…to find my creative spirit. Because I’ve lost it somewhere and I really, really need it right now. I wonder if I killed it in the laundry room when I was doing the diaper laundry. I have already checked the kitchen, the couch, and my cup of coffee. I’ve checked our bedroom, but the kid is sleeping in there so I couldn’t look super hard.

Perhaps it’s in the bath. I’ll go have a looksie.

…go for a walk with Budsie every day, even if it’s raining or snowing lightly.

I feel just blech-y lately and I’m pretty sure it’s lack of exercise. This often happens to me in the winter because I’m not one of those die hard runners who can sprint out into the crisp -25°C weather, big smile on the face, wearing a leotard, goggles and funny cleats. How do these people breath with all that cold air? I don’t understand it.

I’m also not going to the gym because that’s a luxury I just cannot afford, time or money-wise. I used to love going to the gym. I was a 5am to 6am kind of gym girl, in part because it got the workout done with early but also because there was always a free cardio machine or set of weights at that ungodly hour. And I never had to wait for a shower or steam. Oh the days of corporate jobs and regular schedules. Sigh.

I need exercise or I go nutty. Clearly, though, I’m going to have to get more creative with what I do for exercise this winter. I need something exhilarating, something that gets the heart rate going but that can also be done avec baby. And I think a brisk stroller walk ought to do it. Plus it can’t be a bad idea for the little man to go for daily strolls. Shame it’s gross out – swings and such would be a good time for him I think. Stupid snow. You know, I never hated the winter before. Now it just grates my cheese.

…stop eating Kraft peanut butter. Why? Because I don’t think corn dextrin and hydrogenated vegetable oil should play that big a role in my breakfast. Ick.

I’ve never been a big fan of Kraft peanut butter, although for a time I was envious of other kids who got to have this instead of the “gross natural” stuff that was all separated (my mother was big into healthy, no nonsense eating, which meant that Kraft Dinner, fun peanut butter and sugary cereals rarely, if ever crossed the threshold of my childhood home). Generally speaking, I find the hydrogenated stuff too sugary. Sort of takes the place of jam. Except that I like jam (unless it’s strawberry which is just gross. I’m sorry but it is).

So when I moved out, the natural stuff by Bulk Barn was what I ate, later replaced by almond or other nut butters from Herb & Spice. But somehow, sometime during my pregnancy, I started eating the crappy stuff. I think it started with a sudden craving for peanut butter that could only be dealt with by picking up whatever peanut butter they had at 7-11. Or maybe it was a sudden need for sugar and there were no jelly beans to be found. Either way, a tub of the stuff ended up in our cupboard and has remained a permanent fixture ever since. A. has taken to having PB&J sandwiches at night and he doesn’t mind the Kraft garbage so I guess that’s part of the problem. But I’m eating it too. Still. In fact, every morning since A. went back to work, I have had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with coffee. It’s just so easy! But I always, always feel gross afterward. And hungry.

Enough is enough. Before I was pregnant, I used to eat steel cut oats with wheat germ and dates in the morning. This is what I had for breakfast today thanks to my shiny new microwave which cut the cooking time down significantly. Hoorah for modern day conveniences!

Oh dear. The Budsie he stirs. I had other things to say but they’ll have to wait. Only a dull resolution for now, folks.

…always turn the dishwasher on before bed. Unless it’s not full, but it always is. Yeah I know this is kind of a lame resolution but this morning I woke up and two horrible things occurred to me: number one, I hadn’t turned the dishwasher on and number two, this meant that my pumpkin mug wasn’t clean. And it wasn’t even the kind of dirty where I could just hand wash it because it had been sitting in some leftover oatmeal overnight. Sigh. The day just wasn’t quite right after that (although a visit from LG certainly helped).

I know it might seem silly to base the success of one’s day largely on the coffee mug one drinks out of. I don’t care. I simply adore this mug. It fits the perfect amount of coffee in it. That is, it fits more liquid awesomeness in it than your average Joe mug. And it’s a pleasing shape; I’m convinced that the slight curve at the top keeps my coffee warmer that much longer. It has a solid handle that is just the right distance away from the coffee mug itself that I don’t burn my giant man hands. And best of all, IT’S SHAPED LIKE A PUMPKIN! Best. Mug. Ever.

Update on other resolutions: the calendar thing is taking some getting used to but I’m determined. On the reading front, I’m almost done Love in the Time of Cholera (some hiccups over the last few days in the form of Budsie not sleeping) and I have to say this, even if it makes me a jackass: I don’t care for Florentino Ariza. He’s just not my cup of tea, alright? Don’t judge me.

I really love Valentine’s Day. Always have. Yes, it is a commercial holiday. Yes, it is terrible that people feel forced to demonstrate feelings they might not actually have by purchasing over-priced flowers or chocolates, both of which are no doubt the product of child labour and/or ridiculous pesticide usage. And yes, it’s a crappy day if you happen to have lost or been dumped by a significant other.

Whatever.

I was nine the first time I really enjoyed the crap out of Valentine’s Day. That morning, a boy named Nicholas left a box of chocolates and a rose on my desk. He was a bit of a trouble-maker, that Nicholas, so we couldn’t ‘go out’ publicly. Ezmy had a reputation as a nerd to uphold, after all. I wonder whatever happened to that kid. I hope he’s still a romantic.

In highschool, I was a member of a Vocal Jazz group that performed Sing-O-Grams on Valentine’s Day. Apart from singing the same song over and over (When I Fall In Love…vomit), Sing-O-Grams were super fun. My favourite year was when we went out to this garage in Errington and made a mechanic cry. Good times.

Some years, I’ve celebrated Valentine’s Days single and loved it. It’s a day of possibility in this case. A day when you might get an exciting note from a secret admirer. Or, more likely, a day to get drunk with other single ladies and lament the lack of handsome and available men out there.

And some years have been supremely disappointing or disasterous, even with a partner. One year, my bf at the time, let’s call him Douchebag, forgot about Valentine’s Day. He did end up sending flowers as a last minute thing, but then came home a few days later and informed me that he was moving out. Not breaking up with me, mind you. Just moving out and sticking me with double rent the next month (I left him in the end). Another year, when A. was in K-town, MM, LG, Fialonia and myself drank an OBSCENE amount of wine and somewhere in the evening I made the command decision to start smoking in my apartment. I woke up the next morning to the worst hangover and a house that smelled like ash tray. Blech.

This year, A. and I took it easy. I made some heart-shaped Chocolate Chunk Spice Cookies:

*pictured here with Sarah Silverman book for my sweetheart and flowers from my sweetheart*

and roasted a pig (poor sod, Ezmy will go back to being vegan soon…not that that helps you any). Oh, and I forced my child to wear Valentine’s Day finery. I’m a terrible mother:

*pictured here with Yellow Spoon, his favourite little toy*

Isn’t he the handsomest? Generally speaking I wouldn’t dress a kid up for Valentine’s Day but A.’s parents gave him this outfit and I was worried he’d outgrow it before we finally hit a special occasion.

A great Valentine’s Day with my menfolk. :D

…remember important dates. And before you ask, no, I did not forget that today was Valentine’s Day. I am usually on top of that one if only because it almost always means nice flowers for the kitchen table. And I do so enjoy nice flowers.

No, what I’m talking about is birthdays, anniversaries, and the less interesting appointments and payment due dates. I’m simply terrible at remembering these things. Appointments are the worst. Oddly, I do actually write the date and time down somewhere, usually on the computer in a notepad file. But then of course I close this file, saving it under some name that seems direct enough at the time, and promptly forget about it. Weeks later I find the cursed notepad file which Past Ezmy saved under DOC because apparently DOCTOR was too much to write at the time. I’ve also tried reminders on my phone but these inevitably go off when I’m changing a diaper or something. So then I turn it off and say out loud “Ezmy, remember to do that”. And then I forget. Sigh.

So a datebook or calendar of some kind is clearly in order. Maybe someday I will embrace the iPhone calendar function, but for now what I need is to write things down in pen and then say them out loud. I also need to get in the habit of checking this datebook or calendar lest it become just another thing that simply documents my forgetfulness. But this datebook or calendar also needs to be free because Ezmy is short on fundage…what to do?

Enter the Get Fuzzy calendar that resides next to the phone and the bus tickets. This, along with some leftover Post-It tags that I did NOT steal from one of my office jobs, will become my new hard copy memory:

Ok, not the best picture but you get the idea. I will use the blue Post-It tags to denote particularly important appointments, upcoming birthdays and anniversaries, etc. Someday, I may even get Post-It tags in different colours but that purchase is for a day when a writing project pays more than a note on my resume. Organized Ezmy!

Another update on previous resolutions: I found a container of sad looking navy beans in the fridge this morning. Boo. But I will try again! Into the fridge go some hopeful kidney beans for a new stew I’m trying this week. Fingers crossed for these poor little beans.

Update on today’s resolution: resounding success. A., Budsie and I went downtown to take in some ice sculptures and eat Beavertails. Budsie was obviously blown away by the day’s festivities. Have a look at this photo evidence:

his love of ice sculptures was quite inspiring:

and the Beavertails were a clear hit:

Ha.

Well, A. and I had fun. Capped the day off with a pint at Darcy’s, a pub I haven’t been to since before I was pregnant. Great pub, with highchairs but no where to change the kid who decided to empty two days worth of food in one go while we were out. I ended up changing him between the sinks. I think I really grossed out a stylish and very clearly childless lass in the loo. Budsie liked her but she did not reciprocate the smiles. Sorry, Budsie. Not everyone is as easily won over when faced with a Poonami as Mummy is. Hehe.

…make Budsie special breakfasts on Saturdays. Budsie wasn’t much for food this week what with the fever and all. And yesterday he woke up covered in red spots (Fifth Disease, apparently. Sounds life-threatening…isn’t. Maybe a name change is in order. I’m just saying…). So I thought something spiffy for Saturday breakfast might make him feel better. Banana Oatmeal Pancakes went down like gangbusters and it reminded me of when my mum used to make pancakes every so often. Those were the best days – waking up to the smell of cooking food and knowing that you weren’t going to be eating soggy Corn Flakes with too much sneaky sugar that morning (mum didn’t like us adding sugar to our cereal so you had to do it on the sly). So I’ve decided that Budsie will have special breakfasts on Saturdays for as long as I can manage it. Got some nifty ideas for next week from Kids in the Capital. Woot for fun breakfast times!

Oh yes, and today I resolve to do something Winterlude-y. Sad to say, A. and I haven’t been much for Winterlude. It’s always bad timing – him in K-town, me preggers and therefore only interested in acquiring jelly beans and watching bad movies. But this year we are doing it for the kid (and me…I need a Beavertail!). So today we’re going to head out to see what’s what. Exciting Winterlude-y times for the Budsie!

*Updates on previous resolutions: So we did indeed listen to Bloc Party yesterday, an album called ‘Silent Alarm’ which kicked serious ass. Today was supposed to be Vampire Weekend but our CD player broke. Boo! Believe it or not, in a house with two laptops, a desktop, and a CD player we now only having one, ONE, working disc player now. The desktop. Lame.

Concerning the clothing, I have actually managed to put on pants everyday. In the process, I have discovered two new outfits that I didn’t know I could make. Success! I have also resigned myself to the fact that hot pink tights no longer have a place in my wardrobe. Especially hot pink tights with holes in them.

(forgot to post this last night…wine destroys Ezmy’s memory…but it’s oh so good)

…listen to music. Well, different music than I currently listen to. I’m in a bit of a rut, see, and I think for Budsie’s musical education it would be best to move away from all that Queen, at least for a little while.

I’ve never been much of a music buff, particularly when it comes to the purchasing of albums. I guess the fact that I still use the word ‘album’ and refer to the purchasing of albums pretty much speaks for itself. Back when Fialonia was living with me, I was up to date with some top 40 songs. I knew who Rhianna was and, unlike my husband, I didn’t think someone was having a stroke if they said the name Lady Gaga. And later, when I was on preggo bed rest and watching an obscene amount of television, I re-discovered Much Music. So I knew who K$sha and The Biebs were (it’s a shame one can’t un-know things…). But overall, I’m pretty out of the loop. And I don’t go out of my way to find wicked indie music. I just happily listen to the same music I’ve been listening to since I was 16.

A. is much more music savvy, in that I’m-too-cool-for-pop-music kind of way. If there’s a little known but kick ass Indie band out there, odds are my husband has the CD (mixed in with his I-was-a-teenager-in-the-90s collection…Pearl Jam, Smashing Pumpkins, Alice in Chains, Tool and, you guessed it, Nirvana). Indeed, the first weekend he came to visit me in Wolfvegas, he brought me a mixed CD (heart!) full of spiffy songs by bands I’d never heard of. Which of course was his sneaky way of saying that if this was going to work, we were NOT going to be listening to Shania, Alanis, Freddy and Joni all day long.

Anyway, marrying A. meant marrying a crazy huge collection of CDs. So the resolution will go something like this: start at top of CD pile 1 of 10 and listen to new album or two each day. Today was Joni Mitchell (what? She was there first!) and tomorrow will be Bloc Party. The Budsie’s musical education begins!

My wonderful husband is the king of bedtimes these days. And during the week, while he’s bathing Budsie and wrapping him in comfy cozy pajamas, I usually do dishes or pack a nice lunch for him or tidy up the toys from that day’s adventures.

But on Fridays, I do nothing. And thanks to my man, I’m sipping a nice bit of red tonight while I do my nothing. Bliss, I tell you. Absolute bliss.

Resolution later this evening. Depending on how much of this wine I consume, that post could be interesting…