The grinch who stole my Christmas

Do you know anyone who didn't cheer for Rudy? What about Rocky? Vince Papale in Invincible? Jerry Maguire? The Rockford Peaches in A League of their Own? Or in my favourite movie of all time - The Shawshank Redemption - is there anyone who wasn't rooting for Andy to break free of those prison walls?

I don't think so.

But when I decided to write a blog about how much I enjoy Christmas cards - sending and receiving - and let the world in on the friendly competition that my sisters and I share, something changed in the underdog story.

Jacquie wins the bet every year. And she doesn't just win - she blows Celina and I out of the water. We aren't even close. Last year Jac had over 50 cards. Celina collected almost 40 (she admits to that being an exceptional year as Layla's class sent out cards to help put Celina on the map). And I received a grand total of 27. 

When I announced the bet and last year's totals, I fully expected people to rally with the underdog. But what happened was the complete opposite.

Jacquie went for a visit with some family and saw our cousin Dianne. She gave her her annual Christmas card and then asked if she should delay mailing mine and Celina's to give her a head start at winning the bet. To her credit, Jac said no. The bet is a fun game and it should be fair. I believe Dianne mailed the letters, but since I haven't received mine I can't be sure.

Next - Jacquie has a friend and co-worker who prefers to send New Year's cards. They are welcomed just as much as a Christmas card, but unfortunately don't count for our bet. So when she discovered this little fact, she created a Christmas photo card of her family and emailed it to Jacquie. At first I thought it was real until I noticed that the heads of her family have been cropped onto other people's bodies:

Her friend also asked her husband to write a Merry Christmas email to send to Jacquie. He sent this:

 

Merry Christmas Jacquie!  Hope the holiday season finds you well!
Warmest regards, Sean

Wow! It's funny - so, so, so funny. And resulted in Jacquie counting two points instead of one.

Jacquie was then disappointed because her parents-in-law have also decided to jump on the New Year's card bandwagon - which again means she can't count their card. But was surprised when she received a hand delivered card from her father-in-law that read:

 

And finally - Jacquie received not one, not two, but three cards from the same address in Lanigan. She thought it was odd and began opening them up. She received a Christmas card from the Bergen's. Then received another card specifically from their son Mattex. And lastly, received a card from their pet dog.

From. The. Dog.

Yesterday Jacquie received a total of 14 cards. FOURTEEN!?!

As of yesterday morning I was happily in the lead of our friendly competition with a total of 27 cards (my total from last year). Celina was sitting at 16 and Jacquie was at 23. With only two days left I thought there was finally a chance that I might win this year.

And then Jacquie received a letter from a dog.

Celina and I thought seriously about adding a rule to the game that states that you can only count one card per household - but then we remembered Santa letters. We each have 2 kids, so we count each Santa letter as its own point. And I think about the future when Mya or Jasper want to help me with Christmas cards and will send out their own. I'd like to think that those cards would count. So we allowed Jacquie to count all of her letters.

All 37 of them...

Jacquie has yet to check the mail today, but we know what's waiting in her mailbox. And with only one day left - Celina and I will admit defeat and once again will lose the Christmas card bet. We will make the trek to Tim Horton's and purchase $5 gift cards in Jacquie's name and send them in the mail.

She will receive more mail.

What happened to cheering for the underdog? Apparently no one cheers for the underdog anymore - not even the dog...

Merry Christmas everyone. Thank you all for the cards, emails, pictures and letters. We enjoy each and every one of them and look forward to the 2014 season already. And who knows - maybe next year we'll receive letters from all sorts of animals?

Melanie

Christmas card season

December 1st marks the beginning of Christmas card season and I look forward to it all year long. To me, it might just be better than Christmas itself.

Growing up, I did not come from a family who sent out Christmas cards. We received a handful of them from family members and I would feel jealous as I read them over and over. I longed to take a family picture and to write a yearly letter that everyone would read. I wished my dad would send out cards from us.

It was in University when I sent out my very first set of Christmas cards. I spent a month collecting addresses from family and friends. I painstakingly wrote out addresses on all the envelopes by hand and spent days writing and rewriting my letter. And I waited and waited for my pictures to arrive so I could mail everything together. It was so much fun dropping off that stack of envelopes in the mailbox that year and I couldn't wait for the replies.

One year - my roommates decided to hide the Christmas cards I received. The mail arrived while I was at work and I would check the mailbox when I got home to find it empty. They would hide them all over the house and if I wanted them, it was up to me to find them. One would be hanging from the chandelier in the kitchen. Another nestled beside a beer in our fridge. And another waited to be found in the shower the next morning. My roommates felt hiding my cards was much more fun than just looking in a mailbox. And they were right. Each day my excitement grew as I discovered them in the most bizarre places.

The only card they weren't allowed to hide was my Grandma Beaton's. She used to send me a card every year and hers was my favourite. She took the time to write a handwritten note on the entire left side of the card telling me about how well she was doing at bowling and what the weather was like. My Grandma came from a time before computers and I certainly appreciated the time and effort it took to write all those cards. Some years I believe my aunts helped her write all her letters, but the words were still hers. She stopped sending cards a few years before she passed away, but she would still call me after she received mine to chat about the weather and to thank me for thinking of her. She always loved receiving letters.

My favourite cards now come with pictures and letters, but honestly, anything will do. Some friends are creative - like Sam who sent a crossword puzzle as her letter last year. Some friends are thoughtful - like Melissa who sent a recipe one year. Some friends make me smile - like Duncan whose message always reads: Happy Ho Ho and whose card is always the first one to arrive in my mailbox (because he follows my 'cards go in the mail on December 1' rule). And some friends really know how to use the exclamation point to their advantage - right, Becky!!!! Each card is different and they all make me smile.

This year I opted for fun and wrote a poem as my annual letter. I'll share it on my blog in a few weeks so as not to spoil the surprise for all those on my Christmas card list. I mailed letters and pictures to a whopping 97 families. Some envelopes will travel throughout the provinces of BC, Alberta, Saskatchewan, Manitoba, Ontario and Quebec, and one card is even making its way all the way down under this year. As with tradition I also included a few family pictures and thought I'd show a sneak peek here:

 

One might assume that since I send out so many cards, that I also receive a lot of cards. But that's not necessarily the case. Some years I receive more than others, but last year I received a total of 27 cards. I know the number because my sisters and I have an annual bet on who receives the most cards and Jacquie always wins. I believe she opened over 50 cards last year while Celina had around 40. But honestly, it doesn't matter. I send cards because I love it. I don't expect a card in return, but I certainly do love when people send me one back.

 

Today is December 4 and I have one card on my wall (thanks Duncan). I can't wait to see who else has me on their list this year :)

 

Happy Holidays!

 

Melanie

 

 

 

 



Baby Blankets

I have three hobbies: reading, snowboarding and sewing.

The reading I get from my dad. He read every single night and I can honestly say that I don't remember him ever sitting down in his chair without a book in his hand. I don't remember if he ever read to me as a child, but they say that children learn by example and he definitely set a good one for me. I love to read and have my dad to thank for that.

Snowboarding I can attribute to my friends Kelly and Becky.  They picked me up off my butt more times that I can count the first year I tried the sport and there was no looking back. I can't wait to take my first ride down the hill every year and I love that my winters are filled with such fun memories.

But my love of sewing - that comes from my mom.

As a child I would always find my mom downstairs in her sewing room. She made a lot of our clothes and really enjoyed making things herself. My favourite shirt was pink and had a The Little Mermaid patch in the corner. My mom made it and I was completely devastated when my sister Celina tried to do the laundry by herself and accidently bleached it.

My mom said I was the only daughter to take a real interest in sewing and I used to ask to help pick the fabric and to use the needle. Like any child, my attention span was short, but she knew I would grow up to love sewing as much as she did. Jacquie can sew as well, but doesn't have the same passion that my mom and I share.

As a gift one year in high school she bought me my very own sewing machine. It was a combined gift for Jacquie and me and I remember Jacquie feeling disappointed because the gift was clearly for me. But I was beyond excited. It's the same machine I still have today (so I'm probably due for a new one - Hint, Hint).

I used the machine to make pajama pants and to sew up rips in clothes, but then one day I decided to make a baby blanket. It started almost 9 years ago when I found out that my friend Kelly was pregnant. I wanted to make something special for the baby and thought that a homemade baby blanket would be a thoughtful gift. My Aunt Peggy instructed me on how to sew a simple blanket and I sewed it up in less than an hour.

Other friends and family members started having babies, so I began making more and more blankets. I made quite a few frayed-edge style quilts and then my mom helped me make a few with silk borders. They were all nice and I was proud of every one we finished, but I always felt we could do better. And that's when my mom, Jacquie and I took a quilting class. If my love for sewing wasn't cemented already, it was then.

Now my mom and I plan quilting parties for the two of us. We meet at my house or hers (usually hers as she has a fantastic new sewing room) and we spend the day/weekend quilting baby blankets for all the new babies that are coming into this world. We also meet at fabric stores (our favourites being Fabricland, The Quilt Patch and Quilter's Haven) and can spend hours picking out the perfect fabrics to match each quilt design. It's so much fun spending the time with my mom and sharing this passion for sewing.

Here's a recent picture of us at one of our quilting parties.

 

And mom - thank you so much for sharing your passion for sewing with me. It's a skill that I'm so happy to have and I hope one day that my kids will love it as much as we do.

 

Melanie

 

Getting Ready

My friend recently shared a hilarious YouTube video titled: People with no kids don't know. If you haven't seen it yet, please watch this video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uFQfylQ2Jgg&feature=share&desktop_uri=%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DuFQfylQ2Jgg&app=desktop

This comedian was spot on. I laughed as I tried to remember what it was like not to have kids.

When it was just me I took an hour and a half to get ready. If I had to be at school or work by 8:30am I woke up at 7:00am. It gave me time to have a nice, long shower. I had time to eat breakfast and read the newspaper. I usually took the time to blow dry and straighten my hair and always wore make up. I could play with my routine as well - if I hit the snooze button, I might wear my hair in a ponytail. If I didn't shave my legs I had time to cook eggs instead of eating cereal. And if I was really motivated in the winter I often had time to shovel snow before leaving. I always made it to my destination early.

When Mya came along my timeframe stayed the same, but the routine changed drastically. She had to be at day care for 9:30am which meant I woke at 8:00am. I did not hit snooze - there was no time. I raced through a quick shower, dressed and threw my hair in a ponytail. I woke mya by 8:30am (she has always been an excellent sleeper) and took the time to cuddle her as she woke up. I'd change her, get her dressed and brush her hair and teeth. I'd be packing her diaper bag as I'd glance at the clock and be appalled that it was already 9:00am. She'd doddle to the kitchen because that's what toddlers do when their mom is in a hurry and I would rush to pack my work supplies. Before racing out the door I would put cheerios or a muffin in a bowl in hopes that she would eat it in the car and grab a granola bar for myself. Lucky for her I took advantage of the fact that snack time at daycare was served at 10:00am. We always made it to daycare just in time.

But today my life includes two kids: a thriving 2-year old toddler and an ever-growing 6-month old. The hour and a half window I used to allow myself is, sadly, not even close. We usually plan play dates and outings for around 10:00am and if I wake up at 7:00am, I'm still lucky if we make it on time. I need at least half an hour to feed, change and burp Jasper and another half hour to sit politely at the table with Mya while she picks at her breakfast. As an added bonus I now get to eat too, but if I get up too soon the process starts over. If we're having a good day I can have a quick shower, but otherwise I shower at night or at nap time. I can read messages on my phone, but forget about having time for the paper. My hair is frequently in a ponytail, much to my husband's dismay, and I only wear makeup on special occasions. When things are running smoothly, that's Jasper's cue to begin crying uncontrollably because he can't burp himself yet. Or I suddenly have to chase my toddler who refuses to put her shirt on. I have to take a step back and try not to get frustrated as she learns to put on her own panties - usually with both legs in the same leg hole - herself. Packing the diaper bag for Jasper and the toy-of-the-day for Mya, along with finding shoes and jackets sets us back. Loading Jasper is easy, but I always have to convince Mya that although it would be wonderful to point out all the rocks in the rock garden out front, we really do have somewhere to be. We are usually driving away from the house at the exact time we're already supposed to be somewhere. We are frequently late, but only by a few minutes.

It's comedic when I look at how I now manage my time and that's probably why I laughed so hard at the YouTube video. The life of a kid-free Melanie sounds so ideal and wonderful (did I really shave my legs everyday?), but I know the grass isn't always greener. It was in the morning when Mya said her first word, baby, and I had to pause to ensure I heard her right. It's hearing Jasper's giggle while driving in the car as Mya and I belt out our made-up song called Sing a Sooooooong! It was beautiful as I stood in the bathroom brushing my teeth and watching Jasper roll over three times in a row. And it makes me laugh when Mya tells me that she will only get ready if "Jasper come shopping toooo?!" Yes, life was easier in my kid-free days, but it wasn't nearly this much fun.

Someday I'll have all the time in the world to take my time getting ready again, but for now I'm not complaining. Well, that's not true - I frequently complain! My life is hectic. My life is crazy. But I can also take the time to laugh at myself because I wouldn't have it any other way.

Melanie

The Christmas Tree Clean Up

It's that time of year again and it always brings back memories. I was wandering around Walmart with Mya today and looking at Christmas decorations when I saw it: the Christmas tree clean up bag.

It happened every year. . .

We were kids wandering around the mall with our dad when he'd pick up one of those large garbage bags known for cleaning up the Christmas tree. The bag is supposed to be laid under the tree skirt so that when you take the tree down, you simply lift the bag up and over the tree and out it goes. No mess - No fuss.

Our dad thought it was a phenomenal invention: a garbage bag big enough to hold a tree. No more pine needles all over the living room. No more pine needles plugging up the vacuum. No more fights as we took down the Christmas tree.

He bought it.

We always bought a real tree (thanks to my sister Celina who refused to have a fake tree). We'd all go together and choose the perfect tree and we had full intentions of keeping it watered and healthy. One week went by and our tree looked great. It survived week two. But by week three we couldn't remember when the last time was that someone watered it. And week four found us visiting family for the holidays and not at home. When we arrived home after the holidays we were stuck with a half dead tree in our living room. It had dry, sharp needles that hurt when we got too close.

Taking down the Christmas tree was avoided like the plague. Jacquie claimed she had to work. Celina was conveniently in the bathroom. I pretended to have homework due after the holidays. But after January arrived my dad would yell that it was time. He was tired of looking at it. We were told to have it down before he got home from work.

We would take down the ornaments, the tinsel and the lights. But it took all day. Those darn needles kept poking us and it wasn't a fun job. We'd try to be as delicate as possible to avoid spilling pine needles all over the carpet. But as 5pm drew near, we'd hear the garage door and knew our dad was coming - "Quick! Wrap up the tree!" one of us would yell.  It was a team effort as we attempted to stuff the dried-up tree into the one-size-fits-all bag that was always too small.

But it was too late. Our dad was walking up the stairs.

The bag began to split. Dad would yell. He'd walk over and try to help. One of us would yelp as a needle poked through the bag and stuck us. Dad would tell us to suck it up and hold the tree straight. The bag would split more. It was inevitable. It couldn't be avoided. Needles were falling everywhere. And the phenomenal invention that was the Christmas tree bag just fell into teeny, tiny pieces.

In the heat of the moment my dad would swear, grab the tree by the top and drag it out of the house, leaving a trail of needles across the living room and through the dining room. He'd open the back door, walk out onto the deck and throw the tree out the window. He'd walk back in, dust off his hands and tell us to vacuum up the mess. Who's bright idea it was to buy a Christmas tree bag in the first place? He'd never buy another one.

Our tree would remain in our backyard until spring when he'd finally go back there to haul it away to the dump.

The following November found us walking through the mall when my dad would see it: The Christmas tree clean up bag. "Hey, maybe we should buy one of these bags this year? Maybe it'll help with keeping the pine needles off the floor?" my dad would say.

My sisters and I would giggle as he bought it. Well aware of what was to come. . .

Today I did not buy a Christmas tree clean up bag. We have a fake tree that we don't have to remember to water and doesn't spill pine needles all over the carpet. But the memory made me nostalgic anyway. This will be my tenth Christmas without my dad and I miss him everyday. What I wouldn't give to clean up those pine needles one more time.

Melanie

First Tastes

This week Jasper turned 6 months so we  started him on solid foods.

 

Mya started solid foods when she was six months old and I remember her not liking it. She'd spit the food back out and was pretty picky for a baby. Meats were hard. Vegetables were hard. Wheat cereal made her vomit. She did enjoy fruits, but I had to feed her more than just fruit. She's now two years old and is still not a great eater. Sometimes I bribe her to eat, other times I strap her in a baby chair to get her to stay at the table, and sometimes I let her run around with a piece of food because at least she'll eat that way. Meals are a challenge.

 

Here's Mya having her first taste of real food. This was sweet potatoes: 

 

 

Enter Jasper. He is *cross your fingers* a great eater so far. He eats almost all the food I give him, is eager to hold his own spoon, and is pretty good at picking up and drinking from his water cup. I know it's too early to tell what kind of an eater he will be, but I have my hopes up high for him.

 

Here's Jasper trying his first taste of real food. Mya is feeding him oat cereal: 

 

 

Babies grow up way too fast! I'm going to enjoy this 'great eater' thing while I can :)

 

Melanie

 

Snow Day

Yesterday was what I call 'Snow Day'. The first official snowfall that has a chance of staying on the ground. It's my favourite time of year.

Snow makes everything beautiful. It's white and clean and absolutely perfect. There is something so simple about fresh snow that hasn't been touched.

Yes - it's cold. And yes - I dread putting on all my winter gear, running out to start my car and scraping my windows just to take a quick trip to the store. But I sold my soul to the snow a long time ago, and there's no going back now.

As a kid I loved to toboggan. We'd carry our sleds for blocks searching for that perfect hill at the creek. In the summer we wouldn't even know where it was, but in the winter it was so easy to find. I also loved to skate; I loved snowball fights and digging forts; I liked liking icicles, catching snowflakes on my tongue and sipping hot chocolate and especially those cold nights snuggled up beside a crackling fire built by my dad. My winters, though very cold, are filled with so many warm memories that I will always treasure.

And in grade 10 my friends, Kelly and Becky, took my sister Jacquie and I snowboarding for the first time. If I wasn't hooked on snow before - I certainly was now.  Instead of dreading the weather change that happens every year, I looked forward to the white stuff and couldn't wait for my first ride down the hill/valley/mountain.

And who could complain about a season that makes it feel like Christmas all year long? Not me.

I love snow.

So, on the beautiful snow day that was yesterday, my sister and I bundled up our beautiful kids in all their snow gear and ventured outside. I giggled as Mya picked up a shovel and helped me clear the sidewalk. I helped as her and Benson (my nephew) dug deep into the snow. And I was so proud when she learned how to make a snow angel all by herself.

Jasper didn't do so well, but he's only 5 months old. He'll get there.

 

 

Mya cried when we came inside. And, although it's sad to see your child cry, I'm so happy that she seems to love the snow as much as I do.

Happy snow day everyone. It really is the most wonderful time of the year.

Melanie

Our First Anniversary

He made me smile the first time he said my name. I turned around to say hello and he opened his jacket to reveal a Winnipeg Blue Bomber jersey. It was November 2007 and the Grey Cup was about to feature a match up of his team vs my team. Flashing his jersey was his way of bragging that his team was going to win.

They lost. And the jersey still makes me smile when I think about the very first time we spoke.

We became friends a few weeks later when a co-worker and I called to invite him for drinks. He was sleeping and I bluntly told him that we were still in our work clothes and we fully expected him to dress up. He did. And he paid for the bill.

I was shy when I met his sister and her boyfriend for the first time. They told him that I wasn't the type of girl he should be friends with... I was the type of girl he should be dating.

Our friendship turned into a relationship when I told him I loved him in a card. I'd asked him not to read it until he left and I cried at the door because I should have said it in person. I had butterflies the moment I heard the knock at my door. He came back to kiss me and to say that he felt the same. The card still sits in his night stand today.

I was excited when he told me he wanted to have a baby. It was a big step, but he knew he was ready. I'd watched him play with our nieces and nephews and I knew it was the right move.

I was 8 months pregnant when he proposed. He found me sitting in our new baby's room when he knelt down to talk to me. His words were perfect and I cried as he slipped the ring on my finger (a perfect fit) and asked me to be his wife.

Our family and friends cheered at our wedding when we announced that baby number two was on his way. It was a day of celebration that ended with my happiness to finally share his last name. Alone in our hotel at night, we read each other the vows we wrote. They were personal, honest and meant only for each other.

I continue to fall in love with him everyday. It's the way he walks into a room. It's the way his arm drapes over me when he sleeps. It's the way he plays with Mya and makes Jasper giggle. And it's the way he still looks at me... With the eyes that made me fall in love with him in the first place. I could never have imagined that when I heard him say my name six years ago that it would have led me here.

Last week we celebrated our first wedding anniversary. We opened a bottle of our wedding wine (we saved 12 of them for special occasions) and talked about all that we've been through since we first met. Happy Anniversary Roger - I love you and I can't wait to open another bottle next year.

xoxo
Melanie

Wannabe Blogger

I'm a wannabe blogger.

There. I admitted it.

And after thinking about it and thinking about it, I find myself at my computer today deciding to take the plunge and become a blogger.

I used to be a blogger. Back in my university days. And I was surprised at how many people actually read it. My aunt Velma surprised me one day by saying that she read it to keep tabs on me. My sister surprised me by printing off some recent posts to read to family members at Thanksgiving. And an author from my job at Coteau once wrote the words 'loved your blog' in my copy of his book and unknowingly outted me to my co-workers. He was from Newfoundland and we'd never even met. I was nervous. I was excited. I loved every minute of it.

And now - I can't wait for more.

Welcome to my blog.

Melanie