WTF?!?!

Today. Today I am disappointed in myself…I’m still pregnant, (34 +4 weeks) still huge, still impossibly lazy and now have added another pregnism to the long and ever growing list of ism’s. Shame.

I finally got around to purchasing the paint for the new girls room, pastel mint and pink, very pretty. As excited as I am to finally get it on the walls, I STILL haven’t even started taping things off yet. UGH! So, thinking it would help to motivate me some, the man boy, bot and yours truly, trundled our way to the mall for some new brushes and rollers. Painting accessories in hand and realizing my stomach was empty and protesting loudly, we decided on subs for lunch. So the boy kept the bot happy and entertained while I waited in the very long line. By this point the empty chasm that had consumed my stomach was now starting to echo earning me some strange looks. One gent even looked like he was ready to bolt probably thinking I was going to eat him. Not gonna lie, I considered it.

After around 20 minutes, I finally rounded the corner and made it to the portion of Plexiglas sneeze guard where you choose your bread. (as long as it was edible and in my hands en route to my mouth, I’d eat it.) While patiently and pleasantly waiting for the less than enthused looking sandwich artist to ask me what type of sub I would like, I glanced down at a sheet of white paper haphazardly taped to the glass. Immediately steam shot out of my ears and I ground my teeth to keep myself from shouting obscenities in the middle of the restaurant. The offensive paper read as follows:

Debit down, accepting cash or credit.

What….Cash or credit. CASH OR CREDIT!?! Well that would be perfectly acceptable had I cash or credit on my person! I did not! After over 20 minuets of standing in line, waiting as patiently as possible while attempting to calm the tiny Jabba the Hutt  inside my stomach, a piece of paper tells me I can’t have my sub because I only have debit?! Well….That was it right there. Hanger took over. I turned my burning glare at my poor husband and told him through clenched teeth that we were leaving.

Like a spoiled child throwing a tantrum, I grumbled and stomped down the street managing to somehow contain the majority of my emotions. When I got home however…Being pregnant and having just walked more than 2 feet, I had to pee. I tromped my way to the bathroom and locked myself in. It was at this point I realized what had just transpired. And so, I cried. I sat on the toilet and cried…Sigh…I cried because I was frustratingly angry that I was still starving and not inhaling a sub. I cried because I’m hormonal and wound tight and didn’t know what else to do to release all that tense pent-up energy. But mostly I cried because I was completely and totally ashamed of myself. I mean really…It’s a freakin sandwich! There is seriously something wrong with my pregnant self…Hormones are totally kicking my ass….

The man boy of course found this whole scenario hilarious and chuckled under his breath not exactly improving my mood. He told me (laughing) that I too would find this funny in a few weeks. He was so entertained in fact that after I had dried my offensive and embarrassing tears, he went out and got me that damn sub anyway. Worst part was…I didn’t even enjoy the stupid thing. It tasted like anger and frustration and….Shame…

That is my story for the day. Crazy bitch over and out.

Miss K ❤

The Importance Of Being Beautiful

Being 33 weeks pregnant with another girl, I have come to the realization that there will be a lot of mirror time is my house. Once the wee lass’ reach their teen years, I honestly don’t think the poor man boy will ever see the bathroom again…

A friend of mine posted this article to Facebook: when your mother says she’s fat  It really got me thinking about the importance of self-image. As mothers, how we see ourselves can very well effect how our daughters view their own reflections.

When I was a little girl, I remember thinking my mom was the most beautiful women in the world. With her dark flowing curls, soft perfect skin, classy clicking “lady shoes” and the delicate scent of her Oscar de la Renta perfume, there was never a doubt in my mind. I had the prettiest mom. Not only was she gorgeous! She was smart and funny! She was charismatic, classy and elegant! I wanted to be just like her. I remember putting on her shoes and clacking around the house pretending I was a classy lady too. You can imagine my surprise when, as I got older, I realized my stunning Mother didn’t appreciate her beauty like I did. She would get compliments and brush them off with a wave of her hand and roll of her eyes. I remember the first time I heard the word fat leave her lips. I was terribly confused. My mom wasn’t fat? As the years went by and my ideas and opinions of self-image changed. I still thought my mom was beautiful. She did not. I started reading teen magazines and was exposed to tons of images of long-legged, long-haired, thin and smiling girls and like many other girls my age, thought that was what I was supposed to look like. I wasn’t fat by any means but I thought I was. When did it happen? I don’t know to be perfectly honest. I just remember flipping through pages and pages, watching my favorite shows, staring wide-eyed at movies with pretty girls in pretty clothes and I wanted to look just like them. I look back at pictures of myself and shake my head in disgust. What the hell was I so worried about? Why wasn’t I just out having fun instead of pining over some boy and wondering if I was “his type.” HIS TYPE!! That’s a problem right there! There are so many young girls out there concerned about being who other people want them to be that they forget to be themselves! Somewhere, somehow I figured this out…

Beauty is not defined by what we see in a mirror. Sure we all want to be physically appealing, but that is NOT what real beauty is! Beauty is how we feel, inside. It’s how we carry ourselves, how we treat others, how we SEE others! Beauty is in what we create. A painting, a cake, a sculpture, a life. It’s in our daily lives and it shines through our eyes or a smile or a laugh. It doesn’t mean we have a perfect little nose placed in the perfect location on our perfect face. If we were all perfect…wouldn’t life be boring? If we were all the same…would we want to be different…

Sure there are things about me I wish I could change, are they really that big of a deal? No. Yeah I have a bigger nose, but I have big eyes and lips too so it all balances out. No I’m not “thin.” Do I care? Not really. If I was really dissatisfied with my weight I could always go to the gym and sculpt myself into a more desirable shape. But desirable to who? I like my hips! My thighs may touch at the top and we’re told that’s not attractive but I like em that way! I have a butt, I have boobs! Good god do I ever….My hair is frustratingly neither curly or straight but that just means it can be easily styled both ways 😉 The point I’m trying to make is that there isn’t nearly enough self loving women out there. We need step outside of the box and look at the bigger picture. We are who we are, we can’t change that and why should we want to? We are all beautiful in our own way, not the same way. Embrace different! And while you’re at it, don’t put some much value in looks alone! Sure I tell my daughter how gorgeous she is, but I also tell her that she’s smart and kind and funny. That I love her bravery and her carefree belly laugh.

I’m not sure if there was a hard point to this post. I’m not even sure it makes a whole lot of sense or sends a message or whatever! This is where my mind wandered to today so this is what you get 😛

Ladies, be kind to yourselves. Not only will it do you a world of good, but you never know who’s watching 😉

Miss K ❤

some of the most beautiful gals I know 😉

UGH!!!

Ok, that’s it, I quit….I don’t wanna do 8 + more weeks! I don’t wanna! I feel fat, I feel tired, I feel lazy, I feel…I feel just plain fed up! I know we all get to this point. I know that we all silently cry during our 85th middle of the night bathroom trip. I know this. Do I care? Not a bit. As every other pregnant woman on the home stretch will agree, no one, NO ONE can possibly be as miserable as you. And when you do find someone who may have a smidgen of an idea of your misery, you find yourself comparing complaints like war vets with battle scars…

“Man these braxton hicks are getting intense.”

“Ya my back is killing me.”

“I get up in the middle of the night to pee.”

“I get up three times in the middle of the night to pee.”

“I have 8 more weeks!”

“Ya? I have 9!!”

Everything was going great until about week 27. That’s when my back started to ache a bit and my hips began to do that super comfy throbbing thing in my sleep…From there the braxton hicks kicked in and ya, I said KICKED in….with a vengeance. Shortly after acquiring  a virtual vice grip around my swollen mid section, I started getting ass pain. Uh huh, yep, ass. As in the general tailbone/butt cheek/side butt area. But that’s not all! I’ve also started getting lightening crotch. Don’t know what that is? Google it. Lots of fun…Another little treat is the sensation of a full to capacity bladder immediately upon standing up from emptying it! How is that even possible?!?!

Aside from the many physical discomforts, the shit has hit the emotional fan. I have been rendered a mopey, blubbery, almost constantly teary eyed mess. The man boy goes to Canadian tire to buy a new camping axe, I cry because I think he’s always trying to find excuses to leave me. My girl tells me she can do something all by herself, I cry because she’s growing up too fast and she’s not going to be my baby for much longer. I’m loading the dishwasher, I cry because we have to many dishes?! Oh! Here’s a good one! I went to take my prenatal vitamin the other night and grabbed the chocolate milk out of the fridge to choke it back with. I gave it a good shake and the lid popped off, chocolate milk everywhere. I sharply yell FU*K!! Man Boy didn’t close it properly. He comes into the kitchen to see what’s up, says he’ll clean it up and not to yell at him. So I start sobbing uncontrollably. Like hiccuping, snot faced, shoulder shaking mess because I’m convinced he thinks I’m an asshole for snapping at him. It took one very understanding and slightly amused husband to talk me down and repeatedly assure me I’m really not a mean and terrible person and everyone does not in fact hate me…Sigh….I can not even begin to describe the level of ridiculousness I have stooped to. Hormones are kicking my ass.

I know that it could be so much worse. There are some ladies who go through 9 months of hell for their squatters. I count myself fortunate that the worst of my issues are some serious and random dog hate, (my poor Jersey :/) and the instinct to snarl and hiss at anyone I deem shifty (which lately includes most classes of stranger, pregnamones don’t discriminate) who comes to close to my person. Ya, even I admit that’s a weird one…I’m really trying to kick back a bit and enjoy the last weeks of just the three of us. Trying. Really trying…All I gotta say is, as of 37 weeks, scheduled C-section or not, I am doing everything in my power to evict this tiny tenant! Crazy bitch, over and out!

Miss K ❤

Home Sweet Home

I have mentioned before that I am the wife of a military man. This means living away from home. Far from home…For me, home is Southern Ontario.

After changing trades, the Man Boy had just over two years of training in Borden, our first move. I didn’t mind. It was only 30 minutes from my hometown and 15 from Barrie. Plenty of shopping, restaurants and not to far from Mississauga where the boy is from. We settled in, Learned what it was like to really live together, and did our best to collect some furniture. (It was our first place, we had virtually nothing!) When it came time for our first real posting, we thought we’d go for an adventure and explore a new Provence. If Borden was any indication, we’d get there, check it out, hunker down for a bit and then move on to the next chapter. Right? Wrong. For some idiotic reason I had it in my head that we’d be gone for a few years tops. Yeah, not so much…We’re now in our 5th year and I’m done. I want to go home….In all honestly, after about a year (maybe less) I had seen all I wanted to see of the east coast and was ready to pack up and go back to where I belonged.

So now, the boy is due for promotion sometime next year, which hopefully means another posting. Please….dear god please…Don’t get me wrong, there is a lot about Nova Scotia that I have come to love. I love the summers! Living in the Annapolis Valley means hot, fragrant, full of fruit summers. There are great little markets, fresh produce and farm fresh eggs seemingly everywhere. It’s pretty cool! The air is cleaner and doesn’t have that factory fart/congested highway/exhaust smell. Not to mention coasters (residents of the east coast) idea’s of traffic make me laugh. Housing is way cheap and there is no lack of spots for camping and other such outdoorsy things. Sounds awesome right? It is….sometimes. I miss convenience. I miss restaurants that don’t deep fry everything and always smell like greasy fish. I want to be able to go to a mall with more than 10 stores that I don’t have to drive almost 2 hours to get to…The ocean is cool and all, but I miss Georgian Bay. I miss Niagara Falls! I miss the zoo and the ex and fall fairs in every township! I miss trips to Toronto and the sounds of horns blasting, the CN tower, 102.1 the edge  and people ignoring me when I walk down the street! ( Adjusting to coaster chumminess took some getting used to ;P) Aside from all the comforts of home one of the biggest comforts I miss is family. I especially hate that my girl doesn’t even know to miss her family! She doesn’t have relationships with her grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins…I want her to know what it’s like to be surrounded by that much love.

What, you may wonder are my chances of getting back to where my heart is? Slim to none. I basically have to accept the fact that I will never again be able to go home. The term homesick has a whole new meaning to me. Maybe it’s just pregnant talking. Maybe I’m really feeling it knowing that I’m going to have another baby that won’t get to know her family. Maybe it’s the fact that I have 3 nieces and nephews in Ontario, one which I’ve never met and another on the way. Or, maybe I’ve just had enough. I want to go home…

Miss K ❤

View from the CN tower

Georgian Bay sunset

CN tower at night

We Have A Pool!!

I’m still kind of in shock. I look out my window every two seconds to make sure it’s still there and I didn’t imagine it. I mean, it’s not a pool pool. It’s one of those oversized kid friendly ones that comes up to about your knees but I’m so incredibly happy with the damn thing I’m writing a post about it! I guess you could say it was a surprise…I asked the Man Boy if we could get one that the girl could play in and I could sit in. I should have known what was going to happen seeing as I sent him pool shopping by himself. Bigger is always better with this guy…Our first summer camping with the girl, we needed a new tent. I tell him to pick us out a nice tent that the playpen would fit in. He brought home a fabric palace….I shit you not, this thing is huge. It has three rooms and a foyer. A friggen foyer!? So really, I should have known my thoughts of a nice little wading pool would turn out to be the new home base for the synchronized swimming team…I gotta say tho, he timed his purchase with the first heat wave of the year. The girl and I had our first dip this morning and…Well….Oh my god It was awesome! As I shimmed my pregnant self back against the side and assumed frog legged, feet touching, head back position. All I could think was how much I loved my husband.

I always wanted a pool as a kid. I remember sitting in our tiny wader in the front yard and hearing the neighborhood kids splashing and playing in their in ground pools…Ya I wa jealous. Crazy jealous! I wanted to cannonball into that cool chemical laden water too. I wanted to feel my eyes burn from diving after those weighted rings over and over again. I wanted my lips to turn blue and start shaking uncontrollably because I just plain didn’t wanna get out! But no, there I sat, in ankle-deep water. I tried to convince my parents to get an above ground pool. I used to frantically point my fingers at the happily smiling fake families in the Canadian tire flyer, in hopes that they too would see how marvelous our lives could be. But alas, no pool. I can’t really blame them, (now, not then) we were always camping or cottaging. When you have a lake, you don’t need a pool. I didn’t mind that the water wasn’t crystal clear or that I was sharing my swimming hole with pollywogs and water skitters. Naw. As long as we were at the lake, I would tell myself, you can’t catch a fish or a frog in a pool! But I couldn’t take the lake with me. And so, I would return to sitting in my plastic puddle, silently hating all those splashing happy kids…Unless of course I was invited over, then I loved them 😉

You may not be able to swim in our pool. It’s more of a sit and chill kind of thing. But I love it. It’s big enough (and deep enough) for a floatation device of some sort. I see myself happily floating, big ole’ belly soaking up the sun with a drink in my hand. Non alcoholic of course…Not that that’s any more fun :/All in all! Good Job hubbie, your wife is one happy lady 😉

Miss K ❤

The Mermaid Continued….To boob or not to boob?

Recap! Miss Mel had a rough pregnancy and a less than smooth labor, the little lovely was born with a tracheoesophageal fistula which she’s had a very successful surgery to correct, beautiful baby has graduated from the NICU and moved to the general surgery ward, (yay!!) and has been successfully drinking both pumped breast milk and formula from bottles and has started to attempt nursing! GASP!! Ok now that we’re breathing, part two of our story will address Bottle Vs Breast. It’s a tough one and probably one of the more controversial topics on the internet. Here we go…

As you can imagine, Miss Mel has been under a considerable about of stress. Aside from the standard new parent worries, she has had to deal with medical conditions, surgery’s, Dr’s and nurses out the wazoo, tubes, wires, attempting sleep at a hospital…The list goes on. The fact that this tough ass Mama even kept up with the pumping was, I think, pretty incredible! So naturally, when her first attempts at breastfeeding were met with frustration and a fussy baby, it was a little discouraging to say the least. To add to the headache, The Mermaid had to be weighed on a less than perfect scale, before and after feedings, to make sure she was getting the proper amounts. Oy!

Nursing is supposed to be natural, relaxed, even pleasurable! These were not the feelings being expressed by our poor run down Mama…And so our damsel in distress was faced with a choice. The wee urchin was conquering the bottle like a champ but struggling with the breast. In order to lose the feeding tube altogether, she needed to be getting in a full feeding every time, AND start packing on the pounds. After much consideration, a ton of Mom guilt and feeling like a quitter, Miss Mel decided to give up on BF. I honestly can’t say that I blame her! Breastfeeding is hard under normal circumstances. There was a lot on the poor womans plate! So, she had a meeting with her lactation consultant and told her of her decision. Fast forward a bit, Dr comes into her room. He tells her he talked to lacto lady and they had come up with a solution. She would not give up, she would continue. Um….sorry what? His argument was that suckling from the breast would be more beneficial to her learning to take food into her mouth and swallow and that the LM would now be treated as an everyday, run of the mill, new baby learning to BF. No more weigh ins, no more stress.  Miss Mel agreed and here we are!

My argument is that I have no argument. Do I think breast milk is the best thing for baby? Yes. Do I think It’s wrong to give your baby formula instead? No. I believe it is totally and completely the mother’s (or parent’s) choice. The truth is, guilt starts from conception. There are articles and groups and comments everywhere fighting for one side or the other. Mothers who choose to formula feed their babies are called stupid, selfish, lazy. They are attacked, (sometimes publicly!) by lactivists blatantly stating how wrong and horrible they are for bottle feeding. Why? What is there to gain from degrading another Mother? Isn’t there enough worry and uncertainty accompanying parenthood? Don’t we all understand how hard it is, constantly wondering if you’re doing the right thing?

I personally breast-fed my girl until she was about 3 months old, and like so many before us, we struggled in the beginning. Like Miss Mel, I too had a C-Section. The nurse that gave me my first lesson in breast feeding told me to try the football hold so I wouldn’t rest my girl on my incision. Ya, that was crap. The most amusing and sweet part of our learning process was that the Man Boy was the one to actually show me how to do it! He just sat beside the hospital bed, head in hands and directed me on how to line her up and get her on there. When I looked at him slack-jawed and shocked, he just shrugged and said he just knew that’s how it was supposed to be done. It still baffles me haha! That being said, if the girl wasn’t such an efficient nurser from the get go, I don’t know how long I would have kept it up. In all honesty, I wasn’t the biggest fan initially. It was hard, it felt strange, it hurt like hell and good god do infants ever eat a lot! Every 3 hours, sometimes 2 1/2 during growth spurts! I developed this deep inner understanding and sympathy for the life of a jersey cow. Eventually things got easier, it started to hurt less and my boobs stopped behaving like Niagara Falls. (I was a milk making machine) It went from feeling like something I had to do to something that I was ok with doing. There were a few sentimental moments when all felt right in my world, and I actually enjoyed it, but for the most part, I breast-fed because I knew it was the best thing for her and like most parents, I wanted the best for my child.

I know women who love it, I know women who hate it, and some, like me, do it simply because it’s what you do! There are so many reasons, some medical, some personal, that a women might choose not to breastfeed. But it is simply and totally that. A choice. Mother’s from both sides of the story are just trying to do what they feel is best for their children. I believe that breast feeding Mother’s deserve our support. They shouldn’t feel the need to excuse themselves in order to feed their hungry children. If bottles are acceptable in public places, so should a boob! It’s just a boob for crying out loud! I also believe that Mom’s who choose formula should not be chastised and critiqued, and made to feel less of a women. Bottle feeding Mums deserve our support too! You are not poisoning your child, or neglecting them, or providing them with a poor excuse for a nutritious meal. Thats Bull! Whatever you choose to feed your baby, as long as you feed your baby, (applause) that’s all that should matter. Well fed, satisfied, happy growing babies. Formula or breast milk, you are a good Mom!

Miss K ❤

It’s friday! Here, have some muffins!

Ok so I’m pregnant. 26 weeks on Sunday and always freakin hungry. Some days are worse than others. On these days of insatiable ravenous hunger, I like to refer to myself as the super pig.

Super Pig is my pregnant alter ego. Every now and then she emerges, starving and ready to consume anything within her grasp. This gluttonous wonder can plow through a full pancake breakfast, down a smoothie in one gulp, Hoover an entire tub of Liberte yogurt and dislocate her jaw in order to fit disgusting amounts of food in her gaping maw. When she has had her fill and successfully made me hate myself, she retreats back into the shadowy depths of my pregnantdom. Waiting. Watching. Planning her next move and when she will strike again…

This time around there is virtually nothing I won’t eat. With My first girl, I couldn’t stand the thought of meat. I remember eating one of my all time faves, BBQ’d ribs, and thinking about what I was actually putting in my mouth. Like, these were something’s ribs at one point! These tasty things (that weren’t so tasty anymore) used to incase pig lungs, protecting them so they could breathe safely behind they’re delicious saucy cage….Then I thought of the fact that I too had ribs which led to the realization that my unborn child also possessed smaller versions of these ribs…Then I almost puked. Sometimes having a vivid imagination is a curse people!

My current pregnancy does not prevent me from eating my way around the world in a day however. And this time, I have developed a beautiful and tender loving relationship with meat. Tender loving meat….tender….meat…..ahhhhhhh….I have a particular affection for all things beef. My current favorite being T-Rex sized T-Bone steaks. I’m not talking dainty knife and fork, carving off bite sized pieces and placing them delicately in my mouth and chewing every bite thoroughly.  Oh no. I mean stab it, hack it into hurried pieces and cram it in so I can get to the best part. The bone. Oh god…..It’s seriously embarrassing how much pleasure I get from gnawing red meat off the bone like some kind of rabid animal. My husband finds this incredibly fascinating  He sits there, chin resting in hand, and watches me like I’m in  a zoo on the wrong side of the glass. When I’ve all but licked my portion clean he slowly pushes his plate toward me so I can finish his. I think he’s afraid to startle me or something ….I love that for some reason, he still finds me sexy. As if that’s even possible…

Anyways! On a less vicious note! I have a really great Muffin recipe! What, you’re not hungry? …..Odd….Oh well! Here it is!

Magnificent Morning Glory Muffins! 

• 1 ½ cups whole wheat flour
• 1 tsp baking powder
• 1 tsp baking soda
• ½ tsp salt
• 1 tsp cinnamon
• 2  eggs
• 1/2 cup sugar
• ⅔ cup extra virgin olive oil
• 1 tsp vanilla
• 1 cup crushed pineapple with juice
• 1 cup grated carrots
• 1/2 cup raisins
• 2/3 cup unsweetened coconut

Combine flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt and cinnamon and stir well to combine.

Beat eggs, sugar, oil and vanilla in a mixing bowl. Add flour mixture, pineapple, carrots, raisins and coconut and stir until moistened.

Fill well-greased (or lined) muffin cups 3/4 full and bake at 350 for 25-30 mins or until toothpick inserted in center comes out clean.

These are really yum and totally customizable. And there’s no bones….I swear…

Enjoy!

Miss K ❤

Lip, Cheek and Toddler Drama

No one says anything about raising  kids…It’s all about getting pregnant and the miracle of life..”.You’re going to be a Mommy! What a precious little baby”….Crap! crap crap crap!! What people fail to mention is the growing part. Yea they’re all cute and cuddly when they’re new and quite and sleep 23 hours in a day. But then they start to grow. Their cries get louder, the develop an attitude face, they start saying, gasp! No! Dare I call it the terrible two’s?

I love my daughter. Really I do. I love her when she wakes up in the morning and greets me with a smile and a hug. I love her when she helps me make breakfast with her little apron and an ear to ear grin while she stirs the pancake batter. I even love her when she bellow’s, PAT PAT while perched on the toilet, legs a swinging… What I don’t love is the attitude. When I say it’s nap time, it’s freakin nap time. Not time to dead weight drop to the ground and pretend you are a corpse. When I say don’t do that, It is NOT ok to turn your head and do it anyway. I can still see you, you did not just magically disappear because you are looking in a different direction. When I say yes, the automatic response does not need to be no. Motherhood really does require the patience of a saint. Guys, I am no saint. Not by a long shot. My husband totally wins that trophy. I am the one trying to restrain myself from pointlessly arguing with a two-year old. It does nothing but make you look like an idiot. period. I find this especially hard to remember at bedtime…And when she does her broken record question thing. She just repeats the same phrase over and over no matter how many times you answer. Maybe it’s the beginning of the why phase, I don’t know. Whatever it is I haven’t found the off switch yet. I’m thinking if I give her a little shake it might reset her or something. It’s cool to shake em now right? Just not babies….kidding….really…

My delightful little darling also has dinner issues. I can get her to eat breakfast, lunch, snacks, no problem! You sit this kid down at a dinner table and she will turn her nose up at pizza like it is the most vile thing in the world. She went through a phase where pasta was poison. I would finally get it into her gob and she’d sit there, mouth open, crying until it all drooled out of her mouth. yep. She won. Man I hate admitting that! As sad as it is, it totally and completely bugs me when she wins! I am the adult! What I say goes! Not the other way around! Ugh…That sounds even more pathetic written down then just saying it…

I envy those Mothers that exude calm and togetherness. You know the ones, they always see to have that same mousy voice, wear a lot of beige and have short bobbed hair and haunted eyes. I don’t envy them for their look, I envy them for the meds they must be on. Gotta be good ones…For the most part I enjoy the crazy. Half the time I laugh at the chaos and wonder if I’m even doing it right. I figure, she’s healthy, she’s happy, she’s well dressed, (totally important!) we laugh more than we squabble …I at least have to be on the right track…Right? Who knows! We still have a long way to go 😉

Miss K ❤

pretty sure I said no…

Professional photo byhttps://www.facebook.com/pages/Rebecca-Cream-Photography/188181621217957?fref=ts

Girl Date and Dying Hair With Tea?

What to do on a crappy day with a bored toddler in a boring town? Have a day dedicated to the two of you! Every time the Man Boy goes away for work, me and my girl do marvelously girly things. Things like shopping, mani/pedi’s, get dressed up and go out for lunch, lounge in seriously bubbly bubble baths….I love having a girl!

Today was coldish and cloudy. Huge change from the beautiful summer esq weather we’ve been having lately. We didn’t want to sit in the house and twiddle our thumbs and besides, the girl agrees, daytime TV sucks! So out we went, lunch, coffee, ( and chocolate milk) and shopping! Well, not actual shopping this time…We just picked up a few new bottles of polish, carefully selected by the rug monkey herself 😉 Her choices were fuchsia-rama and starry silver glitter. Fun stuff!

 

Nails painted and sparkled, I tossed her into a bubble filled tub, scrubbed her clean and slathered her already soft skin with moisturizer. She really loves my almost butter by kiss my face. Awesome stuff and makes you smell oh so delicious!

We finished our evening off with a cuddle and a classic film. (Toy Story) Then it was off to bed to sing a bazillion songs and a very excited recap of our day. Sigh….MY TURN!!!

Relaxing in a sea of vanilla shea butter scented bubbles is an awesome way to end  long day. Granted it would be better with a glass of wine but, pregnant sucks so that’s out…ARG! Anyway! I figured with My boy coming home tomorrow, a little extra pampering would be a welcome treat for both of us. I scrubbed my feet until they were baby soft, (not easy with a growing belly!) then massaged my person with a yummy smelling sugar scrub. Mmmmmm….I could eat me right now….I too slathered myself in almost butter then plopped my delectable smelling behind on the couch and started browsing pinterest. This is where I discovered you can naturally dye your hair with tea. What?! Totally had to try it….Supposedly one would use chamomile for blonde hair, rooibos for red and black tea for brunettes. I wasn’t sure what category I fell under, sort of  all three. I figured, I like red, lets bring out my ginja side!

http://www.holistic-chick.com/2013/03/tricks-of-trade-3-hair-care-featuring.html?m=1 (link to the tea dying info)

So I boiled some water, added a few tea bags and waited for it to cool a bit. Pouring scalding hot tea on my head might not be the smartest idea…

I didn’t notice a difference but I think my hair was just too wet so I piled it on top of my head and went to bed. The next day I saw the teeniest tiniest difference. Nothing to write home about. I did read that with a few more rinse’s I should get better results so I’m going to try again and see what happens. So verdict is, it’s more of a stain then a dye, (kinda figured that tho) one application doesn’t do much. I’ll update once I’ve given it another go. Maybe if I brew the tea stronger and dunk my hair in a bowl of the stuff I’ll get more bang for my…uh…tea.

The results, scuse the terrible picture. Gah!

I wonder what other beauty experiments can I try…

Miss K ❤

The 365 Day Itch

I have a problem. There is a glitch in the settle down part of my brain that prevents me from ever feeling truly at home. Anywhere. I can normally get about a years worth of satisfaction out of one place. After that, I have this horrible, aching, deep down in the pit of my stomach feeling of….What? I don’t know! I don’t know how to explain it. It’s kind of like being homesick, but backwards. It starts off as sort of an itch. So I give it a scratch and before I know it I’ve broken out in a full-fledged unsatisfied rash….

I’m not exactly sure when this started, I just noticed it one day, packed up my belongings and moved to another temporary resting place. I actually really enjoy the whole aspect of moving! I like to pack things up in neat and labeled boxes, the satisfaction of loading the last item on the truck and ah! Unpacking! I love unpacking! It’s like getting to start all over with all of your old stuff! Planning out and setting up furniture 20 different ways until the Man Boy starts grinding his teeth. Or placing things neatly in new drawers to be haphazardly thrown back in later….Yep, love it! I joke with my Husband that I was destined to be a military wife.

I think at least part of my problem could be solved with travel. I love to fly! There’s something thrilling and exciting about going to an airport. Maybe It’s the whole taking off thing. The feeling of leaving your same old boring life behind you. Whatever it is, I can’t get enough of it! Like I’m talking, I get more excited to go to the airport and hop on a plane then actually reaching my destination. I should’ve been a flight attendant or something…

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One of our friends recently found out he’s getting posted to Comox BC. Can we say jealous?! Granted he’s been here for 7 years and we’re working on number 5, but still. Crazy jealous. I told the boy that after his promotion next year, I have decided we too are getting posted to BC. Because, you know, what I say goes and all that…I have also decided that we seriously need to venture out into the world a little more. I need to see new places and things! Damn him and his job that allows him to go to Scotland and Italy for a few weeks with layovers in Germany and England. Or how about the few days he was supposed to zip over to Curaçao to fix something and ended up getting stuck there for a week and going snorkeling and getting a tan….Me? Bitter? Nope. I love staying at home with the girl doing everyday normal crap while he galvants all over the world…honest…I can’t blame him tho, he picked the right job, I chose to follow him around to piss ant towns all over Canada. Man…I just made that sound way worse than it actually is 😛

Yes I want to travel and experience new things, have new adventures and meet new people. But, I met my boy and fell in love. I chose to follow him across the country because I don’t need to put down roots, he is where home is. I may not get to fly around the world whenever I please, but living in different provinces allows me witness the beauty a lot of people don’t get to see, right here at home. Instead of a tropical resort or a rustic Caribbean villa, we have an awesome free campsite and a tent. The smoky aroma of spider dogs on the fire, the sound of loons on the lake and my bare feet kicked up in a camp chair…Pure and absolute heaven.

It may not be everyone’s idea of the perfect escape, but it’s good enough for me! Not to mention the price is right 😉

Miss K ❤