My Achilles Tendon

is probably the only thing that is truly in shape on me. I am more aware of how and why I should be healthy than ever before. It's in my face when I am watching television, reading magazines or surfing the web. It is a topic of conversation at work and on the home front. Gone are the days when eating a slice of pie for dessert was normal. Now, as I cut and serve it, I feel guilty for even looking at it. I know it is possible to balance my meals and enjoy the odd treat but I am all in or complete abstinence. I have next to zero (ok I will be honest) I have zero will power. My hubby acts as my jiminy cricket. That knowing look, no not the sexy one, the other one when I am about to cram another handful of buttery popcorn into my face. He is able to reign me in.

Bringing My Sexy Back...so to speak

Being on the cusp of becoming a grandmother in a few short months has me totally reflecting on the past and how I felt and feel about myself as a woman. This is because my daughter, a beautiful 18-yr old, confessed to me that she was a little worried that her boyfriend wouldn't look at her the same way once she gives birth in June. In my head I was thinking that boy should be kissing the very earth my daughter walks on that she even gives him the time of day is a miracle, but I am a tad biased.

I was never a confident female. Totally hung up on alot of little things about myself. Felt I was too fat, felt my hair was never right, clothes all wrong...the typical thing a girl worries about. I look back at old photos and I realize, ok, I was no supermodel, but not hideous either. Nor was I fat. My husband was the first man to make me feel sexy. He had a way (and still does) to make me feel really great about my looks and my body. (Ok, if my kids are reading this they might want to stop at this point). I mean, we missed a week of college because we couldn't get out of bed, and believe me, neither of us had the flu. ;)



Then not too long after we shacked up, my oldest girl, the 21 yr-old, was on her way. And wow, did my body change. The hubby loved my curves, and some of those curves stayed post-partum. I was lucky that I lost all the birth weight the day my girl was born, but I had filled out as a woman. I no longer had a teen's body. It drove me nuts for a while because I had to change the fit of the clothes I wore, and these two things on my chest went from an A cup to a C cup. Man, were they in the way. But, two of his favourite things, nudge nudge, wink wink, know what I mean?

So years passed, two more children were born. And voila, I'm in my 40's. I have some work to do on this chassis but it's not that bad. We still are very "active" and we have our date nights. We do take advantage of those precious hours when our kids are out of the house and make the most of some intimate time together. Part of that could be the fact that during the last 9 months my hubby was working out of province on a 28/14 rotation and when he was home it was honeymoon time. But, well, I think we are just at the point, where the kids are home less, life is less busy, and there really isn't anything good on tv so we have the time to focus on the us in this relationship. It's fun getting to know my man again.

So, I'll slip into that lil number I got from La Senza, spray some of that special perfume on, and once he's finished getting through level 3 on Angry Birds...imma jump him. It's Sunday afternoon and we're all alone!

Fade to black....

All Moms North

The other day, there was a question over at Lovely Timmins on Facebook that asked, "What would you change about Timmins?" Boy, I thought, lots! I've always griped that this city is too far from the other half of the province known at Toronto..er, Southern Ontario. Because, we Northerners (and by Northerners I mean anyone living north of North Bay) know that Toronto, er, Southern Ontario is where it's all going on. Right?

For example. I teach Highland Dance and until recent years, my competitors had to travel 8 hrs south to attend competitions and highland games. That's changing a wee bit as Sudbury now has a highland games, which I help organize, and Timmins has a small competition (which I solely organize - call me nuts). So attending these great events throughout the province requires dance parents to take one day off work for travel, incur travelling expenses, and the uttering of hopes and prayers that their dancer places well to make the journey worthwhile. Those that undertake this mission are gold in my eyes. Especially when you know that they are giving up their own free time to support their dancer in their goals to win.

Then, of course there is the shopping. Timmins really doesn't have much of it. We have the usual box stores full of the generic. We have shopping envy. I once walked through Yorkdale and left nose imprints at the Louis store. The BCBG Max Azaria store took one look at the way I was dressed, closed the lights, shut the doors and hid behind the counter. I guess my "George" from Walmart identified me as a revenue risk. I've never seen so many well dressed people that weren't going to a wedding. That took shopping to a whole new level. Especially when I am guilty of the 10:00 p.m. run to Walmart in my pj's to get milk for the next day.

It seems that there are tonnes of events to go to in the deep "South" as well. We get the tv programming with the ads of this concert here, that musical there, so-and-so will be speaking at this location, and did you know they were displaying that thingamajig over at whatsitcalled? We do have events here. I just believe that they aren't supported enough. Timmins has a symphony, the Shania Twain Centre, dance exhibitions, concerts, and we even got the Trailer Park Boys and Alice Cooper to put on a show. Ok, so it does need some development. Which is one of the reasons I am getting more involved on a local level (a.k.a. The Great Canadian Kayak Challenge & Festival's event for Heart and Stroke). I am of the opinion if you don't like it do something to change it. There is the usual outdoors activities for all to participate in, like RibFest, use of local parks, skating, bowling, going to the cinema (or the "show" as it's known here), which makes Timmins just like any other community.

I love the fact that I am at work in under 10 minutes. A drive that takes me from a country/urban setting, into the "heart" of the city. A traffic jam is usually caused by a logging truck taking it's sweet ass time to navigate a left hand turn on Algonquin, and the longest wait for anything is at the line up at Timmies (Tim Horton's). I can walk into any store and am pretty much guaranteed to know someone who either works there, or is shopping there. And, I still get excited when someone says, "Roadtrip - let's go to T.O.!"

I am happy that I have raised our three children in the North. I am not knocking anywhere else. I just feel that there is a different "flavour" to the education system up here. It's one that is respectful of First Nations when students are pulled for the hunt in the fall. Or understands that some kids will be absent for a hockey tournament. It's easy to establish a relationship with the teachers and staff because the "small-town" atmosphere. We are pretty lucky that way. There's no gangs here, not to say the area doesn't have it's share of drug issues, but you know who's doing what and who to avoid.

What would I change? Lots. Will I be part of the change equation? As much as my family will let me. And that change does start on the home front. Hmmm thinking we should check out the STC over March Break...I wonder what pair of Shania's shoes are on display this month?

Why it's my bubble

Don't burst my bubble, leave me in my bubble, hate to burst your bubble. Sayings you will hear me say. Yes, cliché, but those were the first phrases that enabled me to set a protective perimeter around my hopes, dreams, views, and physical self. In retrospect, I find it troubling that I found the need to build an imaginary bubble to set a barrier from outside "harm". It may be a reach back to my own childhood where, when things didn't go right (more about that later) I would retreat into my own imagination. Then as a teen, (love those awkward memories), I would use the physical defense of clutching my binder to my chest as I walked through the hallways in highschools, with my head bent to the left shoulder. (Vivid memory of my cousin "Dougie" asking me why I did that) and then oh the struggle to not do that subconsiously. As a young adult, it was eye contact. I felt I couldn't look at anyone (other than my hubby). I felt scrutinized and was so uncomfortable as a young, unwed mother. (Thank goodness hitting my 30's wiped that out for me.)

But I never needed "My Bubble" more than when my daughters entered their glorious teen years. I was jealous of my mother at that time. The tales my brothers would relate about their exploits along the Scarborough bluffs, late night escapades and such and how it was kept from my mother protected her from worry. That was not the case for me.

Having tried to follow society's "Talk with your children" lead has lead me to no end of sleepless nights...because, dagnabbit they talked back. They felt safe with the parental us to relate who their friends were, where they were going, and most times what they were doing. One child in particular has shared, in her words, just about everything. Erego, I dye my hair to reverse the grayed effect. (Thank you Gilles )

Now the two young adult ones giggle as they reveal piece by piece something that scandalizes me. I cry out "Bubble, keep me in my bubble!" But alas, to no avail. As of late, both girls are on difficult paths. I want to build them their own bubbles to envelope them from the outside world. Ivory towers, impassable moats, chain-linked electrified fences. That may be going a tad far, but they (although 21 and 18) are MY babies and I would fight, tear apart, and nuke anyone who intended them harm.

So my blog era is called My Bubble. It is the place I am hammering it down, figuring it out, playing around with it, and taking a stab at it. There is a possibility for great things here, once I figure it out. If you are taking this journey with me, hang on hunny, it's going to be wild, boring, and at times just plan odd. If you know me personally, you would expect nothing less. So step inside my bubble, there's plenty of room.

Why I chose to call it Bubble

Raising and loving my three little soon to be adults has been the most rewarding challenge of my life. I thought that incorporating traits from my mother Florence, Martha Stewart, Erma Bombeck, and Patty from TVO into one persona that I could don the role of "Supermom". Reality

Then out of the blue...

There it was. Confirmation I am going to be a grandmother. What the hell? I have this parenting thing barely down and now there's another generation on the way. In no way is this fair to me. I was just cottoning to the idea of being a MILF, and now I have to contemplate purchasing a rocking chair and learning to knit. Ya. No.

Don't get me wrong. I love babies. I had three of them (not all at once mind you and thank the Good Lord for that blessing) and I wouldn't trade them for all the stars in the sky. But when I take a look at my beautiful 18 year old daughter, with her gorgeous baby belly looming around the corner, I am freaked out and worried. I remember all too well at the tender age of 19, how scared, broke, and pregnant I was. Sure I had my Grade 12 Diploma behind me, but had absolutely no clue what was in front of me. And so began the 2o year climb up a mountain called parenting.

I still remember my boyfriend's face (currently my husband of 20 years - no way was he going to get off that easy) when I told him "we" were expecting. First words out of his mouth were, "Do you want to get married?" It took me all of 30 seconds to think on it and I answered with, "No. I am going to be a Mom, and I'm not sure if I'm ready to be a wife." I mean, we had just moved in together a few months prior (our meeting is a story for another time), and I was still in the honeymoon phase of folding his laundry. (I know, sick right?) So we put off matriomonial bliss for a couple of years. Hey, I had to know if he could hand teething and tantrums first. His learning curve was going to be just as big as mine.

So I have three months left to figure this "Granny" thing out. I mean, I still want to ground the little bugger for forcing this title on me way before my time. But, then, I think that this whole MILF to GILF situation is kind of bringing my daughter and I together in a way I never thought possible. Our path has not been an easy one. It's been quite messy with loads of mistakes on both parts. I still want to ream her out for leaving food laying around, or the lights on, and am constantly wanting to grill her on her PACE progress...and then I sit back, breathe, and I remember, payback is coming...in three months. I am in love with this baby, and he/she isn't even here yet.