Ok, I am officially swearing off chocolate. At least for the next six weeks or so, however long Lent is.
Now, I am not a religious person. The only time I go to church is for christenings and weddings. But I like the idea of Lent. And it serves a purpose right now.
I am actually scared a little that I am truly addicted to chocolate. This past month was the worst. I ended up buying a bag of Reeses Peanut butter hearts for MYSELF for Valentine's Day. How sad is that? I know my hormones haven't been very normal these past few months with being off the pill, but can i really blame hormones for chocolate cravings? Seriously? Because the two seem directly related, and I know that I have been eating way more chocolate over the past three months than i normally do.
So that's it, that's all. I ate up the rest of the bag today (and feel quite ill about it consequently) and after today, NO MORE.
The first few days will be tough, I know. It means no chocolate in whatever form. I'm not sure if I can be this strong.
Chocolate, I am breaking up with you. You're not good for me. So this is the end.
And don't call me.
Monday, February 15, 2010
Who Says Video Games Stifle Creativity?
Right now I am sitting here on the couch with a headache that is threatening to become a migraine if I try to do too much. At least that's my excuse. And I can hear the boys upstairs playing "Batman".
This weekend, I rented the Lego Batman video game for the Wii, knowing that we didn't have much planned for this long weekend (we have Family Day, a holiday, today here in Canada). This morning I woke up to the boys showing me how they had used their Lego to build their own Batman characters (very well done, I might add) and now they are role-playing Batman, even though aside from one half-hour cartoon movie we own, they have never seen the movies.
It makes me happy that they are playing this way, as sometimes I wonder about my decision to let video games into our lives. I do find that sometimes a prohibition on the DS is needed for R for a week or so, to reboot his system in a way. He tends to turn to it more and more for entertainment, and when I tell him no more, he listens but lays around listlessly moping and complaining of boredom. An enforced week off or so usually does the trick to get him back to playing more with his brother, and not being so addicted.
This weekend, I rented the Lego Batman video game for the Wii, knowing that we didn't have much planned for this long weekend (we have Family Day, a holiday, today here in Canada). This morning I woke up to the boys showing me how they had used their Lego to build their own Batman characters (very well done, I might add) and now they are role-playing Batman, even though aside from one half-hour cartoon movie we own, they have never seen the movies.
It makes me happy that they are playing this way, as sometimes I wonder about my decision to let video games into our lives. I do find that sometimes a prohibition on the DS is needed for R for a week or so, to reboot his system in a way. He tends to turn to it more and more for entertainment, and when I tell him no more, he listens but lays around listlessly moping and complaining of boredom. An enforced week off or so usually does the trick to get him back to playing more with his brother, and not being so addicted.
Monday, February 8, 2010
Under The Category Of "I'm Gettin' Too Old For This Sh*t"
I thought up the title for this blog while having a small cardiac infarction riding the chairlift Sat morning.
Ok, not really (the C.I.) but I felt like I was going to have one. And many thoughts were running through my mind at the time like, "Just what the HELL was I thinking??" and, "Will they let me ride this back to the bottom?"
You see, I decided that after a mere 10 or so years, that I should try skiing again. On top of that, I decided to take R with me. Now, I'm not so deluded as to think that I should be the one to teach him (my kids don't do well when I'm trying to teach them something, it seems; we ALL end up very frustrated! However, I did teach them both to ride a bike, so it's not all bad!), he had a "discover skiing" package lesson for 75 mins which seemed to do the trick just fine.
So while R was out discovering the joys of strapping fiberglass planks to your feet and trying to manoevour safely down a snow-and-ice-covered hill, I decided to brush up on my stellar skiing skills on my own.
Hence, me, riding up the chairlift and trying not to alarm the other passengers with my heavy sweating and rapid breathing.
At first, I thought maybe my fear was stemming from the fact that I wasn't sure how I was going to get back down the damn hill if my body failed to remember how to keep me from tumbling head over heels like the idiot that I am. But on reflection, I was pretty confident that I could at least master the easy hill and that I would surely remember how to snowplow if all else failed. So then why oh why was I so nervous? Glancing down I suddenly realized, that's right! I'm scared of heights! How could I have forgotten my phobia that seems to have developed and worsened over the past decade?
Shit!
Shit!
Ok, deep, calm breaths and hold on tight.
Oh, yeah, and don't look down!
After abouta year five minutes we came to the top, I took a deep breath of relief and lo and behold I eased myself off the chair with grace! It seems I did remember some things after all! On to the next stage...
I managed to get down the first small hill leading to the top of thecliff face the "easy" hill they referred to as "Family". Taking another deep breath I psyched myself up.
Ok, I can do this. Just go slow. Lots of snowplowing.
And don't die.
Tears pricked my eyes; either from the cold wind, or the fact that I suddenly realized that I was going to be leaving my poor child all alone when I crashed and lost consciousness. Why oh why didn't I rent the stupid helmet?
Three year olds whooshed past me, giggling in delight and probably muttering under their breath about the old person with apparent dementia standing at the top of the hill looking lost.
Who, me?
Ok, I can do this. Just go slow. Blah, blah, blah. If they can do it, so can I.
About a third of the way down the hill, I was doing fine. I probably looked completely uncoordinated and ungainly, but I was still alive! However, my knees!
Oh, my knees how they ached! They were burning!
I don't remember this! This is a new kind of pain enjoyed while skiing. Maybe I am getting too old for this!
I was never so relieved to reach the bottom before. But like the glutton for punishment that I am, I got right back into the chairlift lineup. It was starting to all come back to me now. The thrill of conquering the hill while remaining conscious, the adrenaline rush, if you will.
By the third run I was right back to where I was (skill-wise) when I last skiied, a lifetime ago. And R loved his lesson, loved the whole experience. He has caught the skiing bug, as I did so many years ago, and wants to go again.
I think I've started an expensive obsession!
And guess what? I'm not even hurting that much, so I guess, after all, I'm NOT too old for this shit!!
Ok, not really (the C.I.) but I felt like I was going to have one. And many thoughts were running through my mind at the time like, "Just what the HELL was I thinking??" and, "Will they let me ride this back to the bottom?"
You see, I decided that after a mere 10 or so years, that I should try skiing again. On top of that, I decided to take R with me. Now, I'm not so deluded as to think that I should be the one to teach him (my kids don't do well when I'm trying to teach them something, it seems; we ALL end up very frustrated! However, I did teach them both to ride a bike, so it's not all bad!), he had a "discover skiing" package lesson for 75 mins which seemed to do the trick just fine.
So while R was out discovering the joys of strapping fiberglass planks to your feet and trying to manoevour safely down a snow-and-ice-covered hill, I decided to brush up on my stellar skiing skills on my own.
Hence, me, riding up the chairlift and trying not to alarm the other passengers with my heavy sweating and rapid breathing.
At first, I thought maybe my fear was stemming from the fact that I wasn't sure how I was going to get back down the damn hill if my body failed to remember how to keep me from tumbling head over heels like the idiot that I am. But on reflection, I was pretty confident that I could at least master the easy hill and that I would surely remember how to snowplow if all else failed. So then why oh why was I so nervous? Glancing down I suddenly realized, that's right! I'm scared of heights! How could I have forgotten my phobia that seems to have developed and worsened over the past decade?
Shit!
Shit!
Ok, deep, calm breaths and hold on tight.
Oh, yeah, and don't look down!
After about
I managed to get down the first small hill leading to the top of the
Ok, I can do this. Just go slow. Lots of snowplowing.
And don't die.
Tears pricked my eyes; either from the cold wind, or the fact that I suddenly realized that I was going to be leaving my poor child all alone when I crashed and lost consciousness. Why oh why didn't I rent the stupid helmet?
Three year olds whooshed past me, giggling in delight and probably muttering under their breath about the old person with apparent dementia standing at the top of the hill looking lost.
Who, me?
Ok, I can do this. Just go slow. Blah, blah, blah. If they can do it, so can I.
About a third of the way down the hill, I was doing fine. I probably looked completely uncoordinated and ungainly, but I was still alive! However, my knees!
Oh, my knees how they ached! They were burning!
I don't remember this! This is a new kind of pain enjoyed while skiing. Maybe I am getting too old for this!
I was never so relieved to reach the bottom before. But like the glutton for punishment that I am, I got right back into the chairlift lineup. It was starting to all come back to me now. The thrill of conquering the hill while remaining conscious, the adrenaline rush, if you will.
By the third run I was right back to where I was (skill-wise) when I last skiied, a lifetime ago. And R loved his lesson, loved the whole experience. He has caught the skiing bug, as I did so many years ago, and wants to go again.
I think I've started an expensive obsession!
And guess what? I'm not even hurting that much, so I guess, after all, I'm NOT too old for this shit!!
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Skewed Self-Image
I think most women will agree when I say that we all hate our bodies. Especially our bodies after childbirth. If you are one of those who actually is happy with the body you have, good for you! And I am jealous.
I don't think I have ever truly loved my body. There has always been something I wish I could change. When I was younger, it was my hair. As I got older, it was my boobs (too small) and my legs (ugly shape, practically bowlegged, terribly unsexy). Of course those things remain the same, but now I have a new appreciation for the body I had.
I look at pictures of myself back then, and I think, "How could I have not liked myself?" In comparison to now, I was hot! Ok, well, maybe not hot, but good enough.
My boobs now are still too small, but at least back then they were perky. Thank you breastfeeding. I won't leave you with any pictures, but think National Geographic.
My legs are still a terrible shape (why, oh why, couldn't I have inherited my mother's legs??), but at least they were slim back then and not covered in unsightly (and quite frankly scary) varicose veins. Thank you Dad. And Mom actually. Of all the things to inherit.
At least now they make better hair care products than they did back then. I have learned how to tame my mane, but I still wish for less frizzy and much straighter hair.
I look back at pictures of myself and remember I thought that my tummy needed some trimming. If I could only have looked into the future! After R, I knew that my tummy needed trimming, but by his first birthday I was almost back to my pre-pregnancy weight. I was more unhappy with myself then.
After L, I gained a little more weight. And then a little more. I now look back on those pictures of when R was little and think, "I wish I at least looked like that!" Now I would REALLY like to lose 10 pounds. That would put me back to pre-R. Not college pre-R, just before R. And I'd be ok with that.
There are things I've come to accept. Like, I'll NEVER be able to wear a bikini again. *sniff* I know that even if I worked out hard and did 500 crunches everyday, my stomach will still be covered in stretch marks, loose skin, and a totally messed up belly-button.
And I can't change the shape of my bones in my legs. Nor do I have the desire to undergo surgery to remove all the ugly protruding veins.
I also do not have the desire to have a boob job. Nor the money. But that's what all these fantastic push-up and padded bras are for!
I gain and lose 2 or 3 pounds over the course of a week or so all the time. I could never be one of those people to celebrate the loss of that little amount of weight, because it happens all the time. Some days, on my "skinnier" days, I'll feel like I'm not so bad hiding under all my clothes.
And then the clothes come off.
And I stare at myself in the mirror.
And I lament.
It's funny how you think your body image leaves more to be desired and then ten years down the road you finally see your old self clearly, but probably not your now self. Because in another ten years you'll look back and think you were not as bad as you are now.
So maybe I should just be happy for what I am now because in ten years I'll be ten pounds heavier, more grey, and definitely more wrinklier.
Gah.
I don't think I have ever truly loved my body. There has always been something I wish I could change. When I was younger, it was my hair. As I got older, it was my boobs (too small) and my legs (ugly shape, practically bowlegged, terribly unsexy). Of course those things remain the same, but now I have a new appreciation for the body I had.
I look at pictures of myself back then, and I think, "How could I have not liked myself?" In comparison to now, I was hot! Ok, well, maybe not hot, but good enough.
My boobs now are still too small, but at least back then they were perky. Thank you breastfeeding. I won't leave you with any pictures, but think National Geographic.
My legs are still a terrible shape (why, oh why, couldn't I have inherited my mother's legs??), but at least they were slim back then and not covered in unsightly (and quite frankly scary) varicose veins. Thank you Dad. And Mom actually. Of all the things to inherit.
At least now they make better hair care products than they did back then. I have learned how to tame my mane, but I still wish for less frizzy and much straighter hair.
I look back at pictures of myself and remember I thought that my tummy needed some trimming. If I could only have looked into the future! After R, I knew that my tummy needed trimming, but by his first birthday I was almost back to my pre-pregnancy weight. I was more unhappy with myself then.
After L, I gained a little more weight. And then a little more. I now look back on those pictures of when R was little and think, "I wish I at least looked like that!" Now I would REALLY like to lose 10 pounds. That would put me back to pre-R. Not college pre-R, just before R. And I'd be ok with that.
There are things I've come to accept. Like, I'll NEVER be able to wear a bikini again. *sniff* I know that even if I worked out hard and did 500 crunches everyday, my stomach will still be covered in stretch marks, loose skin, and a totally messed up belly-button.
And I can't change the shape of my bones in my legs. Nor do I have the desire to undergo surgery to remove all the ugly protruding veins.
I also do not have the desire to have a boob job. Nor the money. But that's what all these fantastic push-up and padded bras are for!
I gain and lose 2 or 3 pounds over the course of a week or so all the time. I could never be one of those people to celebrate the loss of that little amount of weight, because it happens all the time. Some days, on my "skinnier" days, I'll feel like I'm not so bad hiding under all my clothes.
And then the clothes come off.
And I stare at myself in the mirror.
And I lament.
It's funny how you think your body image leaves more to be desired and then ten years down the road you finally see your old self clearly, but probably not your now self. Because in another ten years you'll look back and think you were not as bad as you are now.
So maybe I should just be happy for what I am now because in ten years I'll be ten pounds heavier, more grey, and definitely more wrinklier.
Gah.
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Chocolate
Hi, my name is Jennifer, and I'm addicted to chocolate. I truly believe I am, on some level. Not as bad as an alcoholic, but maybe somewhat closer to a smoker. I need it. I crave it. At certain times of the day, of the week, of the month. Usually I can get by with a couple of squares, or bites. Other times, no. I take one bite and it's like a crack in the dam. Every subsequent bite thereafter splits the crack wider until it's an unstoppable flow.
I was desperate for some chocolate the other day. I even posted my craving on FB. My sister, N, who incidentally does not really even like chocolate, responded back to, get this, "eat an APPLE!" She heard, apparently, that they get rid of the craving. I had to laugh my ass off at that one. Spoken like a true health nut. She just doesn't understand chocolate at all.
But, to be fair to her (and to my own resolution to eat less, exercise more, and be healthier) I tried it yesterday. I had finished my workout with the Wii Active, and was craving something sweet at the usual time of day. The top cupboard in my kitchen beckoned to me, whispering sweetly in my ear like a lover, "Come, eat me, I'm here for your pleasure, I'm all yours...It's ok... you worked out...it's safe..."
"No!" I refused. And I turned instead to the fridge to retrieve an apple. As I sat munching the crunchy, sweet goodness, all I could think about was...
CHOCOLATE!!!
And when I finished the last bite and placed the core neatly in the greenbin, do you know what I did?
I went straight to the top cupboard, apologizing profusely to my spurned lover, and he welcomed me back with open arms.
I was desperate for some chocolate the other day. I even posted my craving on FB. My sister, N, who incidentally does not really even like chocolate, responded back to, get this, "eat an APPLE!" She heard, apparently, that they get rid of the craving. I had to laugh my ass off at that one. Spoken like a true health nut. She just doesn't understand chocolate at all.
But, to be fair to her (and to my own resolution to eat less, exercise more, and be healthier) I tried it yesterday. I had finished my workout with the Wii Active, and was craving something sweet at the usual time of day. The top cupboard in my kitchen beckoned to me, whispering sweetly in my ear like a lover, "Come, eat me, I'm here for your pleasure, I'm all yours...It's ok... you worked out...it's safe..."
"No!" I refused. And I turned instead to the fridge to retrieve an apple. As I sat munching the crunchy, sweet goodness, all I could think about was...
CHOCOLATE!!!
And when I finished the last bite and placed the core neatly in the greenbin, do you know what I did?
I went straight to the top cupboard, apologizing profusely to my spurned lover, and he welcomed me back with open arms.
Friday, January 15, 2010
Heartaches
I am having a difficult time lately with L. It seems we are ALWAYS fighting. He and I. I really think that our personalities clash, whereas R and I match. I understand R. I DO NOT understand L.
So I am feeling a lot of guilt. You know, the main emotion of motherhood.
I don't like constantly badgering him. But I have always (or at least I hope) been the type of mom to carry through with expectations. I don't like to be lenient with one child, and not the other. If I say to do something, it should be done.
Now, I'm no tyrant. It's not like I'm asking him to scrub the floors, or even clean the toilets. It's small stuff, like, get dressed, time for school, come for dinner, brush your teeth, well, you know the mantra. And the answer is (take your pick here) "In a minute" "I don't want to" "Why do I have to?" "Why isn't R?" and many others. Of course the answer to the last one, why isn't R, is usually that he's already done it, being the golden child that he is.
But it's not just that. It's also the whining, and the complaining. How do you get your kids to be grateful for what they have instead of always, wanting, wanting, wanting more? Here is a small example:
I made pancakes for breakfast the other day. Not a common occurance on a weekday, but I was feeling generous and energetic apparantly. L loves pancakes. I also put frozen blueberries in them, knowing that enjoys eating the frozen ones, and also has previously enjoyed the frozen pancakes (commercially made) with blueberries.
After sitting down, he complained about the blueberries. Then the syrup (we make him use a cheaper version since he uses too much), then something else, althoughI've blocked it memory fails me here.
Why couldn't he just be happy and excited that I had made him pancakes?
Another:
While out doing some shopping, L expressed that he wanted a Puffle (a stuffed toy). Disregarding the fact that we have only just had Christmas AND his birthday during which he received 4 different stuffies, I told him that maybe he could buy one with his own birthday money. That was ok with him, but he wanted to go NOW! No, we maybe will go on the weekend. And then the whining starts. "Why do I have to wait? I want to go now! So-and-so has one, I NEED one!"
"But L, you just four stuffies less than a month ago!"
"I don't care, I don't want them!" (not true).
Sigh. I guess he's too spoiled. But his brother is treated the same, if not he gets more, and he's not like this.
Now here's the part I'm struggling with the most. Most of the time, he won't let me give him any affection. He shrugs off hugs and kisses. He definitely won't initiate them. When he cries and I ask what's wrong, he won't tell me, or I have to ask a million times and beg. I guess I should stop doing that now that I see it here in writing. Just let him cry. But that's hard to watch. And the kicker is, last night he said he only loves Daddy. And it wasn't during a heated moment either. He was upset, yes, but it wasn't screamed out while I was punishing him or something.
DH says not to take it to heart. And I'm trying. But part of me is going, "You ungrateful little S.O.B! I carried you for nine months, expelled you without drugs from my womb, ripping myself in half during the process, and gave up my freedom, my body, my sleep, my money, even my health for you, and THIS is how you repay me??!!"
But that's what mothers do, right?
It's just really hard to like him lately. I love him, of course, but like? Hmmm, only when he's asleep!
So I am feeling a lot of guilt. You know, the main emotion of motherhood.
I don't like constantly badgering him. But I have always (or at least I hope) been the type of mom to carry through with expectations. I don't like to be lenient with one child, and not the other. If I say to do something, it should be done.
Now, I'm no tyrant. It's not like I'm asking him to scrub the floors, or even clean the toilets. It's small stuff, like, get dressed, time for school, come for dinner, brush your teeth, well, you know the mantra. And the answer is (take your pick here) "In a minute" "I don't want to" "Why do I have to?" "Why isn't R?" and many others. Of course the answer to the last one, why isn't R, is usually that he's already done it, being the golden child that he is.
But it's not just that. It's also the whining, and the complaining. How do you get your kids to be grateful for what they have instead of always, wanting, wanting, wanting more? Here is a small example:
I made pancakes for breakfast the other day. Not a common occurance on a weekday, but I was feeling generous and energetic apparantly. L loves pancakes. I also put frozen blueberries in them, knowing that enjoys eating the frozen ones, and also has previously enjoyed the frozen pancakes (commercially made) with blueberries.
After sitting down, he complained about the blueberries. Then the syrup (we make him use a cheaper version since he uses too much), then something else, although
Why couldn't he just be happy and excited that I had made him pancakes?
Another:
While out doing some shopping, L expressed that he wanted a Puffle (a stuffed toy). Disregarding the fact that we have only just had Christmas AND his birthday during which he received 4 different stuffies, I told him that maybe he could buy one with his own birthday money. That was ok with him, but he wanted to go NOW! No, we maybe will go on the weekend. And then the whining starts. "Why do I have to wait? I want to go now! So-and-so has one, I NEED one!"
"But L, you just four stuffies less than a month ago!"
"I don't care, I don't want them!" (not true).
Sigh. I guess he's too spoiled. But his brother is treated the same, if not he gets more, and he's not like this.
Now here's the part I'm struggling with the most. Most of the time, he won't let me give him any affection. He shrugs off hugs and kisses. He definitely won't initiate them. When he cries and I ask what's wrong, he won't tell me, or I have to ask a million times and beg. I guess I should stop doing that now that I see it here in writing. Just let him cry. But that's hard to watch. And the kicker is, last night he said he only loves Daddy. And it wasn't during a heated moment either. He was upset, yes, but it wasn't screamed out while I was punishing him or something.
DH says not to take it to heart. And I'm trying. But part of me is going, "You ungrateful little S.O.B! I carried you for nine months, expelled you without drugs from my womb, ripping myself in half during the process, and gave up my freedom, my body, my sleep, my money, even my health for you, and THIS is how you repay me??!!"
But that's what mothers do, right?
It's just really hard to like him lately. I love him, of course, but like? Hmmm, only when he's asleep!
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Winter Blahs
It's that time of year again, the time when I just want to curl up in a ball and hibernate till spring. No one bug me!
I truly hate this time of year. It is depressing. If you're like me, you don't have the money for a vacation, so you're stuck with the grey skies and snowy landscape for a good six months. Going outside to play involves multiple layers of clothing and too much preparation. And then someone has to pee. So, you're stuck inside most of the time, watching your lower half of your body become wider by the second from lack of use.
It's the post-Christmas lull. All the hype, fun, and expectation of Yuletide celebrations is gone. There really is nothing to look forward to other than spring. And that's still too far away to contemplate. No holidays (I don't count Valentine's Day, it's stupid), no vacations, no time off.
So I am taking it one week or month at a time. This year, I am really trying hard to not let myself fall into that pattern of depression. I am counting off all the things I have to look forward to, no matter how small. So here they are:
*My youngest sister's baby shower
*The birth of my niece (coming at the end of Feb)
*Family Day, Feb 15 (at least one day off from work, although unpaid for the most part. For those of you that are American, this is a day our government brought in recently to give people a day off between New Year's and Easter, as we don't have a President's Day)
*A dinner date with another couple using a gift card I received for Xmas (sometime early Feb)
*A local hockey game we have tickets for
*Weekly skating trips with the fandamily (and I got new skates so I can't wait to try them out!)
*At some point, taking the boys snowtubing and/or skiing for the first time (I say I'm going to do it EVERY year, and never get around to it)
I can't think of anything else, but you get the picture. I am also trying to keep up with my vitamins (as I tend to forget them) and also am taking extra Vit D which apparantly helps us northerners with the lack of sunshine.
Well, there's my boring post. Just a peek inside my ever exciting life.
I truly hate this time of year. It is depressing. If you're like me, you don't have the money for a vacation, so you're stuck with the grey skies and snowy landscape for a good six months. Going outside to play involves multiple layers of clothing and too much preparation. And then someone has to pee. So, you're stuck inside most of the time, watching your lower half of your body become wider by the second from lack of use.
It's the post-Christmas lull. All the hype, fun, and expectation of Yuletide celebrations is gone. There really is nothing to look forward to other than spring. And that's still too far away to contemplate. No holidays (I don't count Valentine's Day, it's stupid), no vacations, no time off.
So I am taking it one week or month at a time. This year, I am really trying hard to not let myself fall into that pattern of depression. I am counting off all the things I have to look forward to, no matter how small. So here they are:
*My youngest sister's baby shower
*The birth of my niece (coming at the end of Feb)
*Family Day, Feb 15 (at least one day off from work, although unpaid for the most part. For those of you that are American, this is a day our government brought in recently to give people a day off between New Year's and Easter, as we don't have a President's Day)
*A dinner date with another couple using a gift card I received for Xmas (sometime early Feb)
*A local hockey game we have tickets for
*Weekly skating trips with the fandamily (and I got new skates so I can't wait to try them out!)
*At some point, taking the boys snowtubing and/or skiing for the first time (I say I'm going to do it EVERY year, and never get around to it)
I can't think of anything else, but you get the picture. I am also trying to keep up with my vitamins (as I tend to forget them) and also am taking extra Vit D which apparantly helps us northerners with the lack of sunshine.
Well, there's my boring post. Just a peek inside my ever exciting life.
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