"Raw" Cookie Dough! And "Raw" Fudge!

One of my biggest indulgences and favourite thing to binge on is raw cookie dough.  To some, that is disgusting.  To others--and you know who you are--it is awesome!  The butter, the sugar, the flour, the smooth, gooey and comfy consistency.  Forget the cookies, just give me a bowl full of dough and I am good to go.  Does it make me feel sick after a few heaping spoonfuls?  Yes.  Do I continue to eat it?  Oh, yes.  Love it.

I also love the idea of raw veganism, and if I had my way, I would be one.  I try, and some days are pretty successful, while other days dissolve into a horrifying mess of refined carbs and sugar.  One of the best things I have discovered while learning about raw veganism is "raw" fudge, and from that recipe I accidentally came up with a "raw" cookie dough.  These treats are sweet, indulgent and rich and they are made entirely of fresh, whole foods that are very good for you!  No refined sugars or flours, and they are super easy to make.  Here is my fudge recipe:

"Raw" Fudge

• 1 1/2 cups of dates (honey dates work best as they are soft enough)
• 1 1/2 cups walnuts
• 1/4 to 1/2 cups of shredded coconut
• 1/4 to 1/2 cup of cocoa powder
• 1 tblsp. agave nectar (optional)
• water (for blending)

1. Place everything except water into a food processor.
2. Turn it on until everything blends together and forms a smooth paste.  Drizzle water while blending to get the right consistency.
3. Scoop into a brownie or loaf pan, press down and chill in fridge for at least half an hour.
4. Slice into squares and enjoy!

The coconut and cocoa is to taste--some people like more or less.  The agave is optional as well--depends on the severity of your sweet tooth!

Then the "raw" cookie dough recipe is a slight variation of the fudge recipe, and actually happened by accident one day.  These cookie dough balls look and taste like "real" cookie dough!  The ingredients are:

"Raw" Cookie Dough Balls

• 1 1/2 cups walnuts
• 1/4 to 1/2 cup shredded coconut
• a few drops of pure vanilla extract or a pinch of fresh vanilla beans
• 1 tblsp agave nectar
• 1 cup dates (dried, not too soft, works best)
• water

1. In a food processor, combine walnuts, coconut and vanilla.  Blend until pretty smooth, using water to achieve best consistency.
2. Add dates and pulse a few times just to chop them and blend them in a bit.  Or, coarsely shop the dates and fold them through.
3. Roll into balls and place in fridge to chill. 

I couldn't believe how much like real cookie dough these looked and tasted.  The two year-old loved them!  I find these recipes are great at allowing me to indulge my sweet tooth while I am trying to be "good."  Don't get me wrong, I know they are not fat free, but it is all good fat, and they are so rich, it is unlikely you will eat heaps of these at one sitting, and this coming from someone who has never understand the concept of something being "too" rich.  But even if you do eat a bit too much, it's all whole foods, so you could do worse!

Enjoy and let me know how your "raw" efforts turn out!

Mother's Guilt

With Christmas approaching, I am finding my mother's guilt is rearing it's nasty, ugly head on a daily basis.  It starts with, "Have I bought them enough stuff for Christmas?  Will they be disappointed?  Should I get one more thing?"  The rational part of me knows they have more than enough "stuff" and I don't want to get caught up in the excessive consumerism that abounds in these parts, not to mention we can't bring toys back to Perth and we will be getting them heaps of stuff when we return, but something in the mother part of me keeps questioning.  Then it snowballs into all the other things I feel guilty about:

• Bringing them to Canada--it's been awful for us here; Miss 4 just wants to go back to "her place" in Australia; they are finding the cold almost unbearable.
• Taking them back to Australia--Miss 4 will have to leave behind her little friends here and she won't know anyone at her new school in Perth; she'll be leaving her Nana here; there are snakes in Oz.
• Setting a bad example by being fat and unwittingly passing on my food addiction to my girls.
• Having dark hair when the girls have blonde hair so I look more like the nanny than their mom.
• Every time I yell.
• That I'll be going back to work when we get home and Miss 2 will have to go to daycare and be away from me.
• That I didn't go back to work sooner and put them both in daycare to get away from me.
• Every time I yell.  
• Did I mention the yelling?

I'm sure there are more things, many more things.  Logical?  No.  Ever-present?  Sadly.  On a talk show this week, a psychologist was saying that we feel guilt for a reason, to send us a message about our lives, about something that needs to be dealt with.  Looks like I must have a pretty full inbox!

What do you feel guilty about? 

Our First Halloween!!!

It's almost Halloween!  This will be the girls' first Halloween because they don't celebrate it in Australia.  I really don't know why because it is the only holiday in the whole year that is actually FUN!  Easter, Christmas, Valentine's Day--really, they all suck.  Big heavy meals, forced visits with family, tensions running high, not to mention the buying of crap just to buy something.  Halloween is all about being crazy and silly, stepping out of your comfort zone and just having fun!  The inclusion of heaps of lollies, candy and sweets doesn't hurt either! 

And it's not an expensive holiday--growing up we almost always made our costumes out of old clothes, cardboard boxes and our imagination.  We used grocery bags or pillow cases to collect our loot.  This year, I made a witch costume for me--how appropriate, you say, the girls won't even think you look any different--and Hubby is going to be a vampire.  The girls are set on being princesses despite my pleas to be a big fuzzy pumpkin or a poky little giraffe or cute ladybug.  Remember, they are new to this game and don't really get the whole costume thing.  We also bought a few pumpkins--$3 each here, where I am sure they were charging $25 at Wollies last year???--and carved out scary faces and put them out on the front step. 

Now, I know, what about all this candy?  With childhood obesity emerging as a pandemic, and all the other fat-related issues making headlines, how can we endorse a whole holdiay devoted to collecting and eating chocolate and sugar?  Because it is FUN!  And because I am pretty sure obesity doesn't occur due to ONE day of eating sweets.  How about the weekly take away, the chocolate bribes to tidy up the toys, the driving to school instead of walking and all the other unhealthy day to day habits?  It's an entire lifestyle that creates an obese family, not one day.  Please keep in mind, I am saying this while finishing off a chocolate Timbit that we bought for the girls after our trail walk this morning--so no soapbox here.

And Halloween is just SO MUCH FUN!  Happy trick-or-treating everyone!!!!

PRK Laser Vision Correction Surgery--My Experience

I've been on the road to blindness since I was about eight, when I realized I couldn't see the digital time on the VCR in the basement.  Turns out I was near-sighted and I quickly became the owner of some horrible ugly pale pink plastic glasses.  I hated wearing glasses and only put them on in class when I had to and never wore them outside.  When I outgrew the pink frames, I thought I would channel my inner Sally Jesse Raphael and go for some huge red rims.  Fashion in the eighties was bad on so many levels.  By grade eight I had talked my parents into contact lenses, and I wore them habitually until July 2011.  Not the best for the eyes.

Then a few months ago, I took the plunge and underwent PRK laser vision correction surgery.  PRK stands for something very long--basically, the surgeon used a brushy looking thing to rub some cells off my eyeballs, then a laser to reshape my cornea and voila, I could see!  As soon as I sat up from the surgery--which took a matter of seconds, I could read the time on the clock on the wall and could see every detail on the face of the smiling and helpful nurse.  And no pain!  Yet.  The literature at the doctor's office said most people don't experience any pain, jus some discomfort.  I was one of the people who had pain.  I'm talking moderate labour contractions type pain.  I went through my Tylenol 3's like candy and begged for more at my first follow-up visit.  The eyeball numbing drops were suppose to be used once a day--my three bottles were gone by the end of day two.  Apparently I don't cope with pain well.

Those first two days were rough--lots of pain, very swollen eyes, so much that my husband had to open the drug bottles for me because I couldn't read the labels.  Barely slept as I kept waking up in pain after the drugs would wear off.

Then, all of a sudden, my eyes were fine.  I felt a bit cross-eyed for a week or so as my eyes continued to heal, and I was quite sensitive to light for about a month, but now I can see perfectly! 

It is still weird though--waking up in the middle of the night and being able to see the time on the alarm clock; going on holiday and not worrying if I've packed contacts, saline and glasses; being able to lie on the couch without crunching my glasses.  For ages, in the evening, I kept thinking I had forgotten to take my contacts out, but I hadn't!

So was it worth it?  For sure!  I only wish I had done it sooner...

Fat Jean Genes

The fat jeans I bought last winter are too tight.  I've been telling myself for months that I am going to lose the almost-thirty pounds I've gained since my bright idea to move to Canada (it must be Canada's fault I can't stop eating, right?)  I lose five pounds, gain eight, lose eight gain ten.  I have barely managed to do the "right thing" for more than a week.  I am officially overweight.  Again.

When I lost thirty pounds after baby number two, it seemed pretty effortless.  I joined Weight Watchers and it really worked for me--tracking my food online, trying new recipes, being able to eat "regular" food to lose weight.  And hitting the gym three times a week helped burn up the fat and give me some great muscle tone, and stablized the old mood swings.  I was looking awesome, and it didn't seem too difficult.  Sure, some days I slipped up a bit with some birthday cake or a lolly, but I got right back on the wagon and reached my weight loss goal.

And I felt awesome!  When I am thin, I look like how I feel.  When I am fat, I feel trapped in someone else's body.  But it's not someone else.  It's me.  Funny though, as I have been chubby or overweight more than I have been fit and trim. 

It's not like I don't know what to do--nutrition, portion control, exercise, weight training--I know what to do.  I've done it before, many times before, with relative ease.  For the most part, I have always lost weight in a very healthy way, eating right and exercising regularly, not following a "diet" per se, but changing my lifestyle.  But this whole year has been an endless binge.  I've never been this out of control for so long.  It's a miracle I haven't gained more weight.  Where is that internal switch that puts me "in the zone" and more importantly, how do I keep it switched on, forever?

So the debate I am having with myself now--do I accept myself as I am and buy some clothes that actually fit so maybe I will feel better, or do I keep struggling to get back on the wagon and fit into the nice clothes I already have?

Broccoli Quinoa Soup

Every time I make this soup, I am amazed at how the kids absolute devour it.  Because of that, I felt I just had to share it.  Maybe everyone else out there already knows about this kind of soup recipe and I've been living under a rock, but if this post reaches just one other mom desperate to get as many vegetables into their kids as possible, it will be worth it!  I made this soup out of a desire to not waste food and money and get good quality servings of vegetables into the little monsters.

The main ingredients of this soup are:  broccoli, onion, quinoa and water.  That's it. 

What I do:

• Cook 1/2 cup of quinoa in a small pot.
• Chop up broccoli--I use mainly stems and save the florets for salads or a stir fry.
• In a large pot, put the broccoli with just enough water to cover it.
• Let water come to a boil, then when it has cooked for a few minutes, add a chopped onion.
• Then add anything else that is white or green--peas, beans, spinach, cauliflower, greens, whatever is taking up space in the fridge and won't last another day.
• You can add potatoes or green lentils, just be sure to start them cooking before putting the broccoli in as they take longer.
• When everything is cooked just enough to be pureed, get out the blender and whiz it all up.
• Add the cooked quinoa and stir through.

Serve with some grated cheese on top and stir through some diced bread pieces if the soup is too runny--this works great for little ones who need a thicker consistency to keep the soup on their little spoons and is a perfect way to use up the end peices of a loaf of bread.  The trick is to not use too much water in this soup--it will taste too watery or you will end up pouring some water away which has nutrients from the vegetables.  I also don't leave the soup to cook forever--just enough to soften the veggies to puree, maybe ten minutes.  I don't even bother with stock--you can add chicken or vegetable stock if you want, but I find an onion and a dash of sea salt works just as well.

What I love about this soup is I can pack so many different types of vegetables into it, whatever is hanging around the fridge, and the added quinoa gives it a healthy, protein-packed boost.  It keeps for a few days in the fridge or longer in the freezer.  I've even taken it to the park cold and the kids gobbled it up.  Go figure!

And happy soup making!

First Daze of School

And she's off!  Every afternoon, with her backpack and snack in tow, Little Miss Four heads off to kindergarten.  She loves it.  No tears.  No fussing.  Couldn't wait to see the back of me.  Can't say I blame her. 

After the first few days, one of the little boys in LM4's class was crying before school and didn't want to go in,  His mom was comforting him, soothing him, encouraging him, doing all the right things as far as I could tell.  But the poor little peach stood against the looming brick wall, tears streaming down his pale little face, inching slowly toward the door.  I saw his mother turn away as the tears filled her eyes--we never want our kides to see how upset we are--and I too, began to well up under my sunnies in the mother empathy thing most of us seem to have.  Her little guy managed to get himself inside the school and the Mary Poppins-ish kindergarten teacher assured the tearful mother that he would be fine. 

And he was.  After a few more days, he seemed to get better.  Myself and some of the other mothers whispered to our kids to make sure they asked the little boy to play because then he wouldn't feel so sad.  I don't know if they did--I think all the kids were pretty scared, and each one dealt with it in their own little way.

But on that day I wondered to myself--what do you do in this situation?  If you take him home, are you teaching him he can leave any situation if it seems too hard, or are you encouring him to acknowledge and listen to his feelings?  If you make him stay, are you sending the message that his feelings and instincts should be ignored, or to persevere even when something seems scary or difficult?  Will he be sitting in front of his therapist in 15 years time sobbing, "And then she just left me to go to kindergarten all by myself!  The horror!"

What would you do?  What did you do?

This whole parenting gig is hard.  Damn hard.

Birthday Girl!

Little Miss Almost Four is now Little Miss Four.  She was delighted to recieve two beautiful Disney princess dresses along with a myriad of other sparkly, glittery, pink, shimmery little girl things.  Nana got her a lovely yellow princess cake, just like LM4 asked for.

But the real excitement with turning four was the promise that LM4 would do poo-poos in the toilet.  All along, LM4 had come up with various excuses as to why she couldn't go on the toilet--she'd never seen school before, Nemo says crabs live in the bottom of the toilet, she was a big girl baby.  Even the promise (or bribery) of Timbits couldn't inspire her to do her business in the toilet.  So as her birthday approached, I seriously thought she was just going to make another excuse.

Bedtime last night:

Me:  "Ok honey, time for bed, and now that you are a big four year old, no more night time panties.  If you have pee-pees, you can go to the toilet, even in the night time.  If you forget and go in your bed, there is towel to catch it and here is a clean towel to put down after and go back to sleep."

LM4:  "Or poo-poos.  If I have poo-poos, I can put it in the toilet."

Me:  "Um, oh yes, yes, that's right honey, pee-pees or poo-poos.  Good night bubba, Mommy loves you."

And off I went.  Then, a few minutes later, it happened.

"Mommy, Mommy, come and see!  I put some poo-poos in the toilet!  Look, I really did!  I can't believe it!"

And she did.  And she proceeded to do it three more times before bed.  She is very eager to keep practicing cleaning her bum, and as promised, Daddy took her out for Timbits first thing this morning.

Another hurdle jumped.  For her and me.

The Sleeping Wars

I am trying to remember the last time I actually slept a whole night.  I think it was sometime about three years ago, when Little Miss 4 was a full-night sleeping one-year-old and I had gotten over the need to check on her every 20 minutes to see if she was breathing.  Those were good times.  Then the second pregnancy hit, and sleep eluded me again with killer cramps in my legs followed by the discomfort of trying to rotate a heavily pregnant belly from one side to the other.  The new baby, cute as she was, loved to wake up all night and feed and cry and do other things that were the opposite of sleep.  She was an unpredictable nighttime baby and I never knew how many times I might be summoned to provide a comforting boob.  Then my oldest daughter starting howling in her sleep and coming into our bed at all hours.  Though I loved the cuddles, it's not easy to sleep between a cute snoring three year old and her snoring bear of a dad.  

When we moved to Canada, and put the kids into new beds and new surroundings, I decided to be lenient and indulge the little darlings when they woke up in the night, with cuddles or more milk or whatever their sleepy demands.  That was eight months ago. 

Now the worst thing has happened:  Little Miss Almost Two is climbing out of her cot, and not settling into her Big Girl Bed. 

Bedtime has disintegrated into hours of continuously going into her room and putting her back in bed, Supernanny style.  She finally settles if I lie with her or someone yells, whichever comes first.  I climb into my bed, only to be woken by little feet coming down the stairs at ungodly hours of the night.  In her cot, she settled back quickly with a bottle of milk, but in the Big Girl Bed, it's another hour or two before she settles back.  Both her dad and I are going mental with lack of sleep.  I am already dreading tonight, but took an extra dose of Patience pills (aka Omega 3) in hopes of maintaining my cool as long as possible. 

I really wish crib-makers made the sides A LOT higher.

Some People Suck

So get this:  I went to get some groceries with the kids.  I suppose my first mistake was going to the shops with the busy, disorganized parking lot lacking any designated pedestrian crossing spaces instead of the calm, slightly more suburban grocery store I usually go to.  I got the kids, my purse and reusuable shopping bags out of the car and found myself standing at the back of the van clutching a child's hand in each one of my own, bags dangling from my shoulders and cars flying everywhere.  One car was cutting across the empty parking space in front of me, another coming up behind me and one more to the right.  They all stopped, so I quickly scurried across to the relative safety of the shops.  Then, the man in the car on the left, who was cutting across the parking space, rudely shouted at me, "You're welcome!  No problem!"

Really?  I realize I didn't give an obligatory wave, but surely this loser saw my hands were full with little kids and shopping bags.  It's not like I sauntered across the street, taking my sweet old time, letting everyone wait.  I was simply trying to get my kids to safety and get out of everyone's way.  I didn't shout thanks because I assumed his windows were closed, and again, just trying to get out of the way.  I am not the kind of person who routinely neglects to thank others for small acts of kindness, but does every act need to be greeted with copious gestures of appreciation, if any at all?  Can't we sometimes do something just to be nice, because it is the right thing to do, and not search for outward gratitude?  I was so shocked, so eager to get away from all the cars, I didn't even have the presence of mind to say something back.  I was so upset, I actually ended up getting back in the car and leaving.  What if this man accosted me in the shops?  I just had to leave. 

Have you ever yelled at someone like this?  Has anyone ever yelled at you?  Did you get to say something back?

My only consolation:  karma is a bitch.

A Most Embarrassing Moment

It happened to me today.  That incident all parents of young children dread--breaking something in a shop.  I was in Starbucks in Niagara Falls with Little Miss Almost Two and a friend waiting for the dads and the older kids to go on some rides.  LMAT was playing with stir sticks, pushing her stroller and harmlessly dancing about until she grabbed a coffee mug off a low shelf.  My friend and I gasped and went after her to  just snatch the mug back before anything happened, when my Little S took off at mach speed (as usual) and triumphantly smashed it on the floor.  So, so embarrassing. 

Bless the staff--after I strapped Little S into her stroller, I asked them what I owed them for the mug but they just shrugged it off and said, "Don't worry about it."  Mortified, we headed out. 

Now does everyone understand why we do not want to go anywhere resembling a restaurant or cafe with the kids?  It is just too hard!  

Has something like this ever happened to you???

The School Play

Last night was the school play.  A whole bunch of little ones from toddlers to senior kindergarteners, clustered on a tiny stage singing and dancing--well, doing something with their arms and legs, perhaps calling it dancing is a bit of a stretch--and being tremendously cute, while all us eager parents clamoured for a decent spot to take a priceless photo or video of the precious little darlings displaying their remarkable talent.  Of course, my kid was the best singer, dancer and all-round performer, and by far the absolute cutest.  To be honest, I couldn't tell you what the other kids did because my eyes were glued on her. 

Sad thing was, she was stuck behind other kids and way on the far side of the stage so we could barely see her.  And the school made a huge muck up of the event by having more people attend than they could accommodate and thus deciding at the very last minute to have two shows.  Rumour had it someone called the Fire Marshall and the school was threatened with fines if they allowed too many people in the hall.  And to top it off, the grandparents and great grandparents had to leave after the first show, I couldn't find my little giraffe, so they never got to see each other.  First thing my disheveled safarian said to me was, "Where's Nana?  Did she see me?  Where's Nana!?"  Disappointment.  Huge.  For all of us. 

Are my expectations too high?  Is it too much to expect the school would check fire regulations?  Can't they insist tickets are pre-bought?  Am I being too demanding to think the school should have sent an email telling us when to bring the kids, what the kids needed to wear, where to drop them off and pick them up, without me having to call and ask?  And lastly, if I were to call and complain and bring to light the myriad mistakes the school made in putting on this performance--one they apparently do every year--would anyone give a rat's arse what I think.  Probably not.

But the sparkly giraffe had fun and has been singing her song all day.  Perhaps I should take a lesson from a 3 3/4 year old in seeing the bright side of things....

Confessions of a Food Addict

Several months ago, I did it--I achieved my "goal weight" by losing about thirty pounds (also known as 16 kilos).  After years of being pregnant and breastfeeding, the old physique was looking rough and flabby, so I joined a gym, a diet program, learned how to eat again, and lost the unwanted weight.  

Man, was I hot!  Skinny jeans took on a whole new meaning because I was, well, skinny!  My clothes were so big on me they were no longer wearable and I had to buy low single digit sizes. Gone were my chubby face and arms, replaced with chiselled features and muscle definition.  Even my legs were bearable, and I have always hated my legs.  I never knew I could ever look like this.  It was totally awesome!

I thought, "Great!  Problem solved!  Weight lost!  Next challenge, please!"

Shortly before moving to Canada, my food addiction reared its ugly head and the bingeing started.  Eating anything and everything in sight, I would make myself feel sick on the sheer volume of junk--cookie dough, nuts, peanut butter, cookie dough, chocolate, sugary cereals, pasta, cookies, donuts and did I mention cookie dough?  I managed to keep my weight reasonably under control so I could fit (just) into my new thin clothes.  When we got to Canada, the bingeing continued to where I gained back at least 20 pounds and pushed myself into the "overweight" range again.  Back into the fat clothes that I had ominously kept--maybe I knew the new body wasn't to stay???  Bingeing was certainly nothing new to me, but it had never gone on this long.  My food addiction was at its worst.

It's not like I didn't know heaps about nutrition, because I did, but I seemed to have lost all control over the food I was eating and couldn't keep myself "in the zone" of healthy eating.  Desperate times called for desperate measures--enter weight loss hypnosis.  Professional hypnosis isn't in the financial cards, so I am started listening to a few online recordings to see what effect it has.  God bless YouTube.

Worst case scenario--I have a relaxing 15 minutes in the middle of my day. 

Best case--I can beat my food addiction by changing the negative and screwed up way I think about food, get thin again and feel awesome! 

And with any luck, break the food addiction cycle so my girls don't grow up using food as a reward, a punishment, a comfort, a medicine, a treat, a consolation, a drug. 

Get Thee to a Cross Trainer!

Whoa!  Finally dragged my ever expanding backside to the gym and had a decent workout.  Came home and was amazed at how patient I was with the kids and how calm I felt in general, depite it being dinner/bath time which is always hectic. 

A very reliable source once told me that three days of moderate exercise a week is equivalent to a mild anti-depressant.  Now if that doesn't get me to the gym regularly, I don't know what will! 

I used to be a gym rat--I loved the smell of the rubber mats, the bashing of the metal weights, the buzz of the treadmill.  When I was single and childless, I could plan my day around going to the gym.  Ahh, the good old days.  I wish I could just spend all day at the gym--I reckon I would be a much nicer person to be around!

And with any luck I will fit back into my skinny jeans before my birthday rolls around--and stay that way until Christmas.  Just need to conquer the food addiction.  Looks like it's going to be a busy year.

Come on, skinny me!

Monkey See, Monkey Do, Monkey Swear

I've been given a timely reminder.

Yesterday the Big Monster said, "Mom, these boots are so frickin' annoying!"  This morning it was, "Scarlet's made a frickin' mess."  Then the topper was, "I'm so frickin' annoying."

I am under no illusion that this type of behaviour from a 3 1/2 year old is just some random event and that I have absolutely no responsibility for it whatsoever.  Quite the opposite.  They SEE everything, they HEAR everything, they KNOW everything.  They behave exactly how I have taught them to behave through my own actions.  Everything I do and say sends a message about how to behave, especially between mothers and daughters.  The way I act teaches them what it means to be a woman.  So it's all my fault.

But I'm ok with this.  In fact, I find it empowering.  If I am responsible for the negative behaviour then I can also create the positive behaviour.  I can set the right example.  I hope.

Solution:  Go to the gym and burn off the excessive amounts of adrenalin that builds up out of the frustration of being with these children constantly.  Eat more vegetables.  Do the right thing.

Sorted!

Looking for some Greener Grass...

And we're here!  After five years of complaining about all things Australian, here we are in Canada.  And I can't help but feel like I want to go home.  Australia home. 

Maybe it's the frigid temperatures.  Maybe it's the endless layers of cotton and thermal and wool, mittens, gloves, hats, boots--as if it doesn't take long enough to get out of the house with kids, add in the infinite layers of clothing and by the time we are ready to leave, it's time to come home.  Maybe I need to give it more time.  I definitely need to give it more time.  Like a year. 

I was positive we would have a much better standard of living here--I would have a job right away, Nana could babysit the Little Monster while the Big Monster went to pre-school.  We would have money for the first time since babies.  Not working out that way.  Teachers here are a dime a dozen.  They want me to volunteer--indefinitely-- to get on the relief list.  To see if I can teach.  Because my five years experience in two countries, three professional references, teacher certification in both Western Australia and Ontario means nothing.  That doesn't tell anyone I can teach.  I am a grown up with a family to support and they want me to just volunteer my time and experience to prove I can teach.  Honestly.  On to Plan B.

And part of Plan B is:  Look for a job in another field.  So I did.  And I am now writing for an online magazine!  Lifelong dream realized!  Check out my article on flying overseas with children--an ordeal I have perfected at this point. 

So in the meantime, between writing about anything I can think of, trying not freeze my bejiggety off and doing laundry, we are all slowly adjusting to life in Canada.  Suddenly Christmas on the beach isn't looking so bad...