Part II: Chasing Rainbows

Thoughts on Motherhood
Part II: Chasing Rainbows

My childhood was a good one.

I have memories full of fresh raspberries from the back alley, and dirty carrots from the garden. We had a big, beautiful, smelly dog. I dug up worms. We slid down snow covered hills. When my mom made bread she would give me a little chunk of dough to play with. And when the sun would shine through the kitchen window, she would spin the crystals that hung there, so I could chase the rainbows. I got sunburns and mosquito bites. And sometimes mosquito bites on sunburns. We climbed mountains. We slept in tents. My mom read to us when we were young. We got lost together in Narnia, and on the Prairie, and at Green Gables. She sang to me to help me sleep. She would race me to do up my seat belt when we got in the van. My dad let me ride on his feet when I was little, and would two step with me in the kitchen as I got older. He helped coach my basketball camps and my volleyball teams. They taught me to pray. And they prayed for me. They have caught me when I've fallen. Over and over.

I have good parents.

In my rush to get through each day, I have been stumbling past the moments. Moments that are thick with phrases like "hurry up" or "not right now." And this week as my boy's 2 bottom adult teeth have snuck into place, I feel an urgency that is hard to explain. A need to offer him some magic moments. Some rainbows to chase. A feeling that I've failed him. That we've run out of time to experience the magic, and that real life is going to hit any minute.

And if I think hard, about what would stick, even if all magic ended as adult teeth arrived, I realize that he has had magic. Walks through ivy covered forests. Entire days on warm, breezy beaches. Books. More books than I can count. Evenings around fires, and nights in tents. Staying up late for fireworks, and getting up early to catch ferry boats. Imaginary dragon friends. Snuggles, wrestles, tickles and rounds and rounds of "pinchy pinchy pokey pokey." We've had adventures, in stories, and in real life. We've swam in the ocean and lakes. We've dressed up as super heroes, as pirates as ninjas and as animals. We've cried, we've laughed, and occasionally, we have dance parties in the kitchen.

And although I do feel an urgency to start my own collection of crystals, to hang in my window, I realize that we've had truly beautiful experiences together. One day my kids will be able to say "My childhood was a good one." Why? Because they have a mama, who will do all she can to offer them experiences of beauty, love, connection, and magic. 

Part I: The Plan

Thoughts on Motherhood

Part I: The Plan

I have always loved children. Their eagerness to learn, how quick they are to laugh, the wonder they express at the simplest experiences. I love their dimpled elbows, their missing teeth, their sticky hands. I have always wanted a brood of my own. And now, with three little ones, plus two big ones (we'll call them foster kids for the sake of not having to spend an entire post on the situation) I have come to a point where I've started wondering, Why?

Why did I want to be a mom again? Why would I think I'd be good at this? Why are me and Ms. 3 year old having the same argument again today?  Why does the sound of Mr. 5 year old's voice make me cringe? Why is Ms 1 year old dropping toys in the toilet? Why, if yesterday was awful, am I repeating it in the exact same way today?

I remember asking my husband, when we first started dating, what he wanted to do with his life - what his hopes and dreams were. He surprised me when he said he wanted to be a father. He wanted to be a good dad, that coached his kids' baseball teams, and was involved in their lives. Needless to say -  I fell in love with the guy pretty instantly. We got married, and this was the plan:

1. Make babies

2. Love those babies.

3. Be the world's greatest parents.

4. Repeat. 

   Often.

And so, we've followed the plan... at least the baby making part... with 3 in 4 years!
{Thaaaaat sounds crazier than it felt}
I had beautiful deliveries and wonderful babies. But as they've grown I've felt less wonderful towards these babies. Become frustrated by their demands, annoyed at their volume, exhausted by their energy and hurt. Not hurt by them. Hurt by my own feelings of inadequacy, of frustration, of resentment.

Don't get me wrong. There has been immeasurable good as we've built this family up. Pure JOY. More love than I ever knew I could feel. Tender moments where I've felt like I was in the presence of God. There's been fun and laughter. Quiet, gentle moments. Moments of exuberance and hilarity. Moments where I thought my heart would burst because I loved these kids so much and because I was so happy.

But those days don't come every day.

And so, as we build this dream, and follow our plan, I've decided that I need to work out part 3. I need to figure out how to earn myself a "World's Best Mom" mug.

And I've decided that this is the place to do it.

Because in every moment of motherhood: the isolation and the excitement, the joy and the pain, the torture and the adoration, every step of the way I have noticed that there are mothers along the way. Some feeling like casualties of war, some feeling like Victors on the battle field. And regardless of where we stand today - because it may change from day to day - we need each other. And if I can figure out my own plan, then maybe I can help someone else out there find direction as well.

Big thoughts. On my little people. 

-Ali

Sisters

We had the lovely opportunity this Christmas of spending lots of time with lots of family. We spent a week in Edmonton with my family, then a week in Castlegar with Dave's. Over that time I was taken aback - over and over again - by the wonderful women I have in my life - the wonderful women I have in my family. 

I don't know why we do it, but way too often, as women, it's our first instinct to compare ourselves to other people, and feel resentment because of it. I had this beautifully liberating experience today as I reflected on my beautiful sisters, and recognized that their strengths don't make me weak. In fact, their strengths can strengthen me. What a thought! After reflecting on them and how much I adore them, as well as feeling like I'm ready, in this new year, to make some changes in my life, I've decided that my sisters are just the inspiration I needed to step up and take control of a few things. 

And so, to my beautiful, strong, empathetic, patient and sweet sister in law Lauren, I say Thank you. Thank you for your quiet words, and adorable giggles. Thank you for being such an amazing example to me of hard work and determination. Thank you for being one of the most positive people I've ever met; for making really hard situations seem doable, maybe even enjoyable. Thank you for your testimony of the Savior, Jesus Christ. You amaze me. Because of you, I want to work this year on my own relationship with my Savior. I want to invite him more fully into my heart and life. I want my scripture study to be more consistent and my prayers to be more fervent. I want to share with you in your conviction of our Redeemer.

To my darling, sister in law, Laura- with your perfect skin and gorgeous hair. With your dance moves that put the rest of us to shame, your style, your creative spirit, your no nonsense attitude towards things. I thank you, my sweet friend, for your ability to get 'er done. No questions asked. I was overwhelmed with admiration for you this Christmas. You know your needs and the needs of your boys and you set out to meet them unapologetically. You press on with faith, with hope, with grace. You set goals, and you work to meet them. You make quiche that tastes like rainbow's tears and angel's breath. You dip things in chocolate and make cookies that taste like flowers. You don't doddle around a subject - you address it. You inspire me to want to set goals, and look at how I'm going to accomplish them instead of why they aren't going to work. You make me want to be a better friend, a better mom, a better cook, and a better steward of this planet. You make me want to stop asking how or why or when. You make me want to do it. This year, I am going to cook. I am going to look for recipes and make them. For years I felt this looming sense of failure hanging over my head with each and every meal I make. Because of you I'm kicking that to the curb. I'm learning to cook this year. 

To Bonny. The most practical human being I have ever met. So generous and thoughtful, so kind hearted and sweet. So adventurous and loving. So organized, so tidy, so clean. So. Clean. The smile on your face, at the skating rink, when we stepped on the ice with 10 kids in tow will forever more be how I think of you. You are so good at keeping things simple, at stripping away the useless, and making an experience out of the basics. I really just love being around you. After spending almost a week at your house I came home wanting to purge my house of all the excess. I want to declutter. I want to take my kids on adventures and find happiness with them without the trap of consumerism sneaking its way into our days. I want to stop buying junk and eating junk and saving junk. I want to feel content and at peace within my home. The way I feel in yours. 

There are more. My amazing sister Amie - the most inspiring human and mother I've ever known. Shannon, who oozes creativity and ingenuity. Nicole, the most single minded, open hearted lady I've ever met. Janelle, who knows her needs and speaks her mind. My mom, my mother in law, and my other mother in law. I am so blessed to have so many women in my life that I adore. So many women that inspire me to be better. Women that strengthen me and give me hope.

In conversations, lately, about who we would ask to care for our babies if something were to happen to us, we have come to no conclusion. I feel awful admitting that we don't have a plan for this, but we are in the unique situation of not being able to decide between too many wonderful people. We know that if we were gone, our families would be there. To take care of the physical, emotional and spiritual needs of our 3 sweet babes. We know some are better suited to care for a wildly emotional 4 year old boy. Some are more well off financially. Some are better at connecting to a certain unapproachably sassy 2 year old. Some will keep them connected to this island I love so much. Some will be better at keeping them connected to both sides of the family. But all of them. ALL OF THEM, would love our children. All of them would do all that they could to shelter them and nurture them and share their wonderful gifts with them. 

These thoughts took a turn I wasn't expecting, but I suppose I went there because I want to share that ultimately I admire these women because they have qualities that I would love my children's mother to have. And if knowing them makes it possible for me to become like them in any way, then I and my children are very blessed indeed. I am so grateful to know these beautiful women and to have them in my life. 

Christmas Card

Family, Friends & Neighbours,

What a beautifully busy year it’s been! Dave has been working sun up to sun down with Garage Door Depot. He crushed a homerun in his final baseball game this summer, helping his team become city champs. Mr. Roland (4) has had a fun year with blast ball, (Dave was his coach), swimming lessons and a preschool class. He regularly assigns each of us a new super-identity and will often only respond to the name “Spiderman.” He loves a snuggle and a story more than anything. Our sweet and sassy Violet June (2) is spending this holiday season potty training…and testing our patience. “Though she be but little she is fierce,” She is always making us laugh, especially with her wide eyes and determination. She loves puzzles and songs, and unlike her big brother (who will do anything to avoid solitude) loves to be independent and work things out on her own, Ali loves going on daily adventures with the kids. They are usually found bombing around Victoria, going to the pool, the beach, parks, the petting zoo, the aquarium, or the grocery store. Ali spent the first 9 months of the year growing a baby. Sweet Maebel Anne entered the world at home on Aug 28th. Roly & Vity adore their baby Maebe and are constantly announcing “Baby Maebel smiled at me!” She is an amazing sleeper and is so good to her mama. We have been blessed beyond measure and are so thankful for our little brood and the adventure they provide. Wishing you peace, joy, & love.

Merry Christmas & Happy New Year!

Dave, Ali, Roland, Violet & Maebel

Bloggoni

Oh, hey blog. It's been a while. A friend sent me a text the other day and mentioned something from my blog.

"Blog?" I thought. "I have a blog?" 

It got me thinking back to all the good times we've had Mr. Blogerino. The emotional overshares. The embarrassingly revealing details of my life spewed across a page, and put out there into the world for other people to take in. The regret I would feel soon after posting something. How I would sometimes sit, with the mouse hovering over the "delete" button any time anyone would draw attention to the fact that it existed. 

My experience with blogging feels kind of like a junior high slumber party: You have a good time while you're there- staying up way too late eating cheese puffs and not brushing your teeth. But then the sleeping bags are brought out and people start asking "truth or dare." And you start saying things you aren't sure you actually want other people to know, and dropping names you're sure you don't want to reveal. But in the moment it seems fine, even fun. And before you know it you're sitting in science class and the girl who was pretending to be asleep at the slumber party is asking the boy who sits two rows in front of you if he'll go out with you and you are so embarrassed you think you might throw up... or something... ? You know?

So with those thoughts looming at the back of my mind I've decided I think I want to start blogging again. I already overshare on a daily basis via instragram. I might as well make it official and add some thoughts to my constant posting of photos. Right? Maybe. We'll see. 

Perspective

Happiness is such a relative word.

It's amazing what a change in perspective can do to really bring things into focus.

What we need. What we are grateful for. What we love. What makes us happy.

Sometimes it takes a violent sort of shaking; Two hands on your face, forcing you to look elsewhere, and not only to look, but to focus. 

That violence came for me in two forms last week. One was a book. The other a friend.

For book club this month we read A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini. It was enlightening and heart breaking. It caused me to look at my own life, and to see all I have. To see my own freedom- the rights that I take for granted every single day- because I have never know any different. To worship God when, where and the way that I want. To be educated. To have access to health care for myself and my family. To have my basic needs met. Food. Water. Warmth. Shelter.
More than anything, it made me look at my right to choose.
I live my life with the needs and desires of my children and my husband in mind- and I try to do all I can to keep them happy, but ultimately the choices that I make, as a wife, as a mother, as a woman are MINE. I am able to do what I want. Go where I want. Be who I want to be. It is my choice.

A Thousand Splendid Suns follows the lives of two women in Afghanistan. The things they went through were horrific. And they endured, at times, in defense of nothing more than their own lives. They made sacrifices for the future of their children, their families, and ultimately the future of their own country. But those sacrifices to bring about change that they experienced came only after years and years of enduring abuse, neglect, and disrespect from those who should have cared, supported and defended them; their families, laws, government and their country. 

This book left me in tears a few nights in a row. I would read until my iPad was dead, and then I would force myself to turn out the light and try to sleep. I would feel relief if I heard one of my children crying. Relief that I could hold them close and comfort them. Relief that our reality is so different from that in the book. 

I was feeling pretty raw, emotionally last week (I'll blame it on the book + lack of sleep) when a friend shared some news with me. She is young. In shape. She has a beautiful family. And she has cancer. It still brings tears to my eyes whenever I think about it. And thinking about it is a frequent occurrence. 
Dave gave a talk at church on Sunday. Thoughts of my friend and her young family interrupted every discussion we had, as Dave tried to prepare his talk, and as we tried to carry on through out the day.

Since hearing her news I've felt this cloudy sorrow looming; this helplessness, in wishing I could offer some real help- some real comfort or assistance. But at the same time I've felt this desperate sort of affection for the things in my own life. The things I need, the things I'm grateful for, the things I love and the things that make me happy. More than anything else, I felt this heart wrenching love for my husband and children. An adoration that can only be felt at the horrific threat or even thought of loss. And as I felt these things the word perspective slipped into my mind, and has floated there for days. I've had an amazing shift in perspective, as the things that truly matter float into focus.

And so, even though it's been an emotional week, it's been a good one. I have gratitude in my heart for this country. For my freedom. For the amazing individuals that I am blessed to know. I've hugged my children tighter this week. Breathed in their scent and tried to hold on to it. Kissed their tears with more tenderness. Nibbled their sweet toes with more affection. Laughed more. And yeah- cried harder. I've felt more appreciation for my husband. My hands find his more often. My head finds his shoulder with more warmth. I feel a greater measure of gratitude for all that I have. 

And through it all- I have realized something. 
I am happy.  

Step by Step

At this moment in time I should be surrounded by the people I love, gorging myself on some delicious homemade Turkey delights- but instead I sit in a silent house, with a sleeping baby on my lap. I sent Dave to his parents with Roly, and I just couldn't join them. I'm not really sure what's going on- I just feel awful, and can't bring myself to be around other human beings (except this sweet little angel) at the moment. I can't pin point the source of my rage, and although I'm embarrassed to admit that I've skipped out on Thanksgiving dinner to blog, the truth is that I just need to do some soul searching, and being near pumpkin pie while I feel like this is NOT a good idea. 
Pumkin Pie seems like a good place to start; I've been off treats for an entire month! It's been great. A lot easier than I thought it would be. I also went on Weight Watchers, and so I've been a lot more aware of what is going in my mouth. Food tastes so good to me now- fruit is so sweet, and my meals are so flavorful. I feel great after I eat. No guilty-gas pains. Dave and I have been running Monday, Wednesday, Friday, I've been going to Zumba on Tuesdays, and trying to do something different (ie: climb Mt. Doug) on Thursdays. In the last month I've lost about 15 pounds (18 if we are talking the dry hair-postworkout-prebreakfast-postpoo-butt naked-weigh in)
Although I've stayed strong with avoiding the treats- this week has not been a good one. I missed 2 of my runs, didn't track anything I ate on 4 / 7 days, and just felt crappy over all. I started feeling sick last weekend, and while my throat feels better now I just can't get passed this exhaustion. This means that I've been impatient with Roland, short with Dave, and hating myself because of those things. For the first time in my parenthood I feel like I'm in over my head in more than one situation per day. Roland is really giving me a run for my money these days, and I am constantly at the end of my rope when it comes to patience. 
I listened to and loved every session of General Conference this weekend. I felt uplifted and empowered as it ended. My desires to be a better parent a more faithful servant of God, and to feel more connected to my Saviour were all renewed. As Dave walked out the door tonight, I sat crying and wondering why I felt like this- when I had felt the spirit so strong over the past few days, and when today, of all days, I should be GRATEFUL for all I have. I opened my scriptures and started reading in Alma, as Alma is telling his son, Helaman, about his own experiences as a young man. As I read the word "bitterness" in 36:18 I realized that I felt that way. I felt this bitter taste in my mouth, towards the people around me and towards my current situation. I wondered why I'm struggling. Why Roland frustrates me so badly right now, why it was so hard to stay active this week, why I need Dave's constant verbal affirmations to feel good about my own physical progress (and feel like trash when I don't get it). This verse describes Alma finding solace in the Saviour. The next verse explains that as he did this, Alma could "remember (his) pains no more." As I read that the words came into my mind "ONE STEP AT A TIME." And I realized that's it. I'm frustrated with these issues because I know I want to get through them. I want to be a patient mother (to a well behaved toddler), I want to be in shape, I want to be skinny, I want to be attractive... But here's the thing! I can't just be those things - I have to become those things- one step at a time. 
And so, with this in mind, here are some steps I will take this week in order to become who I want to be:
1. Wake up and RUN. 

• No excuses this week- just run baby!

2. Read scriptures over breakfast every morning. 

• This is hitting a few birds with one stone.

•  When I sit down to eat breakfast it means I'm making breakfast first, which means Roly isn't eating cereal (which can't sustain anyone for any period of time).

• It also means he's not sitting watching Diego. Roland loves cartoons, and prying the iPad out of his hands creates rage from this sweet child like I never see otherwise. He's a lot happier without flashing screens... He just doesn't know it. 

• Reading in the morning invites the spirit into my heart and our home for the rest of the day.

3. Keep track of eating. 4. Get a better/ more consistent bed time routine for Roly. 

• We just put him in a big boy bed! We are all a little frazzled and sleep deprived since the change. 

5. Take time for Roly

• Read books together before and after nap & whenever he wants. 

• Paint together

• Invite him to help me cook

• Take a deep breath and ask "why is he doing this" when he does something that makes me mad. 

Ok, I apologize for this post... It's a bit of an over share, and probably would have been better as a journal entry, but sometimes you do what you gotta do. 

2 down.

Another successful day. Day 2 out of 364 is complete. Horrah! 

Dave is more confused than ever about what I'm trying to accomplish, and although his only intent is to be supportive of me in this endeavor, he has  been asking me constant hypothetical questions about what I will or will not consume in the next year. To clear things up I made a list... on the back of a birthday card...and signed it... to make it seem more official.

I've been away for almost a month- spent a couple weeks in Edmonton, a week near Cranbrook, then a few days in Castlegar. It was a fun filled month, but by the time the drive home rolled around I was so done with being away from home. Being with my parents for the month was lovely- my only complaint is that my father will indulge my every whim, and because of that I ate a ridiculous amount of icecream. I was feeling ready for a big change, and as Dave and I drove we talked about my goal and how I would accomplish it. Once we started getting specific I needed to write things down. The only paper I could find was the birthday card my mom had just handed me, and so, as we drove, I used a purple pen to fill in 3 columns. These should clear things up to those interested in the specifics of the year.

< than

*dairy *meat *carbs

This has less to do with the "challenge" and more to do with a goal of healthy eating.

NO GO

*Pop *chips *candy *pastries *cookies *pie *doughnuts *icecream *fries *cake *cheesecake *chocolate *deep fried fast food (burgers, fried chicken, breaded fish, etc) *slurpees

This list may seem a bit redundant, but there are general foods that I'm avoiding, as well very specific ones, so I just needed to include those things on the list.

Ok

*Popcorn *Sugar free fruit crisps

I decided that I needed a bit of room for indulgence in not so bad stuff. These will be my 2 snacky-treats for the next year. I just couldn't bare the thought of going a year without crisps made from our apple & pear trees and the blackberries in our neighbourhood. It may take some creativity, but I will figure out a way to enjoy those crisps! As for popcorn- my sister got me a stovetop popcorn maker for my birthday. I decided it is a great/ not so bad thing to snack on from time to time. I will need to monitor my intake of these things to make sure I'm not just replacing every other treat with these 2. 

Comeback Tour - September 2012

I've been on a bloggie break for the last few months. Technical difficulties combined with a busier than usual life meant no blogging for me. But I've been craving it lately, and I'm excited to climb back on the wagon. 

I will take some time to tell you about the newest member of the Wight family, and her wonderful arrival some time soon. For now, let me just tell you that she is amazing. Her name is Violet June, and she is a bundle of peaceful perfection. 

Today, though, let me fill you in on my challenge. It's been brewing in my head for a while now, and I'm really excited to finally have the guts to commit. 

I'm not sure where to start in explaining my goal, and the intentions behind it...

I suppose I will start by explaining that I have a list- I guess you can call it a bucket list- but I believe I have entitled it "List of things to do before I die," or something like that.

Go skydiving - CHECK. Attend an Olympic event - CHECK. Have kids - CHECK. 

On this list there is an unchecked box next to the phrase "Go 1 year without sugar." The first time Dave saw this list he pointed that one out and said "Do you know how hard it is to go without ANY sugar? There's sugar in everything." This discouraged me. He said that there is sugar in bread, that fruit have natural sugars in them, and that it would be really hard for me to avoid it all. I tried to defend my goal, and said "I don't mean THAT kind of sugar." But he was right- I'd written down "Go 1 year without sugar" and I wasn't sure if I would be able to achieve my goal. I've thought about that goal lots over the past few years, and I've come to the conclusion that I wrote the goal down, so I get to decide what it means to me. 

So here is the real/revised/ what I meant all along GOAL:

I, ALISON WIGHT WILL

GO 1 YEAR (minus 1 day) WITHOUT JUNK FOOD

STARTING SEPTEMBER 5th, 2012, AND ENDING SEPTEMBER 4th, 2013
(when I bite into my birthday cake).

That is all! I've decided to do it now for a few reasons. 

First of all, sometimes a dare is all I need. As a kid I could have absolutely no desire to do something (ie- get out of the hot tub and roll around in the snow... brr- shivers down my spine just thinking about it), but if a dare was issued something in me would snap, and I would just put my head down and get it done. I don't know if that same thing snapped when I wrote down my "no sugar" goal, but I just feel like I need to do this. I feel that same 'snow-on-hot-skin' exhilaration every time I think about this challenge.  

I guess the second big reason for committing to this is that a friend has challenged me to run a half marathon next June. Although at first it terrified me I thought it through and realized that I have time. I have enough time to train properly- and as long as I have trained there should be no problem. I can do it! With this goal in mind, the wheels started turning, and I started to think about my own body, and how I would like to feel a year from now. It may seem naive to some (ie: ANYONE I've ever mentioned it to) but I was absolutely shocked when I heard that weight loss was 80% diet, and 20% exercise. I was always under the impression that I as long as I was active it didn't matter what I ate. 2 pregnancies and an adoration for anything sweet have proven to me that the amount of activity I do will NEVER be enough to prevent me from gaining weight if I don't change my diet. 

Because I have committed to get active, and be in shape, I decided that I wanted my body to reflect that. I now know that if I continue to eat the way I do that I will continue to look the way I do- even if my heart and lungs are feeling better. It just feels like a good time to cut it all out. 

The third reason is less about my body, and more about unhealthy patterns I have recognized in my life. As mentioned before I really love food. It plays a big part in my life. It's how I get through my 2 pm energy crash, it's how I entertain myself on evenings Dave isn't home, it's how I reward myself after a busy day, how I connect with friends, how I show love to my husband, and I think most disturbing of all, it is how I deal with emotional distress. Some people lose their appetite when they are upset- mine triples. I want to clear my life of these unhealthy patterns, while clearing my body of these unhealthy toxins. 

I know as soon as I post this people will tell me all the things that are wrong with this plan- but I'm going to tell you now, that I don't care about those things. I know that there are other plans out there- plans that will be a more effective way to lose weight, maybe plans that would allow me to still enjoy treats while achieving my other goals, plans that would detox my system in less time, and plans that would deal with my compulsive eating habits... but this is my plan! And this is exactly what I want to do. I'm really looking forward to how I will feel 1year from now. 1 day down, 363 to go, and I'm feeling great!

Nap Time.

I woke up today exhausted. I made a blurry eyed attempt at my day- showered, ate, made plans, etc, but after complaining enough and rubbing my eyes for several minutes in a row, I was banished, by my dear husband, to bed. I slept for 4 HOURS! I don't think that should be humanly possible for a... well... human to sleep for that long after a relatively good night's sleep, but for me it was oh so possible- and delightful. With the window open and a small breeze blowing through the room I snored the day away, and woke up when Dave had already put Roland down for an afternoon nap. 

I have always been a napper. It's one of my joys in life. You may think I'm just being dramatic by calling it a "joy." But I think I'm being quite accurate when I say that having a nap in the middle of the day is one of my favorite experiences in life. 

I come by it naturally. In all my years of life I can honestly say that I don't think I've ever seen my dad make it through a church meeting without falling asleep. Considering we went to church EVERY SUNDAY- that is a pretty reliable stat. I've seen my dad fall asleep mid-sentence. He can sleep anywhere- including behind the wheel of a car- but that's too frightening to think about. I remember being so frustrated when he would be the one to read me a story at night because he would without fail fall asleep halfway through. 

Although, I can remember falling asleep every day in kindergarten through grade 2 at story time. We'd all sit down in a semi-circle around Madame Soucy, who would hold up a book and begin to read. I would feel my head begin to bob before the first page was done. By the time they started showing us movies in school my head would drop to the desk minutes after the lights went out. There are movies that we watched (2001 Space Odyssey, Last of the Moheekans) that I know I sat through, but I can barely remember the opening credits. 

One summer I was a camp counselor at Especially for Youth. I did the Vancouver session, played for a week on Vancouver Island, then did 2 Calgary sessions. I think that basically meant that I was awake for a month straight. On the Saturday afternoon between Calgary sessions, as we prepared for the coming week, and recovered from the last, a group of counselors all sat together in a room- talking and snoozing. I fell asleep. Semi-consciousness would wave over me every once in a while to notify me that I was surrounded with a different group of people, but I was incapable of engaging with any of them. I was there, drifting in and out for hours. Eventually I heard one of my friends who I had originally sat down with re-enter the room and say "She's still sleeping? She's like a cat!" And though I don't think I was even able at that point to acknowledge what he had said I still think about it sometimes. I think it's hilarious. 

One time I was dating a guy who just didn't understand naps. He would get annoyed when I would need a nap. I was complaining about it to my darling friend and she looked at me, shrugged her shoulders, and said "He just doesn't understand that you are part sloth." Also- hilarious.

I'm not sure that a cat or a sloth are animals that I like being compared to. But the truth of the matter is that I loves my naps. And I've found a man who understands my need for them. I'm grateful that Dave can sense when the only cure is a nap. And I'm grateful that sometimes he joins me for them. 

blogger's guilt. the 1st.

So I somehow ended up at my blog via a different site, and found that there is actually a convenient little list of all of the posts I've entered- even the ones I haven't published. This one was written MONTHS ago, and I thought that I had deleted it by accident. I was so frustrated that I just turned the computer off and walked away, not even trying to retrieve it. But since I found it I MIGHT AS WELL share it, right? Here she is- the original 'blogger's guilt' post. 


I have a question. Do I have to blog everyday to be a blogger?
What if I only sit down at the computer once a week with the intent to blog, and only publish those attempts half of the time? This was one of the reasons I was hesitant to begin blogging in the first place: Bloggers guilt.
The truth is that I think about this blog often. Daily. Possibly hourly? I've started thinking in blog titles. And yet I don't make it to this point often enough. 'Why,' you may ask, don't I blog more often if so much of my thoughts are here?
Is it that I don't have time to spend staring at a screen? Well... no. That's not it. If that were the case I wouldn't be able to spend way too long, everyday, staring at those certain sites that have me secured with their flaxen cord.

So, it's not about time. Then what is it about? Part of it, I know is the fact that I love a good blog with plenty o' pics to break up the text. Not that a well written blog... or a well written anything, for that matter, should need pictures. But that' just what I like to see! So because I like to see it- I like to do it. I hesitate to share a post without having some sort of illustration/photo/graphic to back up my words. And sometimes waiting for my camera to load... or remembering after I've sat down that the camera is upstairs on the counter, while I have plunked myself down if front of our archaic computer downstairs is just enough to push me past my desire to blog, and into my desire to veg... upon one of the previously eluded to sites.
Besides the effort of the photo retrieving/uploading/editing/posting is the effort of the writing of the blog (not to be confused with the running of the bull). I think the point of me writing a blog is that I really enjoy writing. I think. And while I like to write I am not a speedy writer. I probably read each sentence on average 4 or 5 times before I click on the ever orange "publish post" button. Upon reflection, and now that I've read that sentence over 3 times, I'm re-estimating my reread of each sentence at closer to 8 or 9.  
So while I may not be a frequent blogger- please know that I am a blogger at heart.

Shut the craft up.

This morning I walked out of the house to find some friends weeding my garden. Needless to say I had tears in my eyes as I drove away. I'm grateful for people who act. My mind is full of good intentions... but unfortunately I lack follow through. I am so lucky to have people in my life, as well as to be married to someone, that acts on promptings they receive. Thanks Friends.

Flower Garden.

I've been wanting to put up a wreath on our door for months (since I took down our Christmas wreath, in fact) but I just haven't found something that's what I want. I finally got an image of what I wanted to make while in Walmart yesterday. I started it last night, and finished it this afternoon. I must say- I love it. With the newly weeded garden, freshly cut lawn, and brand spanking new siding finished on the side of the house it's a perfect way to finish off the lovely view as you walk up our driveway. 

Welcome to the Wight House!

I always like seeing other people's step by step process of crafts in picture form, but I never have enough confidence in what I'm doing to take pictures at each step. I can't stand it when people look over my shoulder at what I'm doing, and I feel like that's what I would be doing... to myself? Anywho- I'll explain what I did- because I love how it turned out!

1. I took a frame that was actually quite thin- probably a boarder of about 1 cm. I cut out some cardboard matting. to increase the width of the boarder.

2. Using a hot glue gun to secure the end I just wrapped jute around the frame. It took a while to get a knack for it, and to decide how I liked it, but eventually I decided that I liked a flat, orderly sort of look, versus a mish-mash look. The corners were tricky, and I did each one differently, but decided I liked the ones showing the best. 

3. I used acrylic craft paint to paint the wooden 'W' I'd purchased at walmart for about a buck. 

4. With scraps of fabric I've used in other projects (remnants of the bunting in Roland's room & scraps from his blankie) I made little fabric flowers. They are easy peasy to make- just cut out circles, fold them into quarters, and glue them into the shape of a flower. I swirled and glued the jute for the centers of each flower. I was planning on using buttons, but I liked how this looked more. 

5. I hot glued everything into place! 

6. I finished it by tying a loop of jute and hanging it from the hook I placed on our door at Christmas. It looked a bit sloppy for my liking (hence why you can't see it in the first picture) so I think I'll replace to loop with ribbon - an easy fix.

I just love getting my craft on!

Scatter Sunshine

The other day a friend dropped me off at home, and while opening the door she looked at our yard and said "Nice flowers." It's true. The flowers in our yard are nice... in fact, they are beautiful. The tulips, daffodils & hyacinth are in full bloom and look lovely.  The yellows, pinks & purple contrast beautifully and I just adore them. The problem is that she didn't stop there. She said it, and then she said "nice weeds," as she kicked a weed that was growing so well it had made it's way out of the flower bed and onto the driveway. It was said in passing. And probably in fun. But I didn't find it funny. I wonder what my face looked like when she said it. I think my jaw probably dropped, and then I recovered with a little laugh and some lame excuse, before grabbing Roly out of the car, and going inside without a backward glance. 

I know I blew things out of proportion, as I tend to do these days, in my ridiculously sensitive state, but what she said made me so mad. I just kept thinking "Why did she have to say that? Has she seen my life? WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO?" Ultimately I realized that I wasn't mad that she told me there were weeds in my garden. I was mad that I knew there were weeds in my garden, and I was too overwhelmed to deal with them. I was mad that she didn't acknowledge how tough it would be to do all the weeding for such a large garden. I was mad that no one had offered to help me weed that said garden. 

I have a very active little boy, and a very active little fetus and the thought of weeding the front garden just scared me. I couldn't wrap my head around how to get out there, with Roly in toe, and get this done without him running into the street. I put forth some piddly little attempts, which would last about 20 minutes while Roland would stay close to me, digging in the dirt, and helping me weed, until he would get bored and start venturing out past the flower beds and closer and closer to the street.  A couple of those attempts got a single corner of the yard weeded... I'd say 1/8 of the total that needed to be done. 

A few days later one of Dave's friends dropped by and made some crack about our "Garden of Weeden." Well that was just salt in my open wound, and I tried not to let it show, but yet again I found myself wondering if anyone had considered how the dickens I was supposed to get this done.

I just wanted someone to consider the following: Roland sleeps until 7:30 or 8:00 am. From that time forward, until 8:00 pm he is essentially by my side, running away from me at high speed, or in my arms. He has become a good little napper, but the truth is, so have I. I tend to nap during the day when he does, and if I don't I tend to feel a bit of exhaustion border-lining hysteria by about 6 pm. So to get myself through the day without a snap, I nap. So, I can spend about 20 minutes at a time in the front, which does approximately nothing. And if I wait long enough in between weeding, the attempts I've made are already grown in with more weeds, that match the rest of the yard. 

So that day, after Dave left I decided I'd waited long enough. I got my butt in gear, and went out to do some weeding while Roland slept. I accomplished a lot more in that short time, without worrying about my little munchkin running in front of a city bus, than I had in previous attempts. When Dave and his friend got back his friend was quick to point out the progress. He said it looked great, and went on to say that it was good for me to spend time on my hands and knees, as it encourages baby to be in the right position during labor. A simple comment. But it really brightened my day. He acknowledged my attempt, and encouraged me to do more.  

Well, that explanation took much longer than I thought it would... apparently I'm not over it! But most of this is beside the point. What this situation really got me thinking about was the people in my life that scatter sunshine, that fill my mind with hope and happiness... vs. the people that leave rain clouds... and piddle on my parade.

I had a conversation with a friend a while ago which has stuck with me. We were talking about her mother in law: a beautiful, confident, creative individual, who my friend greatly admires and knows cares about her. In a moment of feeling completely overwhelmed and frustrated my friend wondered aloud why her mother in law had never expressed words of encouragement to her. "She has never told me I'm a good mother, or a good wife, or a good cook. She never tells me what we are doing right." My friend was wishing that someone would spread a little sunshine, and acknowledge her sacrifice. Her mother in law is one of the most stylish and talented ladies I've ever met, yet when the people around her needed to feel the confidence she seemed to exude she wasn't able to share it. I couldn't help but contrast her mother in law with another woman I know- my Aunt Trish. Trish is a beautiful, creative, amazing woman. Her house will forever be one of my favorite places in the world, made better only by being in her presence. Here's the thing about Trish- she is hilarious, full of this self degrading humour that perhaps only our family understands and an honesty which I greatly admire, but more than that, when she speaks she builds. She uses the word "perfect" to describe my actions way to often for it to be true, but enough for me to feel really great about what I'm doing when I'm with her. She allows other people to feel good about their attempts, which encourages them to go on, to try again, and to try really hard to live up to the words she has already used to describe them. She has amazing children, with that same ability. I admire her, and love her, and I appreciate all the sunshine she has brought into my life. 

So, in reflecting on these different people- the parade piddlers and the sunshine spreaders I just wonder which  one I am. Am I building people up? Am I encouraging them to do more and be better? Or am I using confidence as a guise to hurt others and inadvertently tear them down? Do people I come in contact with want to hear what is going to come out of my mouth? Or do my friends and family take cover when I'm about to speak? Can I see past the weeds enough to point out the flowers? Do I point out the weeds without realizing that someone is doing all they are capable of in that moment to get rid of them? Am I tearing others down in my own attempts at humour or attempts to build myslef up? 

Do I encourage? Do I uplift? Do I inspire? 

I hope so. I am going to work on doing so. I want my friends, my neighbours, and more than anyone else, my family- my husband & children, to feel like when they are with me they are capable of doing anything, that all attempts are good enough. I don't want feelings of discouragement, insecurity, hopelessness or fear to be brought on by words that I speak. 

It might seem hokey... but I'm going to insert the lyrics to a hymn, which I've been humming to myself since I started writing this. It really just describes how I feel perfectly. 

Scatter Sunshine

Hymn #230, by Lanta Wilson Smith.

http://www.lds.org/churchmusic/detailmusicPlayer/index.html?searchlanguage=1&searchcollection=1&searchseqstart=230&searchsubseqstart=%20&searchseqend=230&searchsubseqend=ZZZ

In a world where sorrow
Ever will be known,
Where are found the needy,
And the sad and lone;
How much joy and comfort
You can all bestow,
If you scatter sunshine
Everywhere you go.

Scatter sunshine all along your way;
Cheer and bless and brighten
Every passing day;
Scatter sunshine all along your way;
Cheer and bless and brighten
Every passing day.

Slightest actions often
Meet the sorest needs,
For the world wants daily
Little kindly deeds;
Oh, what care and sorrow
You may help remove,
With your songs and courage,
Sympathy and love.

When the days are gloomy,
Sing some happy song;
Meet the world's repining
With a courage strong;
Go with faith undaunted
Thro' the ills of life;
Scatter smiles and sunshine
O'er its toil and strife.

One of those days...

I woke up this morning with sunshine all around me. Today is one of those gorgeous spring days that I crave throughout the rest of the year. Sunshine, blossoms, green grass & still. While I was in the shower I kept thinking about how badly I wanted pancakes and by the time I was dressed, in my springiest dress, Dave had read my mind and made them. They were delicious... but sitting down to eat set us back, causing the last few minutes before church to be a mad rush. There was sunshine all around me, and I had absolutely nothing to complain about, but a dark cloud was forming in my mind; I was grouch. 


Church was fine. Roland was well behaved, and Dave took him out when he could sit for no longer. Dave and I sat together in Sunday school... maybe for the first time since we've been married? It's been a LONG time since neither of us were teaching primary on Sunday. We even got to hold a lovely little baby - a perfect little boy for a few minutes. Dave put his arm around me, and even gave me a smooch when I went off to Relief Society. 


I hate sharing this, because it makes me seem crazy. I feel like I'm a pretty level headed human being, but at times as a woman... and more often as a pregnant woman especially, I am an emotional being! I have these days where attacks of emotion cause a constant lump in my throat that is impossible to explain away. Today was one of those days. A simple comment, made in passing, with a smile on the face of this sweet woman that I visit teach hurt my feelings and brought the lump into my throat. We were talking about my due date, and she laughed and said "are you sure there's only one in there?" Good one. It hurt my feelings for a few reasons- maybe because I'm feeling (and thought I was looking) pretty dang good - I still fit into normal jeans. I've been active- walking, biking, swimming. I was on skype a few weeks ago and someone said it looked like I'd lost weight (obviously not true, but it was nice to hear). So that comment, made in innocence, just a lady trying to crack a joke cracked my sun shiny glasses, and let the clouds roll in. It was fast Sunday, and although I wasn't fasting (ie: previously mentioned pancakes) I was trying to be respectful to the people around me, and refrain from the constant drinking of water, and snacking that I've become accustomed to. The nauseous head ache had set in, and I was irritable.


I sat there for the rest of Relief Society, hearing a wonderful lesson about the worth of souls. It was beautiful, but I felt disconnected. The teacher asked for comments about a specific circumstance; one I had found myself in in the past, and had got through with the Savior's help. And yet, I couldn't bring myself to comment. I just wasn't feeling it. 


By the time we got home from church I was done emotionally. Dave was being sweet. He took over prep for supper, while I made lunch... but a few simple comments from him landed me in bed with a tear stained pillow. They weren't mean comments, not even offensive on a normal day: some constructive criticism about the dinner rolls I had made the day before, and some poking fun at my spelling on the list of Japanese words on our fridge- but to me in that moment, I just couldn't handle it. I ate lunch begrudgingly, then went to bed for a few hours, leaving Dave to make supper, put Roland down and get Roland up... yes I outnapped my 19 month old. But I woke up with a new perspective and apologies on my lips. 


I hate it when I get like this, but I don't know how to stop myself. I remember the feeling, as a teenager- just screaming at my mom, slamming the door, then thinking "I don't even know why I did that. I'm not really that mad." I thought I'd get over those hormonal outbursts as I got older. It happens about once a month when I'm not pregnant, and way too often while I am, that my emotions get the best of me. That I am irritable, and angry, quick to take offense, and quick to dish it out. Like I said before, I think of myself as a pretty level headed human being... but on days liek today it doesn't take much to tip the scales one way or the other.


One day a few months ago Dave was in another room, and I called to him. 
He came out, looking concerned and said "What?" with a tone of fear and remorse. 
"Nothing." I replied, "I was just wondering... " 
But then I thought for a second, and said "What did you think I was going to ask you?" 
He admitted he thought he was in trouble for something. I laughed and apologized that he lived in constant fear of his wife. 
He smiled and said "It's not constant fear. Only when you're pregnant, or have your period."
I thought for a few seconds... at that point in our lives together that came to about 3/4 of our marriage that Dave had spent in fear of this old lady. Poor Dave.


I don't know what today's lesson is. Perhaps that I need to have lunch and take a nap a little sooner next time? Perhaps that I need medication and counselor? Maybe that I need to wear a sign around my neck on days like today that reads "If you talk to me I'll probably start crying. Approach at your own risk." And maybe this is it. My life I mean. Maybe this is who I am, and what I need to learn to deal with. Something I need to deal with without burning bridges and hurting the feelings of those I love every 4 weeks, or for 9 months straight every couple of years. I guess, this is another opportunity that I have to go to the Lord, and say that this experience is more than I can tackle on my own. With His help maybe I can get through it all- with less tears, less tearing remarks, and more love. 
I hope so (and I'm pretty sure Dave hopes so too).

Good Morning! Good Morning!

I'm not a morning person. I was nervous about becoming a mother for a few reasons, but my biggest fear (no matter how ridiculous this seems) was about sleep. I love to sleep, and I wasn't sure how I would react to a baby when I was deprived of it. Turns out I had a baby that also loved to sleep. We slept in until 10 am every morning for Rolands first 8 months of life. It was delightful.

When Roland had just turned 1, I was finally feeling like I needed to get my butt in gear and get back into shape. I enrolled in a bootcamp, in which there were 2 options: 6 am or 6 pm. I obviously wanted to go at 6 pm. Dave's schedule is super unpredictable, and when he's busy with his job the majority of his appointments should actually be in the evenings. So in my attempt to be supportive of him, as well as for a guarantee that he would be home to watch Roland (I didn't need any excuses to miss this thing!), I signed up for the morning class. This decision changed my life!
It was through groupon, and I got 6 weeks for super cheap. I really enjoyed it, saw results after just a few weeks, and would/should/could have continued, except I found out I was preggo, and felt like pushing my body to the point of pure exhaustion twice a week wasn't a good choice for me at that time. I'm still not sure if I made the right choice by not going back after those 6 weeks. But I do know that I WILL go back after baby #2 is born.

http://www.successfitness.ca/boot-camp.shtml 

I enjoyed this experience for so many reasons. I loved what I learned about myself. I loved feeling like an athlete again. I loved going from the slowest one, (ok, I HATED BEING THE SLOWEST ONE) that had to lay on the bathroom floor halfway through the first class so I didn't toss my cookies all over the gym, to being able to compete with the people who had been enrolled in the class for the past few years. I loved that the class was ultimately designed and measured according to personal bests. It was about doing my best, where I was, individually. But there were people around me that would encourage me and challenge me to do better and to work harder. I loved coming home and finding my boys still in bed, happy to see me. I loved being drenched in sweat and feeling strong.

But the thing that I loved, that surprised me the most, was how much I loved waking up early. I loved knowing that even if I didn't do anything else that day I would have accomplished something. I loved beating the sun up, and having her guide me home. I loved feeling tired- really really tired - at the end of the day. No reward is as good as falling into bed at night when your muscles are aching and your eyes are burning.
We had to make changes in our habits to make this work. I will admit that we are kind of tv junkies. We wind down at the end of most days with an episode or 2 of our favorite shows. Midnight (or later) was the standard time we'd roll into bed. We'd awake the next morning, bleary eyed and tired, arguing over who should get Roland, and trying to squeeze every last minute out of our sleep. The truth is that I probably wasn't sleeping well through the night because I wasn't using my body through the day to do what it was designed for- to move.
So! We committed to be in bed by 10 pm every night- not just the nights before boot camp- every night. It is amazing what going to bed early, having a solid sleep, then waking up early can do to a person! It really did change my outlook on the world. I felt a million times better!
I'm not going to sit here and pretend that I've consistently been going to bed, sleeping well, waking up and working out since I gained my new outlook. In fact twice this week we stayed up passed 2 am, playing Rook with my brother in law & sister in law, then slept in passed 9 the next morning, BUT some things have changed for good. For the first time in my life I've stopped using the excuse "I'm not a morning person." And although I still frequently seek out a mid-day nap I am well aware of the connection between how much I move during the day and how well I sleep at night.
Last Sunday was Daylight Savings. Roland still hasn't adjusted. Having family in town last week, which lead to several late nights in a row for him hasn't helped. His bed time (ie: when he'll consider going to bed) has been pushed back by about an hour and a half. But that also means that he's not waking up until 9 am every morning. That means that I have been waking up before him, which is just bizarre. But it gives me some time to take in the day, instead of hit the ground running. It was nice this morning to be up and at 'er for a while before my little man, and to have my wits about me when I went in to get him, instead of stumbling in with bleary-eyed impatience.
It's been quite the experience to realize that not being a morning person doesn't mean I can't enjoy the morning... because what kind of excuse is that anyways?