Not Quite a Midlife Crisis, AKA Getting My Act Together

The last day of September. The month has flown by. And with it, another birthday.

Over the course of the past 30 days, I have come to a realization; at 41, I am half way to 82.

82. Eighty-two. If I’m lucky.

The last time I felt this way, I was 15 and freaking out because I was half way to 30 and that was so OLD! Foolish, foolish girl. Perhaps it was the anniversary of my arrival, or the lack of sleep, but I had a stern talking to Myself. It would seem the two have come to an understanding.

1. ME, MYSELF AND I – I have moved myself up my own list of priorities. This is huge for me. I have taken my role as a mother, wife, daughter, sister, friend, as being my priorities and then felt frustrated when others haven’t acknowledged the effort I put out. It’s not their fault. It’s mine. No one can change it but me. So I have. I just need to work on the guilt!

2. SALLY FREAKIN’ SUNSHINE –  I am pulling away from negativity. I have always been a positive person, and I think that positivity has drawn people who are less than sunny. Their frustrations and sour demeanor has been a drain on me and I’m simply going to focus on people who are willing to find solutions, not dwell on the problems.

3. LET’S GET PHYSICAL – Taking care of myself kinda fits in with #1, but this is a more literal, physical interpretation. Get my arse moving. I missed an entire summer of playing ball, and I hated not being more active. I asked for a treadmill for my birthday, and The Big Guy was obliging. I’m hoping that having this conveniently located in the Rec Room, near the DVD collection, will keep me walking through the winter.

4. GETTING ON THE FUN BUS – I’m taking advantage of any opportunity for something fun. While 82 would be awesome, suffice it to say that none of us are guaranteed tomorrow and I don’t want to look back on a life of work. How much fun have you had lately?

5. THINKING OUTSIDE OF THE BOX – I’m keeping my mind open to things. Just in this past month, I’ve given myself the latitude to explore ideas and ideologies that I hadn’t really considered before. I don’t think it’s too late for me to learn and investigate concepts outside of what I’ve accepted as the “norm.” I’m really excited by this and can’t wait to stretch my brain!

6. NO MEANS NO – I’m learning to say NO. Because NO is such a foreign word to me, I’ve evaluated the things I devote time and effort to and asked if I’m enjoying doing them. If it’s not a resounding YES, it’s a NO. NO gets the boot every time.

So while I haven’t had much to report here in this past month, I’ve certainly done my homework. When you look back at your life, however long or short it will be, will you be satisfied with it?

I’m doing what I can to make sure I am, and I’ll be rocking with the 82 year olds.


Fifty Shades of Silver AKA A Hair Raising Situation

I have had a love/hate relationship with my hair for a long time.

Growing up, I had long hair. Think waist length. My parents loved it. Both Little Sister and I would go years between trims and I can remember how  exciting it was, that I might get a hair “style”, but no. It was just a trim of dead ends. I begged for shorter hair like some of my friends. I was told I could cut my hair when I was “older”.

Well…that wasn’t Grade 8…

Lookin’ like I just fell off the buggy….

Hair as thick as a horse’s tail and would give me a headache when it was up in a ponytail. My friends had adorable shags, bowl cuts, perms. I had brown-blonde hair. Although my mother will swear on a stack of bibles that I am a blonde.

I enjoyed some relief in Grade 9 when I was sophisticated enough to trim off some length.

WHOO – HOO. Trimmed all the way up to my shoulders. Daring!!!

I must have forgotten to book my back to school trim, because I have a mane full of hair again the next year.

Holy Nelly, the girl has bangs. Or is that fringe? Or just a sad excuse of….oh forget it. Like those “bangs”.

In fairness, I should mention, I did have braids, the occasional bun and was the proudest owner of the largest barette collection this side of my sister’s room.

At some point in my later secondary school career, I sported the Wilson Phillips; that is the same chop job sported by Chyna Phillips. Somehow, I didn’t look as good as she did. Now I know it is because she has fine, thin hair, and mine, uh, isn’t. So it grew back out once more and by the time I was in college, it was long. Again.

I waited until after my graduation photos were taken, and hacked it off again. The only thing that consoled my father was that he had the photo of me with “normal” looking hair.

Not long after that, I became engaged, and thought long hair sure would be helpful if I wanted to sport a bun with the very chic and simple veil and headpiece I had in mind. Two years later, I had the hair I needed. Two days after the wedding, I step off a plane in the Caribbean and my hair went up four dresses sizes. I couldn’t do anything with it. I had also neglected to pack a trunk for all my barettes.

With my new husband in tow, I found a fellow passenger whose coif I fancied and asked her to help me. We found a hair dresser and he cut off my hair. From that point on, the honeymoon was a blast and I needed A LOT less conditioner.

My return home was less smooth, as Little Sister, who had just completed her training as a hair stylist, was severely annoyed that I dared to let someone else tame my tresses. She finally forgave me when I agreed to let her put highlights in my hair.

“Don’t do it!” my mother warned. “You’ll end up coloring your hair!”

I scoffed. A couple of well placed touches of sunlight couldn’t possibly hurt. Two years later, I’m blonde. Like the blonde my mother thinks I’ve always been. Like, Marilyn Monroe and I finally have something in common.

In the years following, the longest I got my hair was to my shoulders. I couldn’t imagine letting it grow any longer. My hair was a rainbow of colors from red, to black and even blue. When I worked in the entertainment business, my hair became somewhat of its own persona. People discussed it, admired it and actually anticipated seeing me again, just to find out what color it would be. In my current position, my coworkers could give a rat’s ass what color my hair is.

Over the summer, with my “blonde” look matching my sunny disposition with the warmer weather, I watched my roots grow out. I wondered what colour my hair was, exactly. After another trip to see LS, this is what we got…

Something special in here!

Perhaps you can’t see it on this side, or the blonde tips are blurring your vision. Let’s try again.

I don’t like to call it “grey”; I prefer “platinum”!

When I was 19 I noticed a patch of grey, which obviously spread and took residence on the rest of my cranium. Reaction to this new do has been mixed.

The Big Guy doesn’t get a vote. I told him that since I don’t get a vote on whether or not he loses hair, he doesn’t get to comment on my silver follicles.

First Born Son was very supportive. He liked the idea that this was my “real” color. He thinks I should keep it like this.

Second Born Son, however, thinks it ok. He doesn’t want it to be a permanent move though.

“You have to color your hair, Mom!” he declared.

“No, I don’t, actually,” I replied.

“But your hair, it’s your….THING!” he said. “People know you because you color your hair!”

While he most definitely overstates this, I can’t help but think it might be novel to actually move away from coloring my hair and just stick with what I “am.”.

Who knows, maybe the next thing will be waist length locks!?

Highly unlikely.


Fifteen years ago today, I got up very early to head to the hospital where I expected I would have a baby and become a mother.

At least, that’s what I thought.

Fifteen years later, I realize that while I may have been considered a mother, but I have become a Mom.



I vividly remember the first thought I had after the doctor announced you were a boy.

“Oh shit.”

Followed by,

“I don’t know what to do with a boy.”

As one of two girls, I was confident I had the girl thing figured out. But boys, hmmmmm.

So, Happy Birthday First Born Son.

Thank you for helping me become a Mom. Thank you for showing me what to do with boys. I have an appreciation for heavy equipment, work boots, Bob the Builder, goalie equipment, showing cattle, raising chickens and red wagons. (I still can’t appreciate you getting up at 6 a.m. on an almost daily basis….but we all know who your father is!)

Thank you for being an adorable child, and a young man I’m proud of every day.

Now get your arse upstairs and finish your homework.

Catching Up

I think it is an unspoken law of blogging that one takes off the summer months, if not cut back the number of entries. In my case, I tried to pack as many things into each day as humanly possible.

It’s hard to believe that with the return of back to school and fall routines, that it was only two months ago that we were admiring First Born Son’s gardening abilities.


While the lettuce was impressive, his corn and sunflowers are MASSIVE. He entered the sunflowers in the local Fall Fair and won third. The tallest stalk was 10’4 ft so I cannot imagine how tall the winning entry was!!! I’m waiting to get sick of eating corn, since its on the table every night. Hasn’t happened yet!


It was a nice hot summer for swimming at Mom & Dad’s pond. I’m not sure who enjoyed it more, the kids, or Roman!! On a related note: this was one of the few activities Second Born Son could actually take part in – so he spent a lot of time in the water. His are is healing well and we go back down to the specialist in October for an update. This could be an ongoing pattern for a while.  



While you saw M&M’s photos, her sister, Lil’ O also played softball and we loved watching her year-end tournament. “The power is strong in that one, master!!” So nice to see the kids enjoying ball. Now if we could do something about the nut-job adults who organize their teams….SIGH.

FBS had a great season playing ball. It was great to see a team of players who wanted to play ball, and not simply signed up because of their parents. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a lot of structure to the team, and they didn’t perform well overall. “There’s always next year!”


SBS was my little fish this year. Since swimming was considered good therapy for his arm, and we normally do swimming lessons through to the end of elementary school, he enrolled at the local pool. PARENTING TIP: Try to get your child into swimming during the summer Olympics. I wish I had video of SBS splashing at himself and getting psyched like the big boy swimmers. HeeLARrious!!!!


What summer is complete without a wedding? It was a beautiful July day when this lovely couple made it legal. The painful part, to me anyway, is that I USED TO BABYSIT THE BRIDE! That’s right. That gorgeous creature you see there – I used to feed her snacks and keep her and her deliciously chubby little brother entertained. He’s not longer chubby and she’s beautiful. I’m taking all the credit.


Then there was the cottage. Easily the highlight of the summer. Due to the time restraints dictated by work, Lil Sis and I decided to split a week. She took the girls and our parents up from Monday to Wednesday. We all enjoyed Wednesday together, then she took her crew home, and my family stayed on until Friday. HEAVEN! Even when the weather was poor, it was nice to just be together and not have to do anything. This beach has special meaning for me and The Big Guy, since it is where he proposed. I love the fact that the cottage was on the beach, so we didn’t have to load anything up to enjoy the water!!!




I love how this summer turned out; with birthdays and sunshine and being outside. I just need two more months!!!