tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28013881568879885782024-02-19T00:58:59.662-08:00Motherhood and Everything ElseKerryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09631390858351359769noreply@blogger.comBlogger41125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2801388156887988578.post-60565126985282908032014-01-06T10:25:00.003-08:002014-01-06T10:25:55.619-08:00Dear Online Retailers...<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I realize that I am a plus size woman and I might represent only a small portion of your overall bottom line, however, there are some things you need to know about me:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">1) I shop. A lot. I like to buy clothes. I like to feel pretty. In fact, I probably spend more than anyone else I know on clothes each year.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">2) I don't like it when I go on line to look around and in the PLUS SIZE section of your website and see photos like this one:</span></div>
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<a href="http://shop.nordstrom.com/s/lysse-control-top-capri-leggings/3207005?origin=category-personalizedsort&contextualcategoryid=0&fashionColor=Black&resultback=1275&cm_sp=personalizedsort-_-browseresults-_-1_4_C"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">http://shop.nordstrom.com/s/lysse-control-top-capri-leggings/3207005?origin=category-personalizedsort&contextualcategoryid=0&fashionColor=Black&resultback=1275&cm_sp=personalizedsort-_-browseresults-_-1_4_C</span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">How am I supposed to see what something might potentially look like on me when my upper arms are probably larger than the model's thighs? Granted, not all photos are like that on all websites, but if you're going to just use a photo from the misses piece then perhaps you shouldn't include it. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Every item looks absolutely fabulous on those twigs but when I order it and try it on, it looks NOTHING LIKE THAT. Thankfully I know my body type, what looks good and what designers I can regularly order from and consistently know my size. Not everybody can order with confidence like I can and it's not fair to the curvy girls to keep showing all these stick figures wearing things that will not flatter our bodies. Shame on you.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">3) I despise getting e-mails from people like The Bay who advertise one day sales on ladies clothing only to find out it doesn't apply to Plus Sizes. Since when aren't plus size women ladies? I've attempted on more than one occasion to reach someone at The Bay to help them understand that the message they are sending out is wrong. If they are going to put ladies' sweaters on sale, then all size ranges in their stores (on-line and brick/mortar) should be included. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">I'm frustrated. I get to travel lots to the US and get to actually try things on. I can't imagine what it's like for someone who lives in a remote location and doesn't have the same access I do to real stores. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">I doubt anything will ever be done about this, but it's been on my mind and I don't think it's fair. I think if retailers just spent a little extra money and posted pictures of what things look like on plus size women (heck, I'll take a mannequin over a skinny girl any day!) they might see their sales increase, returns decrease and have overall higher customer satisfaction. And it would sure be lovely if we were acknowledged along with everyone else as ladies. Cause we are. We are people and it's time retailers started treating us like them.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana;"></span>Kerryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09631390858351359769noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2801388156887988578.post-31012948731759619312013-12-19T08:51:00.000-08:002013-12-19T13:45:11.317-08:00Pa Rump Pa Pum Pum<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Why is everyone so upset that winter programs at schools don't have traditional Christmas carols? I can understand it if your kid goes to a Christian/Catholic school, but if your child is in a public school what's the big deal if they are singing about snowflakes and Santa vs Baby Jesus? Just because the majority of people celebrate something does not mean we shouldn't be aware or inclusive of other people and respect their cultures. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Immigrating to Canada does not mean assimilation, or does it? When did we start that? Should people have to give up their own personal beliefs because they moved here because we give them freedom to practice their beliefs? Holy hypocritical.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">I have been reading how people are so upset because it's so different from when we were kids. Of course it's different from when we were kids! Since the 1970's:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">- Kids have to sit in carseats and wear seatbelts. I never had to. I remember laying down in the back seat of the truck to have a good sleep. I never got a sore neck from having to try and sleep sitting up because it was "safer".</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">- Kids have to wear helmets and pads to ride bikes and skateboards and ski. I don't remember ever having to do that.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">- Parents no longer smoke in vehicles when their kids are in the car (for the most part). It was common practice for both parents to smoke in a vehicle and just open the window a tiny crack. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">- LGBT folks are allowed to marry and be openly in love with the one they love. Heck, they are even allowed to have children (gasp!).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">And the list goes on. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">I'm all about everyone believing in what they believe in - EVERYONE. Just because I don't share the same beliefs as you doesn't mean I want yours shoved down my throat and especially down my child's throat. My suggestion is that if you want to hear traditional Christmas carols attend church. Churches have lots of services this time of year and you can sing your heart out.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Please please accept that our world is changing and we too need to change and learn how to get along. Our differences are what make us so very wonderful and we need to start showing our new immigrants that they are welcome and not slam them for being there because now our kids can't sing "Little Drummer Boy" at school. Seriously? Am I think only one that thinks that is just a little ridiculous?</span></div>
Kerryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09631390858351359769noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2801388156887988578.post-49944879788248130302013-11-21T19:55:00.000-08:002013-11-21T19:55:01.672-08:00Religious Anonymous<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Hi, my name is Kerry and I'm an atheist.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I don't believe in God. This may come as a shock to some, not so shocking to others. </span><span style="font-family: Verdana;">What I believe is that there is good in everyone and people are in my lives for a reason. I don't practice any religion but I suppose if I did the one I would most closely affiliate myself with is Buddhism. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">I have a lot of family members and friends that are Christians. For the most part, religion does not play a part in my relationship with any of these wonderful people. I'm never made to feel bad for not sharing their beliefs and for that, I'm truly grateful. I don't talk to them about my disbelief in God and consciously or not, they don't talk to me about their beliefs. It's worked great.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">And then today an acquaintance posted this on facebook with a big ol' AMEN in front of it:</span><br />
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<strong></strong><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><strong>Since the Pledge of Allegiance and The Lord’s Prayer are not allowed in most public schools anymore Because the word “God” is mentioned….<br />A kid in Arizona wrote the attached </strong></span><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial;"><br /></span><strong></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: small;">NEW School prayer </span></strong><strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: Verdana; font-size: small;">:</span></strong><strong><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: small;">Now I sit me down in school<br /> Where praying is against the rule<br /> For this great nation under God<br /> Finds mention of Him very odd. </span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: small;">If Scripture now the class recites,<br /> It violates the Bill of Rights.<br /> And anytime my head I bow<br /> Becomes a Federal matter now. </span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: small;">Our hair can be purple, orange or green,<br /> That’s no offense; it’s a freedom scene.<br /> The law is specific, the law is precise.<br /> Prayers spoken aloud are a serious vice. </span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: small;">For praying in a public hall<br /> Might offend someone with no faith at all.<br /> In silence alone we must meditate,<br /> God’s name is prohibited by the state. </span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: small;">We’re allowed to cuss and dress like freaks,<br /> And pierce our noses, tongues and cheeks.<br /> They’ve outlawed guns, but FIRST the Bible.<br /> To quote the Good Book makes me liable.<br /> We can elect a pregnant Senior Queen,<br /> And the ‘unwed daddy,’ our Senior King.<br /> It’s “inappropriate” to teach right from wrong,<br /> We’re taught that such “judgments” do not belong. </span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: small;">We can get our condoms and birth controls,<br /> Study witchcraft, vampires and totem poles.<br /> But the Ten Commandments are not allowed,<br /> No word of God must reach this crowd. </span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: small;">It’s scary here I must confess,<br /> When chaos reigns the school ‘s a mess.<br /> So, Lord, this silent plea I make:<br /> Should I be shot; My soul please take! </span></strong><br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><strong>Amen</strong><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Now, this is where I take offense. First of all, this came from America and you can tell it's American - we don't have a Pledge of Allegiance in Canada. I simply put a comment underneath the post that I find it interesting that people keep trying to put God in public schools. As more and more people are immigrating to our country and bringing their cultures and beliefs with them, how are we being accepting to them by forcing God down their throats? Is it right to ask a Muslim child to promise something to God if that is not what they believe? I simply stated that if you want God in your school then send your kid to a Christian school.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">And I was one of those blue haired kids - I turned out just fine. It's just hair. Maybe the pregnant teen made a mistake and trust me, she's going to be well aware of that mistake for the rest of her life. Why be so judgemental? For those of you who are anti-abortion, keeping the baby is what you want them to do and you shouldn't belittle someone for making the choice that you support and protest for. Why can't anyone live their life without being judged? You NEVER know what is happening on the other side of the street and the ones who hide behind their goodness because of their Christianity are the ones that send me over the edge.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Funny, I just put a few thoughts underneath the post and now I've been unfriended on facebook because of it. Obviously, we were just acquaintances so I don't REALLY care, but the fact that it happened because I was just trying to add a different dimension to the conversation is bothersome to me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Hey, this is Canada and it's 2013. I'm entitled to my beliefs as is everyone else. I don't think that God belongs in public schools any longer. Even if 90% of the school is Christian, there is 10% of the school that is being alienated and is that fair? Why don't we celebrate the religions of every student in the school? Isn't it easier to just keep religion where it belongs - at home, in your community and in your life? Does it have to come into mine? What purpose does it serve at a public school?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">I have very strong feelings about that, this is my blog and this is my spot to say something about it. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;"></span> </span>Kerryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09631390858351359769noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2801388156887988578.post-63198372830240279682013-10-04T07:41:00.002-07:002013-10-04T07:41:41.330-07:00That Kid<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I, friends, am the mother of "that kid". Apparently my child is teaching the other kids at daycare how to swear, kicking over block towers and yesterday, he punched a kid in the face because "he was bothering me". All in one week. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Vaughn goes through phases and I read somewhere that between the ages of 4 and 5 little boys' testosterone levels double which helps to explain some of the aggression. He's also been used to a dayhome and is the only child of a single parent so he's not been around a lot of kids all at once.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Excuses aside, it's very hard to hear these things because for the most part, I know Vaughn is a sweet and funny little boy. I don't want him to be "that kid" so it looks like we have some work to do.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Thankfully though, the daycare completely understands and he's certainly charmed the pants off just about everyone who works there so they are very forgiving with him. He always runs ahead to open the doors for the staff and insists that ladies go first, gentlemen go last. He makes them laugh with stories of how his penis won't let him do something. And the very first day he sat down across from his new teacher and told him that there was something she needed to know about him. He said "I'm a hugger. I am going to hug you." I know, right? Super cute. Where is that kid now?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Today was show and tell day at daycare and Vaughn didn't get to take anything. It was a consequence for his behaviour yesterday and I don't think it really hit him until he got to school. When we got there, he instantly ran in and apologized to his teacher for being a bully and I think he thought that was enough. Just before I left he came up to me and said he really wanted show and tell and I told him no and the waterworks started. I'm sure hoping that it sticks with him but I will continue to take away his privileges until he gets it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">It's just so hard trying to be good at my career and balance being a good mom as well. I am exceeding all expectations at the office and having a banner year in sales. The wonderful thing about my company is that they are supportive of me and understand if I need to take some time to be a mom. Maybe I'm not taking enough time away to be a mom. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Deep breath, I'm just going to let these past few days go. I have to. I can't always second guess my choices - I have to work hard so we can have a nice home and my son needs to learn that life is tough and he can't just push his way around. It's not enough to say "I'm sorry", but it's a good start.</span></div>
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Kerryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09631390858351359769noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2801388156887988578.post-59778095739457911682013-04-30T11:42:00.000-07:002013-04-30T11:42:04.660-07:00Drop In<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Last week I requested a meeting with a client and suggested Monday. The time I asked for was 11:00, have a meeting and then go for lunch. She told me the only time she wasn't free Monday was between 11:30 and 1 because she was volunteering serving lunch at the <a href="http://www.thedi.ca/" target="_blank">Calgary Drop-In Centre</a>. She told me I should come. I said sure.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">We met at the parking lot across the street and walked in. You can't get into the centre unless you're an employee, volunteer or have been approved entry (by way of bio-metrics). Up the stairs and into the volunteer holding room we went.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Jorge came in and explained to us all that the centre is now 10 years old and originally was meant to house around 500 people/night but has been expanded to house almost 1200 people. Many of these people are working homeless, in transition or down on their luck in general. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">The kitchen has a staff of 2 and welcomes volunteers from their client base and various volunteers from in and around Calgary to make meal services work. There were approximately 15-16 people there today and they had 8 in the kitchen and 8 out serving the meals.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Jorge explained to us that the clients come and sit down at a table prior to the meal times and that the volunteers bring the food to the table instead of making people go through a line. Portions are controlled and it also gives the clients a certain amount of dignity.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">We were serving the tables today. The kitchen team rations out the food and then puts the plates up on the counter. The servers grab the cutlery from a bin, put it on a plate and then start serving the meals. During the meal, an announcement came on to thank the volunteers and everyone gives a round of applause.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">I have to say everyone was extremely appreciative of the meal they were served, quite friendly and made the experience amazing. When we (the volunteers) were walking back through the tables to go retrieve our stuff from the volunteer room, we received another round of applause the whole time we were walking out. Tears were in my eyes and everyone was saying "thank you so much" - person after person was so grateful for us being there.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">From what I can see and what I learned, the Drop In Centre relies heavily on volunteers and I plan on going back as often as I can. It is humbling and rewarding knowing that I'm giving back to my community. It's also nice to see that the people who go there are being treated with respect and dignity and kindness. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">I think Calgary is an awesome place to live and it made me really happy to be able to give back.</span><br />
<br />Kerryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09631390858351359769noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2801388156887988578.post-38540487600570667212013-04-19T19:02:00.000-07:002013-11-19T15:30:57.117-08:00Plenty Off-ish<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So I have taken the plunge and have tried to start dating again. I signed up on match.com only to be matched with men whose sole criteria in a partner was that they were thin or athletic/toned. Sole. Criteria. Glad so many men have their priorities in check. </span><span style="font-family: Verdana;">Waste of $60.00, that's what that was. And when I tried to tell them why I was leaving them, they just wanted to give me another 3 months free. Why? So I can continually be reminded that 90% of the men on your site are shallow and can't look at the woman within? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">I thought then, why fight it? I'm a big girl, there has to be a website out there for men who like big girls, so I joined bbpeoplemeet.com. I met one guy who I thought was pretty awesome only to be told that he has issues with self-confidence and that's why he thought he would try dating a fat chick (he didn't call me that, I'm calling me that). I'm so glad I could be some dickwad's science experiment. Goodbye bbpeople.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">On to singleparentsmeet.com - hey, guess what? I'm a single parent too! Let's get together and do some family friendly activities - perfect for me who has my son full time and never gets to do very much outside of momville. Oh, no, we're back in the shallowness, where men only care about superficial things. Apparently, one has to be a MILF to be on this website, and I don't fit the bill. There are also a tremendous amount of men who don't actually have children on this website - they just like single moms - why? They think we put out? Go to Hell.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Do I dare? I'm so tired of paying someone to look at other people's pictures and deal with their bullshit lies. So I caved. I went on Plenty of Fish. It's free. It's also full of weirdos. You would think out of all the people on there that there might be a few good men. Like Greek Guy. I shot him a quick message to tell him he was handsome and I liked his profile. Pretty easy breezy, nothing big. He writes me back telling me he thinks I'm cute. Excellent! We're off to a great start.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">I suggest we move off POF to our phones where we are now texting feverishly, like 2 school kids. He's an engineer, been married, has a teenage daughter, sounds responsible. Wants photos of me (tasteful) and goes skiing for the weekend with his buddies, texting me all the while. He's totally into me (I think). Fast forward 2 days and I'm in Minneapolis out for dinner with a co-worker and I get this text:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">"Tara's blowing me - wanna see a pic?" </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Uh. Huh? What just happened? Apparently, he's making a joke with a buddy and doesn't know how to text. Nope, dude, you just got caught. I don't care who's blowing or not blowing you, but it's not something you share with me. It's rude, distasteful and disrespectful. I get called a prude. I ask him how he would feel if 2 guys were texting eachother about his daughter that way. All of a sudden I'm right, he's sorry.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">I'm so not interested.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">What's a girl to do? I resort to Twitter - why not give this online dating thing a bit of a break? I see a tweet from Perez Hilton about okcupid.com. How bad can it be?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Well, this is a to be continued, because I just joined up and so far, I'm kind of liking it. The more questions you answer, the more it can match with others who feel the same way. My favourite part so far though is the determination of how bad enemies you would be with someone. It's interesting to read your similiarities but even more intriguing to see how you differ from someone. So far, I'm very attractive to men in Oklahoma, but I think I'll give them a pass. Since I have such limitation on time, I'm picky about who I see and when I see them. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">I do know if this doesn't work then I'm taking a good long break and will just love the crap out of my little boy and hope something comes along off-line.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Wish me luck!</span><br />
<br />Kerryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09631390858351359769noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2801388156887988578.post-61382283593321090062013-01-14T07:21:00.002-08:002013-01-14T08:15:40.919-08:00Let It Go<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Many months ago, my cousin Katie was in the hospital after a horrible car accident. I visited her often and got to know a few of my Auntie Shannon's relatives and friends as they also came to visit. As I was talking about my issues one day, her friend Jill said to me "just let it go". </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Of course, at the time, I was slightly put off - who was she to tell me what to do and how to act or react? But you know what? She was right.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">I have a friend who is using a phrase or a word to get her through a year. Alicia, I'm stealing your idea and taking the phrase "let it go". Every time I get angry or upset I'm just going to let it go.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">I have realized I can't change T - he is who he is. His relationship with our son is going to be what it is, I can't manipulate it, I can't control it and I just need to let it go already.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">It's not healthy for me to be angry all the time because T. isn't who I want him to be. I have to try and see the positive, because my bad attitude will eventually effect the relationship that Vaughn has with him, and that's not right. So he's not as thoughtful around holidays as I would like him to be - that's my thing, not his. Holidays and birthdays don't mean as much to Tim as me, so I just need to let it go.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">I'm doing okay financially. Whether Vaughn gets his child support or not, he has a good life, he's well fed and well dressed, I take my responsibility seriously and am working my ass off so we can have a good life. When it comes to financial obligations with T., he's paid me what he owes me but it's been on his schedule, not mine. I'm letting it go, it's not worth fretting over.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">At work, there's only so much I can do in a day. Not everyone sees things the way I do and that's okay. Not everyone works the same way I do and that's also okay. See? Letting it go.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">I don't want to let the negativity get me down - I always tell my son that cheerful people have better lives and I need to start being that way for myself as well. So, today, January 14, 2013 - I'm letting it go.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Wish me luck.</span></div>
Kerryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09631390858351359769noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2801388156887988578.post-60253295188992975422012-12-27T20:08:00.000-08:002012-12-27T20:08:47.392-08:00Sorry<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Today more than any other day so far I feel sorry that I chose the father I did for my son. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Since we split up I've been trying so hard to make sure that T. is a part of Vaughn's life. I bought a new car so he could have my old one to travel and see our son. I let him come over on his days to spend time with Vaughn and I would go out of the house. I let him pay me whenever he could because it was better than nothing and neither one of us wanted to go to court. I never asked for much except that my son's father love our child and spend quality time with him.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">I'm increasingly getting more and more disappointed with T.'s inability to get his shit together and just be a good daddy. He is still living in a guy's spare room and seemingly has no desire to get his own place where Vaughn can go stay with him. He keeps saying he wants to buy his own place and isn't moving out until that happens. He says he is trying to save money but he has to pay me so much he is never going to save up enough. I want nothing more than for him to get his own place, but I fear that is never going to happen. I don't know if T. even knows how to live on his own. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Money aside, the thing I'm most disappointed about is that T. is on holidays right now and has been for a week and has seen his son 1 day. I took Vaughn to my aunt and uncle's place for 2 days for Christmas and T. didn't even call him to wish him a Merry Christmas. Nothing. My son didn't hear from his daddy on one of the most special days in a child's life. Tim didn't send a gift, give a gift or contribute in any way to make Vaughn's Christmas morning happy. That was done by my family and me.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Today, I was going to drop Vaughn off at 3 so T. could see him and when I sent him a text to confirm times, I got a message back saying he had to cancel today because he had been drinking since 10 AM with his roommate. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">So once again I had to cover for T. because I'm trying to protect my son. Right now, at this time, my son is blissfully unaware of what day of the week he is supposed to see his daddy and for how long. It's not going to be too long though until he looks at a calendar and sees it's his day with dad and realizes that he doesn't see him as much as he should or for the length of time we agreed upon. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Funnily enough, I feel sorry for Tim too. He has no idea what he is missing out on or how much he is fucking up. Children need someone to look up to and someone to model themselves after. The last thing I want my son to be is a part-time person in someone's life who feels he can cancel at the last minute or not show up because he "doesn't feel like it". </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">I want my son to be a man of honour; a hard-working, genuine, honest man. I want my son to think of others before himself and how his actions effect the people around him. I also want to stop crying for him because he's so innocent and doesn't realize what is happening. When I decided to become a parent, I was all-in. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">I know I'm not alone - I am beyond lucky to have the friends and family in my life that I do. Without them, I don't know what I would do. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">I just feel sorry for my little boy and wish I could have done a better job picking his daddy.</span></div>
Kerryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09631390858351359769noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2801388156887988578.post-78550459011713963292012-08-22T17:36:00.002-07:002012-08-22T17:36:36.317-07:00Poolside Conversation<div align="justify">
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">So today Vaughn was at his swimming lesson and all 7 kids were wearing life jackets and holding on to their teacher's arms while he was walking across the pool with them. It was so stinking cute I grabbed my cell phone to take a picture. At which point one of the moms said "Uh, do you have every parent's permission to take a picture? You didn't ask me so I don't think you should take the picture".</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Pardon?</span></div>
<div align="justify">
<br /></div>
<div align="justify">
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">I then looked at her and asked her why she would say that. She said she didn't know what I was going to do with the picture and she didn't want her child's face all over the internet.</span></div>
<div align="justify">
<br /></div>
<div align="justify">
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">I suppose I get that, but I also know that we're not in the same circle of friends and chances of someone she knows seeing her kid with my kid are pretty small. And who cares if they do anyways? They are 7 sweet little babes all having a blast - who doesn't love pictures of happy kids? </span></div>
<div align="justify">
<br /></div>
<div align="justify">
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">I said that newspapers don't get permission before they publish pictures of crowds, news cameras don't run around getting waivers before interviewing passersby on the street. I also said that last time Vaughn was in lessons I posted a picture on the pool's facebook page and didn't get any backlash. In fact, I got comments about how much fun it looked like the kids were having. I got a dirty look at which point I made a comment about what society has become.</span></div>
<div align="justify">
<br /></div>
<div align="justify">
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">A few minutes later, one of the ladies I have been sat beside for the past few days got on the topic of "kids these days" and she said kids have too much power and can report spanking as abuse.</span></div>
<div align="justify">
<br /></div>
<div align="justify">
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">That got me a little riled up, as I have given Vaughn a smack on the ass on more than one occasion. It has always been to correct behaviour and remind him that he needs to listen to mommy. I don't haul off and beat him and I certainly don't do it with anything but my hand. </span></div>
<div align="justify">
<br /></div>
<div align="justify">
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Ms Politically Correct then told me that I could be charged by the police for spanking my son. For real? I told her to go ahead and call the police - it would be a waste of their time. My son is well provided for, I love him fiercely and anyone who knows me knows that I am trying my damndest to make sure my son is not an asshole. I am teaching him to be respectful and kind to others. </span></div>
<div align="justify">
<br /></div>
<div align="justify">
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">I think there are kids who cry abuse - those ones are looking for attention and don't know how else to get it. Or they may genuinely be abused, but typically, the ones who are abused don't say much. Kids who don't get their way and strike out make sure that legitimate cases of abuse go uninvestigated because of their ability to work the system.</span></div>
<div align="justify">
<br /></div>
<div align="justify">
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Other mommy then went on to tell me that in her Sunday School Nursery if an 18 month old baby is crying they are not allowed to touch them to comfort them - they have to get the child's parents. I wanted to ask her what kind of church she belonged to because where I come from, people are allowed to hold crying babies. In fact, just the other day, I was at the mall with my friend and her toddler and newborn. Her toddler overshot a jump and hit her face on a wall. My friend was breastfeeding and I immediately cuddled her girl and kissed her head to make her feel better. My friend was grateful I was there to soothe her babe. One would think the fellowship of a church would allow the same comfort. </span></div>
<div align="justify">
<br /></div>
<div align="justify">
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">How do children learn trust and community if we tell them everyone is horrible and out to get them? I'm trying to teach Vaughn to be cautious, but I love his emerging personality. I see a leader in him, he is so gentle and loving with babies and other kids. He knows how to make people smile and is charming. </span><span style="font-family: Verdana;">So I give him a smack on the ass every now and again - I feel it's warranted and I don't need to hear that I'm abusing my son. Get a grip lady. </span></div>
<div align="justify">
<br /></div>
<div align="justify">
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Next thing I know, the kids are on their way back across the pool on Colton's arms and 2 of the other moms are snapping away with their cameras. I looked at Ms. Politically Correct and told her she better go get them to delete their pictures. Grandma snorted but the mother who never ever once ever has spanked her child gave me a shut up look.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Making friends all over the place.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="justify">
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">I understand we have our differences when it comes to parenting, but I sincerely believe we have gone too far the other way. Children need boundaries, need discipline and in my case, an occasional tap on the rear. I know it's not best to spank out of anger, but I do it to get my son's attention. It works for me. It doesn't work for everyone, but it works for me. I'm actually at the point now where I just need to ask Vaughn if he needs a smack and he knows he has to correct his behaviour. If he doesn't, he knows there is a consequence. </span></div>
<div align="justify">
<br /></div>
<div align="justify">
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Of course, I had to do a little research when I got home. Turns out that Canada has a law that allows parents and guardians to use moderate force when deemed necessary if it is to correct or modify a child's behaviour.</span></div>
<div align="justify">
<br /></div>
<div align="justify">
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Oh what? You mean I'm allowed to parent my child? Phew! </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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Kerryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09631390858351359769noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2801388156887988578.post-22932390743488744042012-08-16T07:07:00.002-07:002012-08-16T07:07:47.551-07:00Mean Girls<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My friend Candice is in town. I used to play rugby with her and we became quite close. She moved away to London, England and right now is of no fixed address as she gets to travel the world and have some great experiences. For example, she got to dance in the opening ceremonies of the Olympics. How many people do you know that can say that?</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">The problem with her being here such a short time is that she doesn't get to see all of her friends one on one and wanted to get a group of people together for a dinner last night. When I saw a few of the ladies that were going, my heart went up into my throat a little.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">You see, I used to play rugby with these gals. I thought we were all friends, but it came to light when I moved back to Calgary 5 years ago that apparently we were not. That hit me hard - one of the girls even said she didn't have the energy for the type of friendship we had. WHAT? I still don't get that. And I know I'm the topic of conversation occasionally with that group of friends - hard to know that I'm the butt of their jokes and not able to defend myself.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">So, fast forward to last night. I was obviously there to see Candice and not the mean girls and was hoping that enough people would be there and I wouldn't have to interact too much with them. Not so. Candice's one other friend showed up but she was very late and had 2 small children in tow. Vaughn was actually close to where we were but with Tim so I didn't have him to offer as a distraction either.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">It actually went quite well I thought. Who knows, they might have had all kinds of things to say about me after I left, but I'm in such a different place right now and have such an awesome life that I felt very confident and didn't give a shit whether they like me or not. It was extremely liberating and refreshing. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Maybe the fact that I had such a great afternoon helped me too - I had a follow up visit with my surgeon yesterday. My liver levels have gone right back down to normal, I've lost 16 kg (36 lbs) and I feel fantastic! I just came back from a lovely vacation with my gorgeous son and my job couldn't be going better. Life is good and I don't have time for mean girls. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">I just don't have the energy for that type of friendship. HA!</span></div>
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<br /></div>
Kerryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09631390858351359769noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2801388156887988578.post-4501704317986246672012-07-04T14:22:00.004-07:002012-07-04T17:15:32.773-07:00Helicopter<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Vaughn started swimming lessons on Monday morning. First time doing something unparented - he's growing up so fast!! He started in the Sea Otter class and will move to Salamander and then Sunfish and that will be it for the summer.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">I decided to take him to an outdoor pool for lessons. I grew up with an outdoor pool - swimming was a summer thing. I don't really like indoor pools, as they are never refreshing, smell of chlorine and are incredibly noisy. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">One of the reasons I gave when asked why I didn't want to be a parent was that I would have to go where there are other people's children. Now I've changed my mind - I don't like going to these places because of other children's parents.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">There are 2 particular mothers of kids in Vaughn's class that need to reread the lesson policies they signed off on. Rule 6 states:</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">"Parents and other children are asked to sit at least 12 feet away from the pool edge/deck so adequate space is available for teaching groups & instructors""</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Yesterday, one mom stood at the edge of the deck talking to her son and the teacher the whole time. The. Whole. Time. Today, same mother and her friend were sitting about 2 feet away from the edge of the pool and in the middle of the class, one mother started talking to the teacher because she thought her precious little swimming angel was too advanced for the class and could he move to the next level? Seriously? Shut it off and talk to the instructor after the class is over.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">The kids are in a class. A CLASS - this means you go somewhere and let the teacher teach. I'm so happy your kid can put his head under the water, but his flutter kicks are crap and trust me, he's not THAT advanced. I used to teach swimming lessons and no fear does not equal a wonderful swimmer.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">And other lady - if your kid is going to scream when someone even looks at him, maybe you should remove yourself so he doesn't get the attention he is so obviously used to getting. Or wait a little while to put him in lessons. It's disruptive. You're disruptive - having the whole class wait while you try and appease your child is annoying. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Could you please also both stand back? A half hour isn't too long to let your child go and have fun with a group of other kids. I know it's hard - but you have to let the instructor deal with it. If you don't, your kids will never respect authority and then we're all in for a world full of entitled little brats.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Okay, I feel better now. I have to go let my kid run in traffic.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Kidding.</span><br />
<br />Kerryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09631390858351359769noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2801388156887988578.post-49018177363401579832012-06-27T21:43:00.000-07:002012-06-27T21:43:55.686-07:00Single and Hating It<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Being a single parent sucks. Sure, there's lots of positives and I'm single for good reason, but I can't even begin to tell you how lonely I am right now. I reach out to my friends and everyone is busy. Busy busy busy. Well, I'm busy too but I always seem to be able to make time for my friends.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">I was so excited to move to the north end of the city because that's where most of my friends live. I actually see them less now - I'm just stuck out in the boonies with no one to hang out with but my son. The one friend I did lots of stuff with lives way south and I don't see her much anymore.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">I'm glad my friends have fulfilling lives, but I just wish there was a little room in their life for me. I struggle so much and really don't have anyone to talk to. I want Vaughn to grow up around other kids, lots of other kids. He's a sweet, fun and gentle boy and I feel bad that he doesn't have a best friend because nobody has time for us.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Facebook is a horrible thing sometimes - nobody feels like they have to see people anymore because we live our lives so publicly. Maybe if I wasn't on there people might actually call or stop by once in a while to see how we're doing. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">I'm just going through a blah phase - I know it's not me - people have lives and I get that. It's just when everyone is so consumed with their world all at once and there we are - just a pair of misfits - it can't help but make me hurt. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Plus I'm sad my work sister is leaving to move to Vancouver. She's been my buddy for a long time and we are like 2 peas in a pod. We go for lunch together almost every day and are good friends outside of work. However, she has 5 kids so you can imagine how much I see her (not very is the correct answer).</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Most of all</span><span style="font-family: Verdana;">, I miss having a companion. Someone who is there at the end of the day to give me a hug and make me feel better. Someone who tells me they liked what I made for dinner and someone else to look after Vaughn while I have a much-deserved night out. I don't get that anymore unless I pay a babysitter $10/hour and actually have someone to do something with. I've done that once in the last 6 months and I went out with a client. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">I don't want anyone's pity, I just wanted to get my feelings down in my place. What made this sadness come about is the most beautiful story of love that I witnessed over the weekend.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">I walked in the Relay for Life and this year had the honour of being our team captain. A chap from our IT department joined the team with his wife, who I came to learn was in remission from breast cancer for the second time. Jimmy (not his real name) is very quiet at work. He's a man of faith and is not afraid to share that with people. When sharing the story of his wife's struggles, tears welled in his eyes. You could tell there was pure love in that household.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">We all got to the event and Jimmy and his wife started walking. The rules of the relay are that someone from each team must be on the track at all times - there is no set time. However, you're encouraged to walk as much as possible. It rained off and on most of the night (mostly on) and Jimmy didn't just stroll or plod around the track - he walked with purpose. He was a man on a mission, a hero for his wife who has suffered immensely. He walked all night, stopping for bathroom breaks and nothing more. He walked in the rain, without an umbrella. He didn't stop until they announced the relay was over.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">He made me believe in love again and at the same time made me profoundly sad because it was obvious I never had real love with Tim to begin with. The real love I have is with my beautiful son and he's the best thing in my life. But I yearn for the kind of love that Jimmy and his wife have - I want a man to walk all night in the hopes that my pain and the pain of others will end.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">When you see something someone else has, it's hard not be jealous. And when your friends all have amazing husbands and families they are busy with, it hurts. I am happy for them, I truly am, I just wish I could have it too. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">I wish I was their kind of busy.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
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<br />Kerryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09631390858351359769noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2801388156887988578.post-19564258562347746592011-11-26T12:45:00.000-08:002011-11-26T12:45:36.344-08:00Proud<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Well all 2 of you that might read this - chances are you already know what has happened in my life since July, but I guess I might as well make it real and put it in writing...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">In late July, I came home from a week's vacation with Vaughn in Montana to find out that Tim had been unfaithful. He swears it was only one time, but if he lied to me about what happened, why wouldn't he lie about whether it was more than once? I can put up with a lot of things, but if I can't trust him, I can't be with him.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">So August 1, my life changed forever when Tim moved all of his things out. Our split was suprisingly amicable, and we still remain good friends. We have to, we have a really special little boy that we are both parents to, and Vaughn doesn't deserve us fighting. What's done is done, Tim is sorry and I know that. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">It was really difficult at first, I cried a lot, I still cry. I never thought in a million years that Tim would cheat on me. I thought I was a good wife, a good mother and a good friend. He continually tries to tell me it was because he was drunk, but I don't believe that. Too many things have to happen before you end up in bed with someone else, and I think he wanted to do it and didn't think he would get caught. Surprise, you're caught. And now there's consequences. I think for the first time in his life, he's realized that when he screws up, he'll have to pay for it. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">I decided to still go through with the condo purchase - I qualifed on my own so why shouldn't I? Why should my whole life stop because the man I loved stepped out on me? My son deserves a good life and I want to be the one to give it to him.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">I had a family reunion a week after Tim left - it was really embarrassing and emotional. I found a lot of comfort talking to my cuzzies and my Auntie Donna - family really is awesome and I'm so glad they were there to listen and help. It was so good to meet some of my family from Australia and New Zealand as well - some of them I haven't seen for a long time and met some for the first time as well. That weekend rocked the party!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">In September I decided I wanted a new vehicle. I was trying to find one that suited me and saw this little car buzzing around and loved it. It was a Nissan Juke. I did my research on line and decided that was the car for me. Two days later I was going on a test drive and two days after that, I was picking up my brand new car. Happy birthday to me!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">October was great - I spent almost a week in Seattle and Portland and it was so nice to spend time with David and Gonzalo. Gosh I miss those two - they are so easy, so fun and I've never had somebody who knows absolutely everything about me and still loves me like David does. Friends like David are hard to come by and most valuable.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">I have other amazing friends too - I don't think I could have gotten through this whole thing without my friends. I was a little disappointed in my family - nobody really seemed to understand that my life was falling apart and I was having trouble keeping it together. Of course, after I put something on facebook that it was just me and Vaughn, people sure wanted to know what was going on but nobody called me to check on me or see how I was coping. That hurt.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">I have friends though that dropped everything to come and hang out with me, listened as I cried and kept me busy so I didn't dwell on all the negativity. I've always said friends are the family you choose and boy, I chose some good family. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Tim through all of this though has been a tremendous daddy to his son. I think it hit him hard and he realized he took our life for granted. He spends time with Vaughn at every opportunity, shows up even when he's not "supposed" to and is all too happy to come and stay with him if I need to go on a work trip. He's involved, interested and really made himself an important person in Vaughn's life. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">I don't know what the future holds for me and Tim, but my true friends are the ones who have told me they will support me no matter what. And that's the message I'm getting. Of course, it will be hard for people to forgive him, as none of my friends (except Leah) have seen Tim since all of this went down - he's so embarrassed about what happened and just not sure how people will treat him. He knows he doesn't deserve forgiveness but if he really truly does change and that is what is in the cards for us, then I hope my friends can get past it and move on with us.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Which brings me to yesterday. When Jen, Jason and I were out partying in Vegas a few weeks back, Jen and I decided we were going to get tattoos. Alas, we were unable to but the idea didn't leave me. I haven't had a tattoo in a long time and so much has happened I wanted to do something to remember it by. I also knew that I was extremely proud of myself for a lot of things - 6 years ago I had creditors calling me constantly and I was avoiding their phone calls at work, it was so stressful. I have worked really hard to get myself out of that black hole and never thought I would drive a new car again, let alone be a home owner. I did all by myself - I worked really hard to earn commissions to help me pay down my debt. I could have told Tim he had just "one more chance" because I knew just how hard it is to be a single parent. How many "one more chances" can you give someone? I will not be treated like that and will not be taken advantage of. And there's more too, but only those closest to me know anything and ever will know the whole story.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Suffice it to say, at the end of it all, I am proud of myself. I have screwed up beyond belief, but I'm still here, and I am doing it. So my tattoo had to speak for my pride and what is more proud than a peacock? I was going to get a whole peacock done, but then Jen wrote me an e-mail saying something about my feather earrings that I have and it was then I decided on a single peacock feather.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">So my tattoo is a beautiful, colourful, and artsy peacock feather. It is there to remind me to be proud of myself, despite my shortcomings.</span><br />
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<img alt="" aria-busy="true" aria-describedby="fbPhotosSnowboxCaption" class="spotlight" height="960" src="http://a4.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc7/392223_2730170061422_1472352206_32958134_755654791_n.jpg" width="717" /><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Quite pretty isn't it? Paul at The Arthouse did a great job, despite missing our consultation on Wednesday and starting it late on Friday night. He is a perfectionist, a great listener and a true artist. I'm looking forward to seeing him again in a few months when I get my paisley yin-yang tattoo to cover my tattoo on my right arm.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Tonight I am going to help celebrate Jason's 30th birthday. I think there will be tequila, but I'm not sure...</span>Kerryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09631390858351359769noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2801388156887988578.post-15725349877465734592011-06-25T18:38:00.000-07:002011-06-25T18:38:31.503-07:00Relay For Life<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Last night was an emotional one for me. I entered the Relay for Life with 10 friends from work. We raised over $10,000 and you could just feel the love everywhere. I was honoured to speak for our group at 2:00 AM - we were asked to talk to how our group got together and why we were relaying. Here's my speech:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I have yet to meet a person whose life has not been touched in some way, shape or form by cancer. Whether you are or know a survivor, have lost someone close to you or know someone who is currently receiving treatment, it affects you deeply. That is the reason we are here today – to support, understand and try to help as best we can.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I have been with Cole International for 6 years now. My position has always been a “salesy” one and much of what I need to know in order to sell my company is what makes us different than our competitors and also what makes us a great company to work for. That’s an easy answer – it’s the people. If you don’t have good work mates chances are you are not going to like your job and your clients will suffer because of it. </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We have people like Lorna – someone who never asks much of anyone but does so much. She is the “go-to” person for so many things and enjoys arranging events for the office to get together in a more social setting. You give her a project, it’s done. Her patience, kindness and willingness to just step in is hard to come by and appreciated probably more than she knows.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Also with the Cole Crusaders are Vickie and Kim from our Edmonton office. Both of these women work under a lot of pressure, but you would never know it. They always have time for a chat and make you feel like you’re on the top of their “to-do” list. Every customer (both internal and external) knows that they matter, and it’s because they do.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Walking with us today is Lori – a mom to 2 boys. Lori’s infectious personality has been a great addition to our office. If you can listen a mile a minute you’ll have a great conversation with her. I know she’s so proud to be on this team, and we’re proud to have her.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Tammy has been described to me as a hard worker, responsible, intelligent and dependable coworker. I have also been told she deserves a raise. When Tammy is not at work, she is devoted to her family. She loves doing crafts and sewing (as is apparent by the capes she whipped up in a weekend for our team) and is so excited for the camping trips she’ll be taking this summer in her new trailer. As we walk tonight, her mother will be on our mind. Cancer took Tammy’s mom last year and I’m sure this walk is most personal for her because of it.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We have Joy – a lady who does not say much, but also doesn’t miss much either. Joy is bright, warm, and her clients adore her. Joy is always smiling and really fun to talk to if you get the chance.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I got to know Betty-Jean a lot better this past weekend at our Cole Family Camping Trip. BJ is a punk rock girl at heart, so you know she’s good people. She has lived a life you usually only hear about but because of that is grounded, wise and accepting of people’s differences. She has an ability to make you feel comfortable and I get the feeling nothing would surprise her. We love having BJ at our company.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Shelley is a real straight shooter and would give you the shirt off her back. Shelley loves her dogs and her daughter (in no particular order). Kidding aside, Shelley is very proud of her daughter and her accomplishments. Shelley lost her mom to cancer when she was just 15 so it’s not hard to figure out why she would be here with us today. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Lisa is very outgoing and loves to share (especially bringing in treats for her coworkers). Outside of work, Lisa is a soccer mom and a hockey mom to her 5 year old son Riley. She also loves to spend time plucking weeds out of her garden.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Last year, right after the Relay for Life, our team captain Pat lost her friend Trudy. With true resolve to beat this disease, Pat and her husband Ron entered the team again this year. They are both so giving, patient and have tried really hard to beat my boyfriend and I at crib but just can’t seem to do it. I never hear Pat lose her cool, even though she has a job that one would understand if it happened. She works so well with her clients and the staff at the branches she oversees. Ron is an easy-going take-it-as-it-comes kind of guy. How they have the dog with the disposition she has is beyond me, but I sure do enjoy sitting down with these two. Thanks Pat for organizing this and rounding us all up to help you.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I guess because I offered to speak this is also my opportunity to explain why I’m walking. I know my story is just one of millions, but my mom is one in a million and it’s my honour to speak of her tonight.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I was just 20 years old when I got a phone call from my mom and dad. I was living in Edmonton and they were home in Saskatchewan. I had just talked to them the day before so I knew something was up. My mom told me that her doctor had found a lump in her breast and it was cancer. She needed a mastectomy and while they were performing the surgery, also had to remove the lymph glands in her underarm because there was a concern the cancer might spread.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I took a trip home that summer because I wanted to be with my mom. It just happened to be during the time she was doing chemo and I accompanied my parents into Regina for the day. I’m sure many of you have been in a room where people are getting their chemotherapy treatments, but as a 20 year old self-absorbed young lady, let me tell you, that was one of the most impactful memories that will stay with me. </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">There were maybe 20 people in the room of varying ages, all sitting in a chair that was meant to give them as much comfort as possible. Each one was sitting with an IV attached to them and what looked like enormous bags hanging from a pole. Not a one was smiling, no one was looking at anyone else and there was a pall of sadness over the room. When a girl who was younger than me walked in and sat down in one of those comfy chairs, it hit me and it really hit me hard. Everything became so real to me and I ran from the room with tears streaming down my face. I wasn’t ready to lose my mom.</span></div><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Fortunately, the treatment worked and my mom recovered over the next 5 or 6 years. Year 7 came – the year you are officially declared “CANCER FREE”. Well, fate wasn’t so kind and this time I was living in Seattle when the call came. Another mastectomy. I flew to Calgary and drove down to visit Mom in the hospital. It seems as though her mental state was better the second time around and she was able to cope with what was happening. No chemo this time, just pills. </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I’m lucky. I still have my mom. For all our ups and downs, she loves me. She’s proud of me. I know this now.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I have a son, a beautiful 2 year old little boy. I want him to know a world free from pain and free from disease. I walk tonight as a tribute to my mother but also as a hope for my child. For me, it’s all about family – the family I couldn’t choose and the family I have the privilege to work with every day – my Cole family.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I know everyone has a story and I thank you for letting me share a little bit of mine.</span></div><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS06S48EwFM60gG3hzX5aYc6UAZtZ6l8AxRomzSunhojsdl9KPjt_2Zrex0JhLMM4kVxVnbya1uPjhA5djLVB19pKLC-z8Ob6Ta0iID_CXESsX_7KEWuoC6btjDXl1GZpuvalhbQcapKM/s1600/The+End.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS06S48EwFM60gG3hzX5aYc6UAZtZ6l8AxRomzSunhojsdl9KPjt_2Zrex0JhLMM4kVxVnbya1uPjhA5djLVB19pKLC-z8Ob6Ta0iID_CXESsX_7KEWuoC6btjDXl1GZpuvalhbQcapKM/s320/The+End.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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</div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">I see kids in the mall wearing Transformer sneakers, a Spiderman t-shirt with a Batman backpack. I know little girls who have to have everything Dora. O-ver-kill.</span></div><div align="justify"><br />
</div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">I think the problem I have with them is they are so fleeting. Something becomes very popular and in an effort to be the best parents ever, mom & dad spend hundreds of dollars on plates, spoons, cups, sippy cups, t-shirts, jackets, bedding, toys and backpacks. </span></div><div align="justify"><br />
</div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">Then, 6 months to a year later, the kid is either on to something else or the sequel comes out and a whole slew of new products comes along with it. Vaughn has been in the Disney Store a grand total of one time and he was sleeping. I'm totally okay if he doesn't even know that store exists.</span></div><div align="justify"><br />
</div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">Products that are licensed are more expensive because the company manufacturing them has to pay the company that owns the rights for the use of their character. Then, if the goods are imported (which most of them are), the licensing fees are dutiable. To top it all off, they are not always the most well made products.</span></div><div align="justify"><br />
</div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">I can just imagine what people are thinking - "just you wait". Well, you know what? I'm going to try and do for Vaughn what my parents did for me - I'll provide him the basics and if he wants to get something for himself, he can buy it with his own money. And when he runs out of money, well, then he can't buy it. </span></div><div align="justify"><br />
</div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">I'm not saying I haven't bought him licensed products, but I'm proud that my house hasn't turned into a Disney explosion. There are plenty of small businesses and companies that manufacture unique products that I want to support. Disney and other big companies do not need any help from me.</span></div><div align="justify"><br />
</div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">I grew up with Tonka trucks, Cabbage Patch dolls and Weebles. I loved loved loved the Smurfs and I cherished the one stuffed Smurf that Santa bought for me. If I would have had everything Smurf then it wouldn't have meant that much to me. I had one Cabbage Patch doll that my mom sewed one outfit for.</span></div><div align="justify"><br />
</div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">I guess at the end of all this is that I don't see a problem with one or two things but I don't want all my money going to big companies that charge us to advertise for them. It just feels wrong. </span></div><div align="justify"><br />
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</div>Kerryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09631390858351359769noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2801388156887988578.post-59612251461897181492011-05-14T11:43:00.000-07:002011-05-14T11:43:38.750-07:00Dance Dance<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Goofy me. I thought dance classes for me and Vaughn started today. Nope. I was really looking forward to seeing him shake his thang. He's got a few dance moves down:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">1) Head bob (think Butabi Brothers from Night At The Roxbury)</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">2) Spin until you fall over sideways and hit your head on your table and then cry</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">3) Stiff arm raises</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">4) Walk in a circle with one leg straight and one leg bent. Straight leg must stomp when foot hits the ground.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">5) Most recent - raise the roof with a whoo-whoo</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I'm not exactly sure those are the skills they are looking to enhance but I love how Vaughn just feels the music and goes with it.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">He appears to enjoy the more urban style of music, but I'm glad he also has an ear for the Dark Wave tunes that I love. I have yet to introduce him to Erasure, I'm sure he'll go nuts for them like I do.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I'm also admiring my new diamond earrings today. Tim bought them for me at Spence Diamonds for Christmas a year and a half ago. Spence has a great deal that if you want to upgrade, you can return your current pair and as long as you are purchasing a new item worth one and a half times more you can just pay the difference. No matter how long, the full value of the item you're returning is put towards your new shiny article.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Last Mother's Day, my son was generous enough to upgrade them for me and then this year, Tim convinced him to do it again. But Vaughn had to wait for daddy to get paid so he could borrow the money. I can't wait for him to start making me macaroni covered toilet paper tubes and cotton ball covered plates. I will so cherish arts and crafts made by his chubby little fingers. It will be so fabulous to see the excitement in his face when he hands me something that HE made and couldn't wait to show me. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Even though the weekend didn't turn out exactly as planned, it got off to a great start. I might take Vaughn to the circus today but if the wind dies down I'll take him to the tennis courts with his tricycle instead. Tomorrow we're having friends over for brunch and then Jen and I are hitting the spa for massages and pedicures. Yes, another pedicure. I have horrible feet, but I'm also hoping because I had one last week they won't spend so much time on the pedicure as give me extra massage time.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Okay, back to laundry. I knew I shouldn't have put it aside this week because now it is waaaayyy piled up and I have a lot of work ahead of me. And if you get a chance, dance dance.</span></div>Kerryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09631390858351359769noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2801388156887988578.post-22834646103735576132011-05-11T07:41:00.000-07:002011-05-11T07:41:29.866-07:00Summertime<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Ha, I bet you thought this post would be about summertime (the season). Nope, it's about my tap dance recital piece. It's called "Summertime".</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In September, my friend Karen and I took the plunge and started tap classes. Neither one of us had even taken tap before but love to dance. Our class was a pretty good size (about 16-18 people) and our instructor is this amazing young man named Kris.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">Kris made everything so fun right from the beginning. If we were having trouble, he would go back and work with us until we got it right. He spent lots of one-on-one time and through these past 8 months made me feel like I belong in a tap class.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">I love all the different people and personalities that are in our class. There is a kindergarten teacher named Katie who is always bright and bubbly. Then there is a glass artist named Ada who took a little while to come out of her shell but is a lovely person! We have a high school student, a registered nurse, and then a gal named Amanda who does some shoe buying for Gravity Pope (my favourite shoe store in the whole world!). It makes for a very interesting mix and we might never have met eachother otherwise.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">I decided not to take tap through the spring and summer because I signed Vaughn up for Mom & Tot dance classes starting end of May and also bought 20 dancefit classes through a dealfind thingy for $20.00. I've also decided to start training to do Roller Derby and that will take up some time over the summer as well (more on that later).</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">So... here is a video Kris took of us after an hour and a half long class last week. I'm in the first minute and a half or so and don't expect you to watch the whole thing. We'll be performing this piece at our recital tonight.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OdSkS303rHE"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OdSkS303rHE</span></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I think we look and sound pretty good for a group of people that have never had tap shoes on until a few months ago. </span></div>Kerryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09631390858351359769noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2801388156887988578.post-21284119254890408292011-05-09T07:40:00.000-07:002011-05-09T09:17:47.624-07:00A Mother of a Day<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Mother's Day - a day for mothers to bask in the glory of our grand achievements. We are told that we should be pampered, get to sleep in, have a lazy day, and our kids will be perfect little angels. And then there's Mother's Day at my house. My darling son woke up at 7:00 (which for him is sleeping in) and Tim wouldn't get up with him. Excellent start to the day. Vaughn, however, was in good spirits and we had some excellent cuddle time in the big chair before I woke Tim up at 9:30 because I had to start getting ready to go.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
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<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">At about 10:30 Tim decided he was going to start putting together Vaughn's new tricycle that my Mom and Dad got him for his 2nd birthday. It's an incredibly cool trike and I know Vaughn is going to have a lot of fun riding that bad boy around. However, it requires a lot of patience to do something like this and even more patience when you have a toddler trying to grab at all your tools. Not sure if Tim had that and I had to get going.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
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<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Leah and I decided to go out for brunch and pedicures which I thought was an awesome treat for Mother's Day. We had beer with breakfast and a lovely relaxing time at VJ's nail salon. The only thing I don't like about these "express" mani/pedi salons is how they don't even say hello to you when you come. Their greeting is "pick a colour", then "sit down here" and that's it - they get right to it and don't even really look up. But my feet are happy today because of it, so I'm not going to complain.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
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<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">After that was done, I dropped Leah off and she was off to Costco - she was going to pick up Tim and take him with but when I got home he hadn't even showered yet. I decided to go along with her because I didn't want her to have gone out of her way for nothing and I did have to get a few things for our barbeque later in the afternoon. I bought Leah some flowers and she in turn bought me some flowers. At least my home would have a little brightness and a small reminder that Mother's Day did actually happen.</span></div><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I got home from Costco to a red-face child who apparently had been screaming since I originally left. He didn't nap, wouldn't eat and Tim was at his wit's end. I got Vaughn a snack, sat him down and he gobbled it up. He was super happy and a cheerful earful. Huh. However, I wasn't really looking forward to taking him anywhere if he hadn't had a good sleep - we all know how a well-rested child is a happy child.</span><br />
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<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We made our way over to Leah & Steve's place and Vaughn was actually really good for the first half hour or so - we were playing Rock Band and he was sitting happily on the couch. That didn't last long and he wanted to get up and move around - he danced with Madison while I sang but then that got tedious and he decided that all the buttons on the stereo system looked really neat and the control for the game was fun and so on. Vaughn got himself banished from the family room and started to lose his little marbles. </span></div><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We decided to start cooking the kids' food because we didn't think Vaughn would last very long and sent everyone outside to play. He had a great time, was having a ton of fun but of course, was testing the boundaries and touching things he wasn't supposed to. This is when Leah said to me "boy, he just goes renegade when you guys are around" which I heard "you have no control over your child". And this is where my day went completely downhill.</span></div><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It's hard being a full time working mom - I don't get to see my child near as much as I would like. So maybe I am a little more relaxed with him. I certainly do not let him run wild and if he is causing problems, I have no qualms about putting him in the corner to chill out for a bit. We're at the house he comes to every day with the woman who gets far more of his time than I do and she's unintentionally making me feel like I'm the worst mother in the world. It's hard to be his mother around her because she steps in and disciplines him before I get a chance to. Her house, her rules, but when I'm there, shouldn't I get to be his mom? It breaks my heart to hear my baby call someone else "mom" because he hears Leah's kids call her mom so isn't she mom too? I know Leah corrects him but he still doesn't get it. </span></div><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And to top it all off, whenever Vaughn was having a mini-meltdown, Tim was trying to soothe him by offering him 20 different things to get him to calm down. What he needs to do is put him somewhere and ignore him. Toddlers don't always know what they want and the best thing for them is to not have a big deal made of their episodes and move along. The more attention you give them the more they will freak out. He was super tired and I'm sure a little confused being with both Leah and I and wondering who was the boss.</span></div><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I was able to get Vaughn to sleep about 6:45 which was awesome and then we set to work on our dinner. We didn't eat until about 8 and then at 9 after the hockey game was done we headed home. Larry had puked on my bed earlier in the day and Tim took all the bedding downstairs and didn't replace it, so when I went up to bed at 9:30 there were no sheets on the bed and I had to make everything up before I could pass out.</span></div><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It really truly was a Mother of a day.</span></div><br />
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</div></div>Kerryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09631390858351359769noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2801388156887988578.post-84598725109867132752011-04-23T20:32:00.000-07:002011-04-23T20:32:42.510-07:002<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">2 years have gone by since Vaughn came into our lives. We didn't want to find out what we were having so he was a totally wonderful surprise. I was so happy, so proud. What an incredible amount of pain, hard work and strength it took to get him here with us. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I was so excited to share our news with the other couples from our baby group and e-mailed them all within minutes of getting home with Vaughn. It was about a day later that I received a message from one of the other gals to call her because she had some news that she would rather not send by e-mail.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The first thing I thought was there was a birth defect of some sort - what could have gone wrong - she was young, healthy, and one of the most beautiful women I have ever met. I never expected for her to tell me that she and her boyfriend were home but they didn't get to bring their baby boy home with them. He would never come home with them because he didn't make it.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">At the time, they weren't entirely sure what happened, just that the blood supply to the baby had been cut off when she went into labour. Since then, it was determined that she had a condition called Vasa Previa that had gone completely undetected.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">We were both in the same hospital at the same time only I got my baby and she didn't. I can't even begin to tell you how screwed up that is. Imagine going in to the hospital knowing your life is going to be forever changed only to have to everything turned upside down and your first job as a parent is to arrange your baby's funeral.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">It is f*cked up.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">2 years have gone by and my heart still aches for J & J. Vaughn should have a best friend named Spencer. They would have been rough and tumble wrestling buddies, muddy little boys. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">I think often of Spencer, his parents and their love. Their love. What an amazing young couple. If you didn't know them, you would think they have it all. Spencer will always be missing for them and it hurts my heart. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">So on Sunday, when everybody is eating chocolate, finding eggs or talking about a guy who came out of a cave 2000 years ago, I'll be thinking of my beautiful friends and their gorgeous dark-haired baby boy who never got to come home.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">Spencer, you are remembered and you are so loved. </span></div>Kerryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09631390858351359769noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2801388156887988578.post-35806235553382457132011-01-01T09:59:00.000-08:002011-01-01T09:59:33.689-08:00Where Have All The Good Friends Gone?<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I can be pretty judgy at times. My judginess (or perceived judginess) got me in trouble this past year and I think I've lost some pretty good friendships because of it. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">I am sitting trying to think what makes me so much better, and it's really not that. Judging comes from being uncomfortable in a situation and trying to make one feel better about one's self. It's so much easier to pick apart someone else than pick apart yourself.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">I struggle a lot in my life to just chill the frig out, and it's hard. I've made a lot of mistakes in the past and I'm trying to be a good person for my son and for me. Not everything I do now is right but I'm trying. Some decisions I've made or things I've said or done have been taken the wrong way, but I do have the best of intentions.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">I don't have the same life as a lot of my friends and I think that's also gotten in the way. I can't go out at the drop of a hat. I can't party until the crack of dawn - in fact, I'm lucky if I make it past 2 drinks. I feel like people have stopped asking me to go out because I can't always do what they want to do. But I try, and sometimes I wonder why people can't put their lives aside for a few hours when I ask them to do something so we can spend some time together.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">I try too hard to be friends with everyone. I know that. I struggle with that. I want everyone to like me and often stretch myself too thin to be the one that people like. To my detriment. I know that not everyone will like me, but if I feel like I've offended someone, it's always me that apologizes even when I don't feel like I was in the wrong. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">Not to say I don't have good friends, because I do. I have amazing friends. Some of them are new and some are old but all are cherished. If I don't tell my friends enough how much they mean to me, that's my bad. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">So why write this now? Well, I've had one particular friend in the past while who I thought had become very close but she is now being very distant. Her friendship means a lot to me and I wonder what I've done or if I've done something or if it's nothing to do with me at all. So I started thinking about other friendships and how I almost never hear from some people and yet seem to talk to others all the time.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">All I'm trying to say is that it's hard to think a relationship matters more to me than it does to the other person and it's really hard for me to let go. I get really emotionally invested in people and it hurts when they can take me or leave me. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">So, 2011, I'm going to try and just focus on the friends who are good for me and try so hard to just let go if someone is obviously just not that into me. Easier said than done, but I'm going to give it a go.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">Peace. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
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</div>Kerryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09631390858351359769noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2801388156887988578.post-90219178064926378952010-10-17T12:14:00.000-07:002010-10-17T12:14:50.478-07:00I'm In Love With A Girl<div align="justify"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">...and her name is Iliza Shlesinger.</span></div><div align="justify"><br />
</div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">We decided to go out for another Saturday night, just us. I'm really beginning to enjoy these nights out. We got ourselves a sitter and went out for dinner at the Black Swan (thank you SUTP coupon book!) and had reserved seats for the show at Yuk Yuk's - it's not every day that a winner of Last Comic Standing hits your fair city...</span></div><div align="justify"><br />
</div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">First and foremost, I have to say how enjoyable it was to see Lori Gibbs as our host and MC for the evening. I don't see her near enough, and just being in the same room as her does something for me. When I was pregnant, I always had high blood pressure every time I went to see my doctor. I really disliked my doctor and she didn't care for me much either. One day, Lori just happened to be in the waiting room (her son goes to the same clinic) and we had a lovely chat. That day, my blood pressure was the lowest it had ever been. Coincidence? I think not.</span></div><div align="justify"><br />
</div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">Anyway, the show was late starting and Lori had so many celebrations in the crowd to acknowledge she didn't get to do much of her actual material. So we had to settle for crowd work and she brought up Erica Scott from Ottawa.</span></div><div align="justify"><br />
</div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">I have to say I wasn't feeling Erica. I don't know if the volume wasn't loud enough or if it was the wait staff chatting loudly in the kitchen right next to where we sitting, but I couldn't always hear her and when I did, didn't really think she was that funny. There's a point when self-deprecation gets tedious and about 5 minutes into her set, it tipped it over the edge for me. Does every larger woman's set have to be entirely about her size? No. Please, no.</span></div><div align="justify"><br />
</div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">Or maybe I was just so excited to see Iliza that I couldn't wait for Erica to end. </span></div><div align="justify"><br />
</div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">Once Iliza hit the stage, everyone was quiet (finally) and she took control. You don't get to see comedians of her caliber that often - she's not old and jaded and brings a fresh face to the stage. She's a little on the dirty side, but her presentation cuts the edge off. We could tell that she had been listening to both Lori and Erica, as she did call-backs to their material throughout her set. </span></div><div align="justify"><br />
</div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">Iliza did a great job of relating to the crowd, and really got us all on her side when she brought her dog Blanche out and incorporated her into the show. We all loved Blanche - I couldn't believe a dog would be so mellow in front of an audience, but she did a great job and was really well behaved. </span></div><div align="justify"><br />
</div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">Iliza kept going high-energy for a whole hour, and I could have sat there all night. I have not laughed that hard in a very long time. Thanks for putting on such a good show!</span></div><div align="justify"><br />
</div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">After everything was over, Iliza stood at the door and was doing autographs, selling t-shirts and was gracious enough to pose for a picture with me and Blanche. </span></div><div align="justify"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigJukNysULN242Tir6TmsCJiNEHMRfHk7aOB-Zs5mhyp7lzFV0VapJrIDR3BBB51fYAcRoi29wQax-WacJRKsHWngRUlX1oalfnMm9KKr_txV2m7uO9TQU5qLNO3I-lG_XIyViC98evSc/s1600/Kerry+and+Iliza.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigJukNysULN242Tir6TmsCJiNEHMRfHk7aOB-Zs5mhyp7lzFV0VapJrIDR3BBB51fYAcRoi29wQax-WacJRKsHWngRUlX1oalfnMm9KKr_txV2m7uO9TQU5qLNO3I-lG_XIyViC98evSc/s320/Kerry+and+Iliza.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Aren't they adorable?</span></div><div align="justify"><br />
</div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">And tonight I get to go see Simon King at Derek Sweet's Going To Hell Sundays. Life is good.</span></div>Kerryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09631390858351359769noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2801388156887988578.post-85448407010913273022010-09-29T07:44:00.000-07:002010-09-29T07:44:29.676-07:00"You Look Like Crap"<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">That's what I hear when people tell me I look tired. I hear "you look like crap". Because I know I do. I just don't need other people to tell me that. One lady at work tells me every day when I walk in the door. This morning, I actually told her to stop saying it because I'm always tired and don't need to hear it from her every day. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">I wish I wasn't so tired all the time, but </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I have a 17 month old baby who, when awake, is moving. I get up every day at 5:30, get myself ready for work then get Vaughn up and ready to go to dayhome. I drive 25 minutes to the office, fighting in rush hour traffic. I work a full day, take 35-40 minutes to get home, pick Vaughn up from dayhome, make dinner, play with Vaughn, bath Vaughn, get him ready for bed and then at 7:30 try to relax for a few hours before I go to bed at 9:30 for what will probably be a crappy night's sleep. Vaughn may or may not get up in the middle of the night for what I call a "soother rejam". Regardless of whether he's up for 30 seconds or 30 minutes I still hear him, I still wake up and I still can't get back to sleep.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">Now, some, if not most of you, will say "Where's Tim in all of this? Why doesn't he help?" Good question. I have no idea. I'm sick of asking for help and not getting it. Why should I even have to ask? Why shouldn't it just be offered?</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">Last weekend, I was supposed to get to sleep in both days and ended up getting up both days with Vaughn at 6AM. At what point do I just let my baby cry until Tim decides to be a father and get up to deal with him? I can't just let him cry, I'm his mother and it's not right to make him suffer for me to prove a point.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">I'm tired. I look like crap 90% of the time. And from what I hear, it's common among women - we do most of the work with the kids. I wouldn't mind so much if I felt like I was appreciated or did a get a chance to sleep in. That is why I like going on business trips, it forces Tim to take responsibility and do it. I know he can do it, why he doesn't on a regular basis blows my mind. If anything, you would think he would do it for me, knowing how tired I am. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">I just wish we as mothers got more recognition for the work we do. I work full time and am a mother. Other mothers I know are tired all the time too. We do it because we love our families. We do it because we know it needs to be done. I just wish the men in our lives would appreciate us a little more. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">I know some guys reading this are going to say "whoa, I do all that, I'm a big help". If you are, then you are certainly the minority. And good for you. Go help yourself to a cookie. I'm talking about me and my situation here and it ain't all sunshine and roses.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">One step I have taken in what I think is the right direction is that instead of asking if I can go do things, I am telling Tim I'm doing things. And this weekend, I'm going for a mani/pedi/massage on Saturday afternoon. Hopefully I'll get to relax a little and won't be such a raging b*tch when I come home. Happy wife, happy life, yes?</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">So next time you feel like you want to tell someone they look tired, please don't. Chances are they know, and chances are they will hear "you look like crap" and nobody wants to hear that. And before you tell me to make Tim start doing things because you're so perfect and you have such a perfect life, know that it's easier said than done, know that I'm trying but it's 2 steps forward, 1 step back. He does a lot of things right, but when it comes to raising this child of ours, many days I feel like I'm in it alone. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">Am I complaining? Yes, today I am. Because I'm tired.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
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</div>Kerryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09631390858351359769noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2801388156887988578.post-86868561619148069832010-09-05T09:25:00.000-07:002010-09-05T09:25:47.091-07:00Mommies Gone Wild<div align="justify"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Next Saturday is my friend Paula's birthday. She wanted to celebrate it a little early and go out for dinner with a group of friends. Turns out most everyone was busy so she and Lorne decided to go out alone and she was going to do a spa day - did I want to come? Did I? Does a bear? Is the Pope?</span></div><div align="justify"><br />
</div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">Tim was excited to take care of Vaughn because that meant he didn't have to leave the house and go out with people he didn't know, I was excited to get out of the house and hang out with Paula sans the children. Every time we've gotten together over the past year, there's been kids. We both love our children oh so much, but we were friends before kids came along and promised each other we would have some time to ourselves before we were old and crusty.</span></div><div align="justify"><br />
</div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">So yesterday was that day.</span></div><div align="justify"><br />
</div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">Let me take you back about 10-11 years first. I had zero people depending on me, I was in my mid-twenties and had just joined a rugby team. These girls were my life - all I did was work, practice and play rugby and party. Every weekend we were out at The Rose & Crown, partying it up. Saturdays and Sundays were spent feeling sorry for myself but we usually mustered up enough energy to go out for dinner at Fiore's or Singapore Sam's on Sunday nights.</span></div><div align="justify"><br />
</div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">Paula and I used to play rugby together. She was a back, I was a forward, so we didn't see too much of each other at practices, and she was living with Lorne when she joined our team so didn't come out with us all the time. Here is why Paula is such a dear friend to me - one year at Rugbyfest in Edmonton, I sprained my ankle and was in horrible pain. There was a big party down at OTS Park and I couldn't go. Paula stayed back from that party to hang out with me and keep me company. Then, when we got home, she drove me to the high school I was coaching at every day until I could drive myself so I didn't miss practices with the girls. I will always remember and cherish her for that.</span></div><div align="justify"><br />
</div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">Paula only lived a few blocks from me, so we saw each other quite a bit. We had a lot of good times and good memories.</span></div><div align="justify"><br />
</div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">However, I'm no longer even close to that person I was 10 years ago. Tim hears stories from back then and can't imagine I was ever like that. Yup, I was. I'm sure not proud of everything I did, but it was my life and I lived it. Just like I do today.</span></div><div align="justify"><br />
</div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">I'm also sad to say that a lot of the friendships I had from back then have dwindled. I moved away, lost touch and grew apart from many of the girls I was once so close to. I'm not going to lie, it hurt and it still hurts sometimes to know that they could cast me aside so easily. However, I started to focus on the friendships that do matter and people that want me in their life, and now I'm in a great place. I'm still very close with a few of the girls from the team, and those girls will be my friends for life. </span></div><div align="justify"><br />
</div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">Okay, back to the present. So, Paula has 2 kids, I have 1 and the time we get to spend together is always kid-centric. Yesterday, it was all about time to ourselves. We met in Kensington at Purr so Paula could do a little shopping for her birthday dinner. I've always loved shopping with people - especially ones that will humour me and try things on that I like but would never be able to wear. It was a lot of fun and Paula got a really nice outfit.</span></div><div align="justify"><br />
</div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">Then, it was lunch at Molly Malone's. We had lunch at a pub. We were by ourselves in there - it was glorious! The food was fantastic and the cider was nice and cold and went down just a little too fast...</span></div><div align="justify"><br />
</div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">We arrived at Riverside Spa - I had a bit of a wait because my appointment wasn't until 3:15 and Paula was getting a massage. I went in to their eucalyptus steam room for about 20 minutes or so and then had a nap (a nap! In the middle of the day!!!) until just a few minutes before we had our manicures. We then each had a mineral pedicure, a good visit and some more laughs before we had to say goodbye to eachother.</span></div><div align="justify"><br />
</div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">As my life has changed, so have my priorities. Family is so important to me, and I never realized just how much until I have one of my own. I no longer have the desire to "party til I puke" because that's not me anymore. I usually have one or two, and then I'm done - I have to get up and be a good mother to my son, and I'm no good to him when I'm tired, impatient and cranky. </span></div><div align="justify"><br />
</div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">I'm so glad though that I still have friends who knew me back then, can see me for who I am (then and now) and still love me just the same. Going wild means something completely different now, but I am so happy I got to do what I did yesterday. There's a saying - if momma ain't happy, nobody's happy.</span></div><div align="justify"><br />
</div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">Well, I'm happy.</span></div>Kerryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09631390858351359769noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2801388156887988578.post-40028665553968427492010-09-02T20:00:00.000-07:002010-09-02T20:00:31.732-07:00Cooking With Phyllo<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Last weekend, we were invited out to our friends' cabin. They had just finished building a porch and wanted to have some people over to warm it. I love a good warming party, and everyone knows if there's a potluck, I'll be there.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">So, there I was on a Friday afternoon trying to figure out what I was going to take the next day. I knew I had a half case of pears in the basement so my dish had to incorporate them in somehow. After much poking around <a href="http://www.tastespotting.com/">http://www.tastespotting.com/</a> I came up with an idea that seemed doable. Off to Safeway I went.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">I couldn't find puff pastry for the life of me, and the bakery department told me that phyllo was just as good, it was a puff pastry also. Super! They only had it in the freezer section but I grabbed it anyway. I got the rest of my ingredients, and merrily rushed home to transform my pears into a piece-de-resistance.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">Turns out the phyllo has to thaw for 5 hours or overnight in the fridge. It was 7:30 PM and there was no way I was going to attempt baking at 12:30 AM. Oy vay. I decided that if I got up at 6:00 I could get everything done before we had to leave for the cabin.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">Did I mention that I had agreed to go to a playdate with the kids from our baby group at 9 until 11? No? Well, yes, I did. I wanted to see the kidlets and their moms and wanted Vaughn to play with his little friends so I knew I had to find a way to do both.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">Since I am in the logistics business, it shouldn't be too hard to do this right? Sure, but when you add a little bright-eyed and bushy-tailed toddler in the mix, it kinda throws you for a loop. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">I got up right away, took the phyllo out of the fridge, as the package stated the pastry has to be room temperature. No worries, I thought, I'll just go have my shower and by the time I get back, it will be ready for me.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">I prepared my pears with ginger and lemon juice, took out the ricotta cheese and rubbed my hands in delight. My first time with phyllo pastry - how exciting! I took the box apart, quickly scanned the directions, blah blah, wax paper, blah blah de blah, butter, uh huh, do de do, 350 degrees, roll, yup, okay. Got it.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">Wax paper on the cookie sheet? Check. Except I don't have a cookie sheet, so the bottom half of the broiler pan will have to do.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">Melted butter? You know it.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">Room temperature phyllo pastry? Not quite. Turns out they really mean it when they say room temperature. I discovered at 7:00 on a Saturday morning that if you don't have room temperature phyllo pastry, it will stick to itself, be impossible to peel off the pile, and you might have to throw away 8 sheets of it before you can get one useable one.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">I had a big pile of gooey pastry, a hot oven waiting to bake, a needy baby and a clock tick tick ticking away on me. Focus Kerry! </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">I finally got 4 sheets done and buttered, ricotta cheese spread, pears sprinkled over, brushed with butter, sprinkled with cinnamon, drizzled with honey and rolled up. Brush that with butter, drizzle with honey and ready to go again.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">#2 went much better than #1. Ah ha! I got the hang of this now. Wait? What's that funny smell from the oven? It smells like when my dad used to wax skis in the garage. You mean you're not supposed to put the wax paper in the oven? Oh crap.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">Open oven - remove strudel-like pastry items and transfer to a non-stick surface. Sounds easy in theory, not so easy when they are delightfully warm and gooey but not cooked yet. One of them split in half, so a repair job was in order. Having never worked with phyllo pastry before, it didn't go well. I was hoping that they would taste really good and the appearance wouldn't matter so much.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">That's done - back in the oven they go. Good, on to #3. Reread directions on box. Wait. What? I'm supposed to slice it before I bake it? Oh for crying out loud. Here we go again. Remove from oven, slice to halfway point and put back in the oven for hopefully the last time.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">It is now 8 AM, I have one more left to make and I want to get out of the house by 8:30. I have yet to dress and feed Vaughn his breakfast. I can do this.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">Deep breath, in, out. And begin.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">#3 went like I had been doing it my whole life. I buttered, spread and drizzled with panache. #3 was perfect and I couldn't wait to present it at Julie's cabin. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">While #1 and #2 were almost done, I rushed upstairs and changed Vaughn. Pulled them out of the oven to cool - they looked so messy, but so delicious. While #3 was coming to a perfect golden finish I shoved a bowl of cereal and some fruit down Vaughn's throat so fast he didn't know what was coming at him. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">I left #'s 1, 2 & 3 on the stovetop to cool while I was at baby group. We had a great time, but of course, I felt a little pressured for time because we had to get out to the cabin. I walked in to our house, ready to see what they looked like, and half of #3 had been eaten. Yup, the best one. Half gone. I couldn't believe my eyes. Tim thought I had made him breakfast. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">Breathe Kerry. It's only a strudel for Pete's sake. #1, #2 and the remaining piece of #3 were transferred in to a container for transport. Pack up the car and away we go.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">We had a super fun day at the cabin, great food, great company and by the time it was time for dessert, the stress of the morning had completely melted away and I was happy to hear people tell me how wonderful my pear strudel was. Knowing the effort I put in to it was worth it to hear one yum after another. Yay me!</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">So why am I writing this?</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">Well, strudel #4 went in the oven just 25 minutes ago and I wanted to see if I enjoyed phyllo a little more when the pressure was off. I pulled the pastry out of the fridge this morning so it was the perfect temperature - one sheet after another peeled off the pile like paper - still quite delicate, but not sticky and easy to work with. </span><span style="font-family: Verdana;">I still had pears and ricotta cheese so I knew what I was doing with those. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">I'm here to tell you folks practice makes (almost) perfect. I'm no longer afraid of phyllo and ready to try different things. Tomorrow night will be a strawberry and brie concoction and who knows what comes next? </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">I, Kerry Rasmussen, conquered phyllo. Here's the proof:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg63qrDzl-hdhPNjFF8kTEBtCb9JYvqv4HDXUT5O44gOWmQZtBp5jRcdkuT-RTtBcVJjSBsdWnwK3dpNevSbYdlZAPvmxr6PS46FDhyphenhyphenbcaIAMSqDxNRw9cbETr5mSdVOeyVe3fclwMbgBk/s1600/DSC_0007.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg63qrDzl-hdhPNjFF8kTEBtCb9JYvqv4HDXUT5O44gOWmQZtBp5jRcdkuT-RTtBcVJjSBsdWnwK3dpNevSbYdlZAPvmxr6PS46FDhyphenhyphenbcaIAMSqDxNRw9cbETr5mSdVOeyVe3fclwMbgBk/s320/DSC_0007.JPG" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div>Kerryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09631390858351359769noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2801388156887988578.post-62404328209235930362010-08-06T17:03:00.000-07:002010-08-06T18:17:10.427-07:00Vaughn Proof<div align="justify"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I want to start this off by saying I love my son immensely and in no way should this blog be construed as me complaining. However...</span></div><div align="justify"><br />
</div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It is getting increasingly difficult to take Vaughn to other people's houses. He is in to absolutely everything, loves to push buttons, shake lamps, stand on their couches and in general, make it so I can't relax even the slightest bit.</span></div><div align="justify"><br />
</div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I didn't want to "baby proof" too much because a child is supposed to come into our lives, we are not supposed to go into theirs. Flash forward a few months and there is absolutely nothing within his reach in our living room (where he is mostly contained). There is a baby gate at the bottom of the stairs and a baby gate at the entrance to the kitchen.</span></div><div align="justify"><br />
</div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I have tried the "let him look at it and eventually he'll ignore it" method. Let me tell you something - the more you show my son, the more he is interested in it. The more he knows you don't want him to have something, the more he wants to have it. </span></div><div align="justify"><br />
</div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We gave him his own remote control, but he knows it doesn't do anything. We gave him own little "phone" but again, he's on to us. For the most part, he's pretty good when we tell him to get away from something but the distraction we offer him is only good for a nanosecond and he's back to his impish ways.</span></div><div align="justify"><br />
</div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">Vaughn loves to get things off of shelves. We have to be vigilent about what we leave on the table beside Tim's desk, on Tim's desk and on the kitchen table. I can't believe how far his little go-go-gadget fingers can reach. Don't even get me started about going to someone else's house. It's embarrassing.</span></div><div align="justify"><br />
</div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">Yesterday, we went over to my friend Julie's place for what was supposed to be a play date. Her daughter Joelle was happy to sit and play quietly. Not my child. He was all over the place, grabbing at everything and couldn't sit still for a minute. He wants to see and experience the world all at once - I just wish he didn't have to do it all in 45 minutes.</span></div><div align="justify"><br />
</div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">Now here's the thing - I'm not super hard on him for sharing water bottles or sippy cups. Even though I give him his, he always wants to have the one that belongs to someone else. I don't know how other parents feel about that, but I'm okay with it, as long as it's water. I have been on sports teams galore and am used to sharing water bottles so I don't see it as a big deal. However, other parents seem put off that my baby grabs their sippy cup. I apologize in advance if that bothers you.</span></div><div align="justify"><br />
</div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">I also feel like sometimes I never feed my child - when someone else has food, he's all over them like a dirty shirt and grabbing at their plate. Of course, I steer him away and try to distract him with his own cookies and snacks, but as per usual, he wants what the other one has. I hope this goes away in time because I really am starting to lose my patience with him.</span></div><div align="justify"><br />
</div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">Funnily enough, I have no problem taking Vaughn to restaurants. For the most part, he's really easy going and quite pleasant. He has a "shelf-life" of approximately 1 hour after which he is frantically trying to launch himself out of the high chair and on to the floor. Leisurely meals out are a thing of the past.</span></div><div align="justify"><br />
</div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">For the all the chasing, redirecting, calling, distracting, and my sighs of frustration, I'm still proud of my boy. You want to know why? He's got so much energy and a zest for life. He is living every day to the fullest and wants to experience as much as he can. He is happy - good gosh is he happy - everyone who meets him just adores him and I'm so glad for that. He is game for just about anything, adapts easily to new situations and very rarely loses his mind when he doesn't get his way. He's smart, he's active and he sleeps really hard. </span><span style="font-family: Verdana;">What's not to love right?</span></div><div align="justify"><br />
</div><div align="justify"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">And is it really such a big deal that the dog water dish got turned upside again? Nah. I have to remember that he is just a baby after all and one day (hopefully soon) it will sink in and I won't have to tell him again. Until that day, my son is teaching me patience. Lots and lots of patience. Thanks Vaughn.</span></div><div align="justify"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHRt90yRSD7-phj-pzdsOP9tpM_CWqh3tfZ4m06MDvrPo6_UdWzjWtkViI2HVfdpNEGTu3yWI_3d7I2sFdhSqakE3lCMoC0x7OzV9DvFvDkbf2AEK433ttPiW3yRvWv7QiEJg72N6cPiU/s1600/Vaughn.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" bx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHRt90yRSD7-phj-pzdsOP9tpM_CWqh3tfZ4m06MDvrPo6_UdWzjWtkViI2HVfdpNEGTu3yWI_3d7I2sFdhSqakE3lCMoC0x7OzV9DvFvDkbf2AEK433ttPiW3yRvWv7QiEJg72N6cPiU/s320/Vaughn.JPG" /></a></div><div align="justify"><br />
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</div>Kerryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09631390858351359769noreply@blogger.com4