Northward Bound

We're coming up on the Civic Holiday weekend here in Canada. And for the past many years this has been a weekend where my family (my parents, my sisters and I and our respective families) head up north to our family cottage to get a little silly and crazy and have a general good time. Unfortunately this year our youngest sister won't be able to join us but we're still looking forward to a great weekend of swimming, sunning, bonfires, games and cottage dance parties.

There's just something about the cottage. I spent most of every summer growing up there. I got engaged and married there. I've spent countless birthdays, family celebrations, corn roasts, boat rallies and Canada Days up there. I would live there if I could...

I often joke that if it weren't for the fact that I'm so obviously addicted to things like social media, digital photography and my e-reader that I should have been born in a different century. I love to do things like knit and crochet, sew, and I put up tonnes of homemade pickles and jams each year. And there's something about being up north, where our cell phones don't work and there's no Internet that just.... refreshes my soul. I usually bring my guitar and my yoga mat. And I spend a lot more time sitting, drinking tea and talking to my family members - live and in person than I normally do. Getting up early to go and do yoga on the dock as the sun burns the fog off the water, drinking tea in Adirondack chairs, roasting hot dogs and marshmallows over a bonfire, and singing silly songs with my Dad and my kids while I play my guitar... those are the things that have real, honest, value in my life.

I look at this weekend away as a kind of retreat. I will miss you bloggies - but I will return to my normal, electronically filled life far too soon - but for now - I'm packing up and heading northward bound. One of the places my heart calls home.

Hope you're having a peace and rest-filled weekend too!
Talk soon.
Tea.

A Painful Anniversary

Today is a painful anniversary. One I've, honestly, been trying not to think about all day. It helped (ha!) that our water heater broke this morning and our laundry room was flooded and I spent a good chunk of the morning thinking about that instead... but every time I get a spare moment to myself... it creeps in.

A year ago today - my whole life got turned upside down. Stood right on its head. I lost absolute control over everything about myself. A year ago today I learned that I had lost our baby. It was a true death for me. I grieved it as one. I still grieve our baby's loss. I may, likely, do so for the rest of my life.

What Mama Wears: on Mother's Day

So, this outfit was inspired by my Mother's Day gift from my boys - these rockin' shoes!

My Mother, My Friend.

I keep reading these articles and blogs and books and such that say "You are not your child's friend. You are their parent. You can love them unconditionally, you can support and encourage them, you can laugh and play with them, but you are not their friend." and I think... wow. My Mom sure did it wrong.

Now, obviously I'm being a bit sarcastic here. My mother has always been my mother... and while I certainly wasn't your typical teenager (I left the screaming and such to my younger sisters) I certainly had my teenage moments... but having lived at home throughout school, and even university, and now I'm grown and have kiddos of my own, I can honestly say that I am proud to call her both my Mom and my friend.

We do a lot together. We dance together in our church's liturgical dance group, we chat regularly, drop by each other's houses, drink tea, email practically daily... she is definitely my Mom. There are times in all of our lives when we just need to talk to our mothers... but she is also definitely my friend.

She taught me to be strong, and she supports me when I'm not. She taught me to be confident, and she built me up so that I could be. She taught me to laugh at myself, by never being afraid to show her silly, goofy side. She taught me to try new things, because you never know what your next passion might be. She taught me the value of good food, good friends, family and that time is the most precious gift you can give anyone.

She has also helped me through this dark time this past year, by not being afraid to share her own journey through the darkness of depression and loss. She is a powerfully vulnerable, beautifully confident, and an amazingly wonderful woman. My mother, my friend.

Happy Mother's Day Mama. Thank you for being the mother I'm striving to be.

What mama Wears: 50s Housewife?

SO - I got this great fabric from Ikea a while back... and it didn't know what it wanted to be for a while... but then one day when I was browsing a pin-up clothing website (because, honestly, what curvy girl doesn't dream of looking like a pin-up girl from the 40s/50s/60s? really...) I realized that this gingham fabric wanted to be a circle skirt. It desperately wanted to. So much so that it needed to be sewn RIGHT. THEN.

So I did.

And then I wore it with killer heels, a white tee, pearls, fun rose cab. earrings and a swirly side updo thingamajig style for my hair.

I said to The Hubs - look at me. I'm June Frickin' Cleaver here! All I need is an apron... and a casserole or something.

I loved it.

So I'm sharing it with you.
Also - I've decided I'm going to post the WMW photos a little differently. I'm tired of doing all the photoshopping of the pics into one file, so I'm just going to put them up. Okay, the truth is, I'm lazy when it comes to PS. There, I said it.

Anyway - here's my 50s housewife look. And just so you know - I baked cookies that afternoon... but not in this skirt. Priorities!

 

Me: aka June Cleaver.

5 years of furry love - it's Copper-Dopper Day!

In our household there is another super-important day that immediately follows Valentine's Day. We call it Copper-Dopper Day. Feb 15, 2008 the Hubs drove me up to a dog shelter called "Paws Awhile" and we picked up my first baby, my furbaby - Copper. Or as we called him in the early months we had him, the Copper-Dopper.

Copp is a redbone coonhound, we figure he's around 9 years old now, and while he definitely has his issues (being born in a puppy mill, used as a stud-dog - that'll do some damage to a dog psyche) he's also an incredibly sweet, patient, loving dog. He loves to snuggle, and while he's not very "lick-y", he will rub his head against you, and 'snuffle' you (smell your face) if he likes you. He's a sweetheart.

So, every Feb 15 we celebrate the day that our little family grew. He's our .5 (y'know, white picket fence, 2.5 kids... still waiting on that fence tho'). And we love him.

 

He made himself comfortable pretty soon after we got him.

Valentine.............

Ah, Valentine's Day. A day where some embrace the cheesy, lovey quality of an admittedly corporately created holiday, and some rail against the proclamations of love and hearts and flowers and chocolate and all that's sweet.

I had a friend on FB remind everyone this morning that St. Valentine is actually the patron saint of bees, epilepsy and plagues. I wished him many plagues of seizing bees. I do what I can.

What Mama Wears...

This is the first instalment of What Mama Wears! Yay!

Okay - to be fair, I'm actually kind of excited. And nervous. And excited... Hopefully the photography will get better as time goes on (let's be honest, I'm used to be on the other side of the camera, not in front of it - yuck!) but for now at least hopefully you'll get an idea of what I'm wearing and why!

First up:

Put a bow on it.

I love a good print. Picked up this tee at Forever 21 Outlet in Niagara Falls. Since it's kind of a stand out I went fairly simple with everything else. Black and White cardi, sweet *shh, they're* yoga pants and a pair of super comfy low heels. I like to have a more defined waist in my outfits, since, as a busty woman, sometimes finding a top that fits the girls makes everything else look kind of pregnant and potato-sackish. But I can't wear a belt every single day, so I just button one or two buttons in the middle of the cardi, and voila - instant hourglass.

   

Cardigan: Ricki's / Tee-shirt: Forever 21 Plus / Pants: Joe Fresh Yoga / Shoes: Payless Fioni Night / Necklace: Designs by Patricia

...And I'm blessed

It's the 10th. 

That was the first thing in my mind this morning when I woke up. My internal clock seems to have an alarm set on the 10th of the month these days. 3 months ago on the 10th of June I had a fairly great day; a special worship service at the church, a bridal shower... and then - as you well know - my whole life fell apart right before my eyes. At least - that's how it felt.

And the 6 weeks of physical healing that followed were hard. There's no other word. They were hard. And the many many more weeks/months/years(?) I'm looking at for emotional healing... well, I don't expect them to be easy either.

But I'm trying. I'm trying to heal and grow at the same time. And you know what? It's hard.

Now - I've never been one to shy away from the hard stuff. In fact - some people (perhaps people who don't like me very much) would even go so far as to call me 'hard'. I think I'm okay with that. I think of it as tough, confident, strong. All good words. But they're defensive words. They're hard words.

So lately I've been trying to also remind myself that while there are things that are hard, that I don't like, that I haven't got a choice whether or not they happen... that while those things are happening - and are hard - that at the same time I'm blessed.

I woke up this morning and I was in the mood to be sad. "It's the 10th" I said to myself. I sat up on the side of the bed, shoulders slumped, feeling dejected - "it's the 10th." Then I stood up and I saw my husband asleep and I thought "it's the 10th... and I'm blessed." I'm blessed because that man has stayed here beside me, held me when I cried, given me reason to smile and laugh and laughed with me. ... And I'm blessed.

OMG... I'm 30.

I've been thinking about writing this post for some time now. I'll readily admit - I'm not one of those women who wants to stay forever at 29. I am embracing 30 wholeheartedly. Honest. And it's not turning 30 and getting older that's weighing on my mind, it's looking back over the last 30 years of my life, and wondering -like the great Talking Heads song, Once in a Lifetime - How did I get here?!

When I was a kid, and someone asked me about my  future, I probably would have said something really kind of trite (I was sort of an obnoxious, sarcastic kid) like that I was going to "Be a lawyer, but not a criminal lawyer, a business lawyer, so I won't have to represent real criminals".  Shows what I knew then, huh?

Later on, I would have said that I was going to be a teacher (nope, don't like kids that much), a musician (who really makes it in the music business anyway? not me!), a youth minister (well that lasted about 2 years), a writer (well.... maybe....), and hey - I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up. ;) But I don't think, when growing up, I ever - EVER - mentioned being married, having kids, volunteering at my church in many forms, driving a school bus, being a crafts person, an artist. I didn't know what it meant to "grow up".