Our aqua lounge chairs in our kitchen play area helped inspire the aqua, yellow and hot pink color scheme.

Paper banner garland on the fireplace, handmade. Construction paper, 2″ hole punch, yarn and alphabet stickers from Michael’s.

Polka-dot garland, handmade. Flower vase, upcycled wine gift box. Decorating on a budget isn’t all that hard when you’re arts-and-craftsy.

Placemats with a printed round label became Beatles records, complete with song titles and personalized with Happy Birthday Clara.

A friend that will make you Twinkie submarines (complete with periscope) and organic cup cakes for your kid’s birthday can not be described adequately.

(I get by with a little help from my friends).

Gin martini with raspberry and lemon wedge garnish. I stay up late at night thinking about these things.

Strawberry Fields (Rainbow fruit skewers).

Sgt. Pepper-oni Lonely Hearts (Heart-shaped mini pizzas with heart shaped pepperoni.) I’ve got an incredible father-in-law that humors me without complaint.

And we discovered that Clara loves hard-boiled eggs. Bonus.

Individual veggie cups (AKA Octopus’s Garden) with ranch dressing at the bottom discourages double dipping.

Cheese flower, hearts and butterfly cut-outs. Easy to do with thin sliced cheese and miniature cookie-cutters.

The birthday girl. (Dress, Children’s Place).

It’s all for her. All of it. Every bit of single hole punched piece of confetti and late nights glue-sticking and texts back and forth with Deb as we schemed and the twice weekly trips to Michael’s. All of it is for her and I’ll do it again, each and every year and if she looks back at the photos some day and echoes, as her father has said, repeatedly in the past few days, that I’m crazy, I’ll agree.

But I did it all because I could. And because she’s worth it.

And I love her.

Here’s a peek at what’s in store:

I definitely do agree.

Just like there’s something awesome about pink workout clothes and hot pink weight lifting gloves.

I’m addicted to Pinterest lately, and pinning like a fiend. Boys, food, travel, clothes, cocktails, interior design, kid activities are mostly what I’m drawn to but I also love the clever, and funny, sayings that I tag as Witticisms. Like these:

The Monica in me is in her element this week, 4 days until Clara’s party. I’m having too much fun with my glue stick and card stock:

One of my favorite boards on my Pinterest profile is my I Love Bacon Board. Because I do.

And stuff like this is just really true:

Did I mention the boys?

Seriously. Why tweet when you can pin? You can follow me here.

Clara loved the chance to be outdoors, as did I and I’m longing for the upcoming months when an afternoon walk after our nap will be routine. I’m already working out a schedule in my head for a new work out routine that incorporates early morning runs before Tay starts work and then just an hour at the gym (Monday, Wednesday: Body Pump, Tuesday, Thursday: Body Flow, Friday: Spinning) instead of my usual two so that Clara and I can get more time outside in the late morning.

I can’t wait; as mild as this winter’s been, various illnesses has kept us inside far too much.

I’m trying to be grateful more for the simple pleasures in life – today’s unseasonably warm weather was a refreshing and very welcome change.

And I’m grateful.

We’re big Beatles fans around here, Clara included and so it was a bit of a no brainer to do a Beatles theme. I’d share some of the plans for the party but I’d rather wait and post photos of the party – I will say though that my friend Deb is involved and if her parties are any indication, then this party will be lots of fun (there’s going to be yellow submarine Twinkies).

A string of illnesses has kept me away from the gym for most of the month – both Clara and myself have been sick) but I did get out a couple of times with different friends to different restaurants.

How much do I love being able to text my sister for advice when getting dressed? Like what earrings to wear:

Ignore the teenage acne in the first photo, I spent the week drinking a detox tea made with dandelion root, lemon and cranberry and it flushed A LOT of toxins out through my skin. And, if you’re wondering, I agreed with my sister and wore the dangly shimmery ones (my favorite) when I’m not wearing my crystal studs.

We also discussed my belt:

That night was the only time this month I grabbed a photo of what I wore:

I went out another night for my monthly book club and since we were meeting in the Distillery District and my FIL was around to watch Clara, I beat the traffic and drove down early to meet a friend for a late lunch/early dinner. We followed up dinner with a stop at Soma for some chocolate then a pleasant walk along the cobblestones where I enjoyed being a bit tipsy from drinking beer in a pub all afternoon (while eating poutine).

Clara got a new hat from one of the girls in bookclub, and I began, undid and started again on knitting a blanket for her room (which I’m taking a break from so I can make (another) scarf.

We also did some arts and crafts and we baked.

And I made a whole bunch of natural house cleaners a few weeks ago – and recruited Clara to help me clean.

It was awesome.

I drank my first martini in a very long time – it was a blue devil something and it tasted like candy.

And Clara? She discovered that running around naked wearing the flower crown from her Halloween costume was tons of fun. Especially when she waved her magic wand.

And that? That was January.

Oh I almost forgot. We also slept. A lot. Not that we need a reason, but we were sick. A lot. And tired. So we slept.

A lot.

I’ve been avoiding downtown since the start of the Fluevog annual winter sale because I know how easy it would be for me to walk into their Queen Street store and walk out with three pairs of shoes. Because last year, I bought my first pair in December at full price then went back for the winter sale and bought three more pairs.

And if I went, it’d be too easy to buy these:

I tried them on last spring and was tempted to pay full price for them. Seriously tempted. Because doesn’t everyone want a pair of shoes that are a gorgeous cross between green and blue? John calls that color Petrol. I call it luscious. And now they’re like $3000 off and they could be mine.

But so could these:

Because really, I’m a super-hero on the inside. Forget that they’re extremely impractical and really what would I wear them with? A mini-skirt for starters. Don’t lie, you so know I would.

Or these:

Because as it was pointed out to me a couple of weeks ago, I like wearing shoes that make me insanely tall. And these bad girls with their 5″ heel would only make me 6′. Because, as my husband pointed out the other night when we went out for dinner and I wore a dress, tights and a pair of Fluevog boots, I just have to be the tallest person when we all go out. Not really, but good thing it doesn’t really bother him or anything because if it did and he wanted me to wear lower shoes, I’m not sure I could do that. I’m not *that* wife or was ever *that* girlfriend.

Most people think I’m crazy for the money I’ve spent on my small Fluevog collection. And it IS small. There are people online that have twice as many pairs. Or three times as many. Or something totally ridiculous like 40 pairs.

(I’m jealous).

There’s other people that would think I’m crazy on the amount of many I’ve spent on my workout clothes. Specifically my Lulu Lemon gear. And they’re not wrong either. $100 for a pair of yoga pants IS ridiculous (I have two pairs). $50 for a tank top is insane, and I have…7 6, losing a lovely white one to a red Gatorade mishap in my gym bag. 2 pairs of shorts ($50 each), ridiculous. And 3 yoga jackets, 1 of which I’ve lost, at $100 each, and it’s yes, a bit much. Because that’s $1000 in workout clothes.

Clothes I sweat in.

Insane.

Because here’s the thing. The majority of people going to the gym are going so we can lose weight. If you’re one of those people (like me) then why the hell are we spending hundreds of dollars on clothes we’re hoping won’t fit us in a few months?

Which is why, when I’ve recently needed new running pants in a smaller size I absolutely refused to buy more Lulu Lemon (plus I can’t afford it). So I’ve been wearing those crazy capris in the middle of winter and freezing my man-calves off. Because they were $5.

So the other day I said I needed LONG pants. And then Tay found a $10 off coupon for Joe active wear, as long as I spent $30. And that’s a crazy good deal. That’s a third off, which is awesome. So off I went, with my grateful, cold man-calves to buy some long pants. And guess what I did, because I have no scruples and I cheat the system when I can? I found a couple of those $10 coupons on the coupon board and then guess what this thrifty girl did? I managed to do three seperate purchases, at different checkouts and I used all three coupons. I’m an evil, horrible person, this is true.

But I have to show off what I got for $90, taxes in.

One pink, one black. $19 each regular, on sale for 2 for $15. $7.50 is practically free when a coffee and a cookie costs the same at Starbucks.

Same deal, 2 for $15 and cheap enough that I could ignore that the purple one is a wee bit small. It won’t be in 17lbs 15.5lbs.

These are awesome because they’re fitted up top, loose at the bottom but with a drawstring which is convenient. And you can wear a regular bra under it, plus it has a built in bra. Guess the best part though?

2 for $15

Then this cute combo that was on sale and in a bright feisty orange cause I like getting noticed at the gym. Both on sale – pants, $15 and yoga tank, $8.

And in gray, because $23 for the outfit? That’s half a pair of Lulu Lemon shorts.

And the only thing I paid the regular price for, a pair of calypso (?) pants that make my ass look delectable and after using my 3 coupons they work out to -$6. A total bargain!

6 tank tops at $7.50 each: $45
2 tank tops at $8 each: $16
$61 total
(1 Lulu tank: $45)

2 pairs of yoga pants at $15 each
1 pair of calypso (?) pants at $24 each
$39 total
(1 Lulu pants: $100)

$100 total MINUS $30; $70 plus tax.

Holy moly, I love a good deal.

I recently got sucked into Pinterest, and the other day, I pinned this photo and caption:

A resolution that the anti-resolutionists should consider making.

I always have to shake my head every January at the anti-resolutionists that vehemently declare that they will not be joining the rest of the world that are making resolutions, mostly due to them being a “waste of time”. Or, because they don’t see point in making resolutions that they know they won’t keep. I also love how critical, or condescending, or dismissive they can be of those that do choose to make resolutions and improve their lives.

Even if the ones that do, fail, or it’s a waste of their time. At least they try.

As someone who has recently come to realize how much my fear of failure is keeping me from accomplishments that are perhaps easily within my reach, you’d think I’d run screaming the other way when the New Year rolled around and the task of making resolutions loomed. My fear of failing should technically make me one of the anti-resolutionists.

But what I’ve discovered, in recent years, that I think a lot of people have yet come to realize, is that the secret to making resolutions is to focus on achievable resolutions that you can actually, well, achieve.

I don’t ever resolve that I’m going to lose xxlbs by xx date. I resolve to eat better and exercise more.

I don’t ever resolve to sell or publish the book I wrote, I resolve to edit my book.

I don’t set myself up to fail, I set myself up to succeed, and usually, I do.

I checked my resolutions for last year to see which ones I actually followed through on, and I wasn’t really disappointed.

They were:

1. Edit my book

It’s a work in progress, still, but I did edit. Just not as much as I would have liked.

2. Wear better shoes

When I’m not in my running shoes, I’m likely in a pair of Fluevogs. And my feet are thanking me for it.

3. Eat only what I’d be comfortable letting Clara eat
Using this rule of thumb, I’ll often share with Clara whatever I’m having for a meal or snacking on. Because of this, she eats a wide variety of foods that I’d think are remarkable for a toddler.

Mango salad.

Thai curry.

Indian Curry.

And not really surprising, other than the fact it’s soup, turkey soup.

She also eats things like proscuitto, tabouleh, risotto, rainbow trout and salmon, aged cheddars, trail mixes, all pastas. When I get greek food for take out, she prefers pork souvlaki over chicken, likes rice over roast potatoes. She goes nuts for tofu when I order a favorite thai vegetarian dish, and coconut soup. She loves raw vegetables, especially with yogurt ranch dip. If the fridge is open and she can choose a snack (Nosh), she often askes for an apple. Or a piece of cheese. If the cupboard is open, she wants sunflower seeds or dried cranberries. I’m certainly not perfect though, and she’s developed a fondness for french fries (especially Swiss Chalet), and chocolate, and Doritoes. Goldfish crackers. She loves M&Ms and Smarties, but doesn’t really care for pizza. Though neither do I, unless it’s homemade.

She still hasn’t had McDonald’s, or Burger King or Wendy’s. It will happen some day, I’m sure, but as long as we can avoid it, we do. She has never had soda, will not get coca-cola for many, many years.

4. Talk to my family more

My mother, in the past year, has started using email and facebook which helps us keep in touch. I’ve been making an effort to call my mother more, and I think I have, especially when I’m in the car going somewhere with Clara and I can press a button on my steering wheel and call my Mom. My father texts often from the road, I continue to text and facebook and communicate to my sisters through their blogs. It’s probably still not as much as I should be doing, but it’s definitely more

5. Get outdoors

One of my favorite posts from last year was My Many Colored Days. Clara and I get outside A LOT when the weather cooperates. In fact, I’m constantly monitoring the weather so that an opportunity to get outside doesn’t pass us by.

6. Run 10k (at least)

I was up to about 11km last June and then the hot weather set in and I didn’t want to run outdoors. And I discovered spinning. But none of that matters, because I still ran 10km.

7. Take more (better) photos

It hasn’t been hard, with such attractive subjects.

8. Sleep better

I’ve been napping with Clara in the afternoon and, surprisingly, sleeping better at night as a result. Never underestimate the power of quality sleep.

9. Moisturize
I’ve been using Aveda Green Science as my skin care regiment, using Eucerin lotion on my body, Aveda Hand Relief on my hands and my skin? It’s never looked better. Seriously.

10. Think first, act/speak second

I’m trying, really hard, despite sometimes offending the few remaining people that still read my blog – recently and in the past. Believe it or not, I give serious thought to the things I post, trying my hardest to think first, act/speak second.

And my resolutions for 2012, since I was so successful in 2011?

More of last years, but some new ones?

1) Drink less pop (I haven’t had a coke since the start of the new year, and only drank ginger ale the day I had the flu a couple of weeks ago).

2) Run more (I’ve already signed up for the Sporting Life 10km in May)

3) Eat more salad (I’m trying to eat a salad daily, either at lunch or dinner)

4) Eat more fruit

5) Read more (The Kindle I got more Christmas is making this happen)

6) Learn to (finally) use my camera (I’m signing up for a photography SLR class next month)

7) Teach Clara new things, to share, to be kind

9) Ask for help when I need it

10) Let my hair down more often (literally and figuratively)

It’s a new year. And while I’m not resolving to become a new me, I am resolving to make the most of the year, and to do the best I can. It’s a new year. A fresh start. At the very least, resolve to be happy, because it’s good for your health.

A friend emailed me, instead of commenting which further made me think. They’re an advocate of being big as long as you feel good about yourself. And as long as your healthy, they added.

My reply, and I hope she doesn’t mind me saying this, was, “Just look at my sister, who’s lost 70lbs and has gone from xxx down to xxx. You could never ever ever convince her today that she was healthy when she was at her heaviest. But tell her that a year ago? Yeah, she’d want to believe you because it made her feel better.”

I’ve been thinking about what I’ll do if some day, Clara is one of those girls with a big mid-section and wants to leave the house in tiny tops and pants that are too small. Would I really tell her that she’s too big to dress like that, that she doesn’t look good, that what she has isn’t what most people want to see? Could I so obviously and cruelly hurt her that way?

Of course not.

I have no idea what I’d say to her in that situation or how I’d handle that scenario. My only solution is to avoid it all together, to instill in her good, healthy eating habits, to teach her the importance of a healthy active life style. One of the reasons we go to the gym five mornings a week is so that Clara will grow up knowing that daily activity, daily exercise is essential to daily living. It’s not optional.

The other day, I was at a birthday party and a guy that I’m friends with on Facebook commented on how I was letting Clara eat from the bowls on the table -chocolate covered raisins and party mix. I responded that she doesn’t get that sort of thing all the time, and a party, at least to me, was a special occasion and warranted the treats. This surprised him, mostly because he thought, based on the photos I posted on Facebook that I was very strict about the food we eat at home. I laughed and admitted that I mostly only posted the good stuff, the healthy stuff I wanted people to see. He challenged me to post photos of the next crappy thing I ate and I hesitantly agreed that I would.

I’m not sure why I responded the way that I did, why I took away the credit that he was giving me for eating healthy wholesome foods. We occasionally do eat crappy food at home, but mostly in the form of snacks that are junk food and those, for the most part, are after Clara goes to bed. And they’re not often. But our meals? For the most part, they’re well thought out meals (I list our daily dinner menu on the fridge a week at a time) and a lot of time, the ingredients I use are either not processed (ie I make my own sauces) or it’s mostly organic.

It takes a lotof effort to eat well and a lot of effort to exercise daily. But it’s worth it to me, to ensure that Clara grows up as healthy as we can control and that she has healthy, active parents as her role models.

*Things I read today to help me validate yesterday’s post:

Obese Child Taken Away From Parents

“Anamarie Martinez-Regino, who is 120 pounds and 3 1/2 feet tall, was taken from her parents and put in state custody Aug. 25.

Doctors said Anamarie “will surely die” unless she uses a breathing machine when she sleeps, follows a special diet and exercises more — “something which the parents have not been able or willing to do,” a state court affidavit said.”

(She was 3 years old at the time).

Should extremely obese children be taken from parents?

“Childhood obesity, nonetheless, has become an alarming problem. Although most of the two million extremely obese children in the U.S. do not have life-threatening conditions, Dr. Ludwig told the AP some are in danger of dying by the age of 30 due to obesity-related health issues.
In one case, he said, a young girl who attended his clinic developed diabetes, cholesterol problems, high blood pressure and sleep apnea by the age of 12, and weighed 400 pounds. Her parents, who had little money and physical disabilities, were unable to control her weight.”

What I miss from 135 lbs ago

“I don’t miss thinking, “Someday they’ll see. I’m better than they know. One day…”

I don’t miss my stomach calling my brain to tell her I’d eaten enough and I just couldn’t (couldn’t!) eat another bite. She never answered.

I don’t miss the staring.

I don’t miss loading a gun with ‘fat’ and ‘pig’ and ‘whale’ and handing it to others to pull the trigger. They never heard mercy.

I don’t miss the excuses and the regrets and the feeling like I’d wasted precious years.

I don’t miss the tears.”

(Read all three parts).

Weight Loss Surgery: My Story

and, also by the same author:

The Word Pretty

“I’ve never considered myself to be pretty. I’m not sure that I would go as far as to say I was unattractive, but I just wouldn’t call myself pretty. Beauty queens are pretty. Cheerleaders are pretty. I was the awkward, chubby girl.”

And from my own blog, last year:

When you’re slowly gaining weight and buying clothes that are a bigger size, you’re MUCH bigger than you actually think you are.

“What happened to the girl that rode the train in her short plaid skirts, knee high boots, curly (red!) hair swept up in a messy updo?

She stopped caring. And got fat.”

My sisters both came up with solid, inspiring choices for their numbers. Jody picked 40, since that’s how old she’ll be a year from now and she’s mentally preparing to get used to that number. Stacy, who’s lost 70+lbs, picked 24 – her body fat percentage goal, an achievable one since she’s already down to 26.

I tried really hard to come up with just one number but so many of them kept popping into my head, some of them health and body related, others not. Play by the rules, the voice in my head nagged. Just one number. But you know what? I couldn’t, nor do I see why I should have too. Instead of one number, here are all my numbers, for 2012, and reminding me of my favorite movie quote from Erin Brokovich:

“How ’bout this for a number? Six. That’s how old my other daughter is, eight is the age of my son, two is how many times I’ve been married – and divorced; sixteen is the number of dollars I have in my bank account. 850-3943. That’s my phone number, and with all the numbers I gave you, I’m guessing zero is the number of times you’re gonna call it.”

Two: My daughter will be two next month and that number knocks me on my ass when I think about having a two-year-old most days. Mostly because I can still remember so clearly when she was so much less than two – when she was two months, or two weeks or even two days.

>

Two – more than one, as in should we have another? It’s a question on my mind a lot lately, and I said to a group of people the other night that the decision to have a second is so much harder than the decision to have the first. I envy those people that know without even thinking that they want at least two; I’m not one of those people. I absolutely see the advantages to giving your child a sibling, but I also see the disadvantages too. One of the women the other night said it pretty well, you have the first kid for yourself, you have the second for your child. I think that’s probably right, but I’m just not there yet.

Eight: It’s not about the numbers on the scale, or what size clothes we wear, I get that that’s how we’re supposed to feel but hearing stuff like that makes me uneasy.

Because so many Americans and Canadians are overweight, I think there’s this (potentially dangerous) movement in society to not just accept the obese but to embrace them. And overweight people are joining this movement and proclaiming they’re healthy – despite being 30, 40, 50 pounds overweight. Teenage girls wear tiny tops and too small pants, accentuating alarmingly large mid-sections because they’re being told there’s nothing wrong with them. It’s a self-defense mechanism overweight people are adopting to make themselves feel better about themselves.

I think it’s a lie.

I know that what I’ve just said is going to offend some people and I know saying that I want to be a size 8 again is going to be offensive as well, because I know that there are women out there who are larger than me that would be happy wearing my size 10 (or 12, depending on the day) jeans. And they’ll tell me there’s nothing wrong with me the size I am. But here’s the thing, at least from my perspective. I’ve been a bunch of different sizes, with a 6 being my smallest and a 16 being my largest. At no point has my doctor ever said that I wasn’t healthy or that I needed to lose weight. And my husband? He’s loved me regardless of what size clothes I wore. And other than an insensitive aunt who said, when I was at my heaviest years ago, that I wasn’t fat-fat-fat, no one in my family or any of my friends told me I needed to be smaller. So while I get that there’s nothing wrong with me being any of those sizes, I know that I feel better when I’m a smaller size. And not necessarily that I feel better about myself (although I do) but that I feel better. Happier, stronger, healthier. So I’m claiming the number 8, as a size, despite all the negative associations that might come with it.

Eight – also the number of years I’ll have been married this year. Eight years, certainly not all blissful and some harder than most, but eight years of learning a lot about myself as a person, including my strengthes and weaknesses, my flaws and imperfections and with it all? The realization that my husband not only loves me – but accepts me the way I am.

13.1 (x2) I’ve been less than motivated at the gym lately, with my workouts becoming stagnate. My father-in-law is here at the end of the week and staying for the next four and we’ll likely be hitting the gym together on a daily basis where not only will he kick my ass back into gear, but he’ll likely remotivate me to work stronger and harder. I still want to run another half-marathon, and (possibly/probably a full) but right now, that goal seems lofty, despite having done it before.

Seventeen: Seventeen pounds to the weight I want to be. And while a size 8 might be a more difficult accomplishment (I’ll likely wear size 8 jeans but my large chest will likely keep me out of a size 8 dress), I’ve been seventeen pounds less than what I weigh right now and it’s a good, healthy weight for me.

Seventeen is also the number of years that I’ve not only known my husband, but that I’ve also known his family – his father specifically but also his aunts who I’ve had the chance to get to know a bit over the years, but never as well as I’ve gotten to know them in the past two years since Clara was born. Seventeen years of building a relationship with people who were strangers when I met them, but are now as much a family to me as my own family.

These are my numbers, all of them, and I gladly embrace them all. And by recognizing them (the years), or aspiring to them (the size/scale or miles ran), the end result is the same: a happier, healthier me both mentally and physically.

2-8-13.2-17.