WILL THIS GENERATION MANAGE?

Well, I spent my morning doing the house budget for the next three months, as well as really analyzing the one I had in place for the prior three. The good news is the next three look outstanding. The last three? Absolutely, horrendous. Knowing full well there was more going out than going in, early-November I made a surprise announcement to my grown children: “The Bank... IS CLOSED!”

I should've done it this past summer and I have no one to blame but myself. Against any/all good judgement, I am the one that kept the 24 hour wicket open. It took a couple of very large dollar (hollow promised) 'I'll pay you back' incidents for me to realize they had no intention of doing so; so I finally shut 'er down.

A very necessary... But dreaded task!
TAKEN: DECEMBER 30th, 2016

When I think back, I credit my mother with a number of my character traits but there are two in particular I am grateful for as I muddle through midlife. 

She always taught me to pay myself first, which I do; and the second is that (from her wheelchair) she taught me how to structure/follow a monthly house budget. I still remember she use to make me type it out, after she passed I had a ledger book, now I simply use a formulated excel spreadsheet. Today, I offered to teach my daughter how easy it is; she agreed to try.

Budget mentoring aside, as I look at the next three months, I see some very solid savings into April. I would be lying if I didn’t say that I was disappointed last fall to have to cancel my 2017 birthday trip to China. I worked extremely hard to save that money, and because I have always refused to travel on credit nor retirement savings, a change in plans was my only option. At the end of it all, I just keep telling myself that those dollars were simply needed somewhere else. Somewhere much more important. With a deep hope, that when transferred, they were truly appreciated. 

Now that my first quarter budget is officially done, I need to find my bottle of glue. Time to put that blasted piggy bank I decimated a few months back, back together. You see, many moons ago I went for the really shiny, pretty porcelain finished piggy, when my gut told me the practical purchase was the ugly plastic one with the key in its belly. Again, my own fault.

Now, where the hell is that glue!!

NOT A CREATURE WAS STIRRING…

A quiet house waiting for morn.
TAKEN: DECEMBER 24th, 2016

Well, once again, that’s it for Christmas. 

So much hype and panic that ultimately resulted in your annual giant turkey and carb coma. Oh my goodness, I don’t know about you but I felt full of holiday food until I went to bed Boxing Day night!

As much as year over year the traditions of the season remain the same, this year I found myself in much different territory. Our last child moved out in mid-December and I admit I am a tad surprised how big I immediately found the house. Not in a bad way, more a truly unexpected one.

One doesn't recall what it's like to not have a roommate until you wake up at 5:30am for work and realize you don't need to worry whom will hear you. For me, I thought that's what I missed most; then Christmas Eve hit.

For the first year ever, I didn't get together with a single one of my children on the eve. To mark another first, they all have roommates. Yup, on the eve I got up in the morn, posted to my blog, ran my errands and settled in for the day. I had an early dinner, watched a movie and headed to bed early. So early, that I woke up at 5am reminiscing on how the kids use to wake us up in the dark. Right up until they left the first time more than 5 years ago.

As I awoke and perked the coffee Christmas morn, I wasn't surprised that it was my daughter leading the plight to head home. She's always been the holiday gatekeeper but I found myself glad that she hadn't changed. You know why?

No matter how much I hate the lack of light this time of year, she provides more than enough energy for everyone around her; it's refreshing.

For that, I will always be absolutely and unequivocally grateful.

Who needs a selfie stick when you have Goobs extra long reach?
TAKEN: DECEMBER 25th, 2016

ONE MORE GONE... AGAIN!

A smidgen over a year after returning to Ontario, our daughter once again moved out on her own last Friday. It had been something she wanted to do since arriving, yet finding reliable full-time work in this one horse town, became her challenge. When she did find a solid job, the hours were so erratic that all she did was sleep to stay functioning (so moving out, understandably hit the back burner). As a result, craving her independence, personal space and sanity, over this past winter she'd spend nights on the couch at her twin brothers house to simply escape the 'rents'. Now that she's officially relocated, is it bad to admit that the feeling was mutual? 

Five years ago I didn't know what to do with my time. Now, I find there aren't enough hours in a day to accomplish all the things I want to experience. To put things into perspective, the first time she moved 50 miles south, I cried for what felt like months. This #9 time? I took yesterday to myself and this morning I landed home to clean the spare room and move my work clothing into the spare closet & dressers. A mere 48 hours later, I had cleaned and reconciled the clutter and was extremely grateful to have my dressing room back.

Her leaving resembles my general opinion of my life thus far, which is there will always be evolution. We outgrow people, we outgrow jobs, and we most certainly outgrow circumstance. Yet, never, ever, in a million years, would I have predicted that our children would outgrow us; and vice versa. In no way shape or form does it mean we don't love one another, it just means to stay unconditionally in love with each other, there needs to be a mutual respect of boundaries and a pinch of distance to make the love affair effortless.

Happy 24th Birthday Staccs & Goob... We love you very much.
TAKEN: JULY 1992

Anyway, for those of you that are connected to the twins on social media, you know that this past weekend was their Birthday weekend. YUP, 24 years ago this week, at 8:33am & 8:36am they officially entered our world. They were two weeks early and both greeted the world a sneeze under 7lbs each. When I look at the photo I'm sharing, it almost look surreal. That our journey of raising them, and letting them go, at times feels like a bit of a dream.

All these years later they remain as close as they were as children, they have solid friendships they've nurtured since Kindergarten, are both hardworking, very responsible, and have grown and evolved into very good and loving people.  

So I'll officially wish them both the very best on their day & add one very loving caveat. 

Happy Birthday to my wonderful children....That no longer live at home!

MY MAD COTTAGE LAUNDRY SKILLS!

If you’re a young adult in Muskoka and working two jobs to get by, you know that the summer tourists and their spending are what keep you warm the following winter. The hard reality is that you work as much as you can whenever you are called upon, because when January hit, there's very little money to be made.

Well, Sunday evening, my daughter hit the wall. She has a full time & a part time job, and when she called me from the house completely exhausted, there were tears. Part of her heartache was a misunderstanding she'd had with her father but most of her emotion was her body telling her it was time to rest. The crux of her crisis was she’d worked 24 of the previous 48 hours (on her feet the entire time) and was in desperate need of her laundry done.

Quickest way to complete cottage laundry? Hang it in the rain to dry!
TAKEN: AUGUST 18th, 2015

Not gonna lie, with me starting a new job in 14 more sleeps, my situation is the opposite of my daughters. If there’s one thing I have right now, it’s a shitload of time on my hands. 

So, I told her to pack it up and I’d do it here at the cottage with my handy dandy washboard & tub & homemade wringer outterer; then, I hang it all out to to dry on my very sexy state of the art yellow polypropylene laundry line that I have tied to a big honkin' tree. 

As I was working my mad cottage laundry skills this morning, I realized I had done it again. I'd said one thing and ultimately done another. You know what I mean, when one side of the mouth scolds… “You have to be more independent and financially responsible,” whilst the other side says “pack it all up, I’ll pick it up, and deliver it home the next day!” 

I guess the simplest rational is that my daughter needed some help and I offered up my mad pioneer style laundry skills. You know what? I'm glad I did. She's working very hard to take her life to the next level and for that I'm truly proud.

As silly as it reads, my only issue was promising her a 24 hour turnaround time. The rain stopped early this morning but you can cut the humidity here with a knife. It's almost eight hours later and her things are still wet. As a result, I've had to jimmy-rig a couple of oscillating fans outside to expedite the completion of my task.

I know what you're thinking, just deliver the stuff home and she can throw it in the dryer. Nope, that's NOT an option.  Why? Because this time next month I'll be bitching about unnecessarily high hydro bills!

WHAT? At least I'm honest about it!!

R IS FOR REMINISCENT

I would be remiss if I didn’t admit that I’ve been talking to my Dad these last few days. I know you’ll probably not be surprised to read that he isn't answering back; yet there’s an inner peace in knowing that he’ll always be there to listen when need be.

I miss my Dad. I miss him every single day. I miss the lifetime of guidance he gave me and I am grateful that I was with him when he passed. The last six weeks he was alive it was like every day was an adventure. We looked at pictures, he told me stories, and together we searched for his one true love. We never did find her before he passed but she has found me since and we remain in contact to this very day.

10 years since he left me... My dad is still my closest confidant.
TAKEN: JUNE 1985
 (Photo © yagottalaughaoubtit.com)

Just look at us!

It’s hard to believe I was a babe when this photo was taken. I had my own apartment and was dating the third of my four T’s. (I’m not sure if I've ever shared that I only ever had four serious boyfriends & that their names all started with the letter T. Weird eh?)

That said, my number three T drove a Corvette and was as arrogant as they get. Boy, he may have been easy on my eyes but there was no conceit in his family, because he had it all. YUP, my cousins Nan & Jan just totally rolled their eyes! 

Oh, young love. There really isn’t a formula. So, I guess as I reminisce, if there’s one spark of wisdom I have for my daughter it’s that she shouldn't fret. She's not the only gal that ever hooked up and invested in an asshole, her mother did too.

All I can say to her, all these years later, is... Thank goodness Tom has always remained in my very valuable “lessons learned” file!

Ya Gotta Laugh About It!!

476 OF ‘EM LATER… IS IT THE END?

GOOB and his Momma!
TAKEN: OCTOBER 2011

The picture I am sharing today was taken Thanksgiving Sunday in 2011. Goob was home from school for the weekend and I realized (after the fact) that his being away was affecting me more than I was willing to admit. 

Though his twin sister was home every weekend, as an 'official empty nester' I could feel myself unraveling. I can only describe what I was going through as a full blown identity crisis.

So, in an effort to combat the darkness of the process that surrounded me, I started this silly little blog. That was 475 posts ago, with this offering being number 476. That said, the heart of my angst is that I haven’t written in 18 days, which is the longest stretch I have ever gone. I don't think I'm blocked but I do believe I am stuck.

You see, in the last few months, I’ve been taken advantage of, been lied to, and just plain used for an others personal gain. Lately, no matter how many times I look at my keyboard, I just can't find a stitch of humour in any of it. Frankly, it’s all just plain sad. Heartbreaking actually.

As a result, I have to ask myself; what do I do with this silly little outlet I used to use to ensure that my glass half empty didn’t win? Truth is, I’m not sure. I guess the even bigger question is…. Could this be the end of the blogging road for me?

I hope not, as it’s a hobby I enjoy. Though I do feel lately that I am lost in the forest, I realize that I'll have to dig really deep in hopes of finding my way. Here's hoping while wandering about I find and whimsically discover a great group of pine trees, that can show me my way; whilst joining me in solid kick ass rendition of 'Tie a Yellow Ribbon'.

After all, they have to be just as pissed at that old Oak tree, as I am at the gaggle of varying peeps that hoodwinked me, right?

Right!

...A REFLECTIVE RHONDI

Like I do every Sunday, I loaded up the car and went and spent my standard hour and a half with my buddy Rod. As he handed me the bottle of water I’d asked for, I noticed an old newspaper article faded in its frame. Though I struggled to read the fine print, I could see the headline. It read... “The Hardest Working Man in Bracebridge.”

My personal motto? Work hard & PLAY harder
TAKEN: FEBRUARY 22nd, 2015

When I read it aloud and then commented that I’d never noticed it before, he very casually said “that was written when I was nineteen”. To give that some perspective, we are the very same age... 29!

As we chatted about our busy week, I couldn't help but think of the sign I had at home that Goob had given me this past Christmas (that's it on the right, keeping my snowshoes warm).

It's conversations like the one I had today, that remind how differently we've raised our children in comparison to how we were raised.

I will admit that I know I work too much. Yet, I will also admit that I don't know how to live any other way. I'm not entirely sure how it's been construed that I work so much that I don't have a life, because that's simply not true. I have a life. Exactly the life I want. One with a solid balance. One that is fulfilling and always evolving. One that is constantly ushering out the old and welcoming in the new. One that proves I'll never stop pushing and I'll never stop learning.

Afterall, life is all about finding a proper balance... right?

Okay, so who wants have lunch & play hooky with me next Friday? You're frickin' ON!

SHARING A SUNNY SUNDAY

If this year produced the quietest Christmas eve and day of my life, then Boxing Day definitely rated as one of my busiest. I posted, showered, packed, and landed at the cottage all by mid-afternoon. It was so mild outside that within the hour I was shuffling about the woodstove in my really ugly and over-sized slippers. I may have been tired... but I was certainly glad to be back.

I hadn't intended on coming in Boxing Day but the long range forecast (not that the weatherman is ever right) gave me the feeling, that if it did in fact drop to -10C, getting it heated and the beds cozy for New Years Eve would be a much bigger task. So, I figured I'd stay here, enjoy my three days, then make the ten minute trek home until Spring.

This is what I call... Lake Effect SUN!
TAKEN: DECEMBER 28th, 2014

Well, today's is my third day and I did in fact head home. I quickly showered, picked up more supplies and returned. I've landed back out here until the cold, or my lack of Mott’s Clamato juice, eventually ushers me home.

As I was carrying my bags down the stairs, I stopped in my tracks and rummage through my coat for my phone. As I stood in this moment it felt like the 28th of September, not the 28th of December as the calendar reminds. It was a beautiful sunny Sunday and I immediately knew I wanted to share it with you.

As I look past the holidays, the one thing I do know for sure, is that I have some solid personal goals and serious hopes for the new year. Just so happens that this little piece of not so flat land, is my truly amazing glue that will hold all of it together.

What more can a girl ask for?

HE’S... ON MY BANDWAGON!

I have always been a huge music fan. A true fan, not a fussy music fan like some people I know. As long as there’s a half decent beat, I’m into it. Hell, hand me a pair of spoons and I’ll always get the party started. That love of all things music has transformed me into a concert going junkie. As a result, once the kids left, I went on an amazing magic carpet/concert going bender.

Truth of the matter is my husband and I were in different lanes at that time, so it was Goob that convinced me that going to any concert alone would be a blast. I remember him telling me “everyone around you is there for the very same reason you are. They all love the music as nuch as you do.”  Guess I realized that if it didn’t bother him to go to events alone I should give it a try. I decided to start planning my solo treks. More than three years later, I have saved every ticket stub and I've loved each and every experience.

He loved his Birthday seats!
TAKEN: NOVEMBER 15th, 2014

Other than his obsession with The Band, my husband is a huge CCR/John Fogerty fan. Last winter he’d mentioned that he was coming to Canada. He also admitted that he was worried that at sixty nine years of age, this may be his last touring hurrah.

I had told him that I had tried to get tickets to three of his closest stops to us but hadn't been successful. He was disappointed, yet never worried too much about it. Then, for his birthday last summer, I presented him with the tickets I'd purchased the day they went on sale. He was ecstatic. 

Never the fan of his magnitude, I suggested he take one of our sons; he insisted that I accompany him. When all was said and done, I had a blast. I am so use to attending alone that I got in the zone and stayed there from the time he came on the stage until he finished. Walking back to the hotel, I admitted to my husband that I enjoyed the John Forgerty show better than the Eagles. He agreed. It wasn’t just the seats, the Show (not to mention the overall vibe) was just top notch.

It was neat to hear him talk of his experience to fellow Canadians the following morning as we waited to take off at YYZ. As I listened to him chatting, I was glad that he'd finally jumped on my really great bandwagon. After all these years... He finally gets it. 

As I listened to my husband chatting about, I couldn't help but think of my good buddy Zack. He's the only other person that has lived vicariously through my experiences and loved each and every one of my concert going outings as much as yours truly. 

I worry. He's in such a bad spot that I didn't have the heart to mention what he was missing. Not because I thought he'd be angry; it's just with the death of his Dad and other really big life changes I know he's spending his time on a very different bandwagon. 

Kinda sad really... but I know he knows I'll always be here for him no matter what!

The Proof Is In The Protection!

Shortly after the tragedy of September 11th, I had to fly into Chicago for a week of software training. With security in the US heightened, I needed specific paperwork to clear Customs that I just didn't have. Because it was last minute Business, I had the option to have a letter from my employer notarized stating my destination and purpose for my travels.

When I was at my Lawyer buddy Sean’s office having him process my documentation, I remember him specifically asking me “are you sure you want to do this?” 

“..They’re going to take one look at your dark skin and there will be LOTS of questions!” 

The truth of the matter?  The American’s let me in like a head of cattle being put out to pasture; it was coming back into Canada that my paperwork was questioned. I remember being scared. All I kept saying was “I was born in Quebec and live in Ontario… I was born in Quebec and live in Ontario!”

This is the darkest summer tan I've had in years!
Taken: August 11th, 2014

Well, all these years later, I am still an avid sun worshiper.

I truly appreciate a bright sunny day in the middle of winter as much as I enjoyed sitting on my dock for the entire day yesterday. I'm very respectful of the sunlight when it presents itself and try and rationalize Mother Nature's thought process when she keeps it carefully tucked away.

I personally think sunglasses are just as good an accessory as a fun pair of shoes. AND, because I am built for comfort, I own more than thirty bathing suits.  My oldest are from the year we bought the cottage in 1999 and my newest are two I purchased at the start of this season. Some are meant for tanning, some are meant for swimming, and some were just too colourful and fun to imagine leaving them on a rack.

Typically, my tan lines fade by Christmas.... Living at the cottage this summer I suspect those puppies are gonna last until I land in the sun on an island next winter. 

How do I know?

The five gallon drum on moisturizing lotion I just invested in gives me a plethora of hope!

At Least My Hippo Is Happy!

I woke up this morning and just stayed in bed listening to the rain. It’s started to pour last night about dusk and this morning the humidity level makes everything feel sticky. Not the good kinda maple syrup sticky; but the ‘I need to take a shower every fifteen minutes’ icky sticky.

It’s eerily quiet. If I didn't know any better I’d think that someone slipped my pups a couple of Quaaludes when I wasn't looking. Cranky and bored, I finally rustled up the energy to haul my ass out of bed and clicked the coffee maker on. It normally doesn't bother me to be out here alone but this morning I am feeling lonely. 

Anyway, with a scowl on my face and my coffee in hand, I went outside in the rain and looked down at the landing. With a terse and somewhat condescending tone, I immediately asked my buddy the obvious question of the day. ‘What the hell are you smilin' about?” 

Then I burst into laughter. I've officially reduced myself to taking to my floating Hippo!

This is Harold the Hippo and he's always happy!
Taken: July 20th, 2014

Isn’t he cute? My son and his bestie found him a float in the rain on Canada Day. 

I must admit, I was so excited when they approached the dock with him following behind. To be fair, I've left him on full display in case his rightful five year old owner came a calling but so far my elevated picnic table has remained his home.

I think he likes it there because he can’t stop smiling. See, the day isn’t a total bust. At least my hippo is happy. I think I’ll officially name him Harold. I wonder if he’s hungry? Get it? ♪♫♪ Hungry, Hungry Hippos… Hungry, Hungry Hippos ♪♫♪  (It really is one of the best board games every invented.)

Maybe I'll wander down and eat my breakfast in front of him and let some of his good nature rub off on me on this super shitty Sunday.

Ya Gotta Laugh About It...!!

GIT-R-DONE Little One

I moved my only daughter cross country last weekend. It was a difficult thing to do but it was what she truly wanted. I wish the transition would have went smoother, but at the end of the day there's no handbook for parenting.  All you can do is try your hardest and just never lose hope. Hope, that their compass will point them home. If, and or when, they may want to return.

Doing back flips with Dad at our favourite family spot on Lake Rosseau. She was 4.
TAKEN: JULY 1994

I remember being at her stage in my life. I was surrounded by a core group of friends and had that proverbial tiger by the tail. I was driving my boyfriend's Corvette and my mother was not impressed with my choices. Why would I remember? Aside from it being the most amazing summer of my life, it was just before she got sick. We were estranged. 

When my daughter was making her most recent series of life choices, I thought of that time all those years ago with my own mother. Oh how I wished she could have told me that she loved me. Even though in her opinion she thought she knew best, I wish she would have trusted me to know my own self worth. Instead, I was given her all or nothing ultimatum. I didn't choose her. That time of disconnect has ended up being a very bittersweet time in my life that I look upon with regret.

That said, this time isn't about me, it's about my daughter. I know that no matter what she puts her mind to, she will be successful. She knows we're here... but at the end of the day she's driving the bus.

Look at my photo. She was only four years old and she had such an unconditional trust. The moral of my story is what my photo doesn't show. That she instinctively knew to pull her knees into her chest so that she'd land on her feet!

I love you Sweetie.

My Unexpected Record Scratch Moment

I've always found the sound of a needle being dragged across a vinyl record to be one of the most effective sound effects ever. No matter what is happening around you, when you hear that very distinct sound, it’s like time stops.

Errrrrrrrr….. Imagine hearing that sound for a solid three seconds, combined with me shaking my head back and forth quickly in disbelief, for at least the same amount of time. THAT, is what I consider a ‘personal record scratch moment’. I had my very first in years last weekend.

Here's EXACTLY what a personal record scratch moment looks like!
(...Except I wasn't smiling.)
Taken: DECEMBER 2008

I was standing in my kitchen and words were spoken. Words I never thought I’d ever hear again. 

It was like I was immediately jolted to another day and time. It was so long ago that there were covered wagons in the street and my pretty petticoat was covered to up to my knees in mud. 

Seriously, I mean (as an example) why couldn't this defining personal moment whisk me away to a one of those really sexy and erotic times I've dreamt of? You know, the type they always play out for women in the movies?  I'm totally fecking due!

Instead, good ole practical and romantically delusional me, gets transported back to a time of harsh reality. Not gonna lie, I'd take any When Harry Met Sally moment over bamboo shoots underneath my toenails any day!

What have I done about it? Picked myself up and dusted myself off. 

Glass half full?

Maybe my moment didn't have me pass go: Lord knows I didn't collect $100. But... It most certainly DID NOT have me land on Boardwalk, with a hotel on it, and no money in the Bank.

HA! 

Take THAT glass half empty!!!

Pssst… Ya Got Any Rubbers?

I woke up at 4am this morn and hauled my ass out of bed for what turned out to be the rest of the day. Not because I’d had enough sleep, but because my hot flashes seem to have embedded themselves into a pattern of complete and total inconvenience. 

Anyway, it was no surprise, that by mid afternoon I was a great big bitchy zombie that was ready for a nap. Exhausted, I fought back. I got up from my desk, pulled on my rubbers, and headed straight for the gully.

Up to my ankles in gunk & loving it!
Taken: May 5th, 2014

For a million reasons, the silly ravine (just off the back of my yard) takes me back to my childhood. Not that I've ever lived with the luxury of such a haven in my backyard growing up, I just feel like a little kid whenever I venture out.

Where else can a single stick, some running water, and ankle deep mud deliver such an escape? ...Not to mention that it kinda sounds like a Super-dee-Duper fart machine as you tromp around in the sloppy gunk.

I know, I know, my girlfriend told me she suspects my enjoyment in the mud has something to do with some sort of rebellion. She says I'm "perpetuating a behaviour that wasn't deemed acceptable when I was child."

Who knows? Who cares! 

...I've simply labelled it a guilty pleasure.

I understand that some may not deem my behaviour proper. BUT... If you consider my playing in a ravine full of mud, in a pair of bright hot pink rubbers immature... I don't want to share what I'll be doing during the first midday summer downpour on my dock.

I fear THAT guilty pleasure (which I've labelled #482) may throw you over the edge!

She may look nice and dry... But I can assure ya she ain't!
Taken: May 5th, 2014

Happy Birthday Jamie

Today my oldest boy is celebrating his birthday. Out of respect for his personal privacy I won’t divulge his age except to share that it's somewhere between being old enough to drink alcohol legally anywhere in the world and too young to collect an old age pension. How I was so young when he was born, is truly one for the record books!

I know every mother says they love all their children equally and I do believe it to be true. That said there is always something very special about the journey you take with your first born. So much more attention to every little detail because all you had was a textbook to see you through. There was no internet then, so Googling “how to soothe a diaper rash” wasn't an option.

That's my son and I on the bottom left.
Photo Cred: Staccs

When I think back to the moment he was born it was the happiest moment in my life. 

Matter a fact, his birth bumped my wedding day to the number two spot.

I remember how happy my husband was he had a son and just how perfect he truly was.

He slept through the night after three weeks and the only person that held him in their arms more than my husband and myself, was my father. He lived across the street and until the day he died Jamie held a very dear spot in his heart.

As he celebrates this momentous day enjoying a romantic evening with his girlfriend, I am faced with the hard reality check that all of those parenting books never shared. They never tell you when your job is done. Hell, there is no warning; your kids eventually do the deed but no matter who you are nothing ever prepares you for it.

Happy Birthday Jukebox…. We love you very much and I hope you had a really great day.

Hairy Scary Mid Life!

I was talking on the phone with my new boss last week and he decided it was best to review an analysis I had completed face to face rather than over the phone. When he asked what my timing was (on when I'd arrive at the office) I think he was a little taken a back by the lapse. Guess now he knows what I thought was pretty much common knowledge in these neck of the woods. When it comes to my public appearance, I am definitely high maintenance.

No hair. No makeup
It is what it is...
Taken August 3rd, 2013

It's not because I wear a bunch of make-up, designer clothes, and jewellery; matter a fact, it's far worse than materialism. It's my hair. It's always been the bain of my existence.

You THINK that I have a mind of my own? Triple that thought and you are encroaching of the daily behaviour of my head of hair!

It's been completely grey for about a decade and I am embarrassed at the monthly investment I have had to make to ensure it conforms. The odd time I nail it. You know, when all the stars align and it submits, deciding to coif properly.

When it goes rogue? People burst into fits of uncontrollable laughter... and rightfully so.

The honest truth is that I remember the day I stopped asking my husband how my hair looked. It was the day he responded “Are you serious Rhondi? That's a harder question for me to answer than ‘do I look fat in this outfit’!”

Which brings me to my weight. Why does it feel (at this stage of my life) that maintaining my shape is an even bigger challenge than taming my hair? I don’t mean to whine. It's just that in trying on clothes for my upcoming trip yesterday, certain things became a very harsh reality. Once I stop exercising, everything shifts, and not in my favour.

Disappointed with my clothing exercise, my husband gently reassured me that he loves me and thinks I am beautiful. To cheer me up he asked me if I wanted to play naked Yahtzee. When I thanked him for making me laugh, he paused and innocently whispered into my ear "how about a round of naked Twister then?” 

Oh, my, goodness! With that right there, I'm certain my three grown children just died of embarrassment!!!

Chillax chitlins .... YA GOTTA LAUGH ABOUT IT

Laughter is ALWAYS The Best Medicine

GOOB  & Dot at 'gift time'
Taken: Dec 25th, 2013

My son just walked down the stairs, kissed me on the head, and a said “thank you for Christmas Mum....” All I could do was smile and say was “you’re quite welcome Goob…” 

I'm not sharing that specific moment because I was taken aback, yet to simply admit that his arms around me (not to mention the heartfelt sentiment) felt really great. 

Like everyone reading, yesterday was a big day for us as a family. Our festivities started the night before but my feeling under the weather had my grown children bonding with their Daddy and celebrating without me. 

Christmas morn had me haul me fevered ass out of bed and into the shower... a shower stall that spun faster than a college experience of 'bed spins'! Exhausted, I finally arrived downstairs to an unexpected bouquet of flowers and a kitchen full of men taking care of every single festive detail.

Jukebox was baking shortbread cookies (from the dough he'd made the night before). Goob was arranging my flowers and getting brunch happening;  while my husband dodged their elbows taking care of every other dinner detail in between. Sipping coffee, it felt like my daughter and I were just simply in the way of a very well oiled testosterone machine. 

Jukebox checking out one of the harmonica's Goob gave him.
Taken: Dec 25th, 2013

True to our personal philosophy, there wasn't much money invested in the way of gifts. Just some small things that were needed. Yet, for the first time ever we gifted food baskets. Wooden totes, filled with groceries, which were truly the surprise hit.

As parents, we really did love shopping for each tote. They may be siblings but each are very unique in their personal tastes, so each tote was filled accordingly.

Gift giving aside... It was my daughter's mid afternoon tears that reminded us how she's worked through the biggest transition of the three in 2013.

I don't want to say that it's because the boys were more resilient transitioning but different life choices bring differing personal journeys. On one end of the scale, you have my fiercely independent boys: the other end of the spectrum appears my daughter. Truly a home body (so close to my husband and I) that she never really had any true desire to spread her wings until this past September. Seeing her tears reminds me just how far removed I was from the boys when they transitioned in the very same journey.

My Sweetie & her Dad (Oh ...and Puddin' too!)
Taken: Dec 25th, 2013

I am fiercely proud of all of my children. If there is one memory I will take away from the last couple of days it's how much we laughed. Everyone was fair game for a zinger, every single jab was taken in stride.

Right or wrong, we have raised our children in an open forum of dialogue and debate. We've lead by example, and held them accountable every step of the way.

Who am I kidding?

There has always been one characteristic that we'd hoped would compliment them and forever help them get through life. Which is simply an overly sarcastic, wonderfully amazing, freakin' bat shit crazy sense of humour!

What can I say, after what I witnessed first hand yesterday...

MISSION ACCOMPLISHED!

9 Very Simple Rules

My daughter started her second job this past Sunday morning, so my husband and I were tasked with moving her things and staging her new digs. I’m not complaining. We really enjoyed doing it.

Seriously, what parent doesn’t want their grown child safe, and living in comfort? Let me rephrase: what parent doesn't want their grown child safe, living in comfort, at an address that differs from their own? KIDDING!

I lived my teen years very differently from how my children have. My parents were older, so it was always a struggle for them understand the ever increasing generation gap. I had a very strict (almost militant) upbringing, that God forbid included a strap. Like most families in that era, it was household staple. Let’s just say the memory of my last sentence isn't something I dwell on.

9 Very Simple Rules For Living on Your Own.

Taken: August 11th, 2013

Keeping that in mind, how many of you reading this post said to yourselves “when we have children we're going to do da-ta-da-ta differently?" 

We did, and we have.

Some of those epiphanies were completely batshit crazy wrong; and some have had such positive result they amaze us.

Anyway, to make my short story even longer, we bought our Sweetie a poster on Sunday.

We placed it on the wall at the foot of her bed, so when she greets her day, her thought process will be vivid and clear.

WE know she’s brilliant, but what can I say? A positive mind creates a positive energy.

Besides, (as the twenty something woman she is) who wants to be motivated by a crappy Facebook news feed when your personal space rocks a really great poster that doesn't require internet access?

EXACTLY!

Good Will Hunting

So, we got Staci moved into her new place today. We came in from the cottage bright and early and with her bed strapped to the roof of the Explorer, we were off and running. I am pleased to report that it went like clockwork. Almost like we'd done it before?!

To help her out, I loaned her a flat screen TV I bought myself a couple of years ago. No big, but as we were staging her room, we realized she didn't have a small table or desk to place it on. Without hesitation I asked my man the obvious question, "wanna go Goodwill hunting?" Asking Tony to go to the Goodwill is like asking him if he wants to watch the Jays from behind home plate; makes him downright warm and fuzzy inside.

I discovered the Goodwill when the twins were babies. My sister in laws sister use to ship me baby clothes her boys had outgrown from Windsor via the bus. I remember Nancy asking me if I needed them. If I hadn't, her sister would have given everything to the Goodwill. I truly remember asking "what's a Goodwill?"

What can I say, with two mortgages and three in diapers, the Goodwill became a much needed and useful resource. I had always shopped at the Salvation Army Thrift Store, but discovering Goodwill was like heading to the big city for a really great shopping spree. Any brand label was always there for the taking, you just had to really take your time to inspect everything. To this day, a couple of times a year we make a day trip of it.

Nothing says Goodwill like the smell. I hate the smell but love the bargains! We found her a gem of a table right away (six bucks) and continued hunting. My mind's been pretty preoccupied as of late, but we still managed to have quite a few laughs.

What a find. Hook me up with Antiques Roadshow!
Taken: August 11, 2013

What can I say, there's nothing like a painted aluminum BEWARE OF HORNY DOG sign to make one bust a gut laughing.

If I hadn't of taken the picture, you probably wouldn't have believed me it existed. There she be. Bright yellow, in perfect condition, only 50 cents and available only at the Goodwill!

Even as I type, Tony is chirpin' me, "I don't care what you think. I still say we shoulda bought it!" Appears he felt it would be a great addition for the cottage.

Seriously? All these years in, if we bought everything at the Goodwill that Tony thought was a deal, I guarantee we'd qualify for a hoarding intervention.

Why? Because my husband likes to collect total crap that is cheap. That's why!

She's Kickin' Ass & Takin' Names!

For about the last year I have been asking myself how do I start explaining solid "life lessons?” In this particular instance, it came to fruition about a month ago. My daughter is moving an hour South in a minute and a half, and though it’s been a rich topic of discussion, it has also had me worried. Worried until about 9:15am this morning.

Let me back up. She graduated from her chosen career path in the Spring of 2012. She returned home after finishing school because she wasn’t ready to enter the workforce without the comforts of home. After a year of said comfort, she is returning to where she went to school to start her career, partially because she’s sick of home. I couldn't be more proud.

She has a plan. A pretty friggin’ great plan if you ask me. Honestly, I have never watched her be more self-confident in her entire life. She knows what she wants and by golly she’s going out there to get it.

She never misses a ball game.
How nice is it she waited for his season to end?

Taken July 11th, 2013

With her Dad riding shotgun, they ventured out with the thirty two resumes in hand. She hand delivered most, landed two interviews and has three solid leads on positions in the next couple of weeks.

Tonight brings emotion that I have spoken of before but for the first time today I realize is a hard reality. My job here is done. 

Way to go Staci. I knew you’d totally kick ass today.

YUP, my Sweetie kick some, and had them take her name!

GIDDY UP GIRLFRIEND!!