I didn’t want to leave that dreary post up over the weekend, so I thought I’d balance it out with things that make me smile.

Graham, aka He Who Loves To Read/Write/Build, signed up for the basketball team. He had his very first game on Wednesday.

WHERE DID MY BABY GO?

Emily drew me this picture (hover to read the story behind it).

She’s my little artiste.

These tea cups I got for my birthday.

I feel so FANCY.

My bi-weekly girls’ night with Emily while the boys are at Spudz.

I read while she watched her Barbie movie, and then we watched Enchanted. Love.

A few non-photo-related things that make me smile:

• Inexpensive date night ideas
• That two Canadian teenagers sent a Lego man to space. You need to watch the video.
• You can redeem your Air Miles for ski lift tickets. Matthew and I have five each coming in the mail.
• This DUI test video. BEST TEST EVER. (Hat tip: Schmutzie)
• I have plans for a dinner out this Sunday with the same ladies who came to my birthday night. I can’t wait.

What’s making you smile?

I’ve talked a lot this fall and winter about how I thought I had finally beaten the S.A.D. monster. I ramped up my vitamins, I’m exercising at least five days a week, and we’ve taken up skiing. That, there, has been HUGE. Being above the clouds, in the sunshine and fresh air, exercising (my demons) all day long. Throw in a birthday weekend full of happy kids, good food, and beautiful friends, and I thought I had January beat.

Then Monday came along.

(Cue DJ, scratching a needle across a record and then, complete silence.)

I hit a perfect storm on Monday morning which saw me crashing from the birthday high, with a nauseous stomach that wasn’t stress-related, complete with a number of things on my mind that are stress-related, and trying to battle this after a horrible nights’ sleep. I got the kids to school, crawled back into bed, and thought that I’d wake up with a bit of clarity. I thought wrong.

I woke up, still nauseous but at a manageable level, and read for a bit. I made my way downstairs, had some tea and a snack, and thought I’d do some work. I opened my laptop and just … blinked. For minutes. Maybe I should read some more? I read for another hour or so, sat back in front of my laptop and found myself physically unable to do anything. I had never felt this way before. I always have thirty (thousand) things to do and idle time is not something that happens often, if ever. My reading time is grabbed in small portions as we drive up to the ski hill or a few moments before bed or while waiting for an appointment. If I have hours alone, I will work or edit/upload photos, or write, or just DO something. I was home alone, I didn’t have my head in the toilet, and here I was feeling like my arms were dead weights and my head was a London fog.

I read some more. I tried to work/write/engage in some way a few times, but every time I hit a wall.

I can’t do this.

I felt powerless, which made me equal parts frustrated and apathetic. I talked to Matthew and told him how I was feeling. About how sad I was feeling, too, which is the sum of some things I can’t talk about yet and a hundred other things. He told me that it’s OK to have bad days, and it’s OK to have sad days. And then I cried.

The afternoon got better, especially once the kids were home, but I felt quiet. I still feel quiet. I haven’t felt as I did Monday morning, and I hope I don’t again, because that was a first for me and I didn’t like it. I can’t even blame any of it on raging female hormones, which made it all the more odd for me.

I hope that it was January’s last attempt to get me down and while she succeeded for a day (or three), I’d appreciate it if she exited quietly. I have a life to live.

I’m not a kid anymore. Obviously.

I don’t hate January like I used to. I have a December baby and I, like most people, think that having a December baby is not the ideal. The thing is, we were just happy to have a baby. And my December baby, right now, loves having his birthday close to Christmas. Don’t spoil it for him, okay?

Back to January.

It’s a hard month for many. I think that God has a good sense of humor and kind of plans stuff. (That was me being eloquent.)

I love to plan and host parties. Love, love, LOVE. I may get a little bit (or a lot) crazy in the midst of pulling all of the pieces together but I thrive on it. I buzz and I zoom and I flap my arms and my entire body vibrates. Having a son with a December birthday so close to Christmas means that we have his “friend party” in January. We’ve spent many Saturdays skiing, so this past weekend saw his party and my birthday collide. If you know us at all, you know that we’d have it no other way. We can sleep when we’re dead. Or something.

Friday night saw us out for dinner with two of our closest friends, and another friend who was in town to speak at a conference at our church – he married us! – and it was so great. There’s just something about friends that you’ve known forever.

Saturday was … busy.

We hosted Graham’s “friend” birthday party on Saturday. We (they) waited for friends to arrive.

There was a bunch of sledding involved, in our backyard/forest.

I made a cake for Graham, and decorated it this way, because I cannot decorate with frosting.

I hosted a girls’ night in for my birthday, which had a wine/appetizer theme. I wore this.

I got to spend many hours with the prettiest ladies on the planet.

January isn’t so bad.

*Cue the fanfare and a ticker-tape parade*

I’m kidding. But only a little bit. Birthdays for me have always been a big! huge! deal! It’s MY DAY. And if it’s your birthday, it is also a big! huge! deal! It’s YOUR DAY. Truth be told, I often stretch my “day” into a good week of celebrations. I had lunch with coworkers today, I’m going out for a nice dinner tomorrow with Matthew and another couple, and I’m having a “girls’ night in” (wine and appies) with my besties on Saturday night. Then next weekend, Matthew and I are going to a concert. (Jars of Clay!)

I like celebrating, is what I’m saying. What I don’t like, especially this year, is the number on the calendar.

37

I mean, look at it. It just looks old, like it should be hanging by one rusted screw on a wartime house. I know that it’s not old, and that I may not have even lived half of my life yet — God willing — but I still feel like I’m twenty. The mirror, however, sets me straight. The “laugh lines” around my eyes, that deep number eleven between my eyebrows, the loss of elasticity … everywhere. Oh, and the grey hair that I’ve been coloring since my early twenties. OH! And that GREY HAIR I FOUND IN MY EYEBROWS.

I don’t mean to sound vain, because I’m truly not, but I know people who were grandmothers at the age of thirty-seven. Yes, really.

That all said, I don’t beat myself up too much about aging because, hey! There’s nothing I can do about it! And (SPOILER ALERT) neither can you! And, to quote a family friend I talked to this week, getting older is far better than being dead.

There is also a lot that I like/love about being thirty-seven:

• I am married to the perfect man for me, and not do I only love him, I like him.
• My kids are the funnest! age! ever! We’re in the eye of the storm between toddler tantrums and teenage angst and it really is the best stage (so far).
• I think that I’m a pretty great Mom. I’m not perfect, no, but I’m comfortable and confident and think that I have these three (and they have me) for a reason.
• I take good care of my body. I spent almost twenty-five years not knowing how to eat healthy or exercise. I attend boot camp, I run, I do crazy workout DVDs, I SKI. I also eat more protein and vegetables and less pasta and rice than I did fifteen years ago.
• I know what clothes look good on me (v-neck tops, A-line skirts, dresses) and what clothes don’t (turtlenecks, skinny jeans). I’m also not afraid to try a new style and possibly even like it on me.
• We live in a home that we love, in a community we adore, with the best friends and a great church family. I couldn’t imagine being any happier living any place else.
• I have a good sense of where I came from and a pretty good idea of where I’m going.
• I know who is worth my time, and who is not.
• I know what makes me content creatively, and I know what things I want to try next.

I feel really good in this space I’m in — you know, aside from the sagging skin, grey hair and face crevasses — and above all of that, I think this is going to be a great year for not only me, but for my family. I’m happy. Really happy. Which is good, considering it’s my birthday.

(I probably should have done this on the 31st or something, but Sunday was the first day we were home other than to eat/sleep/clean up, so there you go.)

1. What did you do in 2011 that you’d never done before?

Liked winter! Seriously. Those of you have been around for awhile know that winter has always been a very “down” season for me and that the undercurrent of melancholy starts in the fall because WINTER IS COMING. (DUN DUN DUNNNNN) I still felt a little “off” this fall, but the excitement about taking up skiing as a family carried me through. I wrote about our first two days of lessons last week, and the week just got better. Oh, you guys. I get teary with pride as I remember watching my three follow their instructor all the way down the ski hill. Twice. And then we did a run together as a family after their last lesson on Friday and they blew me away. They’re such great little skiers and they are so excited about it.

2. Did you keep your new year’s resolutions, and will you make more for next year?

I’ve never been one to make resolutions, but please don’t take that as a knock if you do so. I just find that they don’t work for me. I try to be a good wife and Mom, a good friend, a good worker, etc. I love big and I back it up with actions. I try to keep learning and growing because the day that I stop that is the day life stops being fun.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?

A few friends here in town did, which means that I have had opportunity to use my mad Monica-esque baby swooshing technique.

4. Did anyone close to you die?

Nope. *Knocks on wood and prays that holds true for this year too*

5. What countries did you visit?

The good old U.S. of A! We went to Disneyland in January, we went to Portland/Cannon Beach in July, and I went to San Diego for BlogHer in August.

6. What would you like to have in 2012 that you lacked in 2011?

Peace about my job situation.

7. What dates from 2011 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?

Emily’s first day of school and her first lost tooth (My BAYBEE), various moments from our two family trips we took because they were so great, the firmly-implanted memory of my three little ducklings following their ski instructor while doing S turns down the hill.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?

I ran a 10K! I plan to do more this year, as well.

9. What was your biggest failure?

Not keeping in touch with friends enough. I must remedy that.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?

Nope. Though my knees are yelling at me about all of the skiing I did last week.

11. What was the best thing you bought?

My iPad. Seriously – I use it all the time for so many different things.

12. Where did most of your money go?

Mortgage, groceries, vacations.

13. What did you get really excited about?

Skiing (obviously), running the 10K, my three trips (I have a travel bug).

14. What song will always remind you of 2011?

There are a couple of NEEDTOBREATHE songs that carried me through.

15. Compared to this time last year, are you:

– happier or sadder? Happier.
– thinner or fatter? Thinner (see last week’s post).
– richer or poorer? Richer, financially, thanks to freelance work of mine and some unexpected lumber work for Matthew.

16. What do you wish you’d done more of?

Spent time with girlfriends.

17. What do you wish you’d done less of?

Picking myself (and my body) apart.

18. How did you spend Christmas?

Christmas morning was presents and service, the afternoon/evening was the big turkey dinner at our house with grandparents, aunts and uncles, and cousins.

19. What was your favorite TV program?

Community, Modern Family, The Late, Late Show with Craig Ferguson (Matthew and I both have a crush on him)

20. What were your favorite books of the year?

The Forgotten Garden, The Hunger Games Trilogy, The Gargoyle, Room. (Room haunts me, months later.)

21. What was your favorite music from this year?

NEEDTOBREATHE. I have all four of their albums on constant repeat. They were the last concert we went to, and we’ll be headed to Vancouver this coming March to see them again. They RULE. \m/

22. What were your favorite films of the year?

Rise of the Planet of the Apes, Bridesmaids, Transformers 3 (shut up)

23. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?

Went out for dinner with our three closest friends (couples) and had a nice dinner. I turned 36 and will be 37 in 18 days, for those of you who want to shower me with presents. (Kidding. Maybe.)

24. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?

Being able to work from home.

25. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2011?

I don’t know? Though I do love dresses and can’t stop buying them. I bought four (FOUR) while in San Diego and bought that red one last week. It’s a weakness.

26. What kept you sane?

Matthew and the kids, friends who can listen when need be and can also make you laugh hysterically, a great church family, you guys.

27. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2011.

Listen to your gut – it’s always right. Don’t just dream, do. Forgiveness isn’t about the other person, it’s about freeing yourself from the hurt’s hold on you. Take time to sit with your kids and just talk to them – you’ll be surprised what you learn.

Happy New Year, friends!

2003

(I apparently thought eyebrows were overrated.)

2004

(Graham and Nathan-bean.)(Now with even less eyebrows!)

2005

(They were so WEE.)

2006

(Emily was so tiny! SO TINY.)

2007

(Little Miss Thumb Sucker was rocking her fierce pose. The dudes are slaying me.)

2008

(Wait. That was THREE YEARS AGO?)

2009

(Cannon Beach, Oregon. Photo courtesy of Kerri Anne.)

2010

I managed to grab a photo of the five of us that we all liked with less than ten tries.

I also took this one on Christmas Eve.

It’s in a frame in my office.

2011

We walked down to the bridge crossing the creek, I wielded my camera remote, and we came out with this one.

I love seeing the changes from year to year, and extra thankful for the four other members of my family unit. Happy holidays, folks.

Those of you long-timers may remember that I have always struggled with Winter. I’ve battled S.A.D. and two years ago had my hardest winter ever. Matthew told me last year that if I started to go that dark place again, that I should go see a doctor. I didn’t go to that dark place, and I don’t know if it was because of the vitamin D I took daily, or the occasional session in the tanning bed (don’t judge), or my five-six day workouts a week, or because I was back to a daily work schedule, or a combination of all of the above. Whatever magic happened, last winter was pretty bearable.

I came into this winter season full of hope that it would be the same as last year. Regular work and workout schedule? CHECK. Daily vitamin D? CHECK. Tanning bed sessions? Not yet. (DON’T JUDGE ME.) We have plans to take up skiing as a family and will be spending a number of days between Christmas and New Year’s Day taking lessons, barrel-rolling down the hill, and throwing ski poles in frustration. My boss has also offered up his cabin for us to use for a week in January so that we could get away (our fee: a flat of beer) and we are really looking forward to it. I am really looking forward to it. Fresh air and exercise and time away from the every day and, yeah. It’s going to be awesome.

I should be happy, right? I should be sing-songing and grinning and feeling light and happy.

The thing is, I’m not. I mean, I’m sing-songy because I CAN’T HELP IT and I can still crack the occasional joke and I still laugh at hilarious things my kids say. I’m just not feeling light and happy.

I mean, I am happy. I love my husband and my kids, but I have a lot of not-so-happy feelings. I often find myself with a heavy heart and a thundercloud around my head and an extra-surly mood because I should just be able to snap out of this already. Matthew has been struggling with the same feelings, which is not at all great, except that it’s kind of nice to have him really understand how I’m feeling. Misery loves company, etc.

December has been especially difficult with extraneous circumstances and that whole holiday season and all that it entails. We are burnt and frustrated and on the bright side, talking through it. Our plan is to take the holidays to spend time with the family. Skiing and sledding and running and swimming (indoors) and reading  and board-gaming and turkeying and doing what we love. If we’re not feeling better after all of that good, we will go talk to our family doctors/family friends and see what we can do, here.

I don’t feel like me, but I know I’m in there. I can’t wait to get me back.

Before we even started trying to get pregnant and have kids, Matthew and I would discuss the names that we wanted for our future children. If our first child was a boy, I wanted to name him Graham. My Step Mom was instrumental in my decision to become a Christian, her maiden name was Graham, and if I had not made that decision I would not be married to Matthew, so. It seemed perfect. He agreed.

If our first child was a girl, she would be named Naomi. We like traditional names and Naomi is both traditional and pretty, in our opinions.

As for that first child’s middle name, I share a middle name with my Mom and thought that I would share my middle name with my first daughter, should the opportunity arise. I suggested that our firstborn son share Matthew’s middle name, in keeping with that theme. He thought it was a great idea.

While waiting to see who came forth from our first full-term pregnancy, we would wither be meeting a Graham Jonathon or a Naomi Dian.

We met Graham Jonathon on December 29th, 2002.

During our second pregnancy, we struggled with boys’ names until the very end. We had our girl’s name lined up, but what were we going to call this baby should it be a boy? I suggested that the middle name be Matthew, so that if there were two boys, each boy would have one of his Dad’s names. Matthew’s response was a teary, “Really?” Yes, really. It was mere days before we had our next baby that we decided on a first name for a boy. We really liked Nathaniel but we (didn’t know if it was too long of a name, and) hate shortened names. We settled on Nathan.

Nathan Matthew was born on August 25th, 2004.

We had two babies, twenty months apart, and wondered if we might be done. Two kids so wee, with all of the feedings and diapers and naps and all of the insanity made us think that our first vision of Three Kids might be ridiculous. We knew it was not the time to take drastic actions and when Sir Nathan was around a year old I said that I thought that I might want to have one more baby. Just one more, boy or girl.

Matthew had been feeling the same way and so we embarked on a third pregnancy.

We were back in the names discussion and decided that Naomi was off the table for a girl; it sounded too close to Nathan. (I still mourn the loss of the name. I love it so.) What first name would we use if we should have a girl? We loved Emily but it was the number one name in our province which meant…nothing. We loved it and we would use it. Amen.

As for the name if we were to have a third boy, our discussions/debates were never ending. Matthew’s siblings kept having boys, too, which meant that traditional names that we loved were being knocked out of the running. At the eleventh hour we decided that if this baby were a boy, he would be named David Christopher.

Emily Dian was born on October 11th, 2006.

Names are important to me; this is obvious. I do not like to shorten names, except in certain circumstances. Graham is Graham. Nathan is Nathan. Emily is Emily. Matthew is Matthew (except at the church, where he is Mr. Matt). My name is Angella, Ange if you are a friend of mine, Angie if you have a death wish.

While thinking about this yesterday, I came to a startling realization. I know where my middle name comes from but I have no idea why my name has two L’s. I love it, it is me and it is the perfect fit. I cannot imagine going by any other name. I now need to find out how my name came to be.

During the opening keynote that Catherine hosted at BlissDom Canada (There were more A@@hole references than you might expect, but they were kind of awesome. And completely appropriate). She threw out a bunch of prompts and I wrote some responses in my Notes App and then forgot all about it. That is, until Miss Loukia posted her list of fives. I’m going to be a lemming and post my fives. I posted a bunch of ‘fives’ meme posts back in the day but (the writing is cringe-worthy, and) the majority of you are new to to this place. And me. Let’s kick it old school and  get acquainted.

Five things you don’t know about me:

I have eight siblings. Yes, eight. We all share the same Dad and range in age from 18-47. If you try to refer to any of them as “half” siblings, I will cut you. They are my brothers and sisters, Amen.

I skipped third grade. I spent the summer between second and fourth grade learning multiplication and cursive writing and after a short stint in a third/fourth grade split, the third-graders moved on and I was a fourth-grader. I also continued to attend “advanced”classes and did crazy things like taking grade eight and nine French class in one year. I was considered highly intelligent back in the day, is what I’m saying.

I had Pyloric Stenosis when I was a baby. I was a newborn and could send projectile vomit six feet or more, each time. A (misguided) family doctor told my parents that a bit of brandy would probably help. At three weeks of age I was rushed to Emergency and had a surgery that, if they’d waited even a few hours, would have been too late. I have a scar that runs from my belly button, up. Six inches or so. It reminds me every day that I must be here for a reason.

I had knee surgery at the age of twenty when I couldn’t walk up a flight of stairs without using the railing for support. My family doctor (was a jerk, and) didn’t believe me. We pushed and were sent t0 a specialist, who showed that my right kneecap was misaligned – patellofemoral syndrome. One day-surgery and some physio therapy later, I could not only walk without pain, I could run.

I am a hand talker. This is something that I became informed about a good four or five years ago when I was doing a “five things about me” post and I asked Matthew what I should add. He informed me that I am a hand-talker and I had no idea what he was talking about. My local friends chimed in to tell me that he was telling the truth and I guess that maybe they’re right? I have no idea that I’m doing it but a few (or many) knocked over drinks and/or photo/videos of me makes me think that there may be some truth to this. Maybe.

Five things I am knowledgeable about:

My kids. I know how they work, I know their love languages, I know how amazing they are. I have no idea how to parent anybody else’s kids, but I know how to parent mine.

Accounting. I have Really Important Initials after my name because I wrote a four-day exam, and passed.

Hockey. I don’t give a rip about players’ stats but get me watching a live game or a playoff game on the teevee and I am VOCAL and OPINIONATED and INVESTED IN MY TEAM.

Cooking/baking. I fumbled my way through keeping myself fed when I first moved out on my own and got to move from following recipes to the letter to winging it and having a whole lot of fun with cooking over these past eleven years of marriage. I like to cook, he likes to eat. It’s a good partnership.

Photography. I can pick up my camera and get the shot that I want, 97% of the time. It took a lot of practice to get here, but here I am.

Five things I know nothing about:

Christianity. I have been a Christian for 23 years (!). I’ve attended Bible school and Home Groups and hashed out a lot of stuff with friends whom I trust. I fail, often, but that’s where forgiveness comes into play. I feel like I have only scratched the surface.

Accounting. I switched fields two years ago and have spent a lot of time floundering. WHY DO THEY KEEP CHANGING THE RULES?

Football. Dudes run around, and when they do something magical, there is a lot of bum-patting. It’s kind of like marriage, but even more confusing.

Cooking/baking. I have so much more that I want/need to learn. Like making a pie. I have never made a pie and need to do so.

Photography. I know that I do not suck, but I am not awesome. I want to be awesome.

Five things I believe:

God is who He says He is. As is Jesus. Not the North American depiction of Him, but the loving God of the Bible. Read it. You’ll see what I mean.

The Okanagan is the best place to live in all of Canada. Crazy hot summers, mild winters, only a few days of rain a year, and vineyards as far as the eye can see.

Ice-water is the only way to drink water. People who drink room-temperature water are not to be trusted.

Salsa belongs on eggs. My husband mocks me for doing so but I put salsa on almost everything, including eggs. Because WHY WOULDN’T YOU?

Matthew is the perfect husband for me. He is not perfect, no, and I am not perfect, AT ALL, but we are perfect together. I thank God for Matthew every day, because how could I not?

There you have it. Did you learn anything new about me? Do you want to chime in with answers of your own?

I wrote them back and said that my daughter hasn’t struggled with those “fat” feelings. Yet. I know that they are coming down the pipe because we live in a culture that is obsessed with weight (and lack thereof) and I am a girl myself. Thankfully, my daughter is currently oblivious to the husky build that she inherited from me. They still wanted to interview me, and they did, and I’ve been simmering on that conversation ever since. Because it wasn’t really about my daughter; it was about me.

I was a “big girl” growing up. Not obese, no, but my thighs rubbed together and I could easily be described as ‘thick.’ I am predisposed to be that way. My Doctor(s) have always assured me that I really do have a large frame: thick bones, wide shoulders and hips, big feet. I never have, and never will be, described as wee or dainty or petite. My European (mostly Irish) heritage has made it so. My “thicker” years were not due to junk/fast food but due to not having enough vegetables or knowing what portion sizes meant and thinking that a heaping plate of rice/pasta was “healthy.”

I learned healthy eating, I took up exercising and while I’ve had lapses where the flu knocked off a bunch of weight and I kept it off my eating a limited diet (FOR OVER A YEAR EACH TIME), I do what the health articles tell you to do. I run three days a week (4-6K) and I attend an intense Boot Camp two days a week and I usually do a workout DVD one other day of the week. I take a day off. Usually.

I also eat well. Some kind of protein for breakfast (usually eggs), an apple for a morning snack, a lunch of lean protein and veggies (tortilla soup, leftover chicken and veggies), some cut veggies for my afternoon snack, a dinner of some more protein and vegetables. Lather, rinse, repeat. Except for Friday night “cheat night” which is ALL ABOUT THE NACHOS.

And yet (AND YET) it’s not enough. I size up everything that goes into my mouth and wonder if it’s “worth it”, calorie wise. I will absentmindedly pinch my waist throughout the day to see if it feels acceptable. I will pat my left butt cheek to see if there is “lift.” If the indent is there, then I know I’m OK. I will stand in the mirror while wearing my bra and underwear and notice every single flaw.

I don’t have any stretch marks (I KNOW) but I have thick thighs and a stomach that is not (and has never been, nor ever will be) flat. I have an arse that is riddled with cellulite. I have a self-image that is riddled with past versions of myself.

It is so easy to pick out all of my flaws, and I do, but I’ve also been learning to own what I’ve been doing for and to my body. I have nights where I will don a fitted dress and feel like I look good. My delts are defined, my calves are toned, my mid-section is smoothed out by some sweet shape wear.

But then I’ll be complimented (and “liked” on social media platforms) and spend a lot of time deflecting those compliments. Why can’t I just accept them and absorb them and help them balance the negative thoughts? I don’t know. I need to figure it out, and soon, because I have a girl and I need to teach her to own her beauty.

For she is the most beautiful little girl that the world e’er did see.