That's right, I up and moved. I'm not even packing my things, I'm just leaving. I hope everyone understands, it's just better this way.
Hope you'll come by and see me.
HERE is my new address. ;)
June 6, 2012
June 4, 2012
Make it so
When 2012 began, I set out some resolutions for myself. I've never bothered to set any goals, really, or set out to achieve much that was out of reach. My university degrees weren't difficult, really. I've always bobbed along rather happily, finding my way without much focus. For some reason this year felt different.
I vowed to say, "No" more often this year. It didn't turn out as I'd expected since I took on a few too many volunteer positions, and I've since backed out on many of those. I give in far too often and end up giving too much of my time and myself to others. That's not a humble brag, it's just a fact. I'm too generous with pretty much everything I've got, to the detriment of my health. So for the second half of 2012 (oh my god, seriously? where is the year going?), I'm clawing back time for myself.
In order to spend more time with my kids, I closed my company. People thought I was nuts for closing down a successful company, and I admit I wondered if they were right. I debated taking one of the many offers we had to sell it, but in the end I decided I had worked too hard to build that amazing company and one day I may want to go back to it.
I promised myself I'd spend more quality time with my family, and so far, I have. When the kids want to play, I play. I don't stare at my iPhone and peer over at them, I actually play. It feels good. Like a luxury I've been missing out on.
I said we'd fix up this house and move but in the process of fixing up our home, I realized I love it here and so does my family. We are so, so lucky to have chosen this place, as casually as we did seven years ago. Sure, it's small. Yup, it's not modern and shiny and spacious. But it is home for us, and our big maple tree reminds me of the roots we've put down here. Giving love to this home has rejuvenated all of us, and we're happy to stay here awhile longer.
The biggest goal I set for myself was that I'd be published this year. For as long as I can remember, I've wanted to be A Writer. Of what? I don't really know. I've had terrible poetry published, and written a few articles here and there, but this is the year of print for me, and I'm excited to say it's actually going to come true next month. Having someone accept something I've written and actually pay me for it? Well, that was euphoric. Many of you are old hat at that, but for me it's totally new and I'm happy I put myself out there and made that happen.
I vowed to say, "No" more often this year. It didn't turn out as I'd expected since I took on a few too many volunteer positions, and I've since backed out on many of those. I give in far too often and end up giving too much of my time and myself to others. That's not a humble brag, it's just a fact. I'm too generous with pretty much everything I've got, to the detriment of my health. So for the second half of 2012 (oh my god, seriously? where is the year going?), I'm clawing back time for myself.
In order to spend more time with my kids, I closed my company. People thought I was nuts for closing down a successful company, and I admit I wondered if they were right. I debated taking one of the many offers we had to sell it, but in the end I decided I had worked too hard to build that amazing company and one day I may want to go back to it.
I promised myself I'd spend more quality time with my family, and so far, I have. When the kids want to play, I play. I don't stare at my iPhone and peer over at them, I actually play. It feels good. Like a luxury I've been missing out on.
I said we'd fix up this house and move but in the process of fixing up our home, I realized I love it here and so does my family. We are so, so lucky to have chosen this place, as casually as we did seven years ago. Sure, it's small. Yup, it's not modern and shiny and spacious. But it is home for us, and our big maple tree reminds me of the roots we've put down here. Giving love to this home has rejuvenated all of us, and we're happy to stay here awhile longer.
The biggest goal I set for myself was that I'd be published this year. For as long as I can remember, I've wanted to be A Writer. Of what? I don't really know. I've had terrible poetry published, and written a few articles here and there, but this is the year of print for me, and I'm excited to say it's actually going to come true next month. Having someone accept something I've written and actually pay me for it? Well, that was euphoric. Many of you are old hat at that, but for me it's totally new and I'm happy I put myself out there and made that happen.
My writing has always been somewhat private. Though I started a blog over on Xanga ten years ago, I never really "went public" with it. I hid behind my screen name and didn't tell family about it, and certainly none of my "real life" friends. I was embarrassed of my writing, and I guess I still am. Hundreds of people followed that blog, but I never really felt proud of who I was there. This is my space, these are my words, and I'm learning to own them all.
I was also absolutely amazed when I found out that my post entitled My Son's Wings was chosen and I'm one of BlogHer's Voices of the Year for 2012. (Thank god I'm not a reader... I don't think I'd survive that kind of word-ownership, ha!) That someone felt my words deserve a place among such amazing bloggers and writers is a huge compliment to me. I feel honoured indeed.
Now I'm wondering what I should will into existence over the next six months of this year.
Now I'm wondering what I should will into existence over the next six months of this year.
May 29, 2012
Banana Oatmeal Superpower Cereal Bars
For some reason, at approximately 10:30 last night I decided to try making some cereal bars. I've never made them before so I Googled some recipes but nothing fit exactly the ingredients I had here, so I made something up. And wonder of all wonders, they're incredibly delicious. So naturally, I'll share the recipe with you.
Preheat oven to 350°. Lightly grease a 9x9 baking dish.
Ingredients:
2 ripe bananas (the riper the better!)
1 egg (the egg is TOTALLY optional, you absolutely don't have to use it. Without it, these would be a fantastic vegan snack. I put the egg in to pack more nutrients in for my breakfast-adverse daughter.)
2 ½C rolled oats (I used quick oats and it was totally fine, just not as crunchy as I think regular oats would be)
1tsp pure vanilla extract
½tsp salt
½C Craisins (you could use any dried fruit here)
1tsp cinnamon
3tbs chocolate chips (optional, but I wouldn't recommend leaving them out because who the heck doesn't love chocolate? If you're going vegan you could sub some vegan-friendly ones in here.)
3tbs hemp hearts
**EDIT**
Today (a day after I posted the recipe) I made these again, but subbed ½C of fresh raspberries for one of the bananas and OH MY. This has crossed over into dessert territory. SO GOOD.
**EDIT**
Today (a day after I posted the recipe) I made these again, but subbed ½C of fresh raspberries for one of the bananas and OH MY. This has crossed over into dessert territory. SO GOOD.
Combine all the ingredients till well mixed and pour into the baking dish. Evenly smoosh it all down and bake for approximately 30 minutes, or until the edges start to brown.
I cut them into 9 squares total, then into triangles because as delicious as they are, they pack a HUGE nutritional punch. Note that I've made the serving size one triangle, not a full square as I mistakenly wrote in the nutrition facts below. The nutrition info is accurate for the triangle size portion.
May 23, 2012
#IUsedTo
Recently, I started reminiscing with a grade school friend over Facebook about the things we did in elementary school. We had poofy bangs, and fluorescent socks, listened to Paul Abdul and wore leggings with long sweaters. That conversation started a long string of thoughts, and I thought about all the things I "used to" do. So I chatted about it awhile on Twitter, and it was a thrill to see everyone's thoughts in the #iusedto hashtag stream. Many were funny, many were sad, all were interesting.
There's a melancholy feeling when we talk of things we used to do, isn't there? Like somehow times were once better than they are today, or that times were harder and those old feelings emerge fresh to hurt our hearts a little. But to me, remembering is the only way we can truly appreciate our journeys. In looking back, I find happiness and contentment because I can where I've come in my life. So here's my list of things #iusedto do.
I Used To:
- look like this:
- listen to the Mini Pops on repeat; so often, in fact, that my mother took the tapes (!!) away from me, thinking I should instead be listening to Raffi
- have a Commodore 64 on which I played Centipede and Frogger till my eyes hurt
- have two best friends who were, coincidentally, both from Newfoundland from places near where my Mom was born
- sit around waiting for a favourite song to be played on the radio so I could record it onto a cassette tape
- be super excited when a package of CDs arrived in the mail from Columbia House
- bite my nails till they bled
- absolutely love Disney's The Little Mermaid, and collect memorabilia from it
- watch The Neverending Story over and over (and over and over and over)
- want to be an English professor
- take my "ghetto blaster" to the beach to blast Meatloaf and Abba
- suntan using babyoil- be a Brownie, then a Girl Guide, then a Pathfinder and then a Junior Leader in the Girl Guides of Canada
- play the flute in my high school symphony
- have a crazy crush on a guy named Paul H. who, if I ran into him today, would probably still give me the giggles
- date total jerks who told me stuff like, "Real women have long hair"
- read at least two books a week
- think I didn't want kids
- smoke a pack a day
- write dramatic poetry that may or may not have been published in a my university publication
- work three jobs in university to pay for pitchers of beer on the weekends
- tell my university roommate that we'd never get "old and lame", we'd "always party"... guess I lied, Lisa, sorry
- shudder at the thought of eating oysters, but now I love them
- write for my alumni magazine
- think being a bitch was the best way to protect myself
- care what other people thought of me, to the detriment of my happiness
- live in a teeny apartment in Toronto
- drive a 1988 Cavalier Z24 (my Dad bought from my grade 8 teacher) that I loveloveloved so much, but sold in 2003
- blog before anyone really knew what the word "blogging" meant
- have a blog that was followed by more than 400 people, but hated the "fame" and shut the blog down
- work at Kernels popcorn, Jean Machine, Northern Traditions, a silver jewellery kiosk in a mall, Aldo shoes, as a telemarketer for a vacuum cleaner company, as a fundraiser for my university, as a tour guide for my university, as a sales person for a corporate greeting card company and as a conference developer for a company I absolutely loathe now
- have my nose pierced
- take a lot of self-indulgent silly self-portraits, like this:
- have blond hair
- have brown hair
- have long hair, short hair, and everything in between hair
- inhale
- have a hard time letting go of shitty friends
- be terrified of public speaking
- think I'd never make anything of myself
- underestimate myself
- spend the majority of my life online
- write a lot of posts that were self-indulgent like this one, and man, it feels good to wallow in myself sometimes. Ha!
Sometimes it feels really nice to remember the useless stuff, you know?
My friend Jen has blogged about her list (the very coolest, nerdriffic techie things, so rad!), and if you blog about your #IUsedTo list, I would LOVE you to let me know so I can follow up. You can also tweet it using the #iusedto hashtag and tweet it, if you like.
There's a melancholy feeling when we talk of things we used to do, isn't there? Like somehow times were once better than they are today, or that times were harder and those old feelings emerge fresh to hurt our hearts a little. But to me, remembering is the only way we can truly appreciate our journeys. In looking back, I find happiness and contentment because I can where I've come in my life. So here's my list of things #iusedto do.
I Used To:
- look like this:
- listen to the Mini Pops on repeat; so often, in fact, that my mother took the tapes (!!) away from me, thinking I should instead be listening to Raffi
- have a Commodore 64 on which I played Centipede and Frogger till my eyes hurt
- have two best friends who were, coincidentally, both from Newfoundland from places near where my Mom was born
- sit around waiting for a favourite song to be played on the radio so I could record it onto a cassette tape
- be super excited when a package of CDs arrived in the mail from Columbia House
- bite my nails till they bled
- absolutely love Disney's The Little Mermaid, and collect memorabilia from it
- watch The Neverending Story over and over (and over and over and over)
- want to be an English professor
- take my "ghetto blaster" to the beach to blast Meatloaf and Abba
- suntan using babyoil- be a Brownie, then a Girl Guide, then a Pathfinder and then a Junior Leader in the Girl Guides of Canada
- play the flute in my high school symphony
- have a crazy crush on a guy named Paul H. who, if I ran into him today, would probably still give me the giggles
- date total jerks who told me stuff like, "Real women have long hair"
- read at least two books a week
- think I didn't want kids
- smoke a pack a day
- write dramatic poetry that may or may not have been published in a my university publication
- work three jobs in university to pay for pitchers of beer on the weekends
- tell my university roommate that we'd never get "old and lame", we'd "always party"... guess I lied, Lisa, sorry
- shudder at the thought of eating oysters, but now I love them
- write for my alumni magazine
- think being a bitch was the best way to protect myself
- care what other people thought of me, to the detriment of my happiness
- live in a teeny apartment in Toronto
- drive a 1988 Cavalier Z24 (my Dad bought from my grade 8 teacher) that I loveloveloved so much, but sold in 2003
- blog before anyone really knew what the word "blogging" meant
- have a blog that was followed by more than 400 people, but hated the "fame" and shut the blog down
- work at Kernels popcorn, Jean Machine, Northern Traditions, a silver jewellery kiosk in a mall, Aldo shoes, as a telemarketer for a vacuum cleaner company, as a fundraiser for my university, as a tour guide for my university, as a sales person for a corporate greeting card company and as a conference developer for a company I absolutely loathe now
- have my nose pierced
- take a lot of self-indulgent silly self-portraits, like this:
- have blond hair
- have brown hair
- have long hair, short hair, and everything in between hair
- inhale
- have a hard time letting go of shitty friends
- be terrified of public speaking
- think I'd never make anything of myself
- underestimate myself
- spend the majority of my life online
- write a lot of posts that were self-indulgent like this one, and man, it feels good to wallow in myself sometimes. Ha!
Sometimes it feels really nice to remember the useless stuff, you know?
My friend Jen has blogged about her list (the very coolest, nerdriffic techie things, so rad!), and if you blog about your #IUsedTo list, I would LOVE you to let me know so I can follow up. You can also tweet it using the #iusedto hashtag and tweet it, if you like.
May 17, 2012
Birthday realizations
Once upon a time.
Back in the day.
When I was little.
I used to.
Remember when.Now.
I celebrated my 37th birthday last week, and admit I felt a little tingle at the base of my skull; the hairs stood on end, excited and invigorated as I inched ever closer to 40. It's somewhat of a thrill to be so close to that magical age, for me. Even in my early thirties, that big 4-0 seemed ominous, far-off, intimidating. But now I look to some of the women I admire most in my life and they've made their 40s look so delicious I can nearly taste it. And I have to tell you that 37, though only a week old for me, is more exciting and full of promise than any year thus far. And do you know why that is?
There is something so wonderfully freeing about the ageing process for me. I'm confident in who I am, and with each passing year, I'm more secure and proud of the choices I make. There is glamour in ageing: I earned these greys, these lines and those sags. I feel beautiful and wish I'd been able to accept that two decades ago. I feel successful, regardless of what people around me are doing or thinking. I feel powerful. I finally feel able to control my body and my life, and that's something I really never felt before.
I'm happy being me; not aching to be someone else, to grow into some soft-focus version of a Future Self I've yet to define. I like this version of me, though I'm ever-changing and evolving, redefining what my successes are and how to reach the next goal, I like this journey.
There is power in reminiscing about the dreams I had as a child, a teen, even an adult and recognizing that at any time, I'm free to give them a good shake and see how they resettle.
If I could share this feeling with you, or give it as a gift, I would.
This is a good place to be. I want you to be here, too. I hope you find your way.
Back in the day.
When I was little.
I used to.
Remember when.Now.
I celebrated my 37th birthday last week, and admit I felt a little tingle at the base of my skull; the hairs stood on end, excited and invigorated as I inched ever closer to 40. It's somewhat of a thrill to be so close to that magical age, for me. Even in my early thirties, that big 4-0 seemed ominous, far-off, intimidating. But now I look to some of the women I admire most in my life and they've made their 40s look so delicious I can nearly taste it. And I have to tell you that 37, though only a week old for me, is more exciting and full of promise than any year thus far. And do you know why that is?
There is something so wonderfully freeing about the ageing process for me. I'm confident in who I am, and with each passing year, I'm more secure and proud of the choices I make. There is glamour in ageing: I earned these greys, these lines and those sags. I feel beautiful and wish I'd been able to accept that two decades ago. I feel successful, regardless of what people around me are doing or thinking. I feel powerful. I finally feel able to control my body and my life, and that's something I really never felt before.
I'm happy being me; not aching to be someone else, to grow into some soft-focus version of a Future Self I've yet to define. I like this version of me, though I'm ever-changing and evolving, redefining what my successes are and how to reach the next goal, I like this journey.
There is power in reminiscing about the dreams I had as a child, a teen, even an adult and recognizing that at any time, I'm free to give them a good shake and see how they resettle.
If I could share this feeling with you, or give it as a gift, I would.
This is a good place to be. I want you to be here, too. I hope you find your way.
April 25, 2012
Why is PBSO so important?
Imagine the joy of being pregnant and making lists and plans for the brand new life about to join your family. You choose names, you plan a future, you enjoy the precious silent moments before that bundle of joy changes your life forever. And then life really does change forever: you find yourself dealing with the loss of that life before it has really had a chance to begin.
Losing a pregnancy at any stage is absolutely devastating. It is isolating, confusing, unfair, and so, so scary.
In the summer of 2008, my husband, daughter, and I were expecting our second child. Sadly, at almost 20 weeks' gestation, we discovered that our baby had died in utero, and I was to be induced and deliver my deceased baby. It was a surreal, terrifying experience that I relive to this day.
PBSO offers support to families like mine. Families (and individuals) who have no idea if their feelings are normal, or even ok to talk about. In the depths of my grief, I would have given anything to have known there were people there for me to talk to. And when I was ready to share my story, how I wish I'd been aware of their support groups filled with other grieving parents with whom I could commiserate. They also offer education programs to medical staff, family and friends about how to help when a loss has occurred.
Every year, PBSO holds a Butterfly Release Picnic. This year the event is being held on June 3, 2012 at Pickering Museum Village. They sell butterflies before the event, and on the day of the family event, we say some words to remember our lost babies and we release a multitude of butterflies into the sky to honour them. It's a very powerful event, and of great comfort to many. At this event, a silent auction is held to raise funds for PBSO.
I'm asking anyone out there to consider a donation of a product or service for this silent auction. Your contribution means that a family in need will never have to go without support. We're here for them. We can continue our education, our support groups, everything. If you have a company, we'd love to hear from you. If you have a blog and would be willing to link to PBSO, we would love that. If you're an individual and can offer a gift card, a product or anything at all, it would mean so much.
If you would like to make a donation of any kind, please contact me at alexandria.durrell@pbso.ca.
Your support means the world to me.
xo alex
April 9, 2012
Happy, happy, joy, joy. Right?
If I told my 20-year-old self I'd be sitting around at nearly 37 (omg, what? 37 already?) years of age Googling "yellow toddler poo", I may have re-thought some decisions. If you scan the search history on my iPhone from the last few days, I can tell you that it would be equal parts nauseating and fascinating, like a large pimple. And just as disgusting.
My daughter woke with weird red spots (not itchy) on her upper leg and a couple on her torso and back. They're not bothering her at all, but they sure bother me. My son has a strange tummy issue today. Of course, Easter Monday has been spent with my friend Dr. Google, trying to determine whether my beasts are contagious or if they're fine to attend school and the allergist (oh, fun) tomorrow.
My kids had a wonderful Easter with three parts of our extended families. Three solid days filled with the requisite chocolate, marshmallowy-substances-of-questionable-origin and copious amounts of ham. Three ham dinners in a row. Their poor wee digestive tracts are paying the consequences today.
I am sure my toddler has gone through at least five diapers on my watch, and another one before my husband even left the house this morning. Sour, mustardy, mucousy messes that make me gag and pity the poor little sugar-glutton. He has food sensitivities as it is, and the overload of salt and sugar likely has his system in overdrive. My job hasn't been glamorous today, to say the very least.
In addition to the sore tummies, they're both incredibly tired. They both napped today (an uncommon occurrence for my five-year-old) and are too grouchy to do much of anything.
Is this the stuff of which holidays are made? The pictures make it look so much more charming.
My daughter woke with weird red spots (not itchy) on her upper leg and a couple on her torso and back. They're not bothering her at all, but they sure bother me. My son has a strange tummy issue today. Of course, Easter Monday has been spent with my friend Dr. Google, trying to determine whether my beasts are contagious or if they're fine to attend school and the allergist (oh, fun) tomorrow.
My kids had a wonderful Easter with three parts of our extended families. Three solid days filled with the requisite chocolate, marshmallowy-substances-of-questionable-origin and copious amounts of ham. Three ham dinners in a row. Their poor wee digestive tracts are paying the consequences today.
I am sure my toddler has gone through at least five diapers on my watch, and another one before my husband even left the house this morning. Sour, mustardy, mucousy messes that make me gag and pity the poor little sugar-glutton. He has food sensitivities as it is, and the overload of salt and sugar likely has his system in overdrive. My job hasn't been glamorous today, to say the very least.
In addition to the sore tummies, they're both incredibly tired. They both napped today (an uncommon occurrence for my five-year-old) and are too grouchy to do much of anything.
Is this the stuff of which holidays are made? The pictures make it look so much more charming.
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