my movember man

I know I’ve raved about Hubby before.

I’ve spoken about how he understands me like no one else.

How he is helping me with a new path in my life.

He’s wonderful, affectionate and compassionate.

But he’s blown me away with his latest gesture.

Hubby, the man who is obsessed with being clean-cut and always looking his best, has “lost” his razor and is growing a beard in support of Prostate Cancer awareness and prevention.

We’re talking Movember, people.

When he first approached me with the idea (because we all know that as wives, we get first say on any new looks) he told me he really wanted to do something for cancer awareness and that he was going to raise pledges and shave his head.

I didn’t even look up from my coffee as I said absolutely not. His salt and pepper sexiness is non-negotiable.

Grounds for divorce.

Movember? he suggests. That I can handle. There are ground rules however. NO Moustache. No no no no. Double NO.

There is to be no Tom Selleck-ness in this house.

google images

It’s nasty and disturbing.

Even Brad Pitt couldn’t pull it off.

Google images

See how unimpressed Angelina looks? It’s because of the pornstache that Brad’s got on.

No thanks.

credit to Google

However – beard?
A la George Clooney? Uhhh – Absolutely !! Where do we sign up!!??

NOT kidding people, this is almost exactly what Hubby looks like with his beard… RRrrowr.

Plus it’s for a great cause. You spend the month of November growing your facial hair (or the first few days in Hubby’s case… it grows pretty fast!!), raise pledges and shave it off at the end of the month. Easy Peesy, no harm, no fuss.

I’m kind of liking the rugged, husky look that my normally perfectly primped man has adopted. I’m seeing the double takes he’s getting… (back off ladies… he’s taken). I may not let him shave it off!!

Think about it for a moment. You never know when the special man in your life could become afflicted with this terrible disease. I’m so proud of Hubby for wanting to make a difference. He really is an everyday hero.

I urge everyone to take a moment, visit the Movember website to see what it’s all about, consider donating to this worthwhile cause… I’ll be posting pictures of Hubby as he gets his sexy on…

Stay tuned!!!

a bit of a ramble…

I’ve been writing since I was very very young. I have always loved the written word. I express myself much more clearly on paper (or on screen) than I do verbally.
This is not to say that I can’t talk a hen off the nest. Hubby will tell you that I am verbally exhausting… but I tend to get to the point more quickly, as well as more clearly, when I write it down.
As I told you in my last post, I have decided to make some changes for me.
The last month and a half have been horrible for me. I have felt horrible about myself, have been exhausted of arguing with my ex-husband and all the pettiness happening there… I have focussed so hard on making sure everyone else was satisfied and happy that I forgot to look in the mirror and see what a mess I was making of myself.

Suddenly, I found myself crying at the most ridiculous things. I was exasperated over menial issues with work, home, money, LIFE. I couldn’t focus, couldn’t multi-task. I was tired all the time .

I wasn’t me anymore.

Hubby staged an intervention.

“What is something you would like to do, if you had an extra hour or two at night?” was the question that he posed to me.
“You find me an extra hour and I’ll find something to fill it with” was the answer.
“What makes you happy?”
“Writing. Photography. The kids. You. (in no particular order of course) ”

End of conversation.

I work in a job that not everyone could do. I answer phone calls, investigate problems, try and assist people with finding solutions to their individual needs, all the while helping keep everyone happy.
Much like my other job… being a mother, step-mother, and wife.
This job, while it can be very fulfilling, is emotionally exhausting.

When was the last time you called a company to tell them they were doing a great job???

Exactly.

One day, somewhere between an angry customer and a complaint about wait times, my Blackberry started flashing.
I had a photo text.
Hubby was sending me pictures of the toy room in our house. Only it wasn’t the toy room anymore. Now it was the beginnings of the plan I’ve had since we moved there. There was a desk against the wall, the Bose for my classical music. The floor lamp with the pretty shade.

An office.

My office.

A space to write. A space to collect the thoughts that have been accumulating in my mind and put them down; release them from the prison that has been my brain.

So…here’s what’s going “down”.
I’m going back to school.

Sort of.

Part time.

I’m absolutely enamoured with the classes that I’m taking. Writing Grammatically, Writing Business Plans, Desktop Publishing for writers….

I have wanted to do this for a long long time.

Stay tuned. I’ve only just begun to make some pretty significant changes to get out of the dark place I’ve been stuck in.

rain rain go away


I know before I get out of bed in the morning.
I stir to wakefulness, and can feel the pressure behind my eyes.
The curtains are closed, the blinds drawn, but I know before I even open my eyes.

Rain.

I pull the blankets up over my head and curl into my “spot”. That wonderful little cushion on Hubby’s shoulder between the joint of his shoulder and the base of his neck. I spend many mornings here, but rainy mornings especially.

I can feel him stir… his gentle movement as he lays his strong hand over my eyes and massages my temple.

He knows me.

The shadows that I worked so hard to leave behind find me when it rains.
The grey skies hold the sadness and the loneliness that I felt for years and shower it on me like the tears I have cried. I hear the raindrops hitting the windows, like taps on my shoulder, reminding me that they are never far away.
He wraps his arms around me to protect me from the rain.

He understands me.

I slowly make my way downstairs. The stresses, the pressures of the last few months, weeks, weighing down my steps. I try to kick them loose, like mud from my shoes, but they are unmoving.
He hands me a coffee, some pain medication, kisses me gently, sits beside me on the couch. No words are spoken.

He hears me.

Never pushing, never questioning. Knowing my sadness. Understanding my dark places. Hearing when I need him to help me. He is there when it is time.

He loves me.

she sells sea shells | Wordless Wednesday

Hubby, the boys and I spent Saturday at the beach.
I spent the day with my face up to the sun, feet buried in the hot sand. Gentle tranquillity soaking into my skin like suntan lotion.
Hubby spent most of the time in the cool water, swinging the boys around in the waves and engaging them in water gun battles.
Watching the way he interacts with the boys makes me fall in love with him over and over again.
The day ended with a ‘hike’ through the dunes, and some crustacean discoveries….

Peanut's big find...beach shells

in which I bloat my hubby’s ego…

I was born with an enormous need for affection, and a terrible need to give it.
              ~ Audrey Hepburn

I’m a hugger.  It’s my favourite thing to do. I come from a large extended family, and hugs are a regular staple in our diet.

Such a simple display of affection can seriously make my day.

courtesy of sodahead.com

Hubby is a hugger too, and we are one of those couples that annoy the hell out of other people.

We hold hands all the time.  **gag**

We kiss every time we say goodbye.  **seriously? You’re going to see him in 5 minutes**

We tell each other we love one another constantly.  **yeah yeah yeah**

We spend very little time apart.

But I have to say…. the most wonderful displays of affection are not the beautiful bouquets of Gerbera Daisies that he has delivered to my office for no apparent reason, nor is it the exhilarating shopping trips to Montréal, or spa getaways. Not even the beautiful jewellery he buys me.

What I yearn for is that wonderful bear hug that I get as soon as we get home. He smiles, his melted chocolate eyes sparkling, places his glasses on top of his head, pulls me in close, kisses me, then wraps his strong arms around me and squeezes me so tight that he pushes out every bad moment I had at work, every stress, every angry client, and replaces it with a flood of warmth. A feeling of belonging. That undeniable feeling that I am safe. With my face pressed against his chest, the smell of his cologne still lingering through his dress shirt. I slide my arms under his suit jacket and around him, exhaling deeply as I let all the stress go.

Quite simply… my favourite time of the day.

All the ‘men’ in my house love hugs and affection, which is such a treat.

Even though he is nearly 7, Peanut loves to climb in my lap and wrap his arms around my neck when we watch television. On the couch, he will lay his head on my lap so that I can lazily run my fingers through his fine blond hair. Many times that has helped put him to sleep when he is sad or hurt.

Monster showers both Hubby and I with hugs and kisses. So adorable. Hugs so tight, his little face would make you think he was in pain. Those little boy lips puckered tight and pushed out for maximum kiss-ability. “Luv ya Mum” following every single time. Especially when he’s in trouble.

Speedy usually follows me down the stairs in the morning when I make coffee. We sit and watch Spiderman together on the couch. My heart overflowing with love, as I sit, coffee in one hand, the other arm around my stepson as he curls in beside me, head on my shoulder, to watch cartoons. Everyone else still sleeping, I cherish these special moments that I get to have with him, because I realize they won’t last forever.

“Family Hugs” have become a regular occurrence in our house, at Speedy’s insistence.

I truly consider myself to be the luckiest woman on the face of the planet.

********

Affection.
Some of us show it easily, hugging relatives each time we meet.  Wrapping our arms around friends.
Some of us are more reserved, rarely touching other people.
And then a few of us hang out somewhere in the middle.  Hugging our children, but limiting our affection to handshakes with others.
This week we would like you to write about how the show of affection has played a part in your memory.
Choose a time when either the abundance or lack of affection (either by you or someone else) stands out, and show us.  Bring us to that time.  Help us feel what you felt.