Wrecks to laugh loudly at the screw-ups of others. One Sunday last spring, some stupid remarks by an idiot named Kanye West prompted a post over there with a children's book theme (to see this post, click here . You'll be glad you did.). When I saw my kid's favourite book featured in cupcake-cake form, I knew I had my cake theme for his next birthday. All I had to do was wait about six months. Well, the 4-year anniversary of the day that joy and evil converged and came screaming out of my uterus has arrived! Yes! Rosemary's Baby is 4! And, just as I promised myself, the Very Hungry Caterpillar cake was the main attraction at dinner tonight! So, for reference, here is the cake I aspired to copy: And here is the cake I made: This, of course, leaves me in a bit of a quandary. On the one hand, I could keep finding gorgeous cakes to r


My 150th post should be something more than a hodgepodge of chatter...but it won't be. So, without further ado, I give you post #150!! Firstly, our tree-trimming party. Firstborn enjoyed trimming the tree: Rosemary's Baby was more into the hot chocolate. And, don't most highly-anticipated family events end like this? Or this? ******** I've decided I need a new apron. The last one I made about a year ago in a very light fabric, and has ended up looking like this: Gross. My plan this holiday season is to go through my fabric stash and find a nice DARK one for my next apron. ******** Speaking of crafts, I finally got around to making myself a beaded wreath for my front door. It's a little thin for my liking, so I'll work on the design and try again...someday. It'll do for now. ******* And, I have been remiss in thanking Tater Tot Mom for this award: A fabulous award from a fabulous blogger! Thanks!! ******** Finally, despite my strict adherence to my no-impulse

My Christmas Miracle Comes With Soy Sauce

First, I'd like to thank everyone for their really lovely comments. There's no denying that this Christmas will be more of a struggle than usual, but knowing there are so many people out there pulling for me really makes me want to kick some Christmas butt and have the best damned holiday possible. And today, something has happened that is going to surely make that more likely. Before we had kids, the Captain and I established a holiday tradition of our own. Like many Canadians, we started ordering Chinese takeout on Christmas Eve. We loved this tradition, and once the kids came along, it made a very hectic night just that little bit less stressful, because I didn't have to have a meal on the table on top of stuffing stockings and frantically wrapping gifts. Unfortunately, the last time we observed this tradition was 3 weeks after Rosemary's Baby was born, on Christmas Eve 2005. By the following Christmas, we'd moved to the place we live now. It didn't take long

Christmas Cheer

The last week has been a little insane. First my close friend emailed me to say her husband was in the ICU on a respirator with H1N1. Things got bad enough early last week that he had to be put on kidney dialysis. His kidney and liver function was so weak, it was looking very, very bad there for a few days. The good news is that he has now turned a corner and, while he has a very long way to go, he is most definitely on the road to recovery. He is a great guy, and for this good news I am so very thankful. Then came Friday. I got a phone call in the afternoon from the Captain's uncle. I could hear in his voice that something wasn't right. He didn't beat about the bush. The Captain's father had had another heart attack, but this time he hadn't survived it. It took me about 8 hours to get in contact with the Captain, and because he was so far from base, the satellite communications were terrible. He could hear me, but all I could hear was a dead line. I yelled down the

Oh, Christmas Tree

I have just spent the last hour unwinding the lights on my pre-lit tree. I spent the hour before that trying (unsuccessfully) to find the loose connection that was stopping the big section of lights in the middle from working. At this point, my nice, fake, low-maintenance tree has taken about twice the work of a real one. And it isn't even decorated yet. The tree arrived yesterday. I know I should've just taken it back, but once I had it together, the idea of taking it apart, packing it up again and lugging it back to the store with kids in tow was just too much to bear. Also, there is the slight possibility that the lighting malfunction may have had something to do with the fact that Rosemary's Baby, seeing a full-sized TREE in our living room, couldn't believe his luck and tried to climb it. Both he and the tree ended up in a horizontal position on the floor. So this one time, it may not be the fault of Sears . Though they still have a lot to answer for in the women

Kids Say the Darndest Things...

When we moved to this house, it was largely to get our dogs to stop barking. Living on base or in the city, they'd sit by the window watching for bikes, or scooters, or passing children. And when they saw those things, they'd go bananas, barking and jumping at the window. I guess in the absence of any real threat to their turf, they had to find alternatives. We moved out here where there was nothing outside the window but a highway and a big farmer's field, and we heaved a HUGE sigh of relief that there was nothing left for the dogs to bark at. So, you can imagine our irritation when, in the first five minutes of living here, they switched from bikes and kids to local wildlife. A squirrel scampers past, and they bark. A few birds drop in looking for crumbs, and they bark. A fox or deer stops on the front lawn and practically poses for my camera, and Rusty and Jerome make like they're going to bust right through the front window, scaring our guest off before I can even

And Now I'm a Grammar Nazi

The Suburban Princess has posted a grammar lesson today on when to use "I" and "me" in a sentence. It has inspired me to offer up a lesson on my own grammatical pet peeve. Rest assured, I am not reading all your blogs and even noticing errors, let alone mentally correcting them with my imaginary red pen. I don't expect bloggers to follow the rules of grammar, and I'd rather enjoy the blogs I love sans judgement. But if you're interested, I figure I'll (finally) make minimal use of the English degree I got 15 years ago and share this little tidbit. The one grammar error I see more than any other in my local newspaper looks something like this: "The people that cause the problems in our community don't want to fix them." or this: "Mr. Brown is the person that people should see if they want gardening information." So here's a very basic, very simple rule to remember: if you're writing about a person, you want to use

Drabby Pic and Recap

First, here's a drabby pic of me breathing a sigh of relief that my children have gone to bed: 'Nuff said! Now, onto my Remembrance Day recap. I fought with myself for a few days about whether or not I'd go to our small town's annual ceremony. As the only military family in town with someone currently serving overseas, it'd look good for me and the kids to show our faces. And there was about an 8% chance of us getting through it quietly and without incident. On the other hand, that meant that there was a 92% chance of Rosemary's Baby ruining everyone's moment of silence by breaking free and noisily climbing the town war memorial while I frantically stage-whispered at him to get down. So in the end, I decided it was just safer to stay home. Small townsfolk remember these things and talk about them for years. But I wasn't going to sit around the house in my pyjamas, acting like it was just another day off. Firstborn and I had talked about the meaning of R

War Stories

With apologies to old hippies everywhere... When I was a kid, we did a Remembrance Day assembly at school every November 11th. It was always the same. Our well-meaning teachers, who had come of age right at the time when Woodstock, love-ins and LSD were in vogue, yanked out the sheet music to such hippie-tastic numbers as " Where Have All the Flowers Gone " and put us to work celebrating the relative peace and freedom we continue to enjoy to this day. I understand what they were trying to do, and I don't blame them for it. But I think those assemblies may have glossed over something very important. Remembrance Day is not about promoting peace. It's about remembering war. On May 24, 1941, the HMS Hood was destroyed by the Bismarck at the Battle of the Denmark Strait . Some 1428 crew were killed, including my grandmother's little brother, a 21 year-old kid who, like so many others, had left the family farm to fight the good fight. Every family has at least one story


Well kids, the time has come. Because I'm now so popular--or possibly because my profile picture is so sad and creepy--I'm starting to get a fair bit of spam offering to improve my sex life with Viagra and/or enlarge my penis. For the record, I'm happy with my penis just the way it is. So, just so you don't think something's wrong when your comment doesn't immediately pop up, I'm enabling comment moderation. Bear with me here. This constitutes new and confusing technology for me and it may take a day or so to figure out. As long as you're not offering me sex toys, being blatantly abusive, or threatening terrorism, your comment will (eventually) appear. William Shatner , this is your cue. Comment Moderation...The Final Frontier...

Real vs Fake

The Captain has only been gone 2 weeks. Already I've committed the ultimate marital sin. You hear stories about the things wives get up to while the husbands are serving overseas. The wife who moves a new guy in the minute her husband's gone. The wife who clears out the bank account and does a runner. The one who takes all his extra tour money and spends it on new shoes. I never thought I'd become one of those nuts who does something crazy while he's away. But I have. Yesterday, I bought one of these: Okay, fine. For the average marriage, this is not the ultimate sin. But when the Captain finds out, things may get a little heated. You see, the Captain grew up with a real Christmas tree in his living room every year. It's a tradition that is important to him, and one on which he will not compromise. I grew up with a fake one, so the idea of a real tree doesn't bother me too much. I admit, I like the gorgeous, fresh pine smell that fills the room when you bring


Stephanie's Group Blog Thursday today is about freebies. I actually have very little advice to give on getting stuff for free. I do go to and print up coupons, and I do enter contests and giveaways when I can, but that's about the extent of me finding things for free. What actually made me want to post when I saw Stephanie's blog today was that she talked about her credit card rewards. And I have some very strong opinions (who ME?!) on credit cards. When the Captain and I graduated from university and headed cross-country to find our fortunes, we were in some debt. Certainly not the kind of debt a lot of people come out of school with these days, but for two out-of-work kids with rent to pay, the $30,000 or so we did owe was overwhelming and caused us huge amounts of worry. So, when we both got good jobs that paid better than anything we'd ever had before, we set about the task of paying off that debt and acquiring some savings for the future. It was the best th

I've Got This Theory About Muppets...

Today being the 40th anniversary of Sesame Street , I've decided to share with you an insane little theory I've been working on for years. Let's see if you can figure out what it is. When I was a wee thing, I loved Bert. Bert was my favourite of all the muppets. His bottle cap collection was so awesome. And all those paper clips! WHO has that many paper clips? The answer, some 30 years later, is ME! I'm an organization nerd. I like order, and I cannot relax in my own living room if it's a mess. I'm anal. I'm bossy. I'm cranky. I'm...Bert. Sister #1 is just a year younger than me. When we were little, she liked the Count. She ended up being the more academically inclined of the two of us, and she grew up to become an actuary, which means she has a very intricate understanding of the world of finance. She doesn't live in a creepy castle with bats (though that would be cool), and she doesn't wear a black cape, but she might have a widow's

Halloween Recap

Well, the monkey-children are in bed and we got exactly ZERO trick-or-treaters. Halloween is done for another year. What a relief! After we got home from our own trick-or-treating fun, this little interchange occurred: Firstborn : I love you. Me : I love you too! Firstborn : I was talking to my candy.'s a shot from before the sugar high kicked in. Tomorrow, I bludgeon the jack-o-lanterns and make a pie. Happy Halloween!

A True Halloween Fright

As I've mentioned, my parents were down for a short visit recently. They really are stars, showing up here with all kinds of fun stuff for me. Among many other things, my mom saves me all her magazines and brings me a stack so I have something to read during my downtime. This is a real treat for me, since I don't often buy magazines myself. This morning, I was having a leisurely browse through Woman's Day over coffee when I suddenly found myself recoiling in horror at this: OH MY LORD!!! I'd like to thank the wizards at the Ashton-Drake Galleries for coming up with something new for me to have nightmares about. Here's hoping YOUR halloween is just as frightening, my loyal blog buddies!

A Gift From My Neighbour

I love the way a kid's brain works. Tonight, my next-door neighbour called, as he sometimes does, and said he'd been cleaning out the garage and found some of his (grown) kids' old books, and would my kids be interested in them? As both my boys are avid readers, and knowing he'd have some classic English fare there (his late wife was a British expat), I told him to bring them on over. After I hung up, I told Firstborn that Mr. Brown* was coming by with some new books for him. He looked up at me, all excited, and said: "Will he be in costume?!!" I had to try hard not to laugh out loud at the thought of the sixty-something farmer from next door, who had been erecting snow fence in his fields all day in the cold and rain, putting on a clown suit before swinging by our place to drop something off. Firstborn seemed pretty disappointed when I told him no. But look at what was amongst the piles of Beano annuals! The first full-length novel featuring Peter, Janet and


Oh boy, what a month! The Captain has now deployed to places unpleasant and dangerous, and I'm coping with the fear by pretending he's on course and refusing to watch or read any news. I have to say, denial is working well for me! The Captain had nearly a month off before he left, and right after he deployed my parents came out for a visit. You know parents. I suspect they wanted to see for themselves that, between Rosemary's Baby's diagnosis and the Captain's departure all within a 6-week period, I was not about to have a complete nervous breakdown. They stayed a few days and headed off down the highway for home this morning. So presumably, they figure I'm doing alright. We had such a great visit, and it came at the perfect time, but necessity dictates that we need to be getting back into routine now. We have had pretty much 6 straight weeks of uproar around here. Both Firstborn and Rosemary's Baby are quite out-of-sorts. As it turns out, we ALL need our ro

Autism Isn't Everything

Rosemary's Baby is autistic. I wasn't sure I wanted to ever mention this. Firstly, it's one thing for me to relay his naughty adventures from the perspective of the frazzled mom that we can all relate to, but it's quite another for me to blab his very personal issues to the world willy-nilly. I have a responsibility to protect his privacy. As well, this sort of thing is SO not what I wanted my blog to be about. I was always just hoping to find the fun in a life that can be mundane, frustrating and exhausting. Turning this into Poor, Poor Pitiful Me , or worse yet, Super Army Wife's Autism Blog Of Heroes kind of makes me want to puke in my mouth a little. But I'm outing my kid now because I know realistically that if I want to tell these stories properly, it's going to come up from time to time. Rosemary's Baby continues to do outrageous and hilarious things that I simply must share, and it's about embracing him for who he is. Besides, when he grows

Checking Out

Soooo...I promised a new post this past weekend...and now it's Tuesday. Sounds about right! I once again found myself avoiding the impulse purchase at Wal Mart today. It's actually getting easy now. I guess practice really does make perfect! But the more I avoid picking things up on impulse, the more attention I find myself paying to the way stores market their wares. Today, for example, I was really intrigued by the stuff at the checkout. You know the things I'm talking about. The array of reading material, with candy underneath, and across the way, the racks of...everything. Those odds and ends that just sort of end up being the things we'd maybe grab on our way out, thinking they'll come in handy. There are lighters, dangly air fresheners for the car, glue sticks. That kind of thing. I can remember once buying a keychain that doubled as a miniature tire pressure gauge. The thing was too small to handle, let alone uncap and stick in my tire (handy really, since I

These Eyes

My blogging is slipping lately, and I promise to remedy that as soon as I figure out how to clone myself. For now, here's another Drabby to Fabby before and after! Yes, it's true. I'm slowly turning into one of those people who enters contests for a living. This one is all about smoky eyes. The Captain thought I did it for him. Sweet, silly Captain. Before Check out the wrinkles, the paleness and the pores. Yuck! Also, look at those dull, dead eyes. Most people have to have a lobotomy to get that look. I have Rosemary's Baby. After The smoky look! Okay fine, the makeover did nothing for my wrinkles or my pores. And "smoky" might be a bit of an exaggeration. Maybe "foggy" is a better descriptor. Either way, I must've been happy with the look because my eyes seem to have gained some life in the transformation. Proper post this weekend, I promise. Happy Thursday, everyone! The weekend is almost at hand!

Letter to Wendy 1988

I'm really late at jumping on this bandwagon, but a week or two back Diggestive at Writing about Everything and a Few Lists (among many others, but this is where I first saw it, so he gets the credit) wrote a letter to himself at a different time in his life. I love this idea. We all know that hindsight's 20/20, but it's fun to think what might be different if we'd known back then what we know now. Dear Wendy 1988, For the love of God, get rid of that curling iron AND the hairspray. Your hair should not look like it was pulled into a tornado and then laquered so it'd stay that way forever. Also, acid-wash jeans and rainbow suspenders might look cool while you're bouncing around to MC Hammer at the high school dance, but the pictures will not stand the test of time. You look ridiculous. The following items will end up in a landfill, and you should NOT spend your (dad's) hard-earned money on them: George Michael-style fedora Cassette tapes Fluorescent pink

Just a Quickie

Things are nutty around here! But I wanted to show off my new skirt before Drabby to Fabby was over and it was too late to show it to you and call it a makeover! Here is my (out-of-focus) drabby shot: It's me in my PJ's, with Rosemary's Baby bouncing around behind me (because it's really too much to ask to be left alone for 5 minutes on my bed in the morning, right?!). I think Bert's expression pretty much says it all. But look at how much better I look a short time later (try to ignore all that clutter on my kitchen counter)! My hair is brushed, I'm wearing a little lip gloss. And do you like my new skirt? No, I didn't go back on my no-impulse-shopping plan . I used up some (rather loud) fabric from my stash and made myself a very simple A-line skirt! It's like shopping, but without the guilt! The moral of the story is, if you're going to go all minimalist and anti-consumer, you should do it after a series of really big shopping sprees...

I'd Like to Thank Everyone I've Ever Met

Just a quick thanks to Theresa at The Fultons for this very nice award! As you all know, I'm terrible at following instructions, and things are so crazy here right now that the idea of picking 15 of you and then commenting ALL of you makes my head spin! So, I'd like to break the rules a little and pass this award on to all of you out there who are reading and blogging. If you've never won an award before (or even if you've won 100), this one's for you, from me! Post it on your own blog if you like, and feel free to say that I gave it to you! And, of course, don't forget to include a lengthy acceptance speech, thanking your third grade teacher, throwing in a few references to your most extreme political views, and posting a picture of yourself in your most glittery evening attire. Then if you're feeling up to it, you can throw yourself an after-party. If the paparazzi show up, we'll need links to the tabloid pics. Have a fantastic weekend, my loyal subjec

Books of My Youth

I've been getting further and further behind in my blog-reading lately, so I'm playing catch-up tonight. Stephanie at Steph in the City has a weekly feature called Group Blog Thursday, which I always mean to participate in, but never find the time to. So this week, I risk getting even more behind in the laundry, losing ten extra minutes of sleep, and missing the Leafs scoring the winning goal (snort!) to answer the question "What book(s) did you love growing up?" 1. Richard Scarry's Please and Thank You Book : I got this book when I was 6, and I took it with me on the ship when my family moved from Canada back to England for a few years. Sailing across the ocean made me sick for the full ten days, but I'll never forget how jealous I was that Pig Will got to eat ice cream after helping his dad at work. When I met the Captain, I discovered that he'd loved this book as well, and not long afterwards, he bought me a copy (the cover is STILL the same!) to repla

My Drabby to Fabby Feet

Tamara over at Mad Boastings of a Cheapskate Mom has a new feature called Drabby to Fabby Friday . And yes, I know it's almost Tuesday. But cut me some slack here. Frankly, I'm lucky I made it to within a week! Having had a distracting last couple of weeks, I didn't read the instructions quite right and thought I had to fab up my feet. It turns out I didn't, but I figure it was still a good start. This week, I'll do my feet, next week maybe I'll move upwards and shave my legs. And before you know it, I'll be showing off my rock hard abs! Why do I hear hysterical laughter coming from somewhere... Anyway, Drabby to Fabby Friday served as a timely reminder that if I want to be the best I can be for my family, I have to take care of myself first. We moms always say that, but then our needs are the first to hit the road when time is at a premium. So I got strict and forced myself to toss the piles of laundry aside last night and get working on my gross, crypt-k

One Year!

Today is my one-year blog-iversary! What does this mean? That I'm a nerd who celebrates made-up holidays... But it's an excuse to eat cake--or at least those dried-up old donuts that have been sitting in my fridge for a few days now. And since it falls on a Friday, it means that after the kids go to bed, I'll make some cheesy popcorn and the Captain and I (and possibly my new purse which, I admit, I've been cuddling and stroking like a small dog) will have a glass of wine and watch a movie. Date night! Woo hoo! In the past year, life has changed a lot, and stayed the same as well. I've made some great friends in the blog community, and found so many awesome blogs that make me laugh, or drool, or feel inspired. I've also spent way too much time online. Some of my worries have been resolved, but they've made way for new, sometimes bigger worries. But I guess when it comes down to it, no matter how brutal life gets, if no one dies, you'll probably be a