Lena

Writing it Down.

January 19, 2016 By Lena

When I was 14-years old, I started a diary. It coincided with the beginning of high school. I was a fresh-faced “minor niner” and suddenly, my world became a lot more interesting. There were new friends, new crushes and of course, a new set of important tasks that almost overshadowed my education (where does one buy the perfect grunge-inspired plaid shirt to go with Revlon’s Blackberry lipstick?). And when I was happy, troubled or somewhere in the middle, I wrote.

I wrote about my insecurities and my fears. I jotted down unsolicited opinions on everything from the length of a mean girl’s kilt to the blueness of my crush’s eyes. I wrote about my first boyfriend and my first heartbreak. And most of all, I wrote about my hopes for the future. I wrote about having a job I loved, exactly two sons (it was always my preference), and of course, meeting my prince in shining Burberry sunglasses. Funny how things work out, huh?
let go I wrote in a first, second, third…. seventh diary throughout my high school years and even into my first year of university. I can’t describe the sense of relief I felt as I unloaded my feelings. My diary didn’t judge me, offer unsolicited advice or spill my secrets. It was a form of much needed therapy through a period of angst and personal discovery. …

Unscheduled Time Off.

September 4, 2015 By Lena

I’m not really good with ambiguity.

I have a strong Type-A personality and like things to follow the invisible manuscript that hovers above my head. Order is good; change is tolerated… the unknown is downright suffocating.

And this summer, I’ve been thrown for a loop.

Our family has had family illnesses and emergencies; property theft and damage, cancelled vacations, new jobs and new roles, and through it all, I’ve had the ever-challenging tasks of raising two boys, managing a household and running a business.

(I’m not complaining, I swear. Just an average day in the life of every mom, everywhere.)

Of course, *just* when I thought we were smooth sailing into September, I had some more unscheduled time off. This time, it started with a little boy’s tummy ache in the wee hours of morning… which escalated to emergency surgery in the late hours of night. Oh, my heart.
insta2 I am so happy to report that Reid is healing and recuperating well after his bout of acute appendicitis. In fact, he’s doing more than well – he has refused all pain medication and we actually have to caution him not to run and jump!

Kids: Overcoming obstacles like a boss since the dawn of time.

I’ll do my best to catch up! In the meantime, wishing all my readers a healthy, happy and productive September! Make it a great one!

2015: Great Expectations

January 6, 2015 By Lena

Happy New Year! 2015 is officially underway, and I am officially stoked! I have only one goal this year – make it the BEST year ever! (But no pressure, right?)

This January feels a *teeny* bit different from the past few years, in that my normal ramp-up time has poofed! into thin air. Whereas I usually have a month or two to get my bearings, send out pitches, sign contracts and line up work, I feel as though I’m already off to the races. And trust me, I’m not complaining! I’m incredibly grateful and so fortunate to know that my year is already shaping out to be a success. It’s a wonderful feeling!

So, what can you expect from me in 2015? As always, I’ll be multi-tasking to the extreme, and will be holding down a variety of “jobs”. I hope you’ll join me for the ride!

1. Mother: Employed since 2008, I will always have this role. It brings me the most joy, the most stress, and certainly the most fulfillment. (Although, I would never want to be subjected to a performance evaluation.)

2. Spouse: Employed since 2007, one of the easiest jobs I’ve ever had – but that may have something to do with the fact that I married my perfect match.

3. Writer: Oh blog, I just can’t quit you. Writing stories – right here on Listen to Lena, my favourite online space in the world – is something I can’t see myself giving up any time soon. Of course, this blog would be nothing without my readers. And to all those who take the time to stop by each day, I have nothing but love for you. Thank you.

4. Social Outreach: I belong to two amazing ambassador programs – #WalmartMomCA and #HBSocialKitchen. But, I’ll let you in on a not-so-little secret – I also manage both programs behind the scenes. Yes, they’re my babies! I conceptualized, presented and successfully negotiated the terms of both ambassador programs. And, working closely with amazing PR professionals and a talented group of online influencers, I’ll continue to lead the discussion and execute the monthly campaigns. …

Welcome to My NEW Website!

September 13, 2014 By Lena

Come on in! Make yourself at home. Take a look around (but don’t look too closely, as I’m still ironing out the glitches). Welcome to my brand new website; a little more grown up, a little more sass.

This project was a long time in the making, because frankly, I was pretty attached to my old site. But when my trusted design guru, Juan Beltran, convinced me that he could create an even better site than the first one he conceptualized for me, I gave in. “Have at it,” I said. “Impress me.”

So, he set out to design a custom website that is inspired by the unique elements of my old Listen to Lena site, while introducing new touches that modernize the overall look. And I couldn’t be happier! It looks like me. It feels like me. It is me.

There’s a reason I have design gurus in my life.

So stay a while! I hope you love the refresh as much as I do.

A Mom by Any Other Name…

July 1, 2013 By Lena

*EDIT – JULY 1st, 2013*

Sometimes, I’ll look back on an old post that I published years ago, and chuckle to myself – thinking about the “problems” I once faced. In this instance, I was going through a phase (a terribly long one, mind you) where Ryder referred to me by my first name. Yes, it bothered me. Enough to write a blog post! He called me “Lena” for much longer than was tolerable, and at one point, it really, really hurt me.

But just like that, he grew out of it… and has called me “Mommy” ever since. Often hundreds of times per day – in a raspy, whiny voice that from time to time, grates at my nerves. “Mommy, Mommy, MOMMY!”

(However, I won’t complain. I’ve earned my title, and I cherish every single “Mommy” that leaves his sweet mouth.)

And so, won’t you take a trip down memory lane with with me? This blog post was originally published on September 6, 2011 – so Ryder would have been just about 3.5 years old; his little brother, 1.5 years old. Is it strange that I have a hard time remembering this phase? I fear that life is speeding by way too quickly. Sigh.

Readers, I have a problem.

Now I suppose I should toss out a quick disclaimer: I have my health, my kids are well fed, and for the moment, we do have a roof over our heads. So in the grand scheme of things, perhaps it isn’t a biggie.

An inconvenience? A concern? Regardless.

Ryder calls me “Lena”. And I can’t get him to stop.

I know, I know, I know it shouldn’t bother me. Not much, anyways. Many friends and family members actually think it’s kind of cute. And for a while, even I thought it was rather enduring: Ha ha, my son calls me by my first name.

Now, it drives me crazy.

I’m not exactly sure why he prefers addressing me as “Lena” – after all, it hardly has an interesting ring to it, right? Let’s be real, it’s not “Desirée” or “Katerina” and furthermore, I spend the equivalent of 6 hours per day rambling off phrases such as “Give it to Mommy,” “Mommy said NO!” and “Come hold Mommy’s hand”… so… what the hell? And I AM his Mommy, right? I pick out his clothes, kiss his boo boos, cut his grapes in half and jump on Google for every symptom he’s ever had (or I’ve thought he’s had, which includes, but is not limited to, shingles, bee stings and leprosy).

So… what the hell?

It’s been getting worse, friends. Last week, while taking a Popsicle out of the freezer for him, he looked at me pointedly and said, “Don’t lick it, Lena. That’s MY Popsicle.” Sure, I can deal.

Later that day, I accidentally spilled milk all over the counter due to a milk bag malfunction.

“What the hell, Lena?” he observed. (Yes, it’s indeed horrible that those exact words came out his mouth, but I will be the first to admit that I burst out laughing when he said it. I think this Mommy needs to watch her own potty mouth.)

But my absolute breaking point was while we were in Gymboree last week. Sorting through some of their cute fall merchandise, a salesperson sidled up to me.

“He’s so cute!” she gushed.
“Thank you,” I crooned. “Do you like this top, Ryder?”
“I don’t like it Lena!” he screamed. “Let’s go home Lena. Want to play cars.”
“Oh!” the salesperson gushed. “Are you his nanny? Or an aunt?”

Great.

No, I’m his mother,” I retorted tersely.
“Ah, a stepmom. I thought so… I didn’t want to say, but I was trying to find the resemblance.”

B*tch….

Read More

The Not-So-Viral Picture You Loved

June 9, 2013 By Lena

There are so many buzzwords in social media today: trending, clickability, engagement, advertainment… I could go on. And on.

But the single most overused buzzword? Viral. As in, “My Facebook post went viral! It was liked and shared a gazillion times.”

Amazing! And having a “viral” post or picture is certainly a measurement of success – one that should be both applauded and respected. (Unless you’re spamming people with voting requests, “earn $100/hour” ads or funny animal pictures. Then you’re not a viral success; you’re a douche.)

Unfortunately, I’ve never experienced the high of having a viral post or image, but I have received amazing feedback and engagement from a few posts in particular. It’s a nice feeling! Of course, when I published the following picture last Thursday, clearly I had no idea it would be received so well…

It’s just a photo of me and the Director of Menu Management at McDonald’s Canada, Anne Parks – from the post They Came. They Tasted. They Savoured the Flavour. I didn’t think much about it until over the course of the next few days, my inbox was filled with questions about my hair, beauty routine, makeup and wardrobe. Er… I’m flattered, friends!

And while I would normally just respond to e-mails individually, I thought this was a great way to share the “secrets” of my beauty routine. (Prepare to be underwhelmed. Seriously – I’m pretty much no-frills and no-fuss.) Below is a collection of questions I received stemming from the photo I posted on Thursday – except the first, which I received a few weeks ago and just had to include!

Hi Gorgeous – Do you do botox?!? Your skin is flawless. Secret safe with me if its a yes – please tell me where you go! xo – R

LOL! I wish I was interesting enough to have a reason to botox, but alas, the kindergarten carpool in sweatpants does not necessitate a smooth and wrinkle-free forehead. I am, however, blessed with good genes – and I do use a “miracle” cream called Olay Regenerist Micro-Sculpting Serum. It is seriously the best thing you can ever put on a problem area; just a few dabs on fine lines and they disappear like magic.

Since I only use it from time to time (usually for big events), I’ve had the same bottle for almost three years! A little goes a looong way.

Love your orange dress! Where did you get it? – A

It’s my “little orange dress” from the Old Navy Fall/Winter 2013 collection. A steal at under $30; it originally came paired with a black belt, but I swapped it for a pink belt to add a punch of fun colour!…

Thirty-Four Things

April 13, 2012 By Lena

For the last three years, I’ve had a blog tradition – on my birthday, I’ve listed 31/32/33 things that I love. Last year, my list looked like this.

But today, I’m at a loss – after all, I’ve cumulatively listed close to 100 things I love! I’m running out of ideas. So this year, I thought I’d share 34 tidbits that you may not know about me. I mean sure, you know I have two little boys and spend a lot of time blogging, but did you know:

1. I have an irrational fear of all spiders after coming face to face with a tarantula when I was three years old.
2. In grade nine, I rolled my kilt to make it shorter (Catholic high school uniform, rolls eyes).
3. I love the spicy, pungent taste of raw garlic.
4. My feet are AAA width. It takes on average 254 days to find a shoe narrow enough to fit my grossly skeletal feet.
5. Before I became a mom, I was a Corporate Trainer for a Fortune 100 Company. I excel in the boardroom.
6. I check the time every 5-6 minutes. It’s a nervous habit I can’t seem to break.
7. I have the most annoying laugh in the world. Kind of like “donkey meets Fran Drescher”.
8. My high school boyfriend cheated on me with a stripper (and later, married her).
9. I love being the center of attention, but enjoy sharing the spotlight even more.
10. Nails on a chalkboard is fine. Cutting into a squeaky apple? Ugh!
11. I met my husband on Lavalife, an online dating service.
12. I don’t have a favourite vacation spot, because I’ve done very little travelling.
(As soon as the boys are a little older, I plan to rectify this.)
13. I’ve obtained a signed declaration from my hairdresser that at 34 years old, I don’t have a single gray hair.

Okay, I seriously can’t go on. Oh wait, I just thought of another one:

14. Although I like talking about the things I love, I have trouble talking about myself.

Have a great weekend friends! I intend to celebrate, as always, with cake and Coca-Cola!

“Ram”ming it in My Face

March 26, 2012 By Lena

It happens every year around this time. Which shouldn’t really surprise me, because people’s birthdays are usually celebrated on the same date year after year. Still, I get very surly and sour when I realize we have entered into that particular sign of the zodiac called ARIES.

Aries: The Ram
March 21st to April 20th

The Good: Enthusiastic and confident, dynamic and quick-witted.
The Bad: Impulsive and impatient.
The Ugly: Moody. Short tempered. Self-involved.

Now I truly have nothing against Ariens, per se, because I happen to share the sign! Yup, proud April baby over here. But I have prejudices just the same, and they happen to lie with with a whole bunch of people from my past – my exes, to be precise. ALL of my ex-boyfriends are Ariens. ALL of them.

It’s not like I chose men based purely on their astrological makeup; instead, it was purely a coincidence that I found myself attracted to the person first, and found out about their zodiac sign second. In fact, I didn’t even recognize a pattern until the third or fourth boyfriend – when I noticed that I was constantly buying cards and gifts in close proximity to my own birthday. After that, I made a conscious effort to uncover a guy’s sign from the start – and was floored to find out that I regularly seemed to gravitate towards energetic, confident, and impulsive men.

Or maybe it was the moody, impatient and self-involved traits I craved.

As one friend suggested, it’s possible that I just enjoyed seeking out others who shared the same qualities as me; a fellow member of the sign. Whatever the explanation, I’ve had five previous boyfriends, all Aries. I briefly dated two other men, also Ariens. And I think I may have had a drunken make-out session at some point… I’m not too clear on the details, but years later (through the magic of Facebook) I am very aware of one detail: he’s an Aries too.

And I suppose the common denominator here is that they’re all defective (trust me) in some way – or I’d still be with one of them, right? Perhaps the whole Aries-on-Aries cocktail does not mix well in my case.

So back to my surly mood. It’s “Ex-Boyfriend Birthday Season!” That’s right, folks – for the next few weeks, I’ll be constantly reminded of all my exes, thanks to my inability to forget “significant” dates. I took the liberty of posting their pictures and birthdays (in order of relationship) so you too can celebrate along with us:

Okay so that’s not really them, but I think I did a good job of capturing their likeness. A bonus: the conversation wasn’t awkward at all when my husband caught me customizing the pictures. “What are you doing?” he asked. “Just creating cartoons in the likeness of my ex-boyfriends,” I responded. (Three second pause.) “Okay. When’s dinner?”

By the way, in case you’re wondering, years ago I finally met a great guy who wasn’t an Aries. So I did the only logical thing: I married him.

Waiting For Tonight

March 23, 2012 By Lena

Last night I came across a piece of history – a relic, if you will – a jar of glitter gel from the ol’ clubbing days. It was the cheap kind that I’m fairly certain I scooped up from the “4 for $5.00” tray at Claire’s. My BFF and I would liberally spread the grape-scented glitter on our cheeks, clavicles and arms in an attempt to sparkle under the club’s strobe lights.

(It wasn’t hard. Trust me, we showed A LOT of skin.)

The once shimmery gel has since hardened into a gluey, funky-smelling substance – although the jar doesn’t explicitly list an expiry date, I’m thinking they didn’t have 14 years crammed into an old makeup bag in mind. But it’s not so much the ancient artifact that has me nostalgic; rather, it’s the memories of what Fridays used to be like.

Hushed conversations on the phone at work.
Deciding what to wear; discussing in detail the case for black pants vs. little black dress.
Wondering if I had enough time to re-paint my toe nails.
Popping in a house music CD to get the blood pumping and my head bobbing.
Looping giant velcro rollers into my hair.
Doing sit-ups on the bedroom floor at 8:00pm.
Calling for last minute wardrobe checks.*

*This one makes me long for the days of yore more than anything else; it was the knowledge that I knew every single article of clothing in a friend’s wardrobe. If she said, “I’m wearing my orange tank top which make my boobs look great”, I instantly knew the tank top she was referring to. Because we hung out in casual clothes, went clubbing in dressy clothes and spent copious amounts of time shopping together; hence, all new purchases were mentally categorized as well. Today, not knowing what a friend will wear means that we don’t spend nearly enough time together. Le sigh.

Speaking of today, this is what my Friday looks like.

Checking online grocery flyers, looking for cheese on sale.
Sorting laundry into darks, lights and towels.
Wondering where to take the kids this weekend – animal farm or indoor playground?
Pulling on yet another pair of yoga pants. I don’t do yoga.
Making a mental note to gather all my tax info.
Nagging my husband to clean out the garage tomorrow.
Chatting with my BFF and asking what she’s up to for the weekend, but not really hearing her.

Sheesh. Perhaps I’ll run out and grab a new jar of glitter. What’s sexier than a sparkly mama pulling tots in a wagon?

My favourite throwback to the good ol’ days: Waiting for Tonight by Jennifer Lopez. Should I be pissed that she’s still living the same life as 1999? Um… probably not.

It’ Snot Fun, Said the Sickie

January 11, 2012 By Lena

Mmmkay, you knew this one was coming…

Top 10 Reasons Why Taking Care of Sick Children – When You’re Sick Too – Sucks:

10. The phrase “Shut Up and Leave Me Alone” pops into your head every 12 seconds.
9. You’re so busy/tired/dejected you forget to eat. And then you heat up canned soup at 9:30pm.
8. Enduring hours of Treehouse TV – enough to make you nauseous even when you’re healthy.
7. Having snot run down your face while you’re busy wiping your kid’s.
6. Staying up all night with one sick child and all day with the other.
5. Hearing your husband say “Poor Baby” while he’s sipping his Venti Macchiato at work. #ihateyou
4. Doling out “Bless You”, “Don’t Wipe Your Nose on Your Sleeve” and “You Feel a Bit Warm”. Repeat.
3. The incredible urge to lock yourself in your room and assume the fetal position.
2. Hearing your husband say “So I’ll be home late today…”
1. Realizing that you’re the mom. Ain’t no one bailing you out of this one.

Apparently Shopping Makes Me Cry

December 3, 2011 By Lena

I’m not usually driven to tears when I hit the shops. I must be getting old/sentimental/foolish.

It started out as a normal Saturday morning – there were things to buy, chores to split up, sticky handprints to erase. Except this morning, I had the pleasure of running a few errands ALL BY MYSELF. For a mom, running errands by yourself is akin to finding a $20 bill in an old pocket. Oh yeah, the good life.

My excellent adventure had only a few stops; the gas station, the bank, and Toys R Us. In that order. Since you don’t read my blog to hear about me pumping gas or handling my finances, I’ll skip forward to Toys R Us.

Although this (obviously) needs no disclaimer, shopping at TRU without your whiny, obnoxious kids totally freakin’ rocks. It’s actually a well known fact that even if you’ve raised the most well behaved children on the planet, they will turn into whiny, obnoxious, toy-grabbing-face-smacking mutants the second you cross the store’s threshold. Trust me, it’s science. And it is a truly euphoric feeling to acknowledge the background screams and caterwauling belongs to someone else’s offspring. Ha ha!

And just what was I doing at Toys R Us on a Saturday morning? I’d rather not say. (Okay, twist my arm.) Sigh… I was picking up two plush, talking Iggle Piggles. Yes, THE Iggle Piggle from the seizure-inducing, suicide-pondering, freakishly cultish “In the Night Garden”. My boys LOVE the show. Conveniently on at 8:00pm (just before the boy’s bedtime), we’ve been allowing them to cuddle up on our bed to watch the nightly episodes. Often, by the time the credits roll, they’re both sweetly sound asleep. So for Christmas, I reckoned I’d surprise them both with a soft sleeping buddy.

I should have grabbed the damn dolls and left.

Instead, I decided to plod around, enjoying my child-free excursion (frankly, reveling in it). And as I passed the opening to TRU’s sister store, Babies R Us, I paused for a moment before wandering in. After all, I didn’t actually need anything – with Reid being over 18 months old, my BRU days are likely behind me – but I decided to pop in for old time’s sake. And then it happened.

The SMELL of the store. The familiar COLOURS. The wall of BOTTLES and PACIFIERS. The exquisitely beautiful PREGNANT customers, joy and bewilderment etched plainly on their faces.

It was like a punch to the gut – or perhaps, a punch to the ovaries. It was a trip down memory lane that I was not prepared to take. It was a funeral – saying goodbye to the thrill of expecting, anticipating, organizing, expanding. It was the stark realization that my baby is actually a toddler, and my toddler is now a little boy… and I had no damn business loitering in Babies R Us.

So, I cried.

There was no rationale or reason for it; I know that my family is complete and we have no plans to have more children. I know that I have two beautiful boys whom I adore wholly and unconditionally. I know that I can finally, finally enjoy moments of freedom – the very reason I laugh off suggestions to expand our brood. And yet, there I stood, cowering behind the high chairs, wiping my tear-stained face with the back of my hand.

(On a related note, high chairs today are so ridiculously stylish. Like black leather and contemporary patterns. Seriously? The kid is going to dump pureed crap all over the thing. Just stick to animals and neon bubbles and get over yourselves.)

Hours later, I still can’t pinpoint exactly what drove me over the edge. Perhaps I’ll never know; perhaps every time I venture into Babies R Us I’ll turn into a nostalgic, blubbering fool.

Note to self: apparently shopping makes me cry. bring tissues.

Hold on My Heart

August 30, 2011 By Lena

A few nights ago, while lying in bed, I whispered to my husband, “They wouldn’t remember me. They wouldn’t know me.”

Having being aroused from his slumber, he blinked his eyes and asked “Huh?”

“If something happened to me tomorrow,” I clarified. “Ryder is only 3; he would perhaps have selected memories of me, if any. Reid would remember nothing.”

“Go to sleep,” my husband ordered.

But I couldn’t let it go. I became obsessed with the idea of writing a letter to my boys. A letter that speaks to them today – but one I’d want them to read much, much later in life. Perhaps even after I’ve passed. Just a little note that gives them insight into my feelings, at this exact moment, while they’re still babies and will likely have no recollection of this time.

I also wanted to write a letter that tells it like it is. Because I’m not perfect. And they’re not perfect. But for better or worse, this is a snapshot of our time together. It goes something like this:

“Dear Ryder & Reid,

I’ll start this letter by addressing you both at the same time, because when writing about how much I love you, my feelings apply both equally and unconditionally. You are my LIFE. I have vague memories of a time before you, but at this very moment, every waking moment is consumed with thoughts of how fiercely I love you. Having children has both defined and justified my existence.

For Ryder:

Oh, where to begin. Dude, you cry waaay too much. It’s almost insufferable. Just shut up and calm down already; no, you can’t have jujubes for breakfast and yes, when I say stop jumping on the couch, I mean it. There are times when I really think you will break me; that I will throw my arms up in defeat and check into the hotel for bad mothers.

But at other times, I see this light shining in your eyes which reveals a beautiful, kind spirit. I see a playfulness and naughtiness that every child should hold onto for as long as humanly possible, before rules are established and routines are kept. Your smile is like warm sunlight on my face; it dazzles me and makes me incredibly aware of the quirky little man before me. I fantasize about the man you’ll become, and the lucky people who will bask in your glow. You are my first true love.

For Reid:

Just give up the boob already. What you’re doing is purely for show now. And I get it; it’s nice to have a warm, soft booby nearby. Remind me to mention this to your future girlfriends. But enough already; demanding “ne-ne” twenty times a day and then latching on for 2 minutes before you walk away does neither of us any good. You suck (literally) and it’s time to stop.

But I can never say no. I’ve got this unhealthy obsession with you. Perhaps it’s because I see so much of me in you, or because by nature, you’re just the sweetest little thing. But from the moment I held you in my arms, I realized that I could fall in love a second time – and just as hard. From your uncanny intelligence to your ever-ready smile, you pull at my heart and bring me to life. I’m not sure what I did to deserve you, but I will spend the rest of my life giving thanks.”

As you can see, it’s not all roses and lollipops. But it never is, is it? Still wouldn’t trade them for all the tea in China.

Have you recorded your thoughts & feelings in a journal – or post-dated a letter to your child? If you take the good and take the bad, what would it say?

Someone, Somewhere…

August 21, 2011 By Lena

Last night, it took me a good two hours to fall asleep. In between staying up with Ryder (his tummy has been funny lately and therefore he’s been a bit clingy), trying to finally wean Reid (today is his 15-month birthday, translation: get off my freakin’ boob) and sorting through all the posts and commitments I have coming up, I was literally staring straight ahead for what felt like an eternity.

So I began to play the simple game I always play – a little time-filler I invented years ago while coping with a broken heart. It’s called “Someone, Somewhere…” and I begin by defining my feelings at that exact moment in time. For example, I may think:

“I’m so tired of shouting at the boys. Why can’t they just behave.” And then the little game begins… and I let my imagination run free.”Someone, somewhere is throwing up her hands in defeat.”
“Someone, somewhere took a positive pregnancy test and is screaming for joy.”
“Someone, somewhere just learned his petition to adopt was denied.”
“Someone, somewhere just reunited with an estranged child.”
“Someone, somewhere is holding her baby for the first time.”
“Someone, somewhere is kissing her child goodnight.”
“Someone, somewhere just lost custody of his children.”
“Someone, somewhere watched her baby take his last breath.”Because that’s the way the world works, right? No matter what you’re doing, or feeling, at any moment in time, someone… somewhere in the world is either going through the exact same thing – or has it much better or worse. And I find it really helps put things in perspective for me; it allows me to feel connected to a lone stranger out there who’s on the same page; gives me hope that things will turn around; or it helps me look on the positive side knowing that it could be so, so much worse. Someone, somewhere thinks that I’ve got a wonderful life.

And for the moment… Someone, somewhere is lying on a beach. Sigh… one day.

What is your Someone, Somewhere…?

Blogging Just to Blog

July 20, 2011 By Lena

Stop the presses! Could this actually be a post with no review or giveaway attached? Why YES, indeed it is!

As much as I love reviewing products and offering my awesome readers a chance to win, I’ve missed just jotting down my thoughts, rants, etc. So I decided to take an afternoon to just be Lena, and chat about some of the things that have been on my mind. Here we go:

1. I’m sick of summer. I know, I’m opening myself up to boos, hisses and strategically placed middle fingers when I say this, but the truth is, I.CAN’T.BREATHE. It’s so freakin’ hot! Every day seems to have a humidex value in the mid-thirties, and even with sun protection, I am burning to a crisp. Another little victim is poor Ryder – he’s been having massive nosebleeds on a daily basis that our pediatrician has attributed to the constant heat. I’m done with this season! “Paging: September.”

2. I just opened the fridge and was confronted with two 2L bottles: one was Coke Zero, the other, Coca-Cola. Even though the junk in my trunk dictates I should have reached for the Coke Zero, I decided to have just a sip or two of the real thing. When I twisted off the cap, a swirl of cold condensation looped out of the bottle, just like you see on TV. Diagnosis: delicious.

RANDOM PIC: ISN’T REID A DOLL?

3. How many of y’all keep a pack of chewing gum in your car? I used to all the time, until I noticed a warning on my pack of Excel: “Do not expose to extreme heat.” With the temperature today comparable to hell itself, I would suggest yanking gum, plastic bottles and other perishable goods (obviously) out of your automobile. There’s some evidence (myth? fact?) that when aspartame is heated, it releases a toxic chemical. Not sure if it’s an urban legend, but if Wrigley Canada doesn’t want to take chances, neither should we.

4. How come you can’t tickle yourself? Not that I spend copious amounts of time trying to get in cheap laughs, but I do tickle the boys – a lot – and the other day, Ryder said “Mommy tickle you.” So then I had to tickle myself and fake ridiculous laughter for two minutes. (Not that women know about faking things…) But seriously, why can’t you tickle yourself? Perhaps tickling belongs in the same camp as massages – someone else needs to do it to work.

RANDOM PICS: RYDER’S NEW SMILE.
THERE GOES HIS MODELLING CAREER.

SERIOUSLY, WTH?

5. I need a recommendation for a good frizz-fighting product. I’m just about to put L’Oréal’s Frizz Taming Creme Serum to the test, but let’s just say my hopes aren’t high. I’ve yet to find a product that can counteract Treasure Troll hair. I have my hair trimmed regularly, use a quality deep conditioner, and always spritz a leave-in with SPF when I’m in the sun for long periods of time. Still, fuzz city. Seriously, any reco’s?

That was a nice break! Now back to the Beauty Event! xo

The Sights, Sounds and Smells of Summer

June 10, 2011 By Lena

Ah… blogging just to blog. After an obligatory run of giveaways (more to come) it feels nice to just unwind with a chillin’ post. Which brings me to the title: The Sights, Sounds and Smells of Summer.

Last week, the whole family went out for a late afternoon stroll. Pulling the little guys in their wagon, we traipsed through the neighbourhood, basking in the warm summer day. As we turned on to a parallel street, I heard the faint sound of ethnic music drifting through an open window. Immediately, I was filled with nostalgia… but couldn’t nail down the exact memory.

We continued down the block, and within moments I felt yet another throwback to my youth: the pungent scent of Middle Eastern food wafting through a screen door.

And then it hit me: air conditioning killed the sights, sounds and smells of summer.

I began thinking back to my childhood; of my neighbours, who always had every window open and a constant stream of Portuguese folk songs bellowing a happy tune. Of the college kid around the corner who spent all summer in his open garage, working on his motorcycle (I may have had a tiny crush). I remembered the elderly lady across the street, who unfailingly greeted Saturday morning with a spicy curry you could smell for miles. And of people – friends, strangers, children of all ages – lounging on their balconies or the front porch. Kids circling the driveway on bicycles, skipping with one end of the rope tied to a railing. And all just to catch a hint of cool breeze… because the thought of staying in a sticky, hot, sweltering house was just not an option.

But that day, walking down that street… you’d think every single home was unoccupied. Doors and windows closed tight, not allowing one inch of precious bought-air to escape. The eerie quiet of citizens locked inside, with only the hum of air conditioners heard every few paces. The sun beating down on the back of my neck was the only factor that tied my childhood to the present.

How I miss the sights, sounds and smells of summer. Almost as much as I miss that green, polka dot romper.

Tell Me Something Good: Lesson Two

May 6, 2011 By Lena

It’s the continuation of my “Tell Me Something Good” series, aimed at providing tips and techniques to improve your communication skills. Lesson One was to Speak with a Smile in Your Voice; a small change which yields great results… and something everyone is capable of.

Today, I’d like to focus on the most basic form of communication – that is, opening your mouth and speaking. Or in this case – Asking.

Last year, I shared with you the story of Balmshell. Included in the feature was this quote from Jennifer Lees, co-creator of the company:

“‘You only get in life what you have the courage to ask for’. Remember that quote. I was watching an Oprah Winfrey show and one audience member stood up and asked if Oprah would come and visit her small hometown. Everyone in the audience laughed because they assumed there was no way that Oprah would go. Two months later, Oprah dedicated a full show on visiting that small town. The woman was so shocked when Oprah arrived at her door with a TV crew. When asked why she obliged that audience member’s request, Oprah said ‘You only get in life what you have the courage to ask for.’ I always remembered that.”

And I’ve been living my life by that motto ever since.

Because let’s be real – most of the time, things just aren’t handed to you on a silver platter. From a young age, you earn your education. Later, you earn your pay. And I’m quite certain you’ve even earned that “World’s Greatest Mom/Dad” mug in your cupboard. But along away, did you have the courage to ask for the things you wanted/needed? Did you ask for an extension on a paper? A raise in salary? Help when you needed it? On the contrary, have you ever wished so hard for something, but didn’t receive it… only to hear in the end, “Why didn’t you just ask?”

Now most of the time we’re not asking for a spare organ, or the rights to one’s first-born. But there are several reasons why people are reluctant to pipe up:

1. Fear of Rejection. Of course! Who isn’t scared to be shot down? Rejection makes us feel invalidated and frankly, kind of dumb. Plus, sometimes summoning up the necessary courage to ask for something is perceived as not worth the effort… which actually translates to “it’s not worth the embarrassment of being told no.” But if you’re already stuck on all the reasons you’ll be denied, chances are you’ll never go on a limb for what you want and/or believe in. So wrong!

2. Fear of Making the Other Person Uncomfortable. So maybe it’s not about you after all. Maybe you’re selfless; you just want to ensure that you’re not putting anyone in an awkward position based on your request. Two words: COP OUT. I can defend this argument for two reasons: 1) People in your inner circle – such as friends and family – are in your life to help out. And if they can’t, they will say so. If it makes them uncomfortable to speak what’s on their mind, surprise! They’re not in your inner circle after all. 2) People outside your inner circle take things a lot less personally than you perceive. Again, you’re not asking for a spare liver or spleen. If the “askee” can’t be frank and honest with the “asker”, without feeling backed against a wall… that’s not really your problem, is it?

3. We Don’t Know Whom to Ask. That’s a pretty serious roadblock to asking – especially if asking the wrong person means hearing the answer “no”. But it’s so simply solved – do quick research ahead of time to see if you’ve found the person who can best address your question. If you’ve asked a non-decision maker in error, ask to be directed to the correct person without delay, before you back down to due to #1.

4. We Don’t Know How to Ask. As children, we’re taught we can get almost anything our hearts desire with one simple word – please. “Can I watch TV please?” “Can I have some more milk please?” “Can I go to Sally’s house to play… please?” But somewhere along the way, we began to ask more theatrical questions (“If I jump off the balcony wearing my Superman cape will I fly into the sky?”) and were shot down cold. So we lost our desire to ask for things… but our moms had it right all along. Ask, with a polite demeanor and an open mind. You can’t control the answer, but you can have the courage (and imagination) to ask just the same.

5. Pride. Sometimes, we all want to be seen as self-sufficient, able… perfect. And anything less will lead to loss of respect. “If we ask it is an admission of lack of something. Since we in our pride consider ourselves to be perfect, any asking will lead to declaring our vulnerability and competence,” says Sanjay Behuria, author and life coach. But I disagree. I see speaking up – asking – as having confidence. I’m confident enough to admit my shortcomings, and seek help when necessary. And, I’m confident that whether I hear the answer I’m hoping for, I’ll still find a way to achieve my ultimate goal. Never let pride stand in your way.

6. Low Self-Esteem. Perhaps you feel you’re not worthy; your needs are not important. So why bother to ask? Well, I can’t help you here. Loving one’s self comes from within – not a tutorial!

Have you ever held back asking for what you want? And, have you identified with one of the reasons noted above?

Me too. But after reading the quote from Miss Winfrey, I actually made a commitment to start asking for what I want. And you know what? It’s not as scary as it seems.

Lena’s Life: Readers will remember that I had the opportunity to try The Fresh Diet last winter. At $1346 per month, it’s not cheap. And many readers wrote in to me, assuming that the company wanted a little bit of press, and therefore sent me a month’s worth of the diet to review.

Well, they did… but what you don’t know is that the ball started rolling with me – writing to the company and asking for them to sponsor me for a month. When I told my husband that I had just contacted a company and pitched them for about $1500 worth of food and services, he laughed.

“Are you kidding?” he said. “Who’s going to give you an entire meal plan – worth over $1000 – for free?”

I wasn’t swayed. I knew the worst thing they could do was say no, or ignore my e-mail, and frankly, my life wouldn’t change a bit. But having the confidence – the courage – to face rejection by putting myself out there, made me remember Oprah’s quote all over again. I printed it out and stuck it to the whiteboard in my study.

Days later, when I received a note from the company telling me that they’d be pleased to send me The Fresh Diet for 30 days, I realized once again what sets people apart… the power to ask for what you want.

What will you ask for today?

Little Boys (Enough Said)

May 2, 2011 By Lena

It’s so funny that just over a week ago, my girlfriends and I were sitting in a restaurant discussing the merits of having girls over boys.

“Girls are expensive and there’s a 98% chance she’ll dress like a tramp,” one opined.

“Boys are always in the emergency room,” another counseled.

We laughed heartily, knowing full well that that all kids are a blessing, regardless of their gender. But it seems pretty coincidental that just 6 hours later, Ryder took a tumble which necessitated an emergency room visit. I made reference to it in my Dr.Oz post below, so I thought I’d share the details with y’all.

It all started in the wee hours of Easter morning. Ryder snuck into our room and climbed in bed with us on my husband’s side. As it’s a somewhat familiar occurrence he didn’t think much of it, and wrapped his arms around Ryder. (Usually he would have deposited him in the center of the bed, but that piece of real estate was already being rented by Reid! King sized beds = Worth every penny.)

Well, both my husband and Ryder shifted positions ever so slightly, and I’m assuming Ryder was dreaming, because he rolled off our bed with a flourish. I woke up when I heard a Thump! and sat upright, only to see Ryder calmly climb back in bed and snuggle up in the middle next to me (Reid had since transitioned to the other side – where a baby gate keeps him from falling).

We all went back to sleep without incident… or so I thought. About and hour later, I awoke to see Ryder’s eyes wide open, staring straight ahead.

“What’s wrong, honey? Why aren’t you sleeping?” I asked.
“Boo boo ear,” he whispered back hoarsely.

I immediately instructed hubby to turn on the lights – and encountered a trail of blood on the pillow. Oh no, I thought. I inspected Ryder’s right ear and saw a fresh, angry red laceration across the top of the ear, and a small degree of swelling around the cut.

Oh no.

(It was apparent that he had clipped the side of our night table on the way down – and likely bashed his ear against it quite badly.)

After cleaning his ear with hydrogen peroxide, I took him downstairs so I could ice the area. Not fun! He squirmed every time I came within two feet and cried in pain when the cold made contact. And even with my feeble attempts at keeping the swelling down, within hours the cartilage ballooned up an angry, purplish-blue, and his ear proceeded to stick out at a 45-degree angle from his head.

I was scared. Courtesy of my husband’s UFC obsession, I had seen way too many MMA fighters with cauliflower ears after blunt force trauma. I Googled and found out that an ear can cauliflower after repeated blows… or just one, hard whack. Incision and drainage was necessary to protect the integrity of the ear, and must be carried out before the cartilage began to undergo changes due to the blood collection.

So although we were meant to spend Easter with my parents, we ended up taking Ryder to the Emergency Kids Clinic at Trillium Hospital (which, thank goodness, is open on holidays and after hours).

The doctor there gave us the best news – his ear canal was not affected at all. BUT, as for the bruising and swelling, he confirmed that a hematoma had started to form in his ear, and careful observation would be crucial over the next few days to determine if drainage was required. Follow up with our pediatrician within 24 hours was mandatory.

The next day, I brought Ryder to our pediatrician, who once again went through the steps to ensure Ryder’s hearing was perfect and examined the hematoma. And then he said something that completely blew me away:

“Ryder needs to see a plastic surgeon,” he advised. “He’s so young, we don’t want to take any chances, and he would be the one to perform the incision and drainage if necessary.”

(I must admit that at this point, I briefly wondered if I could ask for a 2 for 1 deal on an ear drainage for baby and boob lift for mommy. I know, bad mommy.)

So the next day I took him to a world-renowned plastic surgeon (there were a few hotties in his office but I couldn’t help wondering what they had had done) and I daresay Ryder was his youngest patient in the waiting room.

The surgeon’s verdict? He didn’t have to “slice it open” (his words, not mine) just yet; we’d still be on daily watch. He wanted to see if the hematoma would resolve by itself without drainage, because the cartilage felt firm and not squishy (as in the case with future cauliflowers), and he didn’t want to take the risk of secondary infection by performing an operation that wasn’t strictly warranted.

I met the surgeon at the hospital two days later, and arrived with newfound optimism due to Ryder’s ear taking a dramatic turn for the better. The swelling had resolved by about 50%, and the ear started turning blackish-yellow, a sure sign the bruising was on it’s way out too. For the first time in 5 long days, we received confirmation that drainage was no longer the expected prognosis. Woo hoo!

Today, his ear is still bruised… but not so noticeable unless you look for it. A less angry red line is still visible across most of his upper ear, but 95% of the swelling has resolved and it sticks out only minutely. Who knew a simple tumble could bring about so many complications?

But I digress… little boys do spend their fair share of time in doctor’s offices.

I couldn’t bear to take a picture of Ryder with his ear swollen… but here he is on Day 5 of recovery. As you can see, the injury hasn’t affected his demeanor at all!

RYDER, DAY 5

Tell Me Something Good: Lesson One

April 1, 2011 By Lena

This May, it will be three (3) years that I’ve been a Stay At Home Mom. And… drum roll please… both my kids are healthy and happy. EEK! Who knew I could do this whole “mom” thing??

I can’t deny that from time to time, I fantasize about re-joining the workforce. In particular, I miss:

1. Watching the clock – and running down for a coffee on the dot of 10:00am.
2. Wearing pencil skirts.
3. Listening to the morning show on the drive in.
4. Using my corporate long distance code to call friends and family.
5. Generating a paycheck (duh).

Since many of y’all only know me as a blogger, it may surprise you to find out that I was once quite the corporate gal. In my last role before Ryder came along, I managed Customer Satisfaction for a Fortune 100 conglomerate; I coordinated internal customer surveys, measured and analyzed satisfaction scores, and conducted employee training in customer service.

In short, I know a thing or two about how to communicate effectively.

And, I also know a few tricks on how to diffuse tense situations, converse with irate individuals, and harness the power of persuasion to get what I want (curiously, these skills don’t seem to translate when dealing with toddlers. Huh).

Now it seems like such a shame to let all that expertise go to waste, especially since I’m no longer certain I’ll return to the field of employee satisfaction. So I thought I’d set up a new series on Listen to Lena! called “Tell Me Something Good”. This won’t be your run-of-the-mill “The Customer Is Always Right” training – instead, I’d like to focus on tips and techniques to improve your communication skills. Most people who meet me will tell you I’m personable, savvy and full of energy – yes, that’s true, but it’s also true that I constantly channel my “Customer-Focused Persona”. Essentially, I like to treat others as if they were my best customer. And wouldn’t you be interested, polite and attentive to your best customer?

I hope you enjoy the series. I can’t promise that there will be a logical flow to the “lessons” – I’m just aiming to jot down some of my favourite techniques for building communication and character. Please do comment with your own experiences/ suggestions – I love hearing from y’all!

LESSON ONE: Speak with a Smile in Your Voice

It’s an old customer service trick to pick up the phone, smile, and then speak. Why? Because your voice will come across that much more pleasant. But smiling shouldn’t be limited to the beginning of a conversation – when I chat with blog sponsors, my doctor’s secretary, Rogers Cable, etc… I speak with a smile for the entire exchange.

(Before you think, “So she yaps away with a dumb-ass smile on her face the whole time?”, the answer is no. Maybe I did at first, but now I’m so used to turning on my “Happy Voice”, it’s second nature to sound incredibly friendly without even trying.)

So why should you speak with a smile? Well, simply put, people like friendly people. And it’s a well known fact that you’ll catch more flies with honey than vinegar. You’d be surprised how a sweet demeanor can increase your stock in the most unlikely places – take my word for it, people REMEMBER nice folk just as much as they remember nasty peeps. If you don’t fall into either category, chances are you won’t be memorable at all – how tragic!

Lena’s Life: Last week, I missed the Joe Fresh pre-launch in Mississauga due to inclement weather. While the store was still offering 20% off on opening day, goody bags were distributed the night before for the pre-launch attendees only. Still, I visited the store and picked out some great finds. Now at the checkout, I was chatty, friendly, but most of all, sincerely interested in how the staff were coping (the store was jam-packed). After a few moments, I casually asked if there were leftover goody bags. The associate looked at me, smiled, and whispered, “We’re not supposed to give them out today, but you’re such a sweetheart! I’ll get one from the back for you.”

It took me exactly 20 seconds to make an impression. What did the other customers do in 20 seconds? Nothing that earned them a goody bag, that’s for sure. Ha!

So to recap the lesson, treat everyone today like your best customer. Don’t be afraid to smile, engage people in light conversation, and channel your inner Customer Service Guru.

Have a great weekend!

Big Brother Blues

February 9, 2011 By Lena

Today I have a pretty awesome guest blogger – my oldest son Ryder! Yes, he’s only two years old (almost three!) but he’s incredibly articulate and when he asked to blog on my site this morning, I couldn’t say no! Here he is…

Hi Readers!

Ryder here, Lena’s boy. You know, the one you “oooh” and “aaah” over whenever she posts pictures (which by the way, I haven’t exactly provided my express written consent for, so let me know if she posts any potty shots).

I asked my Mommy if I could be a guest blogger because there have been so many recent changes in my life, and I just wanted to share them all with you! Now have you heard that there’s a new addition to the family? It’s true – his name is Reid, and he’s been hanging around for about 8 months. And to tell the truth, I just don’t see what the whole fascination with “the baby” is all about. He’s a complete tool.

Maybe I should back up. Before Reid (or the period known as “BR”, as I like to call it) things were great. It was just me and Mommy and Daddy, and I liked it that way. I could snuggle in their bed until I fell asleep, jump off park benches with my Mommy and play tee-ball with my Daddy. I pretty much ran the show, if you know what I mean.

Then Mommy got fat. And when I say fat, I mean HUGE. But she seemed pretty happy about, so I’m not judging – plus, friends and family would rest their hands on her belly and say “the baby” in such soothing tones that it seemed like it was a good thing. She even talked with me about said baby; she told me that I would soon have a little “brother”, and that we would grow up together and play together and be best friends. She also told me that it was because of this baby that she could no longer lift me up and roll on the ground. Huh. Not here, and he already killed my buzz.

But I looked forward to meeting this brother of mine. I reasoned that he could sleep in half my crib and we could play with Hot Wheels together. We could even sit side by side in the grocery cart! Things were starting to look up. And then, without warning, Daddy took me out out of my crib and said I had to sleep in the BIG BOY BED. That cribs were for babies, and I was a big boy. Pfft. Baloney. The crib was being handed off to one baby in particular… even I figured out that all on my own. Strike two for the little guy.

Weeks later, Mommy went to the hospital and I got to stay with Grandma. It was so much fun! But I missed Mommy, and when I asked Grandma when I would see her, she told me that Mommy was “having the baby.” What the heck does that mean? (I later found out they cut her tummy open. One word: EWW.)

So we went to see Mommy and Daddy and the baby. Boy, did I ever feel ripped off.

First of all, this “brother” was nothing like I pictured. He was a tiny dolly! Dolls are for girls, dude. What use do I have for a doll that cries and screams and wets itself? Pass. They told me his name was Reid, and everyone laughed at me when I repeated his name, “Weed”. Wait, that doesn’t sound right.

Second, he was (and continues to be) the laziest thing I’ve ever seen.How can anybody sleep that much? Reid seriously spends half the day napping. And the worst part? I have to be quiet while he’s asleep. They never cared a fig before if I screamed the alphabet at the top of my lungs, and now it’s all like “Shhh! Reid’s sleeping!” Oh la-ti-da. Tell me something I don’t know.(Now my suspicions have yet to be confirmed, but I also think he’s wearing my clothes. Like ALL OF THEM. I totally remember that teddy bear t-shirt and really, how many sleepers featuring tennis-playing crabs can there be? The clothes don’t fit me anymore but they’re still mine, mine, mine! My Mommy has a whole closet full of clothes that don’t fit her anymore but she still hangs on to them for some deluded reason – so what gives?)

I also recently saw him bouncing away in my Fisher-Price Rainforest Jumparoo. Now from what I recall, Daddy also said I had “outgrown” it – but this isn’t another crib scenario, is it? I mean, I hope I didn’t give it up just so that Reid could have it… and I certainly don’t know of a BIG BOY version for me, seeing that Mommy has outlawed jumping on her bed (wouldn’t that be the natural transition?). I just can’t win.

And finally, the thing I totally can’t wrap my head around: my parents literally treat him like he’s the second coming. They coo at him non-stop; he’s constantly being carried around instead of walking for himself (I told you he was lazy) and Mommy spends almost all her time feeding him one way or another. And get this: last month he sat up by himself. BIG DEAL. You’d think he was juggling knives, so impressed were they by his skills. They clapped and took pictures and called up the family. “Reid sat up! Reid sat up!”

Just.shoot.me.now.

Well, I have a secret to share with you. I don’t really know how to say this, but sometimes I feel that Mommy doesn’t love me anymore. She’s constantly shouting at me, looks at me with tired, defeated eyes, and spends her free time blogging, cleaning up and making meals instead of playing with me. She puts toys in front of me and expects me to just be good and amuse myself. Its like I’ve become the house pet. (And not a lovable dog, either – more like a cat, who blends into the background.)

Daddy has been really good about playing with me and making me feel special, but it’s Mommy’s love and attention that I crave. I hate this feeling. I didn’t ask for a little brother. I didn’t ask for my family to change. And I want things to go back to the way they were…

But I know they can’t. So I push Mommy’s buttons. I lash out at her. I do everything I can to send her a message: NOTICE ME! LOVE ME!

She doesn’t see it that way, of course. She thinks I’m being naughty, and reprimands me for throwing my toys, tipping Reid over (which I actually find pretty hilarious), and for screaming and crying in fits of frustration. In fact, I find that I cry more now that I ever have! But clearly, she has no idea how it feels to suddenly be on the outside looking in. And I want back in her life. I miss Mommy.

So I’m hoping that you’ll keep my secret, but I also kinda wish that she’ll see this post and know that I really just want some alone time with her. Time to play together, laugh together, and be best friends again.

As for Reid? Well, I still think he’s a tool. But I’m starting to see that he may just be of use to me after all. He’s now doing things he couldn’t do only months ago, and I swear I saw him try to (gasp) crawl the other day. Perhaps once he’s mobile, he’ll be slightly less cumbersome to have around. But don’t worry, I still love him lots, and not just because Mommy tells me to be nice to him. I’m a BIG BROTHER and proud of it!

It’s been nice sharing with you. Hope you all have an awesome day, and maybe I’ll have a chance to be a guest blogger again! That would be sweet!

*EDIT*

Thanks so much for being my guest blogger today, Ryder. You did a great job!

I am so sorry. I forgot what a huge transition this must be for you, and I know I let you down. But I promise that I will work out a balance, and starting today, you and I will once again have some special time – just the two of us. You are an amazing big brother to Reid and I love you so much.

-Mommy

I have been selected as one of the Fall 2010 recipients for a $250 Mom Central Canada Blogger Grant. The opinions on this post belong to Ryder.