Personal

I’ve never been huge into Valentine’s day. I never was the kid who gave out cards at school, I never bought anyone a Valentine’s Day card. And I promise I’m not just saying that to seem like the cool “its just a commercialized holiday anyway” kinda gal. Trust me, if it’s my birthday, I expect all the things. Like Bora Bora on a private plane with champagne imported from France (JK, gimme a cold Coke), and we’ll call it a day. But Valentine’s Day… meh.

Here’s the kicker though. I still like cute little dates though. It doesn’t have to be fancy. Like, just one on one time with my guy. Wanna know my favourite past time? Making him have deep and meaningful conversations with me. He just loves it when I say “hey, let’s talk.” Ha! I might as well have just told him he has to wear underwear with itchy insulation in to for a year. But! Last summer we went on a road trip, a very loooooong road trip. And I started asking him questions I had found on Google or Pinterest. I would ask and he would reluctantly answer, most of the time with “I dunno.” But after hour 3, and KM 646, and question #1008, he started to relax. He even started to think about his answers. And at one point, he even said “OK, now it’s my turn to ask you questions and you answer.” So there you have it folks. There is hope.

So this Valentine’s day I challenge you to not get a teensy bit mad when the fella doesn’t come home with over priced flowers, or a box of cheap chocolates. Instead, make a brownie and put vanilla ice cream over it and top it with strawberries. Or eat a bag of Doritos chips and have a Coke (or root beer, or ginger ale- I won’t judge). Or just sit on the couch and eat ice cream out of the pint. But ask each other these questions. See where the conversation take you. You might surprise each other.

Questions to ask your Boo/BAE

1). What is one of the biggest lessons you have learned in life?

2). What makes you different from other people?

3). If you had to pick 3 people in your life that represent wisdom, strength, and comfort, who would you pick and why?

4). Describe yourself using only 3 words

5). What was the best thing about how your parents raised you?

6). If you could start your 20’s all over again, what would you do different?

7). What has been you favourite/best age yet and why?

8). If money was no object, where would you travel to?

9). If you could be successful at anything career wise, what would you be doing?

10). What does success mean to you?

11). What habit do you do that you think probably annoys others?

12). When do you feel the most joy?

13). What is one thing you’re afraid to tell me?

14). What do I do that makes you happy?

15). What is your favourite meal?

16). Favourite chip, favourite candy, favourite dessert?

I hope you discover something new. Maybe about yourself, or about the other person. But just remember that Valentine’s Day doesn’t mean fancy dinners, expensive flowers or lavish gifts. That’s what birthday’s are for. Valentine’s day is “just some made up holiday that has been completely commercialized.” Ugh. But how we still hold our breath when we hear him come home! It’s in our nature. This year, make him that brownie. And ask him these questions. And I hope you feel joy when he sits next to you. And I hope you feel loved. And I hope you feel safe.

I hope you have a wonderful Valentine’s day. Wether that means you just had a good day by yourself, or with your best friend, or your family, or your sister, or your mom, or the lady that always smiles at you at the grocery store. I truly hope you have a good day.

Olive Juice

 

 

There are times in motherhood when you look at your kid and can’t help but almost cry. Like when they rest their head on you. Or when they run into your arms. Or when their little hand reaches for your hand. Or when they say “wuv you mommy.” Those moments are something I wasn’t prepared for. Those are the moments that almost take my breath away. Those are the moments that I now understand when they said “nothing compares to being a mother.” These next 10 moments… well, they’re not as great. But in the end, they will still always be worth it. Well, I’ll let you know. Kiddddinnnngggg. Kind of.

 

1). You know you’re  a mom when  blow drying your sheets at 11:00 at night cuz she pee’d on them and you’re too tired to change them.

2). You know you’re a mom when you give your kid the middle bite of your burger. You know that’s love cuz the middle bite is the best part, it has all the good stuff.

3). You know you’re a mom when you eat the orange that your kid just sucked all the juice out of and then spit out. Cuz you don’t wanna waste a whole orange.

4). You know you’re a mom when you drink all the backwash, cuz they HAD to have your drink even if theirs is the exact same one.

5). You know you’re a mom when you walk around with your shirt on your left arm soaked in pee from carrying a kid who just majorly pee’d through her diaper.

6). You know you’re mom when you pay way too much for a peach white tea with lemonade at Starbucks so your kid will stop screaming their head off. Pretty sure tea is marked up roughly 700%.

7). You know you’re a mom when you start counting down the hours to nap time the second they wake up. Then after nap time counting down the hours till dad gets home. Then start counting down the hours till bed time. Then when they do fall asleep, you start counting down the hours until they wake up because you miss them.

8). You know you’re a mom when you complain about not getting a full nights sleep… and then when the day finally comes… you get up every three hours to check on them. Not getting a full nights sleep. Again.

9). You know you’re a mom when you’ve sweat through your shirt trying to get your babies car seat in the car. Or when you’ve wrangled your toddler into the car seat while they kick and scream the entire 8 mins it took to get them in.

10). You know you’re a mom when….. “Baaaaabyyyyy shark doo-doo-doodoo!” That is all.

 

Keep going Momma, we got this.

 

 

Olive Juice, Personal

We celebrated 8 years of marriage together yesterday. We’ve had some of the most frustrating moments in these last 8 years than ever before. We’ve had some of the angriest moments in the last 8 years. We’ve had some of the toughest moments in the last 8 years. Nothing, NOTHING compares to the joy and gratitude I’ve had for my husband in the last 8 years. And it’s only been 8 years! Imagine how i’ll feel in 80 years? (oh, spoiler alert: I’m an elf and live to like, 400 years old. Give or take a few).

We have shared some of the best memories, no matter how simple or how exciting. We’ve has some of the best laughs where tears are streaming down our face, no matter how lame or how funny what we’re laughing at is. We’ve eaten some of the best foods in the last 8 years, whether it’s at the sunshine cafe in the Philippines across the world, or the best tacos in Fernie. We’ve had Olive, who truly is the best little human in our world. She’s sunshine and toes and little squeals with the cutest smile and endless curls.

Marriage is hard, but it’s wonderful. And it’s worth every smile, tear, fight and kiss. Here are my top 5 discoveries I’ve made in my 8 years of marriage.

1). Men can’t read our minds. SHOCKING. I know. I too, was shocked to discover this. Prime example of what I mean. My husband- “Where do you want to eat?” Me- “I dunno.” (Here’s the thing guys!! I DO KNOW. I want mcdonald’s. Or Joey’s. But I want HIM to OFFER it to me). So we banter back and forth doing the “just tell me where you want to eat…” “I actually don’t know. Don’t actually care….” But really, in my head I’m like “PICK JOEY’S. PICK JOEY’S.” He then suggests NOT Joey’s, and I get mad. And when he asks what’s wrong, I usually say “nothing. I just thought we were going to Joey’s.” And then my husband stares at me bewildered looking like he might scream at the top of his lungs, cry in frustration, or hug me for being so insanely cute (just kidding, this has never happened). Ladies, just tell the poor sucker where you actually want to eat. Save him his sanity.

2). Men don’t like to celebrate things. Anniversaries. Birthdays. Dating anniversaries. Even their own birthdays! According to my husband, birthdays are for little kids. So imagine my dismay when I’ve been dropping hints the 8 months leading up to my birthday, and he drops THAT bombshell on me. Wait… so you’re not surprising me and whisking me off to the Amalfi coast on a private jet?

3). Men don’t get cold. We live in Alberta, Canada OK? There have been days in the dead of winter where it has gotten to -40. Cars stop running. You get frost bite within mere seconds of being outside (slight exaggeration). Furnaces break down. If you threw water in the air it would freeze into crystals (i’ve never done this, but according to my scientific calculations, it would be possible. And also, I saw a video on youtube and it worked. What more scientific proof do you need?) So point is…. it’s cold here. Dane will sleep with the window open so that you can see your breath in your room. And the furnace is NOT turned up all the way. And he still sleeps with his feet out of the covers. MEN DON’T GET COLD. I repeat, MEN DON’T GET COLD.

4). Men don’t like to hear “we need to talk” at 11:23 when their head hits the pillow. Ladies, tell me I’m not wrong. You have been bottling something up all day. They’ve asked you “what’s wrong?” Yet you don’t tell them. You say “nothing,” but in your voice that they should know better and KNOW the something is definitely very wrong. But they carry on about their merry little day. And at 11:15, after they’ve showered, brushed their teeth, checked the last thing on their phone, they turn off the light, and they sigh and close their eyes… and you’re just laying there like…. “Is he seriously gonna go to sleep?” And you bite your tongue for a few more minutes very HEAVILY sighing, letting him know that he should not be going to sleep so calmly. And at 11:23 you can’t take it anymore, and you say “SERIOUSLY?! You’re just gonna fall asleep? We need to talk.” I CAN’T be the only one who does this.

5). Men (*ahem* my husband) are only pretending to listen. I have told Dane things, and he’s nodded his head, even AGREED with me… only to completely be shocked by my retelling someone else the same thing I told him. Or I’ll remind him of our plans for that evening and he looks all shocked and says “when were you gonna tell me we had plans for tonight?” And I have to slowly count to 10 so I don’t loose my cool on him. In my most sugary, sweet as pie voice REMIND HIM THAT I DID tell him about our plans. And then I’ll remind him of the conversation and tell him things he even replied with. You can see the wheels just turning in his head, his eyes are all squinty like he’s trying to remember. And then, there it is. He remembers. Vaguely. And you know what he says? “Well, I wasn’t really paying attention when you told me, so it doesn’t count.” 1..2..3..4..5..6..7..8..9..10……. blast off. I’ve lost my cool.

Here’s the thing. 8 years if marriage have opened my eyes to a lot. They’ve made me grow up. They’ve made me slightly more patient. They’ve made me more understanding. They’ve made me more honest. In a way, these last 8 years have made me more me. It is not lost on me how truly lucky I am to have such a supportive husband. Or how lucky I am to have someone who wants to take care of me. Or provide for me. Mentally, emotionally, McDonaldally (hi, I’m Claudia and I’m a McDonald’s addict. Not currently recovering).

Being married for 8 years has made me realize that this life can be tough, but if you’re married to your best friend, this life can be wonderful. And if the man can’t read your mind and guess your restaurant, and thinks birthdays are for babies, he causes frostbite to your toes and nose, and doesn’t wanna get the “talk” fight before bed, and he only half listens to you….. just count to 10. He’s probably still trying. Men are wired differently than women. As in they aren’t wired correctly and we are, but let’s not hold that against them.

Ladies, love your husbands. They’re amazing men, and they get plenty of credit from their mothers (especially if they’re momma’s boys), but let’s give them a little more.

Cheers (*clink!* My McDonald’s coke clinked with yours:)

Olive Juice, Personal

I always see these quotes pop up on pinterest. The whole “your body is not ruined, your stretch marks are just tiger stripes who earned them.” Or “I love my stretch marks because they show I carried my beautiful baby.” And I get it. We need to embrace them. For me, it’s more like accept them. And I do. I don’t care that much anymore. I remember when my first one popped out, I was like 7 months pregnant. I put coconut oil on. Biotin oil. Coffee grinds. Vaseline. Then more came out. So I said screw it.

I would have been fine if my proof that I carried a baby in my stomach was the actual baby itself that came out. Or maybe the bags under my eyes because my child is out to get me and doesn’t sleep. I would have been fine with these as my proof. That would have been A-OK with moi. Just humour me here OK? Don’t get offended (but like….who am I kidding, it’s 2018).

But what if a genie came to you and said “You have two choices. A). You keep your stretch marks and nothing changes. Your relationship with your body, your spouse, your child, it all stays the same. Wether it was good or bad. Or B). I get rid of your stretch marks and nothing changes. Your relationship with your body, your spouse, your child, it all stays the same. Good of bad.” Which option would you pick? I would be be picking option B faster than you can say “Hey Genie, if I KEEP my stretch marks, can you grant me a toned stomach?”

But, if you’re a mom who TRULY, 100% loves her stretch marks, and would keep them if given the choice to not have them…. then your name should be Mother fricking Teresa. And I take my hat off to you, and I think you’re definitely a better person than me. AND a lot less vain. But if you’re like me, and would totally pick no to the tiger stripes, AND would try and swindle this genie for a few more wishes, then I also take off my hat to you. Because you’re hustling and trying to get more wishes. But I probably wouldn’t call you Mother Teresa because I feel like she wouldn’t be swindling a genie. Shame on you.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that genie’s would make our lives a lot easier. What would your three wishes be? Mine would be:

1). Look like all the hot, tanned girls in cute bikinis in outfits I have pinned under my secret board called “get it girl.” (I made this board like legit 5 years ago, and guuuurrrrl…. I still haven’t gotten “it.”

2). Have a  # in my bank account, it can be any number (just not a 0), but with like a minimum of 6 zero’s following.

3). Health. Health to the people I love the most.

See? Getting rid of my tiger stripes didn’t even make the list. So clearly I’m not that upset about them. But what I was ACTUALLY trying to say is as a mom, or as women, we don’t HAVE to pretend we love out bodies as much as hash tags tell us to. It’s OK to hate your love handles. It’s OK to hate that your thighs are constantly touching and when it gets hot out you get a heat rash (anyone?) It’s OK to hate the fact that your calves make your hunter boots make fart nosies when you walk cuz they’re so tight around your calf, and when air escapes it sounds like a fart. It’s OK to hate that when you look at a picture of yourself you have a double chin and you hate it.

Like you get shamed for saying “ugh! I’ve gained so much weight.” How many times have you gotten “no way!! You look beautiful! You don’t need to lose any weight! You’re perfect!” Puh-Leeze. I have a mirror. And also, my clothes don’t fit, so there’s that. And another also, the person saying that to you is also a solid 10 on the hotness scale… while I’m a solid 3.4 on a good day. So let me tell you that I’ve gained weight. And instead of telling me I’m a babe (Umm, I kinda already knew that, duh), be like “Yup. You’re a fatty.” JUST KIDDING. DO NOT SAY THAT TO ANYONE. But maybe just say “ya, losing weight is hard.” Or “well, you can always fix that.” Or if you’re an amazing friend say “Lets work out together.” Am I getting my point across? Or do I sound like an idiot?

Don’t let your hate for your stomach make you hate yourself. But also, if you hate the extra 10 lbs (or in some cases…me….. 50 lbs. Wait… did I just write that?) get off the couch and lose it. If you don’t wanna lose it, then don’t. If you want to lose it, then do. I don’t know what I’m trying to say. Basically, you’re allowed to want to look good. You’re allowed to want to lose weight, and still be confident and happy with who you are. I want to lose 50-60 lbs (before you say that’s too much, just trust me). I still like who I am right now with that extra weight. I still wake up happy (this is a lie. I hate waking up). I still think my husband won the lottery with me (his opinion on this is invalid). I still think I’m a bomb cook. I still think I’m a decent person. I just also want to look…. skinnier. And for me, strong is not the new skinny. Because let me tell you friends, I have yet to lose an arm wrestle against any girl. And I beat my brother, Dane, and another guy at a leg war. I’m a champ, basically. But also, don’t challenge me, you may make me eat my words.

If you have a chicken butt, or a lard butt, at least you still have a butt. So be happy. There!! I figured out the point of my post. BE HAPPY. If you don’t love how you look, do something about it, but be happy. If you love how you look, be happy, cuz you’re a babe. If you don’t agree with my post, bugger off and be happy. Just be happy.

Ps- don’t judge me on the fact that my first two wishes were a). vanity b). money, and that my last one was health. I know the genie’s got it in the bag, so I was’t too worried, OK? Remember, be happy.

PS- This is Olive in my belly. Not a new babe. NOT PREGNANT.

DIY, Food, Homemade Gifts, Sweets

I decided I was going sugar free for the month of March. Then I made these and decided April was the better month to go sugar free. Also, who else here puts m&m’s in their theatre popcorn? I can’t be the only one. Asking for a friend here. What is it about sweet and salty together?

Have you ever had someone invite you over for a girls night, or a small get together, or supper and you ask “what would you like me to bring?” But really, you only ask because 9/10 the person usually replies with “just bring yourself!” Well, there will come a day friends, when someone will betray you and reply with  “just bring whatever is easiest! A snack or whatever. Nothing fancy.”

This recipe will save you. It’s not fancy. It’s not hard. But it is delicious. And it’s chewy. Best part? It’s sweet and salty, so best of both worlds. If there were two worlds.

You definitely should bring this to your next girls night. Watch Hugh Grant dance in his underpants in Notting Hill. Or raise your hands and say “Amen sister” when Bridget Jones is trying to get her wobbly bits to fit into her jeans. Whatever movie you watch, or whatever it is your bring these to… they’ll be appreciated.

My best friend and I are going to Banff for the week over spring break and we plan on having movie nights and eating junk food. Please comment your fave chick flick and fave snack, Preferably sweet and salty. I thank you in advance, my trainer will not. Just kidding, I don’t have a trainer.

Caramel Pretzel Bark
 
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Sweet and salty caramel pretzel bark. It's easy and so addicting!
Author:
Ingredients
  • 2 cups pretzels
  • 1 cup of butter
  • 1 cup of brown sugar
  • 1 cup chocolate chips
  • 1 tsp vanilla
  • sea salt
Instructions
  1. Preheat oven to 350* and cover a cookie sheet with parchment paper
  2. Place your pretzels evenly in a single layer
  3. In a small saucepan, melt the butter and brown sugar over medium heat. The caramel will start to bubble and thicken
  4. Remove once the caramel has thickened and add the vanilla
  5. Pour evenly over the pretzels and bake in the oven for 5 minutes
  6. While its in the oven, melt your chocolate in the microwave and pout into an icing bag
  7. Pour the melted chocolate over the caramel in little squiggles and top with some sea salt
  8. let cool completely, cut into squares and refrigerate
  9. Enjoy!!
Notes
This recipe is adapted from 3 fois par jour blog

You guys can check out the original recipe here… among tons of others! I have both her cookbooks, her first one is my favourite cookbook I own. Which is saying a lot because I own a ton. Like if we weighed them, they would probably weigh a ton. The Blog is call Trois Fois Par Jour

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