I turned 30 today. That’s kinda of a big number. I remember freaking out about turning 25, and to think that was five years ago is insane. I know 30 isn’t old. It’s not. I hopefully haven’t even lived half of my life yet. But saying bye to your 20’s is what’s kinda throwing me off. Whatever. My boobs aren’t hitting the floor yet, and that’s nothing a push up bra can’t fix. Cheers to 30, push up bras, and saying goodbye to the girl in her 20’s. *CLINK*  Here are some things I’ve learned in 30 years of living, and some things about me you might not know.

Things You Might Not Know About Me:

1). I’m a homebody. I may have a passport with a few stamps here and there… but my favourite place to be is at home.

2). I hate crowds, busy places, parties, bars, pubs, social events. You know… where there’s people. Ariel had it all wrong. Sebastian knew what was up. (ps- if you don’t get my Little Mermaid reference…. you are younger than 30).

3). I’ve never been to a bar. Which I suppose would make #2 wrong. Because technically I can’ hate somewhere i’ve never been. But I’m pretty sure I would still hate it. And this is my list so bugger off.

4). I can imitate people pretty good. I can’t do accents (I literally can’t even do a Mexican accent. No joke). But I can imitate you. Do not ask me to imitate you.

5). I love weddings. I love the details. The dress. The decorations. Heck, I even like the speeches. My dream job would be for you to pay me lots of money and I plan your wedding. And then you tip me. A very generous tip.

6). I love old people. I really do. I could talk to them all day. Listen to their stories, their life, their opinions. I love old people. However, I do not want to be old quite yet.

Things I Have Learned In 30 Years:

7). People want to be validated. They want to feel useful, needed. They want to feel like they helped you and you’re thankful for what they did. So remember that. Tell someone that you appreciate them.

8). People also want to be offended by something. It’s 2017. If you wanna transform yourself into a unicorn, or a flamingo, or flip, even a beaver (if you’re thinking about it- go for the unicorn), have at er. Just don’t shove it down my throat or get offended because I don’t agree with it. Last time I checked, you didn’t need my approval to feel validated did you?

9). Click bait. If you came from Instagram, I needed you to come read my blog. I get more traffic that way. Thanks for the support and coming to read my blog. Also, sorry you thought you were getting something juicy.

10). Admitting you’re wrong is one of the hardest things to do. It like…. very RARELY happens to me, but when I am wrong, I hate to admit it. We should work on that together. *Fist bump*

11). Your hairdresser will NEVER, I repeat NEVER get your hair to look like the picture your bring her. When I was 21, I took a picture of Jessica Simpson (she’s the “dumb” blonde with a couple mil in the bank who thought tuna, AKA “chicken of the sea” was chicken that…. lived in the ocean? She was a singer in the early 2000’s… you know, if you’re younger than 30). I came out looking like Dora the Explorer. Wanna know how I know I looked like her? A). I’m brown and speak Spanish, and B). because when Dane saw me he literally said “You look like Dora the explorer.” Literally his exact words.

12). Here’s the last thing I’m going to share. It’s probably the biggest thing I’ve learned over the years. Ready? You can’t change and you will not change someone who doesn’t want to change. That person can be a millimetre away from the edge of a 100 ft cliff. You can be telling them they’re going to fall if they don’t move. You can be screaming, kicking, crying, they will not move. Unless you start making the move away from that cliff yourself, that person will not budge. Be the change you want to see, the rest will follow. You don’t tell people they need to change. That will just piss them off. They need to see you make the first move. So make that first move.

If you take anything from this, it is this. Don’t set the standard to Jessica Tuna Simpson. Set the bar to Dora. That way you won’t come out disappointed.

I’m 30 today. My heart has not stopped beating in 30 years. I hope that when I die, someone will say “that girl was happy. She lived a happy life.” (Notice how I said someone? Can’t say “people”, as in plural. Can’t set the bar too high). I’m happy. Not everyday. But most days. Last night, at 11:00 pm my whole family decided to go for an almost midnight swim. So we did. We swam outside in a 30 degree pool underneath stormy skies and patio lights. We raced, we laughed, and we were happy. My heart was happy. I am a happy 30 year old. I hope you are too. And if you aren’t, I truly hope you can find it. That is my birthday wish. For you to be truly happy. That, and the dyson hand held vacuum. Happy Birthday to me, happy day to you.

 

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She turns 1 today. Am I emotional? No. I’m happy. I literally kept a human alive for a year, and thats a huge deal because I could barely keep my nano baby alive (does anyone remember those?) I’m not that mom that will cry and say “she’s not my baby anymore” or “she’ll always be my baby.” Either one. No. I know what the passing of time entails, and it entails your newborn becoming a month old, and then a 4 month old, and then pretty soon you have a 1 year old. And before I know it I’ll have a toddler. I’m not sad because if I’m being totally honest, which I tend to be, it’s that the baby phase was tough and I did not enjoy it as much as maybe most moms. I got mastitis twice, which then resulted in needing antibiotics, which then resulted in thrush twice. Second round lasting a solid three months. My milk flow sucked, so breastfeeding was torture (again, thrush with that was even worse). Olive was a tough baby. She only wanted me, she woke up every 2 hours though the night, and she was loud. Like, REALLY loud. But now she’s at the age where her giggle is the best sound I hear, her toothy grin is the cutest, and her personality is the funniest. She is a little turd, and everyone agrees. She has more personality than I thought a baby could have. She’s got attitude, spunk, she’s funny and she knows it. She can charm any watch off your wrist and slobber on it like nobody’s business. Enough about Olive, lets talk about me. Here’s a few things, tips and tricks I’ve learned in the past year as a new mom. A new less “ish” selfish human being.

  1. I can take a stain out of almost anything. Poop stains are my specialty.
  2. I have more patience I knew I had. Except with Dane. I think I have less patience with him now.
  3. I am totally fine with going to Costco with greasy hair, no make up, and socks I took out of the dirty clothes pile. (It was ONE time, and in my defence, my feet never stink…. so basically they were clean).
  4. I have learned to not longingly stare at people eating before me because I have to eat last due to a child that is whining and crying and is attached to me like an octopus (octopus sounded better than leech in my head).
  5. 3 minute showers, including shaving. Just buy bandaids. You’ll be fine.
  6. Take extra clothes everywhere you go. Even if you’re just going out for 20 mins. That’s when nature (nature is a poop explosion in case you’re wondering. Just thought I’d help you out) will decide is an opportune time to yell “TOLD YOU SO.” Just take the extra clothes.
  7. Take a plastic bag with you. For poop clothes. I once had to walk around the mall with poop clothes in the bottom of the stroller basket. People probably though I had crapped my pants. Also, shout out to GAP who refused to give me a bag because I hadn’t bought something. Clearly the $100,000,000,000 I have spent there on baby clothes doesn’t count as “something.”
  8. You can never have too many diapers.
  9. Baby food is disgusting.
  10. If you put something in your basket online and do the whole checkout process, but then don’t actually checkout, the company will email you within a few days with a coupon code. (This isn’t really baby related, but a very good life tip. You’re welcome.
  11. Baby Gap usually has a “One Day Only sale” every day. Just wait for the 40% off coupon codes. And its free shipping when you spend over $50.
  12. Buy sleepers for the first 3-6 months. So many sleepers. Your baby doesn’t wanna look fashionable. It wants to be warm and cosy.
  13. Buy yourself comfy clothes. You don’t wanna be fashionable. You want to be warm and cosy.
  14. NEVER underestimate how many wipes you will need. take wipes everywhere you go. Lot’s.
  15. Go with the flow. Roll with the punches. “You do you boo.” Flipping SURVIVE. That’s my last piece of advice. If that means crying until snot is rolling down your face, do it. If it means getting up before your baby to get stuff done, do it. If it means having a messy house because you are held prisoner by a baby, do it. No one should judge you. Unless they’ve walked a mile in your shoes… which why would they? That would be weird if a stranger just asked to borrow your shoes and walk a mile and then return them.

Story of the day: today we went to Calgary with my friend. I wore a white shirt with a white lace kimono. Olive wore her baby jeans with white lace and the cutest white lace top. We were adorbs. I got hoison sauce on my right boob at lunch from my lettuce wraps. Just under that was a black tire stain from trying to fold out the most possessed stroller of all time. My left side had something green on it. She then decided to hurl her glass bottle in the middle of the mall, have the bottle shatter and have milk go everywhere. Right smack in the middle of where people walk. Olive then decided to have “nature” (refer to #6) happen on the QE2, which resulted in having “nature” up her back, in her arms (like HOWWWW??) in her hair, all over her car seat. Afton was of wonderful help. You know, with the gagging and commentary: “that is foul.” “Oh man, that is rank.” Thank goodness for wipes and extra clothes (not this day nature, NOT this day). When washing her clothes in the sink in a dingy bathroom on the side of the road, I got my left side of my shirt soaking wet. SO I had a disgusting dirty, white shirt with a soaking wet left boob. Attached to my hip was a child that was not wearing the same clothes she left with, along with a slight smell of “nature.” Just go with the flow. Roll with the punches.

 

Olive Rose, today you are one. Olive Rose, today I celebrate you. I celebrate your 5 teeth, your perfect fingers and toes. I celebrate your grin and your dark eyes and dark eyelashes. I celebrate your tiny ears, chubby cheeks, your infectious scent. I celebrate your round belly, pouty lips, your dark hair. I celebrate your dimply bum, your stork bite on your lower back. I celebrate your laughter, your sweet kisses, your eyes that smile at me with love, your arms that always are held open for mine. I celebrate the way your breath still smells of sweetness and of innocence. I celebrate how you only see me as your protector, not as the flawed human that I am. I celebrate the gift I was given one year ago today, the gift I take for granted, the gift that changed the course of my life. The gift that will never let me be the same as I once was. I celebrate you little one, my little love, my little bug. I love you. I love you. And I love you. I will love you until I can no longer. Happiest of birthdays Olive Rose. You literally have no clue what today is, but I will still celebrate you and your first year of life on this earth.

 

 

Conway Kosso & Midnight Blue

Have you guys heard of the five love languages? It’s OK, I thought it was super cheesy too when my friend first told me about it a few years ago. There’s something, something, gifts, something, and something else. Just kidding. They are: 1). Words of affirmation (awww, baaabbbbeeeee….. you’re like, literally the cutessstt), 2.) Acts of Kindess (Awwww, thankkssss babbeeeee for like, totally unplugging the toilet!) 3). Receiving gifts (Thanksssss babeeeeee, for the toilet plunger, I like, totes LOVE it). 4). Quality time (Awwww, thanks babeeeee, for sitting here with me on your phone while I go on my phone too). 5). Physical touch (oh em gee, he put his arm around me and ALSO held my hand. Double score).  Which one are you? Comment and let me know- I actually find it so interesting!

My love language to SHOW, so how I show people I love them, is gifts. People want me to draw their name when it comes to picking secret santa (I’m at least wanted in that sense, because I have a feeling people would not want my name picked to be on their team. For ANYTHING). There’s something about finding the perfect gift for someone that they mentioned they wanted 10 months before, and seeing their face when they realize you remembered. Ever since I can remember, I’ve been buying people gifts. And I absolutely love doing it.

Dane’s love language is NOT giving gifts. One time for Christmas, and this is not an exaggeration, we had been dating for almost five years, he gave me this little bag. It was tiny and pretty, and he even had a bow on it. I’m a woman and we had been together for FIVE years OK? What would any other normal woman out there think was in the bag? (or maybe HOPED would be in the bag?) You know what it was? Ready? A gift card. Wanna know the best part? It was to a Chinese restaurant. Yup. Dane gave me $50 to a Chinese restaurant for our fifth Christmas together. Because, and I quote…. “I thought you liked spring rolls?” I had to still wait two years longer for my ring. The worst part was I had to take him out for supper with MY gift card. So I didn’t even get $50 worth of spring rolls.

I love giving gifts. Gifts that mean something. Big or small. Gifts that you had to think about, not just ran to the mall and bought whatever was the first thing you saw hanging in a window display.

So of course I was excited when JORD Wood Watches reached out to me and let me choose a watch to gift Dane. If you know Dane, you know he loves working with wood. He loves to dream up furniture he’s going to build one day. He loves the smell of wood and pine trees, his jacket always smells of lumber. He’s always pounding a piece of wood with the palm of his hand to check the density, or hardness. I’m just assuming he is. He could just be doing it and have no clue what he’s doing, and I wouldn’t know the difference. So a wood watch for my wood and tree loving husband was perfect.

JORD believes that “the value of a watch is not in being able to tell how much time has passed, but in being aware of the need to make that time count. Moments are bigger than minutes and your watch should tell more than time.” JORD means land, soil, earth in Danish.  So if you have someone in your life that loves the smell of pine trees, the sound of pine needles crunching underneath their feet, the feel of a piece of wood in between their hands, the way the grain of that wood maps out that trees life, a JORD watch would be the perfect gift. They offer a wide range of styles and colours, as well as personalized engravings.

Shop mens wood watches here

Shop women’s wood watches here

Thank you to JORD for this opportunity, and for creating the perfect watch for my almost perfect woodsman.

Giveaway:

JORD was lovely enough to offer you guys a chance to get your own wood watch! Enter to win for a $100 coupon for your own watch, as well as a $25 coupon just for entering!

Click here for the JORD Wood Watch giveaway

 

This giveaway closes on 03/19/17, and coupons will expire 05/31/17

*Thank you to  JORD Wood Watches for sponsoring this post!

Luxury Wooden Watch

You’re 9 months old today Olive, and I can hardly believe that soon you will have been in my life for a whole year. You cut two teeth, your bottom two middle ones. You’ve started to crawl (mostly face plant). You have learned to give kisses (getting you to do it is another story). You like to tense your arms like you’re flexing, and do this deep growl, and it might be my favourite thing you do. You let me know when you don’t like a toy (you glare at me and bat at my hand and grunt). You can laugh hard now, and it’s this tiny, deep cackle, and hearing you is the best sound. You like strawberry cereal puffs, you can eat almost a whole banana, you like mashed potatoes, and you love to drink cold water. You hate socks on your feet, you hate getting a shirt pulled over your head, or put on. When you’re angry or frustrated you chuck yourself back as hard as you can and wail (I’m waiting for the day you do this on something other than a bed. That’ll be fun). You despise having your nose picked, but love having the inside of your ears rubbed. You have discovered your lungs, and sometimes you just let out the loudest screech and then smile at me, clearly pleased with yourself.

You are the reason to my frustrations, my tired eyes, my long nights, my early mornings. You are why I have poo on my face, barf on my clothes. You are the months and months it took me to finish a book, you are the reason why my diaper bag has everything except the kitchen sink in there. You are shoulder pain from carrying that bag around, you are why my left arm could probably beat Dwayne Johnson in an arm wrestle. You are 20 lbs and something ounces of Olive Rose.

Olive Rose, you are my light. You are why I wake up in the morning (literally). You are my joy, my best gift I’ve ever received, my happiness. You are the reason why my eyes stung with tears when you leaned in ever so gently to give me your first ever kiss on the lips (a lot of slobber, but I’ll take it). You are the reason I open my eyes in the middle of the night and kiss your cheeks over and over again, risking my sanity in case I wake you up. You are the smell I crave, your scent is my comfort (and your dads cologne). Your toes and your stubby thumb are the cutest things. Your eyes and eyelashes are enough to make me cry when you look up at me with the sweetest, most humble look. Your smile lights up a person’s day. Your life Olive, has so much meaning, so much value. You are, without a doubt, my blessing. And I love you. More than you might ever know. Thank you growing in my belly, and thank you for being mine.

Wanna know how many times I’ve made these cinnamon buns in a week? FIVE. Five times. That’s 20 cups of flour, and a whole lot of yeast. The first time I made them, I forgot to put cinnamon in them. I know. I’m totally Amelia Bedelia. Then I made them a second time, and they turned out perfect. So I figured I could make them again, because I went from Amelia Bedelia to Gordon Ramsey pretty quickly. So I did. For the third time. I put them in the oven and went to feed Olive. You know where this is going. I baked them for a solid 10 mins more than they needed, which resulted in dry, hard…. crusty, nasty garbage. So then I thought, maybe third time isn’t the charm, but maybe the fourth time is a charm? Can that be a thing? I think it should be a thing for moms, cuz we deserve an extra chance over the average person. So I made these for the fourth time in a week, and my yeast must not have worked cuz my dough ended up in the garbage next to a poopy diaper. I’m not selling this recipe am I? In it’s defence, the three times they’ve failed, they’ve been my fault. Or my baby brain. Either way, don’t blame the cinnamon buns. On the fifth attempt I got this bright idea to put raspberries in them. And low and behold, the fifth attempt became legendary. Just kidding. But Dane is my biggest critic, and he said these were delicious. And somehow 9 went missing from 7:00 in the evening to when I woke up this morning… so that says something. If you’re a conservative, you can skip the raspberries. But you should take a walk on the wild side and try them, you might surprise yourself. You might even change your political views due to these little red berries appearing where they normally wouldn’t. You’re welcome liberals, I may have just gotten you an extra vote.

Raspberry Cinnamon Buns
 
Prep time
Cook time
Total time
 
Author:
Recipe type: Dessert
Ingredients
  • 1 tsp granulated sugar
  • 2¼ tsp dry active yeast
  • ½ cup warm water
  • ½ cup whole milk
  • ¼ cup granulated sugar
  • ¼ cup butter
  • 2 eggs, beaten
  • 4 cups all purpose flour
  • ¼ cup butter, softened
  • ¾ cup brown sugar
  • 1½ TBLS cinnamon
  • 2 cups fresh raspberries
Instructions
  1. In a small bowl add your 1 teaspoon of sugar and yeast, along with your warm water. Let stand until frothy and you can smell the yeast, Approx 10 mins.
  2. In a small saucepan, heat your milk until it starts to bubble. Remove from heat, add in your ¼ cup of butter, and ¼ cup of sugar. Stir until butter has completely melted. Set aside until it is room temperature.
  3. In the bowl of your stand mixer with the dough hook attachment, combine your yeast mixture, your milk mixture, as well as your beaten eggs and 1½ cup of flour. Mix until the flour has been incorporated, and continue to add the remaining 2½ cups of flour, ½ cup at a time. Once the dough has come together, knead on a floured surface until smooth and elastic. (about 5-7 mins). Form into a ball.
  4. In a large lightly oiled bowl, place dough and turn over a few times making sure all sides of dough have been oiled. Wet a dish towel so it is damp, and cover. Place in a warm area where there are no drafts (I always place mine in the oven). Let sit for at least one hour, but two is ideal. Or until it has doubled in size.
  5. Turn onto a lightly floured surface, and with a floured rolling pin, roll dough out to a rectangle 18x14 inches. Brush with ¼ cup of softened butter, sprinkle with brown sugar and cinnamon, and with raspberries. Tightly roll up, brush the edge with butter and pinch to seal. Cut into 12-15 pieces, place unto cookie sheet/ or pan. Brush outsides of cinnamon rolls with any leftover butter, cover and place back in a warm, draft free area for another hour, or until doubled in size.
  6. Bake in a preheated oven at 375* F, for 25 mins, or until slightly golden. Do not over bake or you will end up with dry cinnamon buns!

 

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