Somebody is aways challenging me, most of the time it is Mike or the kids, they challenge me to make creative suppers and get Saturday's BBQ off of their favourite white t-shirt. They challenge my memory, my knowledge of nothing and yes even my patience on occasion. I challenge myself a lot too but it is very unusual to be handed a challenge by someone outside of the DNA network. My friend Shawn Warden stepped into the ring yesterday to challenge me. My challenge... to incorporate Shawn Warden and faceless burgers into a random blog post....piece of cake (I hope!)

...and GO!

Most everything that crosses my path ends up re-used, recycled, handed down or trashed. I am not one to 'hold on' to things, I don't see the point. All those things just take up space where new things can go. I like new things. Having said this you should know there is a baggy filled with bread clips in my junk drawer and I have one area of extreme horderness...magazines! They are everywhere in our home, the bathroom, bedroom, livingroom, kitchen, laundry room, closets, cupboards, baskets, boxes, bins and drawers. I have so many even the dog is disgusted and eats them whenever he gets an opportunity. Most of them I have not read, some of them are still in the plastic sleeve (move over first edition comic book collectors) A few have earned their way onto the bookshelf because they are so used and loved. New ones come every month and I add them to the pile. I know, I have a problem.

*gulp* the tip of the iceburg

Fortunately I have friends with solutions!

Enter my good friend Patti, preparing for a team building/personal development workshop at her home this week. "I need some magazines" she said. "I have those!" I said (thank you universe for addressing my shame). With a tear in my eye I packed up my magazines and followed half the stash over to Patti's house. The magazines and some really great people were in for a new outlook on life. Twenty of us hacked those glossy pages apart in a exercise of building Dream Panels. We covered brightly coloured bristol board with images and words of all the things we would have if we could have anything. Which by the way, you can. It really is as easy as knowing what you want and letting the world be aware of your desires.

We don't have a problem going to a restaurant and telling the waiter exactly what we want and expecting that exact thing to end up in front of us. We don't have a problem telling the master of the BBQ that we prefer faceless burgers. The waiter wants you to be happy he brings what you want, the grill master wants you to be happy and reserves you a spot on the grill for your vegetarian option. All you had to do was ask.

I loved watching everyone putting their desires out there for the world to see. We have done this at home with our family a few times over the years, it's always exciting. Some people don't even know what they want before they get started, some people know what they want but don't know how to articulate it. We spend after all, a great deal of our lives believing that we should not ask for things, that we might not deserve everything we desire...nothing could be further from the truth. With great things you can do great things!

The truth is this; 'We are all deserving of fulfilling our desires, we all have the power to make dreams come true.' This is also true; 'the dream you have the power to make come true will not be your own, most people spend  their lives being the catalyst that fulfills another's dream, whether you know you have or not.'

My friend Shawn Warden can tell you that our lives invade the lives of others. It can't be helped, somebody's faceless burger is going to drip on your face-burger. The results could be a great combination!

Gratitude today for the help to purge my habit, the opportunity to see other people's dreams out in the open, and the excitement of seeing who's dream I might play a part in. Even if that dream is just to see your name mentioned alongside the phrase 'faceless burgers'

(which by the way wasn't really a challenge; I once used Mike, Mickey Rourke and Nano in the same sentance...THAT, was a challenge! ;)

Gratitude, Hope and Smile are meant to be shared,
Michelle

Where we used to live there was a man who used to walk his cat. This fascinated me, I would see him strolling at a snail's pace down the sidewalk with his black and white short hair on the end of a red leash and I would think to myself, "There is an unbelievable feat!"

I've had cats all my life, they are obstinate, fickle creatures with high self-regard and survival-level tolerance for human beings. In the great who's smarter debate; dogs or cats? I take the feline position understanding that it takes superior intelligence to not be trained. Dogs win in the emotional strength category. Cat smarts is probably the reason for my awe every time I saw this man walking his cat. Either A) his cat had a dog level IQ or B) he had uncovered some amazing secret to keeping a cat on the end of a leash.

At some point in my pinball parenting I told my kids about this neighbour who used to walk his cat around the block. We all make rookie mistakes, a mistake like telling your kids a cat can be walked, is one regretted before the punctuation is formed on the end of your sentence. 'why, why, why did I say something so stupid?' *mom smacks head against wall* This is what I think every time one of my kids says "I want to take the cat for a walk." The conversation plays out like this...

Kid #1 or #3 (#2 knows cats don't walk) "Where is the leash? I want to take the cat for a walk"
Me: "The leash is only for tying the cat out, cats don't walk."
Kid: "I want to try."
Me: "You can not walk a cat, they are not like dogs."
Kid: "But you said one time we had a neighbour that used to walk his cat."
Me: "Yes, but..."
Kid: "I want to try."
*sigh* I know this will end with frustration. Once it ended with a call home..."I got the cat this far and I can't get him back, will you come get us? I tried to pick him up but he keeps scratching me. pleaaaaase!"
Me: "No, walk the dog."
Kid: "Well, how come that man at our old house could walk his cat if you can't walk a cat? How?"
Me: "I don't know."
Kid: "But if that man walked his cat, you must be able to."
Me: "Go to bed."

Really the story of the man walking his cat is just a catalyst for ceaseless Q & A. I have low tolerance for that mind-numbing lunacy.

There is usually a time span between "Cat-walk sessions" unless of course, like now when the air is fresh and the sun is shining, the cat is itching to get out of the house and the kids are looking to escape chores. Then I get inundated.

Part of the frustration is because I really wish I knew how the guy managed to walk that darned cat. It would be cool to take the cat and the dog for a walk.

Tonight the topic came up again. After so many attempts to explain the mentality of cats to my kids and why they are untrainable and un-walkable. I threw my hands into the air and spat out...

"He could walk the cat because he wasn't in a hurry, he was a retired guy who had no time frame on getting the cat around the block!"

Boom... discussion done, never to be had again. In one explosive blurt of frustration I solved two nagging issues. 1st, I halted the conversation forever because #2 I figured it out, by not trying to figure it out.

He could walk the cat because he wasn't in a hurry. He knew he would get home all he had to do was let the cat set the pace. 

Ahhhhhh...that exact moment was like finding out the Caramilk Secret, for a split second my life was complete.

Gratitude today for the sudden gob-smacked understanding that people who achieve great feats do it in their own time at a pace of least resistance, always moving in the direction of their destination.

Here's to a great weekends, clarity and the anticipation of a great week ahead!

Michelle

Last evening we took Cooper to the dog park. Usually we go, he runs like mad for twenty minutes and we latch on to him. I say latch because in a free for all field of 100 dogs there is no way in the world he is responding to the 'come' command. I have a hard enough time with that in the living room where the biggest distraction is the coffee table.

Spring is in the air, dogs of every description are in full on heat, that makes a 40lb lighting fast hormone raging puggle a little harder to catch. For 60 minutes Mike and I tried to latch on to that dog, he would not stop, he would not come, he could not even be lured into the outer paddock. We were completely at his mercy and the rest of life got sidelined. Dinner, homework, downtime, bedtime all suffered. That dog presented quite a challenge to my zen. What I really wanted to do was shoot him with a tranquilizer dart and drag him out by his tail.

I suppose I want to shoot more than my dog with a tranquilizer at the moment. There is a lot of life that is eluding me and I am not fairing too well with the challenge of it all. If you check the post date you will see that this is my first post in a week and to be quite honest my last two offerings were not nearly what I had envisioned in my head. I'm not even sure this one is turning into what I wanted it to be.

In fact I know it's not, but it is what I have time for today, it is what I can accomplish, it has to be enough to remind myself that I'm still working. My vision is the one running around in the park after 99 other dogs in heat. I don't have a hope in hell of latching on to it right now. So I'm just going to stand over here between the exit and the poop disposal and wait.

Happy Tuesday - Good luck with your puggle!

Michelle

We've reached the end of our inaugural hockey season, save for a friendship tournament next weekend, our league play is done. Yesterday was a disappointing finish for the kids and this morning you could hear the confusion over their placing. I can't blame them I am also incredibly confused. Our team finish on top of the standings for the playoffs but we won't be playing in the final game because we lost our very first playoff game yesterday. The only game apparently that counted for the series.

I swear I will never understand this stuff, but the Dads who do understand the logistics of round robin play have been busy explaining and reassuring kids that yes, while it makes no sense and seems incredibly unfair it is how everything plays out.

So we lost, and that's okay, or at least that's what we say to the kids, you played hard, you had fun, you did your best. - what a crock, nobody likes to lose, it's not okay. be sad, talk about it, be disappointed, wallow...and get over it, you've got exactly 10 minutes.

I'll give you 10 minutes then we're going to talk about the journey.

Let's celebrate the kids who very literally could not even skate when the season kicked off, and the kids who could not pass the puck. How about those first half a dozen games where you got your butts whooped over and over again, those were fun. Not as much fun as the very first game you won maybe, but they were a place of great learning. What about your favourite moments of the season, lets talk about those; the string of wins, the Christmas Tournament that ended in shoot-out madness, the game at the OHL arena where they announced your names and pumped rally tunes. Those were favourite memories. How about the time your goalie had to leave the ice and you played empty netted for almost a full period and denied the other team a single goal...that was awesome! I personally really enjoyed watching the camaraderie grow. In the beginning the locker room was a quiet, sterile place, months later parents are lined up in the hallway wondering if you are ever going to quit goofing around and emerge.

So yes, I know losing sucks and the way you lost your place in the standings seems unfair and you are disappointed. You also played your best because great volunteers who spent their Saturdays and Sundays  for the last 6 months taught you never to give less. You did have fun because you played with your friends. You fought hard for that loss - you were after all playing to win.

Mostly, you've won so much more than you've lost, it's hard to see right now but I promise it is something you can be proud and happy with!

Gratitude to the coaches, the time keepers, parent taxis, convenors, coffee barristas, Zamboni drivers, the good sports and the referees. Gratitude to all parents across the Hockey Nation this week who are 'raising' losers - it can be hard to remind them that there is no such thing - Well Played!

Michelle

Welcome to my kitchen!

Parenting met desperation Monday evening and to quote my 14 year old KJ "You can't even know" I swear you can't.

There is a saying in our home, "It's a short walk from laughter to tears" That phrase was coined for nights like this. It started innocently enough with the regular bantering and bickering around the supper table. The kids poking fun at one another, Dad getting in on the act. KJ spilling chicken noodle soup on her freshly self laundered shirt and pants.  A few ohhs and ahhs, a smart remark about karma and KJ was quickly to terms with her need to perform laundry duties again.

Best line of the night goes to Lula. Just after the soup incident she looked across the table at KJ "You have a Jabba The Hut on your shirt, You know... like how some people see Jesus in their toast? Like that, only it's Jabba"

I laughed so hard my sides hurt but I wasn't in tears, not yet. We arrived at tears less than a minute and a half post Jabba sighting.

It started with a chicken soup noodle which lead to a child covered in mustard. You don't really need me to expand in detail, suffice it to say the decibel level in our home reached heights attainable only by teenage girls furiously vieing for fairness, consequence, expressive contempt and the title of 'right'.

Insert tears, internal gut wrenching - I've had enough tears (mine mostly).

Welcome to Mom-rant.

I was already there waiting for everyone else to catch up with me. I ranted about personal respect, appropriate behaviour, clogged toilets, plungers, cellphones, dog pee, homework, laundry, vacuuming, chores, suitcases, blankets, pop cans and socks. By the time I got to maxi pads and backpacks I had 2 cell phones, an Ipod and the first born child of each one of my kids.

I also had a huge case of "who decided that I was capable of this doing this job?" That's a bad place for moms. It leads to one of two destinations; 'I'll show you' or 'My kids are doomed'. I turned left and march right into 'I'll show you.' I stood in the heart of the house and summoned all inhabitants back the table where the wheels fell off. I had some things to say. Mostly things like 'I've had enough' and 'there are going to be some changes around here'. I have some really great tools in the 'family tune-up' kit.

Nobody rushed to the table. For a few minutes I sat there alone organizing my thoughts, preparing my stance, outlining my strategy, starring at a pineapple. It took Mike a few minutes to herd every one to the conference. In those few minutes the pineapple had talked me down off my ledge.

Instead of launching into my speech when all seats were filled, I left the table to grab a cutting board, my chef's knife, a bowl and Mike's brand-new-never seen before-who knows if it works-pineapple slicer. I laid everything out in the middle of the table and sat back. Somebody was going to pay for the atmosphere in the house, it might as well be a pineapple.

Within a few minutes three kids began working together to figure out the gadget and produce a long curly spiral of pineapple and a nifty pineapple drinking glass. We weren't heading to 'This place sucks' anymore we were heading back to laughter with a gentle reminder that it as easy to spiral up as it is to spiral down you just need to change direction.

Gratitude today to Mike's gadget, the curiosity of children and a pineapple which sacrificed itself in the name of family intervention.


Gratefully,
Michelle

The freakin dishwasher is at it again! I hate to talk badly of it because I really love my dishwasher. Without it I would be hopelessly strapped to a sink of suds, channeling Madge the Palmolive lady, trying to make it seem like a spa treatment... "Your soaking in it!" If the ladies of my mother's generation had been less trusting they would have realized that Madge had them all standing knee deep in... well you know, shovelling more onto the pile. I can make my hands just as soft with a tube of lovely scented hand cream and my feet up on the coffee table.

However, somebody must have been keen enough through the domestic whitewash of the sixties to realise that the role of domestic goddess was overrated, that perhaps there was more to life than making things sparkle and squeak. Somebody promoted the modern day appliance the dishwasher. That person has my undying admiration.

This, our most used appliance has been a trooper, washing hundreds if not thousands of loads with only a tiny hiccup a few months back. (Thank goodness for handy husbands) but the poor thing is starting to get tired. Recently the wheels have been falling off. Not all the wheels, just the very important ones that support the back end of the bottom rack. This is aggravating because it doesn't happen with any consistency and you don't know you've fallen victim until a full rack of dishes crashes off of the track.

The crash is loud, nerve jarring and brings forth a person's rudimentary nature. That very moment of derailment can speak volumes about how each of us deals with life.

5 people live in our home (most use the dishwasher some even voluntarily) - 5 reactions when the wheels fall off...

One person will ignore the problem. This individual will pretend the dishwasher is suppose to crash and clang the dishes. They will load the rack and lift it back into place and shut the door. This is a bandaid solution, the wheels are still on the floor of the dishwasher, things look ok, but the problem just got passed along to the next person. Who actually will have a more difficult time because the rack won't even roll out to fall apart. This individual is however free to deal with more urgent matters. How important to the overall picture is a dishwasher anyway?

One person will quit. The rack will crash and this individual will walk away. This is not their problem, Not their solution to work out. The constant breakdown and frustration prevents them from performing their designated task. Seconds after the crash this person can be found in another room furthering their own interests waiting for the responsible party to deal with the issue.

One person will try to fix the problem. Bless this persons heart. When the wheels fall off they will stop what they are doing and immediately give 110% to putting them back on. They will reattach them sideways and finish filling the rack. When the rack won't roll back in and the door can't be closed they will throw their hands in the air and proclaim "At least I tried." Then they will take another stab at it.

One person will analyse the problem and make a plan to fix it. This person knows the problem exists. They have been observing and analysing the best solution. They have the best chance of putting the wheels back on with a permanent solution, they just need to find the time or wait until the problem reaches the top of the priority list.

One person will wonder why the wheels are still falling off and why no one has fixed the problem already. This individual knows the problem exists and curses every time the wheels fall off. This person, while perhaps fully capable of fixing the problem, believes that they are not the best person for the job. They are willing to keep putting the wheels back on temporarily and reminding their delegate that they have what it takes.

5 reactions and none of them are wrong. Wrong for this particular problem perhaps, but swap the problem and you have the right reaction

• Sometimes we all need to remember that not every problem deserves our attention.
• Depending on the problem quiting might just be the right solution.
• Sometimes we need to be inspired to just keep trying.
• On occasion a problem is best solved by consulting the person with the best knowledge and ability.
• Sometimes you just have to keep putting the wheels back on temporarily while the person best suited for the job fixes the problem permanently.

Gratitude today that when the wheels fall of the dishwasher or something bigger there are people each of us can turn to to help us with the right reaction for the problem - Gratitude to the people I look to. Gratitude to the people who look to me.

Oh and gratitude again to the individual who persued the dishwasher idea and to the person who is going to fix mine.

Gratitude, hope and smiles should never be kept to yourself!
Michelle

Have you noticed I've been away? I have, I miss this place. My Sunday morning coffee/writing/soul rejuvenation hour has been replaced by coffee/yawning/soul freezing at the most ungodly of hours.

Did you know that the little kids get the early hours at the rink? and that at 6:30am a hockey arena is only slightly warmer than Winnipeg on a crisp January morn? How about that the early morning shift at Timmie's are not all bright eyed, bushy tailed and eager to please, and that their order success ratio is only 50%? Did you know that?  I didn't, but I am learning.

I am also learning that it is not every player's job to dig into the corner for the puck and shouting "get on HIM!" is generally frowned upon in minor house league. I am learning about fashion too, in so much as; I need a vest and a pair of matching mittens and a toque (preferably with a tassel of sorts) This week I learned that the 7am practice is one of those "my week" "your week" tasks. Last week I sat with the Dads, this week it was Moms. I am learning that offside does not mean that the puck has gone over the boards and that the dressing room is NOT a place for Moms. That's not to say we are unwelcome, I've just learned that it is testosterone zone better left to the testosterone generators.

There is a reciprocation of learning too. My son has learned that while Mom has talked a good game about hockey fan-dom and cheers right alongside for his beloved Pittsburgh Penguins, I really have no clue. Mike has always know this but we were keeping it from the little guy, an omission for the better good, I need all the Mom worshiping points I can get! Mike has learned that we need to arrive early so that I can get my spot under a heater, on the off chance they get turned on. KJ has learned that I can in fact inflict greater humiliation than she ever imagined. E-man has learned the KJ will not be attending anymore of his games.

I'm not sure that I've taught my fellow hockey parents anything yet (most of them know everything already anyway) I'm sure that they will learn in time that the best place to sit is away from #15's Mom, unless of course they crave heat (I do own the heater after all) They will quickly learn that I do not handle competition well. I do a remarkable job keeping my mouth shut and my comments to myself, but I fidget and physically react like I need my child to. Weird I know, but its involuntary and the harder I try to supress it, the worse it gets. I'm like a voodoo hexed Momma on crack and the voodoo doll is my child. I know this will happen. It has been going on for 16 years; at dance recitals, school plays, runway shows, graduation ceremonies, streetball games and at the skateboard park.

I have been an official Hockey Mom for 4 weeks and the learning curve is steep, but if the girl who makes my coffee can get it right half of the time and Mike can explain the rules and E-man can figure out where all that equipment belongs, I can surely learn to wear the title with pride and earn my hockey mom stripes.

I just hope that the other hockey parents learn as quickly as the boxing parents did. Those poor people didn't know what they were in for once Lula stepped into the ring!

Gratitude for patient husbands, ski jackets, hockey coaches, and that Hockey Mom who will hopefully garner more attention than I, and make me look like a seasoned pro at Hockey Momming.

KJ brought home one of those projects the other day, you know, one of THOSE projects... All About Me. The only project with the power to paralyze me worse than a bridge project is the "All About Me Project"

An All About Me project means that I will be scavenging through the photo box for a kindergarten picture from 9 years ago. My powers of memory recall and personal trivia will be measured and tested;

• "What time was I born?"
• "How much did I weigh?"
• "What was my first word?"
• "What was the name of the grandson of the lady who lived four houses down that I sprayed with the hose?"

 I should probably confess right now, that I don't know this stuff. I am not the mother who can recall the thing you were eating when you lost your first tooth or what colour ribbons you wore in your hair on the first day of school. Heck, the other day I forgot how to print the number 9 my kids are doomed

If you are one of those super Moms you probably think very little of me right now. If you have ever had to ask one of your children to confirm their birthday or grade in school you will sympathize with the pain I felt when that first question went live on Sunday evening... "How much did I weigh when I was born?"

I tried to be the good Mom..."8lbs 4oz." I blurted out. Immediately I realized I was wrong, I could tell by the look on Michael's face. His expression resembling the look you might expect if grandma willed you the false teeth. The debate was on. I tried to rationalize KJ's birth weight by ordinating it among Lula and E-man's weights but I had those wrong too, so my strategy was flawed from the start. Eventually we all headed upstairs to "the BOX"

I have a box for each of my kids, each box containing hospital bracelets, footprints, cards, locks of hair, favourite dresses, hats that sort of thing. I went into motherhood knowing that detail is not my strong suit and knowing that I better have a strong back up system.

I opened the box, and I choked up a little, looking at my girl holding up the little sleeper that she came home from the hospital in, (she has bras bigger than it now.) I reached for the hospital card that listed her details...7lbs 11oz...."Ok, I loose." I conceded. Then I watched as KJ sifted through the rest of the box, giggling and snickering. All I could think, was how much things change, and how far she has come.

I was lost in reflection when KJ asked "One shoe, why is there only one shoe?"

I laughed, I had forgotten all about it. "Because your sister has the other one." KJ looked at me like grandma had willed her the false teeth.

I looked at her and I started with ....

...."when you were born we were broke, like really broke." (and we were, a string of layoffs and ill timed plant closures, a broken car and a house held together mostly with duct tape and bubble gum. We were living on love and fumes.)

"When you needed walking shoes, we could afford to steal the pair from your sister's baby box."

Still she was holding grandma's teeth, except now she was laughing.

"That's where you come from" I said. THAT is why I get frustrated when you kids complain that you don't have everything you want... there was a time when you only had 1 shoe.

She left (rolling her eyes, I'm sure)

Then I laughed harder. E-man's box doesn't have any shoes (yes, he wore them too!)

Gratitude that while we were busy concentrating on the things that weren't 'things' we came a long way too. Gratitude that life has unique ways of reminding you what is important.

When Michael and I were first married we owned a teeny, tiny 2 bedroom house. The total square footage was less than 700 square feet. You can imagine in that limited space, we were lucky to have 1 bathroom. It was a closet of a room, complete with a tub, sink and a toilet. For the first week it had no electrical outlet and in desperation I would plug my curling iron in at the kitchen table and curl my hair in my reflection in the toaster. (I didn't mind too much, there was more room for my ashtray in the kitchen) Michael quickly had an electrician buddy come to the house and help us with our wiring challenges. The bathroom became functional and Michael quickly learned that his turn in the mirror was whenever I was finished.

When the kids began arriving  I barely noticed the one bathroom inconvenience, they were little and we managed, but being a girl I knew that the day would come. The day that would find myself and our 2 daughters negotiating mirror time while Michael and our son begged on the other side of the door for toilet time. I envisioned them opting in desperation to borrow a neighbours loo or pee behind a tree in the yard. Common sense dictated that we eventually would need another bathroom. Actually common sense dictated that a family of 5 in a two bedroom house probably needed more than an extra bathroom.

So we sold our little house and moved into something more suitable. We tripled our square footage and along with it our bathroom count, officially ending our bathroom dilemmas.

There is always a place to pee, a mirror to see in and an outlet to plug a hairdryer or straightener into.

Or there was.

Tomorrow we have two teenager girls who will vie for shower, mirror, sink time, in preparation for highschool appearances. They tried a trial run today. 96 minutes start to finish for KJ. 96 minutes before the door opened and KJ informed Lula the bathroom was all hers. 96 minutes before the fireworks started. 96 minutes before the bathroom trauma started. Arguments over hairdryers and nail polish remover, towels and counter space.

I think they may have forgotten their bathroom roots. I think they have forgotten how grateful they should be that they have a bathroom to share. Perhaps they don't realise how grateful they should be that while they are cat scrapping over eyelash curlers and bobbi-pins, their little brother isn't banging on the other side of the door threatening to pee in their shoes if he doesn't get his turn in the water closet.

What today's trial run taught us is that the girls will need to wake up at 3 am to get all their primping and priming done in time to meet the bus. It taught us that teenage daughters are like cage fighters, sometime you just have to let them battle it out, survival of the fittest style and wait for the hairspray to settle.

More importantly I learned how grateful I am that I have a bathroom of my own.

Note to kids; I will be on the good side of my bathroom door and all of your knocking and pleading will not convince me to forfeit my time. I paid my dues...curled my hair in the kitchen and stood cross legged on the bad side of the door too many times, and you can too!

While taking in Canada Day festivities we came across this image from the travelling petting zoo...


I didn't ask the history behind this animal's current circumstance (I didn't want to inquire actually, traveling petting zoos horrify me already)

Clearly something had gone terribly ari in this poor joey's life to be living in an Areopostle tote bag.

We could learn a lot about a grateful attitude from this little guy. I know a lot of people who, if displaced from their ideal life, would be complaining because their bag wasn't Couture. I know a lot of people who would be hopping around the cage in protest of everything that wasn't right about receiving a pink bag hanging undignified from a chainlink frence. Fortunately I also know a lot of people like Joey, willing to enjoy the best life has to offer, make the best of a less than ideal situation and just hang out.

Enjoy your day...find some gratitude in those less than ideal cirrcumstances today...BE A JOEY!

Spend some moment everyday in reflection of gratitude and happiness. Even if the time found is standing in line for coffee...use is wisely.


Michelle


Did this post brighten your day? make you smile? If so I'd be ever so grateful if you shared it on Facebook or Twitter. Someone else might be in need of a smile - Thanks!

I'm throwing down a challenge for The Space Between Raindrops. The challenge is to raise the number of followers to 100!

Everyday, I receive e-mails and messages thanking The Space Between Raindrops for providing some perspective, a reminder to keep positive or a simple laugh.

I get these notes of gratitude and I think...I wish I could do this for everybody!

Ok, everybody is a tall order. I've decided to start with 100. I want to see if we can get the number of FOLLOWERS to 100!

But I am going to need your help...

1. If you haven't already, click the "FOLLOW" icon on the right side of the page  (its the one with the little pictures under it)

2. Tell your friends...Tweet it up, Share to Facebook, Email a link to everyone in your contacts list. Why not sent them your favorite post!

3. Watch the "FOLLOWERS" count grow!

If The Space Between Raindrops has ever brightened your day, made you laugh or helped you think about things from a different angle...help us share that feeling!

I have a theory that gratitude is just as infectious as misery...Thank you for helping me test the theory.

E-man is about to break out of his comfort zone, in a very BIG way.

You may remember my request for school age appropriate humour. The request came in an effort to help E-man prepare a routine for the end of the year school talent show. (you can revisit that post; "Is This Thing On?" )

I can not speak for all of us but I can tell you, that I myself, am absolutely amazed at his interest in putting himself on display. This is my young man who suffers from debilitating stress induced migraines. The boy who can chew a red ring around his lips in less than an hour in reaction to nerve wracking circumstances. He is the very last of my children that I would have pegged the family Thespian. Yet here we go...

He stated his desire, he asked for our support. We scripted a 'bit'; A Rick Mercer inspired comedy news skit. We made props, sourced wardrobe and solicited practice audiences. E-man has been practicing his heart out!

Auditions were held two weeks ago for the talent show. When I inquired about how the audition went, E responded "I think I nailed it!"

Nail it he did...he secured a spot in the show and the real work got underway. More practice, more rehearsals, more pretend performances, He has mastered the timing and the choreography of the 'Bit'...He is ready! The show is Thursday, I've booked time off work to see it unfold, Lula has her video camera charged and  ready to capture E-man's stage debut.

I am still trying to figure out how a child who can't call his Grandpa on the phone has found the nerves and ambition to perform in front of an audience of a couple hundred peers and teachers. I understand that certain performers like Tom Hanks, Lucille Ball and Jim Carey where once upon a time, incredibly shy people. What I can't figure out is what possessed them say "Hey, I'd like to perform for people!"

Regardless of whether or not I can bend my head around it, I am incredibly grateful that he is feeling confident enough to take the risk. So many of us carry that nagging conversation around in our hearts..."If only I had....(insert that thing here). 

I think I just learned one of life's biggest lessons from my super shy, nervous wreck of a boy who has committed himself to breaking a leg (and hopefully a life time cycle of apprehension)

Stay tunes for the video after Thursday's Big Show!

Spend some moment everyday in reflection of gratitude and happiness. Even if the time found is standing in line for coffee...use is wisely.


Michelle


Did this post brighten your day? make you smile? If so I'd be ever so grateful if you shared it on Facebook or Twitter. Someone else might be in need of a smile - Thanks!

I used to be fantastic! Don't laugh, it's true. There was once a time when I made the world go-round. Granted the world was small, but I ruled it magically. I was the queen of playdough and silly songs and playground coolness. With a single word I could make everything right with the world, ridding it of monsters and bullies and sadness. There was even a time when I used to have the answers to some of life's toughest questions.

In just a few short years my reign has come to an end.  Now the most magical thing I can produce is a ride to the mall. The only answers I have are incorrect and the only thing I can make right is spaghetti.

How does that happen? I'll tell you...

First we teach kids how to talk, then they learn to talk back. We teach them to explore their world and they learn that there is more out there than we can offer them. We teach them to stand up for themselves, and they stand up against us. We teach them to make choices but we never suspect that they will choose things we don't agree with. We ask them to be responsible and they don't need us so much anymore. We tell them to grow up, and they do.

Knowing all of this doesn't make a bit of difference. The job of a parent is to teach people not to need you anymore. You still have to encourage them to speak, to explore, to be strong, thoughtful and responsible. You still have to teach them to grow up. (Despite how painful those teen years are going to prove to be.)

I have discovered that as you become less and less fantastic you need to have some sanity saving strategies.

I'm not going to lie...

• I use country music like garlic. I play it loud. It keeps everyone out of my hair long enough to get the housework done.
• I creep facebook pages and twitter posts. With my online urban dictionary bookmarked I can almost figure out just how much discomfort I'm dishing out and adjust accordingly.
• I listen to people with little children fret and complain and in my mind I reminisce about the days when my troubles were small and I ruled the world. (FYI that grin on my face is is more Cheshire cat than 'isn't that cute', if you only knew what you're in for)
• I weep. I don't cry, crying is for babies. Weeping is the battle song of those enduring inevitable adversity. (just a note here; they know they bring you to tears but they must not know when, weep in private)
• I have a safe room, a place I go to rant or weep. Lately the garage has been my safe room. Michael's motorcycle is there, so is Michael. We are a team...this is our situation room. (just a note here; ranting is a good tool to use openly on occasion, it keeps everyone on their toes, be the ticking time bomb)
• Perhaps my most effective strategy is to let Michael take one for the team. I let him be the bad guy, he knows I'm going to throw him under the bus and he's good with that (like he has a choice) We talked about this a long time ago. I did the labour and delivery thing, his sacrifice here might just make us even. 'Even' is going to be important if we are going to enjoy staring at each other in an empty house not many years from now.

I know that the teenage years are the final push that will present us with fabulous adults to share time and conversation with. I just want to laugh along the way. I don't want to wait until after because well, truth be told I'm not convinced I'm going to come out with enough marbles to remember what I wanted to laugh about. I'm also a little afraid that it might be like childbirth and I might forget everything.

If you are still fabulous and the ruler of the world...soak it in! If you are no longer fabulous and in the heat of battle...chin-up, fist bump, fist bump, boooyahh...you can do this! (we can do this? can't we?) If you are on the other side enjoying your adults...do share...what got you there? what was your best strategy?



Spend some moment everyday in reflection of gratitude and happiness. Even if the time found is standing in line for coffee...use is wisely.


Michelle


Did this post brighten your day? make you smile? If so I'd be ever so grateful if you shared it on Facebook or Twitter. Someone else might be in need of a smile - Thanks!

It's no secret that I am a conflicted individual when it comes to food. I spend a portion of my days serving up fast food to carb, fat, sugar addicted individuals. I cringe everyday actually that I dawn that polyester uniform and visor. While I realise that my tenure within the establishment was always meant as a temporary solution to an employment problem the guilt is immense.

I can not tell you how many times a day I want to say "have a nice day, I do apologize for contributing to your health crisis. Could I ask you not to come again? Perhaps we could meet out back and I could share some healthy eating suggestions. Please stop killing yourself." 

I really want to say this but I don't because truthfully, I need this job for another couple of months until my real job transitions into it's full-time status. I need this job serving bad food so that I can put good food on my table and into my children.

I remember when I took the job initially. My kids laughed, they didn't believe me. They were concerned that I would have an emotional melt down going to the job on a daily basis, they said "isn't that hypocritical?" then they said "You're not going to bring it home are you?"

I felt wonderful. Food fight #1 the daily internal conflict of how I live vs. how I finance it.

Food Fight # 2 is more of a real time battle. Filled with strategy, culinary weaponry and convert operations. I've never gone to war over food in our home. My children eat every vegetable and fruit imaginable (except brussel sprouts, for which I also harbour a strong dislike, so we don't argue) It's been a simple matter of what's been offered up since day one. Babyfood started with vegetables for entree and fruit for dessert, fruits and veggies were the snacks provided to toddlers. Dinner always includes veggies. Lunches get bagged everyday so that lunch away from home is nutritious too. As a result our kids reach for their 5 to 10 without a second thought. Sure they enjoy sweet snacks too but it's a balancing act.

Okay perhaps kids who eat lamb, seafood and quinoa may seem a tad alien to most people but I promise dinners are peaceful. No vegetable battles. Until recently...

Circumstances within our extended family have brought our 3 young nephews to share our home on a routine basis. I was prepared for the changes in family schedule Wednesdays and alternate weekends. I was prepared for the time, patience, laundry, sleeping arrangements and toy chaos. I was not prepared for 'culinary warfare.'

Off the list: carrots, beans, tomatoes, corn, cucumbers, apples, oranges, pears, lettuce, peppers, onions, plums, kiwi, pineapple, broccoli, mushrooms, watermelon, cantaloupe.....perhaps a list of accepted food would be shorter. On the list: Chicken nuggets, French fries, hotdogs, grilled cheese sandwiches, bananas, milk, cookies, dunkaroos, fruit gummy snacks, juice, crackers....well you get the idea.

I was stunned. Determined to introduce my love of healthy food to my young impressionable nephews, they have no idea what they are missing.

It was quickly evident with the number of beans, grapes and peas stuffed in pant legs and pockets, the apples flushed down the toilet and the sweepings from the floor that a little creative presentation was necessary.

First we went to the grocery store so that I could get a handle on what they did like to eat. Maybe they had a palette for fruits and veggies, perhaps I just wasn't stocking the fridge with what they like. Well that was an eye opening mission, clearly I wasn't off track in my assumptions and since I wasn't willing to stock my cupboards with cheezies and dingdongs I had my work cut out for me.

Time to built my arsenal...

I use my kids. I take no shame in dragging them into the conflict. I use their names and food choices. I hold them up as examples of kids choosing good foods.

I use my kitchen. I give everybody meal preparation jobs. cutting, washing, setting the table. Anything to give them ownership of what was going on the table and hopefully into their mouths.

I make sure I offer something I know they will eat along with one or two items I am sceptical of.

I choose basics. No sense going for avocado if I can't get them to eat apples.

We make muffins and rice cereal treats. Yes, I use their own creations against them. These items have become rewards for trying something new at any given meal.

I employed flexibility. The request is that you try everything at least. If you really don't like it you don't have to clean your plate of it but you have to taste it at least.

We have specified battle times. Lunch and Dinner.

So far the Food Fight seems to be going at an even draw although I think I may be gaining ground. My table picnics and grocery store games are having some positive affects on our mutual understanding.

In 8 short weeks we have moved carrots, peppers, peas, corn, pears, tomato sauce (cleverly disguising mushrooms, onions and celery) savory sauces and perhaps the greatest accomplishment FISH onto the accepted foods list!!!! granted the fish was disguised as "fingers" but they know what they were eating and I think we might be able to serve some sans breading!

The War is far from won but we celebrate every minor victory with high fives and mentions of pride. I think we might actually be fighting on the same team to some degree. The struggle is that the time we have to expose their tastebuds to different foods is limited. The day is not far off when they will leave our table save for the occasional visit for dinner. The goal is to change there perception of food so that they are risk takers, willing to try things they haven't before.

So those are the 2 great Food Fights of 2011. One internal and one active conflict. In an attempt to ease my conscious a wee bit and to further fuel my imaginative culinary weaponry I have signed on to Jamie Oliver's Food Revolution. Lula gave me the book as a gift for Christmas, knowing how I adore Jamie and my ever growing cookbook collection. Putting it All Into a Bowl of Chili was a post I made not too long ago around this book and I hope to do more. This is kind of why I chose Tuesday for this post. I was thinking about a weekly food centered offering...Tuesdays seem like a good day.

What do you think about Tuesday Foodday? Do you have food battles raging in your home? Any tips or tricks you're willing to pass along? I'd love to add your ideas to my arsenal!

Stop by The Food Revolution site and join your name in the pursuit of better eating!


Spend some moment everyday in reflection of gratitude and happiness. Even if the time found is standing in line for coffee...use is wisely.


Michelle


Did this post brighten your day? make you smile? If so I'd be ever so grateful if you shared it on Facebook or Twitter. Someone else might be in need of a smile - Thanks!

It is Election Day in Canada. Being privileged to live in a country that allows every person to have a voice demands you stand up and mark your 'X' (in Canada we still do it that way; pencil..ballot..'X'..into the box) Voting is how we express our gratitude for the privilege of living in a free country. If you question if this is true...ask a veteran their opinion.

We have conversations in our home about the duty of voting, we've taken the kids with us to the polling stations.  We are, afterall, raising the next generation of voters. There is importance in leading by example.

Fortunately, among many of the families we know this seems to be a common practice. It would appear that the future is in good hands. Good hands provided that this next generation understands the weight of their vote. How do you teach that their vote is their 'choice'?

You give them choices, you let them practice. You give them an array of options making sure they understand the possible outcome of each choice. There are plenty of opportunities to do this.

Tonight's example.... brought to you by E-man....

Here is our voter, contemplating the choices;

Homework or No Homework

He has two options

• come in... get the homework done and the rest of the week is his to enjoy out of doors and with his friends
• Ignore my suggestion and spend the rest of his week answering the door and telling his friends why he can't come out to play.

Polls are open for 45 seconds. (in fairness he had advance poll voting opportunities)

Evidently, we're doing an adequate job of teaching the ins an outs of democracy. While he may have marked his 'X' for the 'not so right' choice he has learned at least, that his vote also allows him the privilege of complaining about the outcome. Something he'll be doing a great deal of over the next 5 days.


Spend some moment everyday in reflection of gratitude and happiness. Even if the time found is standing in line for coffee...use is wisely.


Michelle


Did this post brighten your day? make you smile? If so I'd be ever so grateful if you shared it on Facebook or Twitter. Someone else might be in need of a smile - Thanks!

This is a healthy plant in our home.

White roses and it's less healthy twin, Pink roses, have lived with us for 2 weeks. They came to us healthy, green, vibrant and flourishing. I followed the tag; watered moderately, exposed to full sun and a balmy 22 degrees C. I did everything right and they died. They died before it got warm enough for me to put them outside for mother nature to take care of.

I can't help it... clearly  a case of nature vs. nurture. I'd love to have a green thumb. I'd also like to have the voice of an angel, the sparkle of a motivational speaker and the looks of a runway sensation.

On the plus side I don't have to eat like a rabbit, deal with the paparazzi, or find hanging space for platinum albums. I also don't have to spend time watering, pruning and transplanting.

Gratitude today for the time nature has spared me to do handle more important matters.


Spend some moment everyday in reflection of gratitude and happiness. Even if the time found is standing in line for coffee...use is wisely.


Michelle


Did this post brighten your day? make you smile? If so I'd be ever so grateful if you shared it on Facebook or Twitter. Someone else might be in need of a smile - Thanks!

Hate is a word I don't use very often. My Dad use to say to us when we were kids and the word would spit from our mouths. "Hate is a very strong word, you can't understand the enormity of the word. Hate is a word you can't take back." He would say "I strongly dislike is a better phrase to use."  So I did. remembering always that if I was going to say Hate, I better mean it in an unwavering, don't ever want to take it back kind of way.

Let me say, I Strongly dislike rapini. I strongly dislike when my neighbour's music shakes the windows in my house at 2am on a Saturday night. I strongly dislike doing my taxes. I strongly dislike the smell of cigarettes, the taste of fake watermelon candy, chewing gum and insomnia.

I Hate spiders.

insert disgusting photo of spider here. (Not going to happen, I like this space, I want to enjoy it)

Why, is irrational. They are tiny and harmless, I don't believe that they lay eggs in your ears or crawl in your mouth when you sleep. They do have 8 legs and too many eyes and you can tell they are all looking at you. I hate that as soon as the weather warms up the creepy crawlers emerge from wherever they spent the winter. I hate that they always emerge from some place I've been frequenting on a daily basis. I hate that they've been there all along. I hate when they crawl up from the kitchen drain or skitter across the bedroom wall inches from my head.

I hate when I find one in the shower with me...like I did this morning!

They shouldn't bother me, I've faced far bigger and more gruesome creatures. Once when a bat took haven in Michael's bachelor pad I was an integral part of the extradition team.  I was "the stick guy." If you have ever been involved in a wildlife relocation project you know they are 3 guys; the guy with the plan, the guy charged with containment equipment and the stick guy. The guy with the plan always has one (so does everybody else but when everything goes horribly wrong we all want someone to point at) The containment guy procures the kleenex, pillowcase, jar, bag, box or basket required and is vigilantly ready for the capture (the plan guy and the containment guy are never the same guy) The stick guy carries the flyswatter, broom, poker, tennis racket or golf club. This person must be able to follow directions like; 'No!', 'GO!, GO!, GO!', 'Other side' and 'Wait..wait..now!'

I always seem to be 'the stick guy.'  I swat the flies while everyone else points out where they are. I was the one with the broom the night the cat brought a mouse in the house. I was raking the yard on the afternoon a bird flew in the house...Yep I was the 'guy' trying to gently guide the creature under instruction to the open door. So that's my job. I don't plan, extricate or kill, I handle the necessary stick.

Until this morning. . . Remember that spider? 

Under normal circumstances I enlist an impassioned plea "Michael, I need you!" 26 years together and bless his heart he still thinks I'm talking sexy not hitman. Michael comes to my rescue and 'handles' the spider. (He also handles Lula's spiders and KJ's spiders). This morning found me in a predicament. I was already in the shower. I was already wet. Our ensuite shower is small, clearly I was already in the spider containment device. There is also the cardinal rule when dealing with spiders. It's like the first aid rule; 'Never leave the victim unattended to seek help. Call out, send someone else, flag somebody down.' Spiders must be handled the same way. Never take your eye off of the offender. They will disappear and you will never sleep, shower or go in that cupboard again.

All of these factors left me to deal. Suddenly I had to be 'the plan guy'. We were already contained (much to my horror) My plan was to kill the spider, now I needed a 'stick'. A shampoo bottle was to risky; with it's odd shape a miss was highly probable. Any 'stick guy' worth their salt knows you only get 1 really good chance. A razor; clearly too small, the bath puff; clearly not a stick. So I picked up the shower scissors. (please don't ask. I don't know why I have scissors in the shower except that we get alot of those shampoo sample packet thingies) Scissors in hand I braced myself for a good, one and only shot. I leaned forward, approached the spider, squished it with the scissors and immediately did that little dance you do when you are completely grossed out and not entirely sure the spider is indeed extinguished and not charging you.

I got him! First try!

I felt a tingle of guilt and then an enormous sense of courage and accomplishment. I conquered the spider and my fear. I felt like able to take on the what ever might threaten to cripple me today. I reached for the shampoo and lathered up. Keeping one eye open while I basked in the glory of victory. . . I watched Arachnophobia.

Gratitude today for small victories, If I can conquer a spider, E-man can conquer the dark and Lula can conquer public speaking.  A grateful chosen for KJ too, because, if not for my courage, she would be facing the demon herself (maybe she will start to use her own bathroom)


Spend some moment everyday in reflection of gratitude and happiness. Even if the time found is standing in line for coffee...use is wisely.


Michelle


Did this post brighten your day? make you smile? If so I'd be ever so grateful if you shared it on Facebook or Twitter. Someone else might be in need of a smile - Thanks!

Being the parent of teens can be challenging, even with great kids. (yes I have great kids. Have I not mentioned that before?) There are worries about friendships and relationships, a word that makes a small patch of skin just below my breastbone break out in a rash. (I think it may be the ulcer burning to the surface.) Parents of teens (even really great ones) worry. People who have been entirely your responsibility for years are suddenly out in the world supervised only by a guilty conscious and their own moral compass.

They want more freedom, they crave it, plan it and fight for it, Of course they usually require a ride to and from their freedom and someone to finance it.

Teenagers never have clean clothes. I know that teens are smart, they continually remind me by proclaiming "I'm not stupid." Why, do they not know then, that clothes do not walk from the bedroom floor to the laundry room?

Only a teenager could stand in the middle of the kitchen while you unpack $200 worth of groceries and complain that there is nothing to eat. At that moment it takes every ounce of strength not to chuck a grapefruit at their head.

As the parent of a teen you are directly responsible for plan failure. How this happens I am not sure, all I am certain of is that if a BFF can't make it to the movie because her BF's parents said he couldn't leave the house...you will pay. A simple "what movie are you seeing?" will be successfully twisted into a high pitched discussion about the number of ways you are single handedly destroying a life.

In a comedic irony we are directly responsible to authorities for the attendance, performance and success of scholastic life. Have you ever asked a teen to do their homework?

There are serious issues that rob us of sleep. The minefield of adolescent dangers is ever growing and the urban dictionary is usually a good six months behind. By the time information about the latest narcotic party games, conquest challenges and social network threats filter to your facebook, it's old news.

Yes, parenting teens, even really great ones (yes, I have great kids. I'm not so much reminding you as I am reminding myself.) is challenging. I have a long way still to go on this portion of our parenting journey. Our youngest has yet to enter adolescence. Lord help me, there are days when I wonder if I'll come out the other side. It takes a thick skin not to take it personally. It takes enormous emotional fortitude to weather the hormonal storms. It takes a ridiculous amount of resolve to stand your ground. It takes an infinate measure of faith to withstand the worry.

I'm not going to lie, there are days that end with me curled into to the fetal position with a box of kleenex. There are days when I think they are going to defeat me. There are days when I am sure I don't have what it takes to get them through this right of passage. Some days I don't know where I will find the strength.

Then I get a text like this...

KJ wants to be picked up from her sleepover at dinner not lunch.

...and instantly the batteries recharge!

I'm grateful that teenagers think they are so smart. They remind me that I am stronger than I give myself credit for. Bring it on!