halloween part deux

{meow}

It was a wet and wild Halloween in Halifax (that somehow makes it sound like more fun than it was). Not that the night wasn't fun -- we had a blast, it was just a soggy costume, frizzy hair sort of night.

Violet was a cat by day, cupcake by night.

In other news my daughter consumed her body weight in mini-chocolate bars last night -- I blame the grandparents/ great aunties. To be honest Jeff and I ate quite a few too. I always forget how good regular old chocolate bars are until this time of year. Don't get me wrong, we eat chocolate, but it is more along the lines of Dairy Milk or Galaxy (not that those are fancy or anything, but they seem like a more grown up choice than a Mr Big). Jeff likes dark chocolate, but try as I might I can't get over the milky stuff. Despite this there is something grossly delicious about a Wonderbar or a Snickers -- so cloyingly sweet, yet undeniably scrumptious.

Needless to say there were lots of post-Halloween tears today. Sugar hangovers are the worst.

I hope you are nursing yours with fresh fruit and a new toothbrush. I've found both helpful myself!

xo

Em

as of late: the october edition

{post-dance hair do}

{finally a broccoli soup I can get behind}

{just two gals chatting at a party}

{he likes his with maple syrup and toasted nuts (she prefers a healthy dose of brown sugar)}

{banged up but still smiling}

{not our Christmas card}

{apple crisp before}

{soup season}

{filling up all the white space at Nana's request}

{apple crisp after}

{a gift from Papa}

phewf!

{super cute even with a few bumps and bruises}

See that face? Don't let if fool you, she is (in the words of Buck 65 via Mark Harris) full of beans and big ideas.

Tonight as Violet said her prayers she said something that stopped me in my tracks. She said, "I am thankful that my skin is not brown."

Did that just happen?

Prayer over Violet. Mummy needs to make sure that God knows you didn't mean that (as if, right?1?). Immediately, I sprung into a diatribe about racial equality. I used words that I am not sure I understood and I am positive Violet did not. This lasted at least five minutes before I took a breath.

I can't believe she just said that, I thought to myself. I knew we should have spent more time at the pool.

Violet looked at me and said, "Mum, I'd just rather have purple skin, I don't like brown."

She doesn't like brown. True. Nor does she like black, green, dark blue or pretty much any color other than fuchsia. Oh, so this was a comment about colors of the rainbow, not race. Gotcha.

Violet gave me a, "you are crazy lady" look and turned over.

I think I am crazy. Time for bed!

xo

Em

sage girl

{why yes that is candy corn on my sweater}

How was your Thanksgiving?

Ours was great, nothing beats a long weekend, but now I have a nasty head cold. I have loads of pictures to share with you but this is all I could muster in an Advil Cold and Sinus induced fog.

One thing I realized this weekend, although it has been a long time coming, is that Violet really is a big girl. She is in no way, shape or form a baby and she knows it.

I'm not sure how early you got up yesterday, but since it was a holiday I'll assume you missed the early morning rainstorm. It poured. When Violet and I arrived at the playground a few hours later the swings were still damp. No matter, Vi used her sweater to mop up the water and had a grand old time swinging away. After a few minutes a little boy, who was maybe two years old, came and sat in the swing next to Violet. It was so cute hearing her talk to him. She told him not to go too high and she called him silly when he said he saw a plane (she argued it was a seagull -- they were looking at two different things). She knew she was older than this little boy and I am pretty sure she thought she was smarter. She obviously loved it. She is always the littlest at our house, so she delighted in her new role.

When the little boy got off the swing he said to his mum, "my bum is wet."

Violet looked at him, took a deep breath and nodded, "it's a wet world", she said.

The two kids paused. The little boy looked at Violet for half a second, almost like he was acknowledging, "that was deep". Then he ran off and sat in a puddle.

Violet kept swinging, thrilled with her little-but-getting-bigger philosopher self.

It is a wet world? That might be my favourite Violetism yet! 

xo

Em

{we live next to one of the only construction sites on the peninsula -- lucky us...}

{she finds herself really funny}

the thankful tree

{what I am thankful for}

Violet came home with the cutest craft today. With the help of a very special teacher she had made a thankful tree. Her little handprints hung from a branch like leaves. On each handprint Susie had written something Violet was thankful for.

I immediately scanned for my name and then assessed the positioning of my leaf (I wish I was kidding).

The craft reminded me of Thanksgiving when I was a teenager. We always went to the South Shore with my mum's best friend's family. Every year we froze, but I have lots of good memories now that enough time has passed for me to forget my numb toes and the hours I spent in a small car with cranky adolescent siblings. (I can say that because I admit I was the crankiest sibling.)

Every year my mum's friend's dad asked us the same question, "what are you thankful for?" Personally I preferred his less esoteric questions (e.g., name your three favourite pies), but it was a nice reminder to count your blessings.

I have lots to be thankful for, but my health and the health of my family feel particularly precious this year.

When Violet was showing off her art to her Auntie Lou she looked at the tree and said, without a hint of sarcasm, "I really should have put my own name up there."

And I was worried about her confidence.

xo

Em

good and bad

{new umbrella on a rainy day}

Should I start with the good or the bad?

The bad?

I swore in front of Violet today. It was a really bad word.

We were driving home in the pouring rain and someone pulled out right in front of us. It scared me. I swore.

As we continued home I asked Violet if she had heard what I said. She said no, but I wasn't convinced. I tried to justify myself to her by saying that I only use words like that when I am really scared. This seemed to make sense to her.

When we pulled in the driveway I was still worried that she had heard what I said so I asked her what the worst word she knew was.

"Stupid," she said, without a pause and then, in the exact tone I used when I explained my misstep to her she said, " but don't worry mummy, I only use that word when someone is really stupid."

This weekend I inadvertently taught Violet how to justify saying bad words.

And now for the good.

Violet participated in dance class! We practiced every night last week (hello stage mum) and it really paid off. Half an hour goes so much faster when your child is not hyperventilating.

I attribute the progress to our practicing, but it could have been all of the bribes I tried to entice her with. You see that umbrella? That is the direct result of being a "big girl" during dance class. I promised a number of other things too so I guess I can't really nail down what worked. All I know is stage mum tendencies + bribery = success.

Feel free to try out that recipe for parenting on your own children, so far so good over here.

xo

Em

damsel in distress

 


You know those nights where you come home, get into comfy clothes, eat pizza and you're so tired you could either laugh or cry so you do both at the drop of a hat? If you answered yes, I should introduce you to Violet because that is totally her M.O. on Friday nights.


It was the best of times, it was the worst of times -- within the same minute. I get like this when I am tired too. From the outside looking in, I have to admit it is kind of crazy and a little teeny bit scary.

Being dramatic is obviously exhausting; Violet fell into bed like a damsel in distress. 

Seriously, who sleeps like that (and is not named Aurora)?

I am almost ready to do the same, you?

Happy Friday everyone. Batten down the hatches Haligonians, it is going to be a wet one. 

xo

Em

dance moms

- this is how I feel something from: where else

I can't believe I forgot to tell you this yesterday. You won't believe what another mother said to me at dance class. 

Just when you thought you could get away without my weekly "Violet cries at dance class and I question my ability to parent" post...

Since you know the routine I'll stick to the basics. The tears started on the drive to class, by the time the teacher had to pry Vi's hands from my neck she was in full on hysterics. Hyperventilation by the child was followed by an "invitation" for me come into the studio. I reluctantly joined the class. Violet sat on my lap, a sobbing, sweating, but heartbreakingly cute ball of fury.

Just another Saturday morning.

For some reason other parents were in the classroom again, even though they are encouraged to wait outside. One mum leaned over to me and asked if this was Violet's first time at dance class. I explained that she had been in dance before, but that she seems to be in some sort of phase. The mum looked at me with sympathy (not real sympathy, condescending sympathy) and said, "poor girl, is there something going on at home?"

Seriously?

Those kind of comments kill me. If something was going on, which is isn't, would I tell a total stranger in my daughter's dance class? What a moron.

Of course in real life I said "no nothing" and smiled (really fakely).

I can't believe she said that, what a...wait, is something going on at home I wondered? Are we working too much? I never take Violet to the pool, good parents always seem to be in the pool, maybe that is the problem. Maybe we need to go to the park more -- does not going to the park everyday count as "something going on at home"? I let Vi eat sugar and use real butter on her toast, could that be it, that is borderline child abuse right? Maybe this is only-child behaviour, maybe if she had a sibling she would like dance class more?

Even though I know it is silly, I do worry that maybe Jeff and I are doing something wrong and that we are the reason Violet cries during dance class. I understand in my head that those thoughts are crazy and  toxic, but they creep up every time I see a room full of happy dancers and my little puddle of sweat and tears melts onto my lap.

Can I retire now? Being a grandparent looks like fun. I think I'd be good at that.

Oh gosh, imagine how much I am going to over analyze things once Vi gets to school, or worse, when she is a teenager.

xo

Em

back to reality

{cuddles before breakfast and my new favourite picture}

This weekend really felt like fall. I don't mean the weather necessarily, but just the fact that we seemed busy from the moment we woke up until we fell into bed (at 8:00 pm if you must know). Other than a few milestones, Violet wants to be called Bingo from now on and a chickadee landed on her hand while we were at the park (she now believes she is Snow While incarnate), the weekend was pretty standard for this time of year. In fact, while we were standing outside Costco this afternoon I felt a wave of self-pity come over me. Why are we aways so busy? I just want to sleep...for two weeks. I let myself wallow for a few minutes, but then I snapped out it of. We are busy because we choose to be, we are so blessed to have Violet to take care of -- even the monotonous stuff is a really big gift. Some not so fun stuff has happened in our lives lately and the silver lining in all the sadness has been that I realize that now.

I can't always snap myself out of a mini-funk, but today I did. Could have been my new take on life, could have been all the jelly bean samples.

Here are a few pictures from our weekend that was full of laundry, dishwashing, chauffeuring and a healthy dose of toddler (little kid? cue weeping) attitude. Despite all that, or perhaps because of it, it was awesome.

xo

Em

{pumpkin muffins: before}

{story of my life -- you too?}

{the return of the bodum}

{first steel cut oats of the autumn}

{pumpkin muffins: after}

{be still my heart}

{new church shoes - thanks Nanny}

{keeping up with her mama}

{I have to stop myself from eating those cheeks}

{this photo is included and was taken at Violet's request}

Ancaster

{Velma, Nancy, Emily & Jules aka aunt, mum, wife and sister}

Jeff's family live in a pretty little town outside Hamilton. It is so lovely there this time of year. The air has cooled off and the leaves are just starting to turn. Ancaster, where Jeff spent part of his childhood, is full of stately brick homes and perfectly manicured lawns. It is the perfect spot for a wedding.

I am biased, but you can't beat a September wedding. You get all the bright light and sunshine of summer with none of the oppressive humidity. We travelled to Ancaster on Friday to go to Jeff's cousin's wedding. I love seeing Jeff around his family. He laughed so hard he cried every day we were there. You know the sort of laughter that only people who have known you since you were little can evoke? That rang through Jeff's parents' house.

Violet was indulged beyond belief. Instead of two (or four) adults doting on her she had at least 6 sometimes 7 loving grown ups at her beckon call. She was hugged, kissed and fed from the moment she woke up until after she went to bed (no eating after bed, just hugs and kisses).

It is so lovely being taken care of for a weekend. Jeff's mum and sister are the type who would never let you see a dirty dish, they wash your towel before you notice it is gone and they slip little presents and cards in your room or suitcase. Dreamy.

When can we go back?!

Here are my favourite pictures from the weekend (Jeff's sister has the same camera and she is more diligent with photography) -- when I said I relaxed I meant it!

xo

Em

{Wes and Precious Jules}

{Em & Jeff}

{pretty cake}

{country wedding}

{Violet laughing so so hard}

{Emily Pond I or Emily Pond Jr}

{Em & Vi - cousinly love}

{another pretty blonde sister! Auntie Ang and her little minions} 

a tall stack

I woke up early this morning and I peeked in on my sleeping babe. She looked so sweet in her footsie jam jams, all cozy in her favourite pink blanket. I will make you pancakes, I said to myself. And so I did. A tall stack for my small girl.

I always feel a little smug if I manage to squeeze something extra into my morning routine. I felt like super-mum, flipping pancakes, drinking milky tea all with a towel on my head. That is, I felt smug until we were scrambling and the September traffic almost made me late for work. At that point I felt like an idiot for thinking I could make a hot breakfast on a Thursday morning.

Perhaps pancakes are better weekend fare afterall.

Try Nigella's take on "American" pancakes: quick, easy and not without a healthy dose of butter. The recipe is here: http://www.nigella.com/recipes/view/american-breakfast-pancakes-141, but I totally recommend her book How to Be A Domestic Goddess. Get yourself a scale and get baking!

xo

Em

{batter before the sun comes up}

{does anyone really eat pancakes this way?}

Oh September

Violet and I were planning on attending the wedding of a very dear friend this past weekend. It didn't happen. I was heartbroken. I would have been perfectly satisfied spending the long weekend moping, preferably in my pjs and definitely in my bed. Having a child is such an inconvenience when a good mope is in order. My sweet husband, hating to see his wife in distress, basically forced us to get in the car and head to PEI.

You're always happy in PEI, he said. I couldn't argue with that.

Although my heart was in Calgary this past weekend, my family members loaned me theirs in PEI. Isn't that a lovely image? I read something similar in a book I read recently, so I can't really take credit for it, but it does capture how I felt these past few days.

Despite my best intentions to wallow we had a great weekend complete with beach visits, my Pop's famous scrambled eggs and the making of "four generation" chow chow. Have you ever had chow chow? Green tomato chow? Oh my glory, it is delicious. Commonly served with salted fish, I like the stuff dumped on almost anything including all meat and most veggies. I don't want to make you jealous, but Jeff even cut up all the onions for us -- and we made a double batch. That is true love.

Jeff was right, I am always happy in PEI.

September is upon us. Bring on the fresh stationary and new beginnings.

xo

{making chow in our jam jams}

{the final product}

{every day is a day at the beach with Pop}

{beach bum}

{the last cone of the summer, Papa made it a doozy with chocolate and sprinkles}