Three's about me!

Elizabeth at Three Channels tagged me for this meme. She is an inspiring writer, so if you need some inspiration, go pay her a visit!

Three names I have been called:
1. Toots (only my dad can get away with that one)
2. Bluemoon (it wasn't blue, but it was a moon)
3. Peanut (yep, I didn't just pull that one out of my butt the air!)

Three jobs I have had in my life:
1. Receptionist (where I regularly dropped calls and faxed things face-up!)
2. Second cook at camp (a perfect place to spot cute boys)
3. Chicken processor (my all-time favourite job, but only for the summers, then I was DONE!)

Three places I have lived:
1. In a house
2. In university dorms
3. In a condo

Three hobbies:
1. Blogging (duh)
2. Photography (duh)
3. Cross-stitch (once-upon-a-time)

Three things most people do not know about me:
1. I have noticed recently that I walk too fast for automatic doors. Which is really strange. Because Peanut-lover thinks that I walk really slow. And I don't hear about him crashing into any automatic doors.

2. I have this strange association with 6:37 am. It's the time that I used to set my alarm clock when I was in high-school and now it seems I look at the clock every morning at this exact time. Yesterday morning, I was thinking about writing about it and I thought, "Wouldn't it be funny if I looked at the clock right now and it was 6:37?" I was pretty sure it was after 7 already, but sure enough, 6:37 on the dot!

3. I count everything. It's not obsessive-compulsive because I don't have to count to feel better. I just like to count.

Three TV shows that I watch (we don't have cable):
1. The Office (I have a huge crush on Jim Halpert)
2. The noon news
3. The Doodlebops (KK's obsession)

Three Places I have been:
1. The Eiffel Tower
2. Barcelona, Spain during the 1992 Olympics
3. A variety of places in Mexico

Three Places I want to go:
1. Hawaii
2. Alaska
3. Mexico (again)

Care to join in? I can't remember who has and who hasn't done this one yet, so I'm tagging the entire universe (or the small portion that reads my blog). Feel free to leave your list in the comments if you don't have a blog.

Have a great weekend. I'm on my way to working ALL WEEKEND and, after being sick all week, not one bit happy about it.

Five Things Thursday

I've been really sick this week and nearly forgot to post for Five Things Thursday. I have 5 half-written lists sitting in my drafts, but nothing near done... I'll try to post later today if I'm feeling a little better.

So can you help a girl out? What's your five things this week? Write a blog post and link up to join the fun. Or, if you don't have a blog, leave me your list in the comments. You don't have to copy my topics, but feel free if you need a little direction. I can't wait to hear what y'all have to say!

Oh, and participating this week doesn't commit you to participating for the rest of eternity. Just so you know. (You can use the button that my friend Nina made for me if you'd like).

Conversations with KK: I keep growing babies in my tummy

KK waddles into the bathroom, pushing a stroller with three babies in it. In her arms, a fourth baby. Tucked under her shirt, a ball... her fifth baby.

KK: I have lots of babies.

Mommy: Yes, you do. You must be busy.

KK: Yeah. I busy.

Mommy: Do your babies let you sleep at night?

KK: Yep. I just give them lots of nummies (breastmilk) and they sleep good.

Mommy: How old are your babies?

KK: One of them are 1. One of them are 2. One of them are 3. And one of them are 5.

Mommy: Wow, you're a busy mommy.

KK: Yep, and them just keep coming. I just keep growing more babies in my tummy. I not know how they get there. And then they fall out and I have another baby!

.... Uh oh... I guess I've got some explaining to do...

My big girl just got bigger

KK has been earning and saving up her money for about 3 months. Some gift money and some she's earned from her "helpfullness chart". Recently, she decided that she wanted to buy a bike with her money. So I searched on craigslist and found her a perfect bike that she could afford (with a little top-up from mommy and daddy, of which she wasn't aware.)

Daddy took her to the park to meet the people with the bike. When she saw the bike approaching, she did her excited look: head down, biting her lower lip, trying not to smile, feet shuffling.

They checked out the bike and then Daddy asked if she wanted to buy it. She shyly said yes and then pulled her wallet out of her little pink purse. Very carefully, she pulled out each bill from her wallet and handed them to the lady.

When she got home, I told her I was so proud of her for her first purchase with real money. She said, "Mommy, I so proud of me too". (Sniff)

And then we headed outside to try her out...

Don't worry about these tears of mine. These are tears of pure joy.

Five things I love about my dad

1. He's steady

He has always been there for me. He's even keel. Life can be swirling around me and he is still anchored. I know I can depend on him.

2. He's wise

He wasn't always wise, though. I noticed when I moved away from home that he suddenly got a lot smarter! But it's not just intelligence. It's life wisdom that he has. He is really great to go to for advice.

3. He's my pastor

My dad has been a pastor for my entire life. As a little girl, I was always so proud to stand beside him as he greeted people at the door. As I got older, I began to appreciate his teachings not only for their truth, but also because he presented them in a way that you knew he was working on that issue too. I felt fortunate to be able to receive teaching from someone that I trusted so much. Now we aren't able to attend a church that my dad pastors, but I still consider him one of my pastors. He is a strong spiritual guide for me.

4. He plays games

When I was a kid, we used to play a board game at almost every supper. We loved games! And there was always some game on the computer that we all were competing for the best score in. Games were an important part of our family time. Nowadays, there are relatively few times for Peanut-lover and me to play games. But whenever we go visit my Dad and his wife... bring on the games! Card games, tile games, board games, word games... we get those kids to bed and it's game time!

(It is more fun than it looks)

5. He gets me

My dad and I are very similar. Most of the things I'm working through, he's worked through too at some point. So he can guide me. He tells me when I'm being too hard on myself. He tells me when I'm being too hard on my husband. He gets me.

And I love him.

What's your five things this week? Write a blog post and link up to join the fun. Or, if you don't have a blog, leave me your list in the comments. You don't have to copy my topic, but feel free if you need a little direction. I can't wait to hear what y'all have to say!

Oh, and participating this week doesn't commit you to participating for the rest of eternity. Just so you know. (You can use the button that my friend Nina made for me if you'd like... we're still tweaking it though, so it'll be a little different next week.)

A year ago today

A year ago today, I stood by the bedside of my Grandma and watched her slip peacefully away from us after a brief bout of pneumonia.

(It may surprise you to hear that, as a nurse, I had never before been with someone when they died. I've been there in the minutes before and the minutes afterward, but I've always tried to leave a family in privacy for that moment of death.)

(Her last birthday party, 6 months before she died)

On the day that she died, my Grandma spent the morning singing and receiving spa treatments from my mom. With curlers in her hair and fingernails freshly painted, she praised Jesus with a heart that was ready to meet him. Her consciousness faded as the day progressed and soon we began to see signs of her body beginning to shut down.

In her last hour, her three daughters were finally together by her side. They told her that they loved her and would miss her. They told her that although they didn't want her to go, they would be ok. Her breathing changed when they said that and I mentioned it to them and encouraged them to keep talking to her.

She was turned to her right side and the three of them stood, arms around each other, facing her.... cheering her on. Cheering her on to her rest. Cheering her on to her reunion with Grandpa and her sons.

I could almost picture her standing between two wonderful places. On one side, her three daughters... on the other, standing behind a gate, Jesus, Grandpa, and her two sons. I pictured her looking back and forth between them. Both groups reaching out for her. Her daughters with tears of grief streaming down their faces. Her husband and sons, jumping and leaping with joy because they had waited so long to be with her.

And I watched her choose.

She left her body so rapidly that I was stunned. Within minutes of hearing that her daughters would be ok, she was gone. Gone to her rest. Reunited with Grandpa and her boys. Dancing with Jesus.

She was beautiful always. She is missed intensely. But we know we'll see her again...


Grandma, we miss you... we love you... we'll see you again soon.

How depression freed me

When I was 19, I was in my second year of a Bachelor of Science. My intentions were to go to med school and become a doctor, most likely a pediatrician. I was driven. I was motivated. But I was in pain.

Part of the way through my second term, I started having trouble sitting for more than 45 minutes. I mean, it was AGONY to sit. My tailbone hurt so bad that I started alternately skipping classes so that I didn't have more than one hour to sit at a time. Some days, I would walk back to dorms and even just the walking was agony for me.

X-rays revealed a longer than normal tailbone (yeah, I had a tail) and my doctor prescribed me anti-inflammatories which did nothing for my tailbone pain, but were incidentally miraculous for my menstrual pain.

I failed two courses that term. I had NEVER failed anything in my life.

That summer, I went through a series of treatments to try to fix the problem. First, manual adjustment under general anesthesia (if you can't figure it out, just trust me, you don't want to know). Next, an extremely painful x-ray guided cortisone shot. Nothing helped.

Finally, at the end of August, the last option presented to me was to remove the lower portion of my tailbone... the coccyx part. My surgeon felt it would be effective and so the date was set. And the day before I was to leave for my third year of university, I made the decision to take time off for the surgery.

Suddenly, my life was empty. My purpose for 14 years had been to study. I started to flounder.

The surgery came and went. Two days in the hospital and I was sent home with a scar that "not even my future husband would be able to notice" and this:

Yes, being medically inclined, I asked the surgeon if I could keep my coccyx and he obliged. (The "Do you want to see my tailbone?" joke never gets old for me!)

A few weeks later, my incision had not healed up properly and I was readmitted to the hospital for two weeks to manage an infection. Twice, I had to go to the OR for debridement (cleaning out) and packing of the wound. I didn't realize just how large my wound was until I became a nurse. When I left the hospital, my wound was about 2 inches deep and 2 inches wide. Here is a picture of the amount of packing that was required at first:

That same summer, I had begun to realize that while medical school interested me, the life of a doctor did not. I became aware that being the kind of wife and mother I wanted to be would be incredibly difficult as a doctor. My dream, my parents' dream, my teachers' dream... I let it go. But I didn't know what to replace it with. And so I floundered some more.

And then, that same summer, I fell in love. I gave my heart away and it got broken. Bad. Real bad.

Suddenly, I had nothing. No purpose, no direction, no love. I hit rock bottom and I hit it hard.

And I stopped caring.

First I stopped caring if I lived. Then I stopped caring what people thought or expected of me. Then I stopped caring about things that didn't matter, like rigid schedules or unimportant rules.

And then I was free.

It took a long time to recover from that very low place and I have returned to it twice more, and also suffered with postpartum depression twice.

But each time I recovered, I was different. I felt more, both in sadness and in joy. I understood emotion more. Life was less about success and accomplishments, schedules and routines. Life was more about people.

If you didn't know me before my depression, you may be surprised to hear that I was more rigid and more strict than I am now. Yes, it is true. I was more rigid and strict than I am now. It is possible. Just ask my brother how stressed out I'd get if he messed up any of my schedules (I am quite sure he would do it on purpose).

Depression is very misunderstood and a lot of people suffer privately because of the social stigma attached. I try to be very open about my experience of depression in the hopes that I can promote understanding and compassion.

...because it's not all bad. My depression freed me.

In honor of Valentines Day

If you look at the list of what I write about, you may notice that I don't write very often about Peanut-lover. I think grown-up, marriage love is kind of hard to write about. It is hard to put the depth of it into words. Here is one of my favourite posts I wrote about love.

From the archives: July 29, 2008

My heart has been broken a few times in my life.

The first time my heart was broken, I was 14. I thought I was in love. Maybe I was. It was love to the deepest degree that I knew at the time. And the beginning of my journey to finding what true love meant.

He's the one everyone looks back on and rolls their eyes. Just the mention of his name causes my parents' blood pressure to rise. He was the bad boy in our youth group and I thought I could rescue him. I swear, he must have cheated on me every weekend. But he'd cry and I'd forgive him. Over and over. He dumped me at Teen Camp, clearly because there was a lot more exploring to do there.

From him, I learned that love is not just picking someone and being loyal to them no matter what they do or how they treat you.

The second time, I was 18. We had been dating for 3 years and everyone expected us to get married. But I had just left home to go to University and I wanted freedom. I had to break his heart and it was an agonizing decision that took months for me to figure out.

From him, I learned that love belongs to you only and cannot be controlled by how much everyone else wants it to happen.

The third time, I was 19. This time, I fell deep and fast. My dad had always warned me to "guard my heart". This time I didn't and I gave my whole heart to him. He got scared and needed some space. I was devastated, depressed, destroyed.

From him, I learned that even though love makes you vulnerable, you can recover and be whole on your own again.

I'd love to be able to say that I didn't ever love anyone before my husband, but the truth is, the love I had was real. As real as I knew how to love at that time and maturity level. Each experience of heartbreak shaped me into the wife I am today and helped me learn how to love the right way...

...without being mistreated...


...apart from others' expectations...


...so deeply that the vulnerability is scary.


And I live in a love now that is safe and deep, loyal and brave. Ours alone.

For more stories on heartbreak, head on over to Absolutely Bananas.

On this, the day before Valentines Day, you can bet there are a lot of teenage girls running around either completely in love or completely heartbroken. We tend to roll our eyes at them, thinking, that's not/wasn't love. At least I've caught myself doing that. But I've realized in looking back at my journey to true love, that love is just like any other skill we develop. We always think that we are at the maximum of that skill, until we are forced to grow. Love is the same. A girl's first experience with love, as shallow as it may seem to us who know true love, is the deepest that she has ever known. I hope I can remember this when KK is a teenager. I think it will help me understand her better.

Peanut-lover can be in charge of the shot gun!

Five things I love about my mom

1. She's creative

She has a level of creativity that I can only aspire to. She can take a couple of shower caps and turn them into an hour-long adventure to the moon and back. When I was a kid, she would come up with crazy, creative answers to my questions. Like the trail behind an airplane? Well, that's the airplane scratching the sky. Thunder? Clouds crashing together. (Peanut-lover set me straight about that one about 2 years ago.) I can remember making all kinds of crafts with her as a kid. I know I will never be as creative a mom as she is, but she certainly inspires me.

2. She's different than me

Personality-wise, I tend to act a lot more like my dad. But since my mom's personality is different than mine, she helps me see things from a different perspective. Life, travel, social events, parenting. She opens my eyes to a different way of seeing the world and expands my narrow-mind with her open one.

(Mom, me, and KK in 2006. On the bridge of the cruise ship after her wedding.)

3. She loves her grandkids. They are the joy in her life. Anyone she knows will tell you how important these four little ones are to her. (No pic yet of the four kids together... we haven't met the youngest cousin yet!)

4. She's a fighter

My mom has had more than her fair share of adversity in her life.Way more. But I've seen her, time and time again, with the power and strength of God, turn her sorrow into dancing. I've seen her inspire hundreds if not thousands of people with her story. Her most recent battle has been Leukemia. And it's scary. But I know she's a fighter. And I know she will live out every single day that God has planned out for her. She wouldn't have it any other way.

5. She's my friend

She and I have gone through some hard times, working at, sorting out the complex mother-daughter relationship. But at the core, we are friends. She loves me with a love that I am only beginning to understand as I watch my relationship with KK develop. She forgives me countless wrongs. She has always been, and will always be, one of my closest friends.

Love you mom!

(Isn't she gorgeous?)

What's your five things this week? Write a blog post and link up to join the fun. Or, if you don't have a blog, leave me your list in the comments. You don't have to copy my topic, but feel free if you need a little direction. Can't wait to hear what y'all have to say!

They only call me Mrs when I buy a pregnancy test

Just to clarify: I'm not pregnant. No, seriously mom. NOT PREGNANT.

Now that we have that out of the way...


Tonight, we needed some milk, so we decided to pack up the kids and go for a quick outing to the grocery store, instead of one of us just going out alone. Because we are super fun like that. Woohoo! Trip to the grocery store!!


Usually it's me doing the grocery shopping alone. And the cashier always calls me "Miss Peanut". But tonight, the cashier paused before handing me my receipt, looked my family over, and then said, "Thank you Mrs. Peanut."


Being called "Mrs" reminded me of an observation I made back when I was more readily fertile. Really the only time that the cashiers have called me "Mrs" is whenever I have bought a pregnancy test. Seriously. Every single time. And I bought a lot of pregnancy tests when I thought I was pregnant with KK (I did a pregnancy test every 2nd day until I finally got a positive one). Each time, the cashier would look at the pregnancy test, then their gaze would shift directly to my wedding rings, and then they would finish with the "Thank you Mrs Peanut."


It is observations like these that fill up my brain, taking up WAY too much useful space. What random observations are filling up your brain these days?

Loving and lists and loving lists

Lately, when I've been nursing JJ, I've been coming up with all kinds of lists. It's no secret that I love lists. No, I LOVE lists. I should send a valentine to lists. Really. Recently, I've been coming up with lists of things that I love. (And it should go without saying that I love lists about things that I love).

I've already written a few "5 things that I love about..." lists. You can find them here. I like the idea of focusing on what I love about a person, event, role, place etc. I like limiting it to 5 things. That's easy enough.

So I was wondering if a few of you would be interested in joining me in a little weekly blog carnival for "5 things that I love about..."?

It could be anything you love. Being a parent. Being a student. Being single. Being in love. Nova Scotia. Extreme heat. Raising boys. Raising girls. Home-schooling. Not home-schooling. Renovating. Laundry. Ketchup. Stickers**. Rain. Snow. My husband (kidding!). Blogging. Space. Pastoring. Your job. Yourself.

I'd love it if we could all share what we love. Even those of you without blogs could participate in the comments if you'd like.

So, anybody in?

And Heather, Nina, Elizabeth... any tips about Mr. Linky?

(**I'm currently being stickered up by my kids. I do what it takes to be able to communicate with the outside world.)

Men and Directions

We've all witnessed the scene of The Man putting together the piece of furniture/toy/electronic device. He has heavy-duty Man Tools at his side and his brow is furrowed as he attempts for the third time to get the piece together. The directions lay unopened, tossed to the side.

I've never been able to understand why men won't just follow the directions. I mean, it's right there, in step-by-step form... what could be more simple? I believed that men rejected the directions because they thought they were above them. A kind of arrogance I guess.

Then at Christmas, I watched Peanut-lover and my dad putting various toys together, directions tossed aside, of course. And I knew they were doing it wrong. Because I had read the directions. But if I have learned only one thing over the many years of being married it is this: don't mention the directions. Just don't. (Sometimes I do. I'm still working on it.)

Watching them, I realized that it isn't that they think they are above the directions. They just love the challenge. Men love to build and figure things out. It's just part of their God-given maleness.

And so, yeah, it might take them a little longer than if they'd read the directions first. But they are having fun. Man fun. Power-tools-whether-they-are-required-or-not-fun.

Dad, Peanut-lover, little brother, any other manly men who will admit to reading my blog... am I wrong here?

Haircuts for the kids

KK's hair has been bugging me for a little while. It just looked... uh... unkempt, I guess.

So I cut it. And layered it to spread out the curls. Not an easy task when halfway through, she decided she was done. Oh, and she wanted bangs, but she wouldn't let me put her hair over her face to cut it. In the end, it took a little bribery, one major cut and 3 tweaks over the rest of the day, and a lot of patience, but I'm pretty happy with how it turned out.

And yes, she believes it is summer so she is running around the house in a bathing suit. And no, it is not warm here today.

-----------------------------------
JJ's hair also needed a cut.

I know what you're thinking, "That boy is a long ways away from needing a haircut... perhaps some hair therapy for men?" But actually, he really needed a cut.

I'll show you.

In all seriousness, he had this puff of coarse hair at the back that was driving me crazy, so I cut it off. Yes, that's right. I approached my never-still son with sharp scissors and we both came out unscathed. Thank the Lord for small miracles!

No pictures of his haircut, because the back of his head is rather boring, but he pretty much just looks like this all the time:

Have I mentioned that I love these kids?

There's no baby left in her

I was flipping through the pictures on my camera and I came across this picture of KK:

There's no baby left in her, is there? She's all little girl now.

Any one else out there feeling a little teary?

No? Ok, it's just me then.

It seems so strange to me that this bittersweet feeling exists. The feeling of celebrating each new stage and, at the same time, privately grieving the passing of the last stage. Isn't this the point of parenting? To help our children grow up? Why is it then so hard for me to watch it happen? It's not like I want her to go back!

At the same time, as KK reaches each new level of success, I feel a little guilty for the relief that I feel. Relief that she is now able to do another thing on her own. Why the guilt? I feel guilty that I'm celebrating her success partly because it makes life easier for me.

Yesterday when I was in the nursery at church, KK told me that she needed to go pee. Then she informed me that she could go on her own (there's a little bathroom right off of the nursery). I walked her to the door and told her to come right back when she was done. And she did it. All by herself. (Yay! Sniff!)

Then we went out for lunch with some friends and KK needed to go pee again. She wanted to use a stall all by herself and for the first time, I was that mom standing outside the stall, holding the door at the top... listening to her being a big girl, all by herself. (Yay! Sniff!)

At night, I sneak into her room. There, splayed across the bed, snuggled into her blankie, favourite doll of the moment tucked in her arms, I find the baby left in my girl:

It's this holding on and letting go. Just another paradoxical thing about being a mommy. Will I ever get it figured out?