Monday, November 9, 2015

Sometimes You Need a Little Glama.

Have I ever mentioned that I'm a "Glam-bassador"? That means that every once in a while, the girls get to go to a cool event at a Glama Gals Tween Spa, which in all it's sparkly pink splendour is one of Kee's very favourite places ever. As a place that caters to girls who are just entering that awkward phase where they're trying to figure out where they fit in the world, and focuses on encouraging them to be themselves, I'm pretty fond of it too.

Just last weekend, they got to go to the Newmarket location and experience the "My First Time at the Spa" package.

My girls were made to feel special from the minute they walked through the door. They traded in their coats and runners for robes and slippers, and were led to the back where, after a snack of cupcakes and pinkatinis, they each got to choose their own scent of foaming foot bath before their pedicures.

Pedicures done, polish applied, they moved over to the manicure bar to soak their hands and get their nails done. Kee chose her favourite classic sparkly pink, while Beege went for purple and green (with a solitary yellow nail), with sparkles over top of everything.

Then they finished it all up with a relaxing chocolate facial while listening to some calming music.

When I asked them what their favourite part of the experience had been, I got a very enthusiastic "everything!" in response.

My kids know how wonderful I think they are. I tell them that they're smart, and brave, and kind, and beautiful every chance I get. Now that they are older, and spend the bulk of their time out in the world, they're starting to get different messages. They are constantly being bombarded by the media, as well as their peers, with someone else's ideas of what they "should" look like, wear, and do.

I do my best to counteract it; I tell them that the only people who really need to like them are themselves, because that's the only person who will be with them forever, and that changing for anyone but themselves is a really good way to be unhappy. I also realise that no matter how true my words are, there will always be a niggling little doubt in their minds that I'm only saying these things because I'm their mum.

So it's nice to have some backup for my "be true to yourself" message from outside sources.

Especially cool, sparkly, pink ones.

This post is sponsored by Glama Gals Tween Spas, and my girls received some super fun spa services for the purposes of writing this article. As always, all opinions are entirely my own.

Wednesday, November 4, 2015

Dear Daughter,

You know I love you, right? I tell you that all the time. I tell you in words, and I tell you with my hugs, with bedtime snuggles, with my kisses on your scraped knees, and my holding your hand when we cross a street.

You may not recognise it, but I also tell you how much I love you when I nag you about eating your carrots, or make you take a bath. I tell you every time I force you to get in your bed when you'd rather be playing, or encourage you to clean up after yourself, or make you think about why what you've done has made your sister cry and whether you should apologise.

It may seem to you, at times, like I don't think you're good enough; like I'm always trying to "fix" you. I want you to know that I love you just the way you are.

I love your stubborn little pout, and the way you can be fiercely loyal to a pair of socks. I love that you express yourself through cartoons. I love the perseverance that makes you smuggle books into the bathroom after lights out to get in a few more minutes reading (even though I really wish you wouldn't, because you need your sleep). I love the way you cover me with Blankie when you know I'm not feeling well. I even love the way you throw your whole being into an argument when you think you're right (although I hope you will eventually learn to save your energy for the things that are actually important to you, instead of digging your heels in just for the sake of it).

When I am asking you to eat vegetables, have a bath, or go to bed, it's because I hope you will grow up strong and healthy. When I ask you to clean up after yourself, it's because I know how much smoother things will go when you don't have to spend half your time looking for things. When I ask you to consider your actions and your treatment of other people, it's because I want you to realise that you have an impact, and that all of these small choices you make determine what that impact is.

You may not know this, but there are days when I cry after putting you to bed. On bad days, when we've fought over every little thing, from pants to homework, or not leaving your backpack on the stairs, I feel like a failure. When our nighttime routine deteriorates into you yelling that you need your bed *this* way before you can possibly get in it, and me yelling at you to just get in your damn bed already, I'm not really angry at you, I'm angry at me. (Okay, I'm a little angry at you.)

I can only hope that you know so deep down how much I love you, that things like me yelling or not snuggling you after you've screamed in my face don't make you feel that I don't.

Let me assure you, while neither of us is angry and no one is upset, that I love you no matter what. It doesn't matter what path you end up taking, or where your life lands; I will always, always love you. Even when I'm mad.


Tuesday, November 3, 2015


Last year, I somehow managed to knock out 50,000 words and successfully "win" NaNoWriMo*. I was even pretty pleased with the characters and story I had created; although, as a true Pantser**, it was nothing like what I started out to write.

Then I did nothing. It's still sitting there, on a dusty USB drive, all alone and abandoned.

This year, I am once again going to give it a go. With one major difference; I'm going to keep going when it's over. I am going to actually edit the thing, and attempt to find a home for it. That's what authors do, I hear... write things and then attempt to have them published.

With that said, of course I haven't started yet.

But I'm on it. I just found a French Vanilla coffee that some lovely coffee fairy (yay for thoughtful husband type people!) left in the fridge for me, I've dug out my clunky old laptop, and today I begin. I've got a blank page, and three and a half empty hours in front of me.

Wish me luck!

*National Novel Writing Month. Interested? Check it out here! Maybe sign up to write your own novel!
**Pantser. n. colloq. One who begins without a premeditated plan. (One who writes "by the seat of one's pants").