Day 4

Dear David,

Things I am looking forward to:

1)  You coming home in EIGHT DAYS.
2)  Finishing this toothpaste:

Why did I buy this toothpaste?  Of all the toothpastes I could have chosen.  Ugh.

Because yesterday was just so awful I really knew we needed to get out of the house.  That first sweep of cleaning out the bookcase in the children's bedroom resulted in a stack of books that I donated to the library.  I'll let you look at the shelves downstairs with me and go through the ridiculous number of parenting books.  Have we used these books?  And then we picked up the mail and bought some sunscreen that isn't working and went to the farmer's market.  Oh!  And bought my parent's a housewarming gift!  You'll like it.

Tomorrow - I've packed it full of as much stuff as I can to keep busy.  We have plans until suppertime, so I'm hoping the children will be exhausted and sleep really well so that church on Sunday is a pleasant and uplifting experience instead of a lesson in how loud I can yell.

I can't believe we're not even halfway done with you being gone.

You would have loved the honey garlic sausages I bought for supper from a farmer at the market.  They were delicious - even Samuel ate them.  Clara didn't, but she's in a bad mood.  I'm not certain, but she may actually have a sixth tooth coming in.

Day 3

Dear David,

Well, we're sick.  And today has just been a total write-off, really.  We woke up and from first thing in the morning until bedtime we barely even went outside.  In the late afternoon I finally took everyone out in the backyard, just so that we could get out of the house and get some fresh air.  Nothing helped anyone's mood. 

I would really like today to end, actually.  Just for it to be dark and for Clara to go to sleep already and for Samuel to stop acting crazy and for me to go to bed. 

I didn't take any pictures today, not of the endless drippy noses or the pitiful meal offerings or the medicine bottles.

It's just all been Very Aggravating, you know?  I tried to vacuum the livingroom, but the carpet setting wouldn't work, even when I reset the vacuum thingy, and so everything wasn't vacuumed properly and was Taking So Long.  And what did it matter anyway since the children dropped stuff all over the place anyway.  And I tried to clean the dishes as I went through the day but failed.  And the clothes smell musty - even though I just washed them.  And everything is gross and sick.

I'm looking forward to our call tonight.  Only 9 more days until you're here again.

Day 2

Dear David,

So it started last night when I took Samuel out of the bath and realized his hair was just...so floppity.  I tried to cut it, but I was just making a mess of it all.  So he went to bed.  And then I tried again this morning, and man, was I ever wrong to think I could cut his hair.  So we went to the barber.  He was alright there, not great but okay.  That barber is so nice.  And the room was filled with old men waiting to get their hair cut.  It was like an old fashioned barber shop.  Samuel didn't want to go initially, but he managed it.  And Clara was happy to sit in the stroller.  Oh, the lady barber was there.  Anyway, I took a picture.  The picture.

He looks like a little boy from the 50s.

You can't tell from that photo but Samuel and I spent a lot of time weeding yesterday, and then today I trimmed all of the dead heads off the irises, and swept the pavement.  I felt Very Productive.

We went to playgroup today, which was fun, but we miss you.

Day 1

Dear David,

Day 1 my love!  You’ll be home in 11 days – looking at it from a nice, sunny and optimistic perspective.  From where I stand you’re GONE for 11 days, and it’s like staring out over a really rocky wasteland gasping for water, but you know, to each their own.

After you left I promise everything went fine; curtains were opened, I didn’t sit in the dark rocking or anything, I made a pot of tea (and thank heavens we bought more of that because I foresee going through a lot of it in the next few days), and mostly I just sat in anticipation of the children coming downstairs so that I could tell them that Daddy was coming home soon.  Which actually happened quite quickly (Daddy is not at work- he is at school) and all was well, don’t worry, no one cried.

Samuel made the life-changing decision that he no longer likes toast and will now eat only cereal for breakfast.

We went for a walk – did you realize that you have the only deodorant in the house with you, excepting my hippie dippie salt rock thing?  Yeah, that isn’t going to cut it for 11 days.  So we went and bought more of that.  I kept telling myself throughout the day “This could be fun; just pretend it’s like a big girls’ weekend type thing!  Ignore the fact that you have multiple small children with you and that would turn any girls’ weekend into a really sucky time.  How about being a bit wild and crazy!?”   So I put the garbage out way earlier than you would approve of.

And pictures.  We coloured the deck.

We made a cake.

Looking 32

So I was on the phone with a friend last night and we were bemoaning the fact that we're growing older.  I'm 32 now, and I'm starting to look like I'm in my 30s, which is really not what I want to look like.  This is odd to me, this whole growing-older-and-looking-it nonsense, because I'm one of those people who just have never really looked any different through the years.  My hair has a lot of natural highlights, so any greys have blended in; I have oily skin, so there are no dry patches, no wrinkles...I've had two children of course, so I'm a different shape than I was previously, but I don't think I ever noticed any major change in my appearance until recently.

It started last year, when I discovered those first few grey hairs, some at each temple.  I pulled them out, but they came back of course, and so I went to talk to the stylist about it.

"So, there are grey hairs just above my ears."
"I don't see any."
"Yeah, they're there.  Should we dye them?"
"No!  It's fine, it's not even noticeable."

Regardless, I saw them.  And since I wear my hair up a lot, I've just kept noticing them more and more.  And now there are more of them to notice, too.  And so the next time I went to see her I mentioned it.

"Still there.  The grey hairs."
"There are a few."
"What do we do?"
"I think they just look like highlights."

I think she's being optimistic.  But okay, okay, it's a few hairs, right?  Then this year I've noticed a change in my face - it's not quite as youthful as it once was, it looks a little older.  I used to be able to pass for a girl in her twenties, now I think I would look 30 no matter what I did.

My friend and I started joking about the wardrobe problems of getting older.  We don't want to dress like we're in our thirties, but we don't want to look like a trendy teenager either!  And we're both a little afraid of becoming 'comfortable' in our clothing choices.  In fact, I'm willing to bet I'm already there.  At some point in the conversation her husband yelled in the background "soon you'll be shopping at Talbots!"  It's true!  You're only a few years away from Talbots, Amy; you're only 8 years away from 40!

I blame the whole thing on Reitmans.  With their easy to wear cotton stuff that gives the illusion of being so fresh, so stylish while still working on a daily basis, but covering up the fact that it makes you look like a mother!  Ugh.  50% of my closet has to have come from Reitmans, or looks like it did.  The knee length skirts, the v-knecked tees, the little button-up-the-front blouses, they suck you in with their 'I'm teal and therefore will make you look nice and pretty this summer!  Also I go with every other item on this rack!'. 

And then you read articles like this one, that declare in such a happy way that in your 30s you are going to start looking like a hag.  Great.  Very uplifting.

Oh, I know how awful this sounds, this complaining business, but it's bothering me recently.  I've never liked my birthday, I've never like the downward aging slope.  I don't relish the idea of getting older and have never really had any desire to do so 'gracefully' in any way - I plan to fight it all the way.  And I'm not sending Reitmans any Christmas cards this year, either, no matter how preppy and cute they make their sweaters this winter.

What My Children Do In The Summer

Now that we have the bad rainy awful muggy nice weather for the next 30 seconds, this is what we've been doing with it.

Deck Painting.  All you need is water, a paintbrush, and something that looks cool when wet.  Done and done.

WIWS - The Extended Edition

Although this article is no doubt choc full of interesting ideas, I found it a little bit twee.  Is that the word for which I'm searching?  I suppose I think that if humanity as a whole hasn't, after several thousand years of civilization, managed to stop thinking about themselves and think only on higher subjects then we're not all likely to read an online treatise on the subject, look at our lives of apathy and regret and shout "My!  I've had it all wrong!".  Or maybe there are those who will, what do I know.  I've had very little sleep and quite a lot of stress over the past few days.

There was Church this morning, and it was an endeavour to get there.  After much prehistoric-type squinting at the sky I decided that it was Not Going To Rain.  This decision is almost always made by me even if the sky is black and ominous and gross and actual Rain Is Falling because I detest the plastic cover nonsense on the stroller.  It was designed entirely to annoy and infuriate your children who will, in turn, annoy and infuriate you.  Very un-Biblical.  Certainly not a Lord's Day sort of item.

Alright, then, here's what I wore:


Top:  One of the few items I own that was purchased by ME, for ME, at a store which was not of the thrift variety.  Skirt:  It's actually almost floor length, but I pulled it up to shorten it.  And I, yes, bought it at a thrift store.

The observant among you will notice that a head-like part of my body is conspicuously absent from said photo.  This is on purpose - my hair was awfully wet.  However, if you prefer to see pictures of me where I have a head, you may gaze in admiration at the one below, which was taken yesterday at the end of my very first race ever. 

I ran/ran walked/walked/limped/pretended to be running for 5km.

I am happy and exhausted and red like a tomato.

If you'd like something significantly more fashionable to read, check out the ladies at FLAP for the What I Wore Sunday Link-up.