Tagged: children

Stop and Smell the Lilacs

Well, heyyyyy now! It’s been a minute since my last blog post! I actually shot these photos a couple of weeks ago (pre-haircut) and haven’t had time to write! 

Life has been a little busy lately… The academic year is wrapping up. The kids are doing exams. Little league and rugby have started up again; and just like that, the season for school concerts, ceremonies, and end of year festivities is upon us once more! 

Ahh, so much to do, so little time, and ooooh! It’s your third (and thank the Lord, last) recorder concert this year!? Why yes! I can’t wait!!! Because the recorder. Sounds. Awesome! *wince*

They’re my kids, I should love this sh*t, right!? But uuugh… I’m just so tired!!! And why do school gymnasiums seem to retain heat better than a cast iron skillet!? 
But anyway… As things wind down, sometimes you just have to take a moment to smell the roses, or in my case, the lilacs, and remember just how sweet life is, and how much we should appreciate the things we care about, and the ones we love, even when life gets chaotic!

  
Now I know y’all watched this resilient little tree behind me all winter, getting covered in snow, and then ice, then snow again. You watched it lose all of its leaves, and sprout new ones once more this spring, but I don’t think you’ve yet had the treat of seeing it in bloom! 

     

  

 It’s truly one of the most delightful visions – those gorgeous lilac blooms adorning what for most of the year, looks more like an overgrown weed, than anything else. 

  
I love how, for a few fleeting weeks in May, this otherwise very humble tree bursts to life, filling the air with its intixicating aroma, and enchanting mauve blossoms. 

  
It’s almost symbolic to me, because it goes to show that you just never really can tell what something, or who someone truly is until you’ve seen them flourishing in their element.

  
So, when I feel like there aren’t enough hours the day, days in the week, or enough time to attend yet another school play, party, or concert… I’ll let this lilac tree be a reminder of how much I love seeing the hard work my kids have done all year long in school. I love to see their faces lit up with pride as I witness what they’ve accomplished and put so much effort into, because ultimately, all they really want is to make me proud! 

As much as I complain, I hope they know just how honoured I am to have the privilege of being their mum, tobe able to one day, watch them blossom, much like that tree, into amazing young adults, and to know that these four wonderful people I created, will one day do amazing things!!! 

Dress, Addition Elle (old) – similar 

Leggings, Addition Elle – here

Shoes, Addition Elle (old) – love these

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The Undercut Cannot Be Undersold

The Undercut Cannot Be Undersold

So, according to a Huffington Post article I read this fall, the undercut is the haircut that all men should have; and after seeing the eye candy distributed throughout the article, I wholeheartedly agree.

That debonair, vintage, long on top, short on the bottom haircut was rebellious in the 90’s and is now a modern, 40’s inspired classic, and it has really gotten my attention; so much so, that I decided that it would be my youngest son’s first.

I can’t even. It’s so perfect. See for yourselves! Even my oldest son has decided this will be his next cut! (Pics to follow?)

Our Children, Reflections of Ourselves

Our Children, Reflections of Ourselves

What are we teaching our children when we call ourselves ugly? What are we showing them when we look in the mirror and criticize our imperfections? I had never given it much thought until I started noticing one of my own children putting herself down.

This is my daughter. She is almost 11 years old, gorgeous, a little bit chubby, and is already showing signs of low self esteem. She’s already starting to call herself fat; and not the “I am fat girl, hear me roar” kind of fat… But the “I am worthless because I have a pudgy belly and round hips” fat. I’ve always told her she was beautiful, told her she had value, told her not to listen to those who tried to bring her down; but what had I missed? The answer is, that I had overlooked probably the most important factor of all; myself.

My daughter LOVES clothes, just like me. She loves makeup, just like me. She loves shopping… I think you get the point. It’s obvious that I’ve influenced my daughter greatly. So why weren’t my words of encouragement working? Why was she using the word fat as an insult to her own body? The answer: Because that is what I had taught her.

All those times that I criticized myself in the mirror, sucked in my tummy, called myself disgusting; she was there. All those times that I refused to wear sleeveless tops because I said my arms were too flabby; she was there. All those times that I was depressed because I thought other women looked better than me; she was there… A silent observer, taking in every bit of what she saw.

When I finally realized the answer to my question, it was so simple. I felt like such a failure for having exposed my beautiful girl to all of the things I had tried so hard to save her from. I felt guilty. Through all of my efforts to boost her confidence, she had watched me destroying my own. Not only had I taught her the behavior, but I had also ruined any credibility my words of encouragement to her had had; for how could she take me seriously when I was being such a hypocrite?

The day I realized what I had been doing to her was the day I decided that I would stop letting my flaws define how I talked about myself. I would stop obsessing about what I wanted to change and start focusing on what I liked about my body.

I had already learned to love my face (oh, how many headshots my Facebook friends had been exposed to over the years; smiles, intense stares, and yes, even a few duckfaces). But more recently, because of my reality check, I learned to accept my body for what it was. I stopped wishing I had a flat tummy; I stopped saying ‘if only my ______ wasn’t so fat’. I started truly appreciating my curvy hips, my defined waist and my great legs, among other things. And it was funny, because oddly enough, I ended up liking more things about my body, than not. Through it all. my daughter continued to observe me; and she still does.

She now watches me as I look in the mirror admiring my curves instead of trying to cover them up. She sees me taking pictures of myself and she reads my blog (she is super proud of me, by the way). I have explained to her that I will never let the word FAT insult me or use it to insult myself again and that instead, I will use it with pride. Most of all, I have promised her that I will be a positive example from now on.

My hope is that the damage can be undone; that she learns to love her body the way I have. I pray that she realizes that she is beautiful; that she trusts me when I tell her so and that she never has to spend another moment believing that being fat means being worthless.

Baby girl, this one is for you!!! XOXO