A Plate of Oatmeal Cookies and Dinosaurs- My Housewife Life

In this big vast world, full of countless roads with houses and even more people in those houses, is a place few people have seen. My home.

While the rest of the world was moving, I was quietly sitting still, on the couch, stroking my two year old son’s soft brown hair. His forehead was slightly too warm. I have been indoors with sick kids for two weeks already. It was a cold white winter day in this part of the world, and the snow was shovelled high on our road. My older son was finally feeling better. He had put both legs in one pant leg and dumped every toy he owns on the floor as proof of his new found health. My younger son had taken over the “sick seat” on the couch, cuddled next to me. It was nearing lunchtime.

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Twenty minutes later I smelled something burning. The timer had not yet gone off! I took out the cookie sheet of oatmeal cookies. I can only describe them as a solid mass of something “edible”. The balls I had rolled were melted into one big thin sheet of cookie. Once cooled, they were not bad. A bit chewy but the flavour was okay. However, my enthusiasm skills clearly need practice as my boys were not convinced that this offer was so grand after all. What kind of mother am I? How do I fail so badly at cookies? Especially when my kids have been so sick?! Note to self: always have a batch of store bought cookies hidden somewhere as back up. I’ll just scrap the idea of trying to make EVERYTHING from scratch. Reality check here, just having a reality check. Both boys refused to even try the cookies.  Guess who ate half the batch by herself?

So the excitement of the cookies was short-lived and we were all back on the couch. The sickly two year old had fallen asleep. The four year old grabbed a dinosaur fact book and wanted me to read to him. His favourite pages are the ones that show the internal anatomy of the dinosaur and the page that shows the extinction theories. He loves fire and hot lava. As I read, my four year old burped the word “ouch” in my ear. I looked at him. He was already looking at me, small corners curved up, pleased with himself and his recently discovered talent. Will I ever get used to spontaneously burped words in my ear?

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I looked outside our front window. The snow kept falling. The occasional car drove by. I am a stay at home mom. I should not feel so insignificant but I often do. There are moments, like today, when I ‘let’ the world go on without me, I stop chasing after it. I realise I am wanted and needed right here, taking care of these special little boys. Not much happened today, but that is what it is sometimes.

And in this house, our home, that sits on a street I never knew existed until I moved in, is our world.

I Used To Dream Of Paris

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Years ago while living in London, I got bit by the travel bug. While working and pursuing a degree, I booked flights to places like Greece, Spain, Italy, Turkey and Sweden to name a few. I loved experiencing their food, the textures of the land, their skies and the sounds on the streets whether it was quiet or busy or just the sound of the sea. My bucket list of places I wanted to visit was a long one.

When I met my husband, he also wanted to see the world. I imagined us going to the same places I had already been to, and then we would explore new countries together. Our dreams were big, ambitious and I was excited! We chose Paris as our first destination. We looked at hotels, things to do, and train tickets. But we never booked anything.

With marriage and family life, we knew we may have to hold off for a little while. And that was okay. We were happy to be blessed with our two little boys. When our second son was born, my husband was diagnosed with a rare neurological condition. And sometimes life does that to us. We make plans, dream, achieve some goals, and then we get thrown a curveball. We never made it to Paris.

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I recently had a conversation with a friend who said:

“YOU WILL DREAM NEW DREAMS”

She was right. The travel bug got buried. My dreams no longer contain stamped passports and foreign cheese. Living on the other side of the world now, my bucket list has changed. Every country has delicious food to be savoured. No matter where we are, every sunset on the horizon is beautiful. It’s not where we are, it is who we are sharing it with.

The other day as I walked down the picture frame aisle, I saw a lovely picture of the Eiffel Tower. The image of my husband and I sitting at a table eating bread and cheese al fresco at candlelight crossed my mind. I picked up the picture. $6. Cheaper than a flight! I added it to the cart. I went next door to the grocery store and picked up a few items for dinner. That night I fed the kids early so my husband and I could eat alone. I propped up the picture of the Eiffel Tower on our dining room table. I also placed a small vase of greenery as part of the centrepiece and lit some candles. Candlesticks that looked similar to the ones we had for our wedding. I had a bread basket with cut up baguettes, and a serving tray of different cheeses including Brie. I even put on some makeup and my jeans. Would our conversations have been so different if we were actually in Paris? Would the bread and cheese taste that much better? I’m sure our dinner would not have been interrupted with the children running back and forth to get their noses wiped, or to stop them from hitting each other or to suddenly run one to the potty. What I am sure of is that, whatever candlelit dinner I am having, I am sharing it with the best company: my husband!

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I used to dream of Paris. But before my dream of Paris, I dreamed of love and children. And here I am with them. They are my dream come true. And if the travel bug bites again, I am glad to now realise that adventure doesn’t have to be so far away. Sometimes just a short drive away. I just need to appreciate what is already around me.

(Photo credit- paris) 

(Photo credit- bread)

The Cab Driver

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I have journals for both of my boys. In those journals I have written some experiences I have had in my life, I also write down stories about them when they were babies and over the years. I have written quotes and other inspiring stories I have come across that have somehow touched me. I want my boys to know bits about my life too so I try to choose carefully which stories to share. And this one about the cab driver, is important to me. It was a unique, brief encounter all about kindness from a stranger.

The year was 2005 and I was in my second year of university. Dressed in my usual jeans, trainers and green corduroy jacket, I had taken the train from Barking to West Ham and stood waiting for the Jubilee line. I looked up at the time schedule, 15 minutes. That was very unusual and I felt my underarms become heated and my heart started to pound. I had to change trains again, but the DLR only came every ten minutes and I would definitely miss my deadline! There had to be another way to get to Prince Regent Station on time. I quickly walked, okay it was more like half running, out of the station to the pay phone by the ticket booth. There were numbers for cabs everywhere. I dialled a few mini cab numbers but the waiting time was too long. I had a deadline creeping up fast! So I called for a black cab. They were posh and pricey but I was desperate. A shiny black cab pulled up and I ran to the door. In a possibly stressed tone of voice I said to the driver-

“To the university please! I need to be there before 4 o’clock! I don’t know how to get there from here on the roads.”

Calmly he replies- “No worries!”

My watch said it was already 3:47. I looked out the window. In my head I thought, black cabs are notorious for taking the long way or driving slow just to cash in! How annoying that I always take public transport and don’t know the roads! Here is another time living in London when I missed having a car! Somehow having car meant more independence. Relying on public transport meant that I was constantly at the mercy of them keeping time! I said a prayer in my head that this will turn out ok.
The driver disrupted my negative, yet hopeful, thoughts with-

“What’s your essay on?”

That was a surprise. I looked at him. Middle aged, brown hair, pleasant face. It was then that I noticed the cab was very clean as well and had no bad odours. It took a second to think of a reply but he went on before I spoke-

“My daughter is in college, deadlines can be stressful. Don’t worry though, I’ll get you there.”

He was calm and his voice sincere. He spoke to me the way any girl would want a father to speak to her. And he was being kind to me. An unpleasant, stressed out stranger. His words helped my heart stop beating so fast. He drove on roads I had never seen before and pulled up to the backside of the main building, a side I never saw because I am not a part of the car world.

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He spoke again-

“Just go and turn in your essay, I’ll wait here.”

I quickly glanced at the money meter then opened the door and ran down the long hallway to the main desk. I couldn’t believe he trusted me! A young, possibly dodgy, university student! He was just going to wait for me? That was going to be so expensive! Darn Jubilee line and tube delays! He seemed nice though and if he trusted me then maybe I could return the favour and trust him back. I handed in my essay to the lady at exactly 4pm! Relieved, my steps slowed down but I could feel a migraine growing behind my forehead. I walked to the cashpoint on the opposite side of the building from where the cab was supposedly still waiting. Taped to the cashpoint were the dreaded words “out of order”. Are you kidding me? What luck today!

I ran back to the cab and he was parked in the very same place. I was not even sure if he was allowed to be there but he didn’t seem to care. Apologetically I said-

“I am so sorry but their cashpoint is out of order! Can you just take me to Barking station? There’s another one right inside.”

He reached over and turned the meter back on. I thought he was going to charge me for waiting and all the time of his I was taking, but he was only charging me for the driving. I sat back in the cab seat. The trains were delayed. The cashpoint was broke. I barely made the deadline. And I have been a wreck. In the midst of my challenges today, God sent me this particular cab driver. He pulled up to the side of Barking station where other cabs were also parked, I got out and the smell of cigarettes and fried chicken hit my face making my migraine worse. Again the driver patiently waited for me as I went to that cashpoint.

After such a hectic afternoon, he only charged me £25! Despite my previous bad luck of events, I then felt very lucky!

There was that moment where I wanted to hug this stranger who no longer felt like a stranger. I wanted to tell him that I hoped to see him again! I wanted to tell him that I hoped God would bless him forever for being so kind to me. But I just said thank you several times and we said good bye. He drove off, and I walked back to the station and headed home to share this story with my family.

I think about these encounters often and want to document them. I feel the most important thing he did for me that day was not getting me to the university on time for my deadline, but he instilled in me an experience of hope. Hope for kindness. Hope for good. Hope that there are people who are fair in these business dealings with me. Any true story that demonstrates kindness from strangers is a story I want my children to know.

Photo credit (cab)

Photo credit (UEL campus)

Behind the Scenes of the Housewife Life

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Having a picnic for snack time in our front yard.

My current house is painted white. There is a “welcome” mat and a small mailbox, a wreath on the door with a tiny bunting I made. I love having front steps to sit on and watch the world drive by. Sometimes the boys sit with me and we count cars together. Inside our house, and everything that happens here, is what I call “behind the scenes.” Welcome to my home and my life. Have a seat on the couch and make yourself comfy.

I have house clothes and public clothes. Once in a blue moon I decide to “dress up” in my public clothes even though I am just at home with no plans of leaving. It’s just nice to not look lazy all the time. However, of course there had to be spills. The dark smudge on my jeans was from this morning’s breakfast when my two year old decided to dump the last of his milk on my lap and I didn’t care enough to change. I tell myself no one is going to notice. And here I am pointing it out to you.

My four year old points at my sockless ankle.

“Mommy what’s that? Did you have blood?” His nose wrinkled only an inch away from the questioned site.

“That’s a scab. You have scabs too. See? It was blood but now it is healing and that’s a scab. Mine is on my ankle and yours is on your knee.” He seems surprised at the discovery of his own scab and picks at it.

While he picks at his scab I admire my new nail varnish. A nude pinkish colour. One of my favourites I have ever had. When we moved from England to Ohio almost a year ago, it took a few months for me to realise I had gotten rid of all my nail varnish! So I bought a new colour but didn’t like it. I was in a bold mood and chose a bold colour. Mood swings coupled with impulsive buying was never a good match. This “safe” nude colour has proven perfect next to my tan skin. A small and otherwise trivial matter, but sometimes these small things can make a large difference in a woman’s world. I now wear my flip flops with confidence!

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Counting cars.

My two sons begin to scream at each other over a toy. They always want to play with the same one at the same time. Seriously? They have ALL these other toys and books and whatever, but they both want that ONE! A few months ago I had asked my husband if we could please start getting two of everything. He said no. They have to share and take turns. Fine. Before I became a mother, I believed my children would never fight. I have been humbled a thousand fold for thinking so foolishly.

I’ll make us a cup of tea. I only have peppermint, is that alright? Growing up, my mother used to always make peppermint tea, but we drank it cold. My love for mint must come from her. I miss her. Do you ever eat or drink something because of memories? Years ago when I was employed, I worked in a very posh retail store. We had our lunch break and later in the evening we had a tea break. I always had peppermint and liquorice tea, sweetened with brown raw cane sugar, with a slice of my homemade lemon cake. I haven’t been able to make a successful lemon cake since the big move but I will continue to try. The tea however, I cannot find anywhere! If you happen to see it, do let me know! For now, we will be grateful for this peppermint.

So, I am really out of the loop with the music world. On a bright note, I can sing several varieties of the Itsy Bitsy spider, the ABC song, and a few others that I can’t seem to think of on the spot. Having said that, it was a real treat the other day when I was in the car listening to my husband’s playlist and this really cool song came on. I am quite convinced that someone from the band at one point lived the life of a housewife. Because it totally connected with me. I don’t know who they are and I can’t remember what they said, but it was nice knowing that someone out there shared similar feelings as me.

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My four year old comes over and inspects my cup of tea.

“Is that hot lava? It’s hot. See? Smoke. Is it a fire? And burn the house down? No. You can drink it. Mommy do you like it? Is it good?”

I cannot express how wonderful it is to see my son growing up and hearing his thoughts. He may talk in circles but I am ecstatic that he’s figuring things out on his own! My two year old then comes over to see what the fuss is. He takes a look inside my cup and goes back to his playing. He could care less about my tea. I’m proud of him too. For being able to return to his task as if there had been no distraction.

What a journey motherhood is! It’s so big I am silenced for words. There is just an emotion, understood within the circle of women.

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Behind the scenes of a landscaped yard is a squirrel running up the tree. A spider busy spinning his dinner. A lady bug being watched by my four year old. Flowers being picked by my two year old. Pinecones waiting to be played with. Rocks waiting to be treasured.

Behind the scenes of my front door is family life. I watch how they walk. How they play. I listen to their voice. Their sounds. Their cries. I touch their skin, their hair and cuddle them close. I look into their eyes. I notice the books and movies they choose. The songs they sing to themselves. I notice their emotions, their reactions, trying to make sense of who they are. I am memorising all that I can.

I just re-read the 1,000 words that you just read and one word came to my mind: details. My life has become a life full of noticing details, dissecting those details, making some sense of those details. And I wonder, if I, like the passing cars that we count, am a detail in someone else’s story. A detail among the other millions of people living in this country. And yet here you are, dear friend reading these details of my life.  And with that thought, I’ll close with a quote from my four year old prince, ” thank you for realising me”.

A Day in My Housewife Life

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Wearing his Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle Shell

I sit on my carpeted back steps thinking about everything that has happened so far today. My four year old is riding his trike and my two year old is napping. This also happens to be my favorite part of the day because it is the quietest. I can actually take a deep breath and think.

I wonder constantly if people are bored by the housewife life stories I tell. There are days that are literally revolved around my children’s bowel movements, but who wants to hear that?

My morning started at 6am in MY bed! It is truly a rare phenomenon. Usually every night one or both of my boys wake up and I end up sleeping either on the couch or in their bed. So to wake up next to my husband was a short-lived treat!

I say short-lived because in no time at all my four year old awoke and stood at the doorway shouting, “Mommy I’m awake! Stand up!”

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Good Morning!

I always thought I moved pretty quickly and my husband labels me a woman who is rushing life so when my two sons are throwing tantrums for their morning milk, part of my tired self is so confused. Am I not moving fast enough? Good grief! Why doesn’t milk pour faster and why didn’t I rewind this VHS last night? Oh yes, we recently became the owners of a VCR with a bag full of fun “new” movies. In a minute they have their milk filled sippy cups, a few minutes more and their movie is on and I make my way back to bed.

By 8:15am my four year old and I commenced our first weeding event together!  Okay, not my first time but it was his first time to help. As we went out the door, I said to my two year old that we were not playing, we were going to weed and work, but he began to scream “bike! bike!”. He loves playing outside. Daddy was there with him but he screamed for me. I felt so bad! He sounded so sad, as if I had just favored my four year old and left him behind. Poor little guy. Anyhow, my four year old was given the responsibility to hold the plastic bag while I pulled weeds. He was a champ! I found a special surprise: a bloody bird leg with lots of feathers on the side. Nice. I genuinely did not have much patience to do more weeding than the front of the house so we finished up and went back inside. I tell myself no one notices a weedy garden anyways.

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He would not sit still for a haircut, so we buzzed him bald!

Have you ever had one of those days where everything is just annoying? Maybe the world has not changed one bit but some days, those same things just grate your nerves? Or is it just me? I found the thought of having a shower incredibly annoying. Seriously, no one ever sees me apart from my kids and husband! Sometimes I just could care less about my appearance. Plus my back hurt from the weeding and I just wanted to sit. Sit and sulk with Axel’s cuddles in my lap and postponed my shower until later.

At some point in the 11’o clock hour my husband came downstairs from his office, which he never does, and announces he is going to the store to run an errand. I want to go! I need out of the house! Can we just tag along and sit in the car? I need adventure in my life! Running errands is an adventure? Yes! ANYTHING that gets me out of the house is, in my book, an adventure! Anything can happen. You just never know what you’ll see, who you’ll meet, your life can change!

Of course I did not shower on a day when my life could possibly change from a spontaneous adventure. Of course! Grrr at my own laziness.

Oh what luck! I had a few bucks in my wallet and a coupon! And with a lovely husband behind the wheel, me and my two year old got dropped off at a fabric store for a goody while he and our four year old went to do their thing.

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I love the smell of fabric stores. I love walking up and down the aisles and looking at all the gorgeous fabrics. I love fabric. As a kid I remember fabric shopping with my mom. I used to feel the fabric and rub two sides together. I loved the silkier fabrics because they were smooth to the touch. Those few memories are now very important to me. A subtle sign of destiny?

I have a list of projects and ideas I’d like to do. Oh to choose only one! Which one?!  What fun! What a good day this is turning out to be! I ask the lady at the cutting counter the cost and she gave me the exact price. Perfect, I had just enough.

I get to the check out and hold up! That’s MORE than what the cutting counter lady said! TAX?!?! I always forget they charge extra for tax on everything! (except food) I was 89 cents short! How embarrassing! I call the lovely husband to rescue me and he is on his way, my hero.

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It was sweet when the lady behind me offered a dollar but my husband was already walking in. Maybe I looked like life was rough with my no makeup face, un-showered self, a bandana on my head and a fussy toddler. Who knows but God bless the selfless people in this world who still do good deeds for others.

Back at home it was peanut butter and cinnamon sandwiches for lunch. My boys refuse to eat the crust and I don’t like wasting food. So there was my lunch. I am pretty convinced this is also why I can never lose weight! They ask for another sandwich and then won’t eat it, so I do! Sometimes I think I won’t bother trying to lose weight for another ten years. Ten years might seem like a long time but anything less than that kind of stresses me out.

I put the bread, peanut butter and cinnamon away, sneak some chocolate chips into my mouth without anyone seeing, put my two year old down for his nap, and me and my four year old go outside to play.

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And that’s where I am.

He is on his trike and pedals around the driveway. Occasionally he will stop and just look at me. I tell him to keep playing and he tells me I have to watch him.

And I do. I watch him. My son. Why do I let silly little things get to me? I love him. His innocence. He pulls at my heart strings when he says, “mommy I’m four. I just want to talk to you.” When he says, “please can you just be happy?” My eyes suddenly open and I just see a little boy, four years old, and I’m just a mom, everything else in life are details. I try my best. I am so far from perfect. I thank God that this little boy has such an unconditional love for me and that he is completely mine.

The rest of my day consisted of me finally having that shower, sharing a bowl of popcorn with my four year old while the other still napped, and really all we did after that was play together, laugh together, we ate, we talked, we giggled, we chased and we hugged until bedtime.

Why do I get annoyed by these huge blessings? These two adorable little boys.

It was a good day when I finally decided to make it good. x

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My Random Thoughts Today

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It’s been one of those days where everything seems to be so random.

As I ate my breakfast bowl of Honey Bunches of Oats cereal, I made a bet with myself that I could EASILY eat a whole box in one sitting. I want my husband to be my witness.

Why on earth are my son’s underpants in a tupperware on the hutch? Better question: why have they been there for over a week and it hasn’t bothered me until now?

I was recently given a cool candle holder that looks like a bowl with stars on it. I filled it with mints and felt like a genius.

The spots on my toddler’s feet are not a side effect from last week’s vaccinations, but just tan marks from his crocs. What a relief.

I’m pretty convinced that bikinis for little girls was made up by a pedophile. Seriously, why do I see two year olds wearing bikinis? Grown ups wear them to be sexy right? The original idea of wearing a bra and panties on the beach, but kids don’t wear bras. So why have a spaghetti strap bikini? Little girls aren’t sexy. They should have something sensible and easy to play and swim in. Yep, the head of that is a total perv.

Had an incident at the park that made me think of being mindful for a long time. The whole time I was pushing my toddler in the swing and then the whole walk home. Sometimes we need to remind bigger kids of the younger kids and they often give a surprised response. Really? Aren’t we all being mindful of each other? As adults we notice the children, the babies, the pregnant women, the elderly, the disabled, the inflicted, the bully, the beautiful, and the different. Shouldn’t children also be taught to be mindful? I have seen children running and nearly knocking down an elderly woman who was walking with a cane. I have seen children push a man’s wheelchair as he sat in it so they could squeeze by without saying a word to him. Not even looking at him. When I was 7 months (hugely!) pregnant I recall children who were jumping around and one on me! I have seen people walking through doors and letting it fall on the person behind them instead of having the courtesy to hold an extra second for them. When I notice these things I make myself a mommy promise: I shall endeavour to teach my sons to be mindful! My almost four year old makes me proud when he takes note of other’s feelings. He notices the sad, the happy, the proud, the tired, the pained, and he is noticing his own emotions too. That he feels happy when he makes good choices and I see him repeating that good choice and expressing his good feeling. He is also mindful of his toys and making sure they are not where, as he states in his cute little voice: “daddy can trip and fall”. I am not saying my son is perfect, I am simply demonstrating that being mindful of others is teachable. Even at a very young age.

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My sister is in Italy. Last year she had told me about the Lorax movie and thought my son would love it. He does, a year later! Now both my sons are crazy for it. I need to email her and tell her. Who knew that “lorax” would be one of my son’s first words? Ha!

Goals change over time and goals can change quite quick. I need to be more committed in my short term goals. Like saying I am going to eat healthy all day. Then the stress gets to me and I am in a bowl of ice cream by 11:30 because that’s close enough to being lunchtime. I keep thinking about that day and how I need to be better!

I cut all 40 nails on my two boys and neither cried or threw a fit for the first time ever. Proud parent moment.

What if I add some mint flavouring to the chocolate chunk/caramel/vanilla ice cream? Totally adding it to the grocery list.

Sometimes I tire of fanciful things. I long for simplicity. My thoughts keep going to the flowers my boys pick for me. Or maybe they are weeds? I don’t even know!  They are not big and colourful or even particularly beautiful, but they are very special to me because these are what my boys give me with hugs and kisses. My son watches me intently making sure I hold them and keep them! His sweet voice saying, “Mommy look! I pick these flowers for you! I love you!” and my other son, finally saying words, holds his out to me and happily says “flower!” Wouldn’t every mother treasure them when they come with such sweetness and love?

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I hadn’t noticed before how many pictures I have taken since I got married. Do I really need over 18,000 photos? So far I deleted a 1,000 and it feels good. Deleting feels good. It’s the same as de-junking (a term I picked up from my lovely mother in law! I love it!) De-junking feels good. Getting rid of all the rubbish in our lives. The clothes that sit and are never worn. The books we simply don’t need to read again. The friends that don’t make us feel good (mean people suck!). That box of random scrips and scraps and bibs and bobs we were saving for “just in case I might need that one day”. Yeah. Reminds me of an old friend who lived in sweden for a few months with her three boys and husband. They lived simply in an apartment and she said she realised how things can be such a burden. She expressed how she was eager to go back home and rid her life of too much stuff.

IDEA!

I love when a new idea pops into my head! Okay it has actually been swimming around but today it’s been made clear. I have journals for my boys that I am writing. Funny quotes and stories and things they do and like, etc. But I don’t want them to be hoarders. They can have ONE box of keepsakes. I will start it out for them and in time they can add to it themselves as they get older. It would be so much easier to have ONE box than 20. The more we grow up the less time we seem to have and we just lug our stuff around where ever we go. Except sometimes we can’t and it ends up in someone’s basement or attic or closet or in a storage unit. I’ve lived in three different countries and more addresses than anyone would care to know, some of it was planned and sometimes things in life are not planned but they happen anyways so now I think: less (stuff) is more (peace of mind). So far, my boys don’t have enough for me to even purchase this one BOX, they are only 2 and almost 4 years old, but I have a few things I know will not be going to Goodwill when the time does come. Sometimes it just feels good to have a plan.

There was something I was supposed to write down so I wouldn’t forget… what was it?… Oh never mind, it’ll come back to me later. I’m off to bed.

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My first born boy, a few days old.

Heart Everything You Love

I titled this “everyTHING” and not “everyONE” because it is so obvious to me that we love and are grateful for our near and dear. There are times I need to remind myself there is so much MORE in this world that gets easily overlooked and forgotten that has contributed to my heart.

My heart flies farther than the end of my road.

On sunless days our hearts may feel shadowed by the frustrations of the current circumstances we find ourselves in. I think its great to seek, find and make our hearts in our everyday life. Personally, I do struggle during the dark winter so these reminders simply help. A bit like my ‘Beating Depression’ series that I tried to start and ironically never finished because winter knocked the motivation right out of me!

Hearts are Love.

I love books, libraries, reading, writing and just words!

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(photo source)

I love to cook, eat and watch others enjoy it too.

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I love to sew and create.

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(photo source)

I love the many adventures marriage brings.

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(photo source)

I love to travel and discover all the different beauties this world has.

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I love how music can often find the words you can’t.

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(photo source)

There is so much more I could add my heart to. Flowers and gardens. Going for long walks in nature. Maps for road trips. Art galleries in old cities. Walking along a sandy beach barefoot. Going to the zoo with my kids!

There is a quote I found that said, “If you want to know where your heart is, look to where your mind goes when it wanders.”  I imagine our minds wander very far from our address.

In my continued efforts to stay positive, I am currently surrounding myself with hearts to remind myself of what is in mine. The more love I feel for the world around me, the more I can feel love within myself and be a happier person for those I already treasure in my heart the most.

Fun on photo booth

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