tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51327911200083345922024-03-15T04:17:56.122-04:00Just A Little Off Kilter....Janet Off Kilterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18064947474835725800noreply@blogger.comBlogger908125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5132791120008334592.post-19924483138096867512018-10-17T16:10:00.000-04:002018-10-17T16:10:33.357-04:00When I Was Your Age...<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The older my children get, I find myself...with increasing frequency, starting sentences with a phrase I thought I’d never say: “When I was your age…” Yup, nothing says you’re old like those words, which have been uttered by old people since the Industrial Revolution.<br /><br />Usually, “when I was your age” serves as a cop-out for my cheapness. I say things like, “When I was your age, I only had two shoes” (commonly known as one pair), or “When I was your age, we only had four channels, and one of them was in French.</span>”<div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />But there is one statement that I wish to shout from a roof top. It is: “When I was your age, the toys were better.” If you look at some of the top toys on this years Christmas wish lists, you see cheap plastic crap that I am loathe to buy for Lochlan.<br /><br />I miss the toys of my childhood, all of which I wish my parents still had. Yes, with five children, had they kept our toys, they would now have a moderate-sized toy collection, a Narnia closet leading to Fisher Price Land, that would be renowned in their community. If this closet existed, it would contain classic, quality toys that last...even beyond 40 plus years at this point. Most of those toys would now be vintage Fisher Price; in other words, they were manufactured before the company was bought by Mattel, who brought it into chic millennium style by downgrading the toy quality to cheap plastic crap.<br /><br />So, without further ado, I present a few of my favourite vintage toys from the 1970's...</span></div>
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<b><br /></b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>The Little People</b><br />First they were made of wood and then durable plastic (which actually isn’t an oxymoron). You can still buy Little People today but, you guessed it, they’re cheap plastic crap; they’re also the size of a mini-football so no kid will choke on them. While I loved the black and white dog, my favourite out of all the Little People was the angry boy. Who didn’t like that freckly kid who always looked like someone took his last piece of candy? I even chewed off his orangey red cap in my own fit of anger. We both survived. That was in the bygone era when parents childproofed their kids instead of childproofing their homes. Back then, experience taught us important lessons, like not to lick ashtrays. My parents both smoked when I was a kid and I had older siblings who I'm pretty sure at some point dared me to lick the ashtray. I can neither confirm nor deny if I followed through on said dare. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>The Parking Garage</b><br />Even though no child uses the middle level, the garage is timeless. I spent hours putting the little gas nozzle into the little cars’ gas tanks. The pièce de résistance, however, was the elevator. It would carry the little cars up before releasing them down the slide. The entire garage was absolute fun, unless you got one of the Little People’s heads jammed between the elevator and the ground floor, but those guys were durable. Like Wile Coyote indestructible.</span><div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /><b>The Village</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Two items made the village legendary: the mail truck and the mail, six pieces of Flintstone era letters, all deliverable through the door slots of different businesses. I loved the mail so much, I graduated to bigger postal dreams: using my parents’ slotted milk crates...which we always seemed to have a stack of...to sort various papers and envelopes into. Who needs an iPad when you have Fisher Price and empty milk crates?</span><div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Play Family Camper</b><br />The camper was the 1970 kid’s Russian doll set...first the truck, then the camper, finally the boat as the crowning jewel. It was finely accessorized, with a picnic table and a toilet. I loved that you could shove all the Little People inside and quickly cram the camper shut without getting one of their little heads caught. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So, to all those born after 1980, I say...<br /><br />When I was your age, the toys were better.</span><div>
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Janet Off Kilterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18064947474835725800noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5132791120008334592.post-61271851753558213532018-08-29T16:23:00.000-04:002018-08-29T16:23:36.537-04:00The Penis Monolouges Part 1<br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Lochlan is still spending a great deal of energy examining the male/female thing. <br /><br />We are in the car on our way home from daycare.<br /><br />“Daddy has a penis?” Loch asks.<br /> <br />“Yes.”<br /><br />“I have a penis?”<br /><br />“Yes you do.”<br /><br />“Does Poppy have a penis?”<br /><br />“Yes.”<br /><br />“You don’t have a penis.”<br /><br />“No, I do not.”<br /><br />“Do Marshall, Rocky and Zuma have a penis?”<br /><br />“Um, no.”<br /><br />“But Marshall, Rocky and Zuma are boys. They have a penis.”<br /><br />“Marshall, Rocky and Zuma are pretend, not boys.”<br /><br />“Marshall, Rocky and Zuma are boys. They have a boy penis! They are not pretend! I saw them on my iPad!"<br /><br />“I’m sorry, you’re right. The Paw Patrollers have a penis.”<br /><br />“Bob the Builder? Does Bob the Builder have a penis?”<br /><br />“Uh… yes?”<br /><br />"Where do they keep their penis" </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Ummmm"<br /><br />"I know...in the lookout and garage"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Sounds about right Lochlan"</span><br />
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</span>Janet Off Kilterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18064947474835725800noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5132791120008334592.post-8483478399349026432018-07-03T11:46:00.000-04:002018-07-03T11:46:16.709-04:00Is This Thing Still On?<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Hey guys. It’s been a while, hasn’t it? In fact, it's been:<br /><br />126 days, 0 hours, 0 minutes and 0 seconds can be converted to one of these units:<br />10,886,400 seconds<br />181,440 minutes<br />3024 hours<br />126 days<br />18 weeks<br />34.52% of 2018<br /><br />That's quiet a long time and I’m sorry about that.<br /><br />This blog post is one of my first ones after a long four months plus break. I left my so-called ‘baby’ for so long due to many reasons...work, family, exhaustion and most of all, lack of self-motivation. And I quickly realized motivating yourself to keep on blogging is not the hardest part. Coming back with "bags of enthusiasm", new ideas, and most of all...grasping the fact that your own work has been left out there for so long was the most difficult thing. I had this weird feeling of guilt that I failed myself, my 'own thing' wasn’t going to be successful and so cool anymore.</span><div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I do have a number of posts swirling around in my head. Some funny (to me at least), some serious and some about sharing ALL of my life as I've kept some tings and people, to myself.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I just don't know where to begin. Do I start with funny Lochlan stories (of which there are many) or do I start with my early days of parenting that began when I was twenty one. Perhaps I'll jump right into love and relationships?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">When I figure that out, I'll be back (see what I did there?)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">In the meantime...I'll leave you with this video of a mama raccoon and her four babies cooling off in Lochlan's pool this past weekend.</span></div>
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Janet Off Kilterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18064947474835725800noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5132791120008334592.post-38734309041865440782018-02-27T09:09:00.000-05:002018-02-27T09:09:12.383-05:00Snot Cronicles<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">This is what happens as far as blogging goes when you feel like you’ve been sick forever and you’re shooting back cold meds on a regular basis just to get through the day.<br /><br />Needless to say, there’s been a lot of sleepless nights and toddler snot. Lots o’ toddler snot. When Lochlan first got sick I was covered in it but not as much now, thank goodness. But seeing as how I’m still scrubbing off the layers of snot from Lochlan's runny nose, here are just a few of the places he loves to wipe it.<br /><br />Lets get this party started.<br /><br />The cats – Our cat Catalina gets it worse than our little kitty Kayleigh and there have been several times when I’ve caught Loch nose diving into Catalina and wiping his nose across the side of her. He’ll also go in for a kiss on top of the cat’s head and smear it in between her ears. Catalina is always a trooper and just lets him wipe away.<br /><br />My pillow – This is usually the first place Loch will snot up when he’s getting sick. It’s normally in the middle of the night and I’m about to drop dead so I’ll bring my pillow into his room and try to get him back to sleep. I always think I’ll be able to cuddle up with him but after a few minutes he thinks it’s time to party.<br /><br />I’ll sing Baby Beluga and as he starts to settle down, he’ll swipe his runny nose all over my pillow. I’m usually too tired to care so once I finally get back to my own bed, I just flip my pillow over and drop dead from exhaustion.<br /><br />Me – I’m partial to wearing v-neck tees which gives Lochlan the perfect little space to coat me in his snot. I also get it in my hair and on my legs. My hands usually get coated in it because if there isn’t a tissue handy and since my shirt doesn’t have a dry space, I’ll just let Loch wipe his nose on my hand.<br /><br />String cheese – Okay, I have to admit I found this pretty impressive and creative. I know you should try to avoid dairy when you’re sick and congested but he's been eating very little and since it’s in his DNA, he loves cheese so I gave him some string cheese.<br /><br />We were still in the kitchen and as he started to gobble up the cheese, his nose was like a faucet. I went to get a tissue and as I was walking back, he took the string cheese and used that as a tissue instead. I now know what it’s like to dry heave, laugh my ass off, and pee myself at the same time.<br /><br />I'm hoping we're healthy soo</span>n!<br />
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Janet Off Kilterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18064947474835725800noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5132791120008334592.post-23652440409110450572018-01-29T06:44:00.000-05:002018-01-29T06:44:00.255-05:00A Day Devoted to Chocolate Cake<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">This past Saturday was National Chocolate Cake Day. To be honest, I am more than happy to celebrate any National Day when the day includes delicious dessert. <br /><br />In my efforts to eat less sugar and do more yoga (post coming about this soon), I been off the <a href="http://www.beyondthebatter.com/">Beyond the Batter</a> cupcakes for a few weeks now but when I read it was National Chocolate Cake Day, I knew we needed to celebrate this glorious day so I headed to Beyond the Batter and bought a couple of chocolate cupcakes (they count, right?) and planned to attack it after dinner.<br /><br />Lochlan specifically requested a candle, which I thought was the perfect touch, and after yelling “Happy Chocolate Cake Day,” and making a wish, the treat was divided, and we dove into the decadence.<br /><br />“Mama,” Loch whispered after taking a few, hesitant bites, “I don’t know if I like chocolate cake.”<br /><br />My mouth was already stuffed with my portion of 440 calorie heaven, so struggled to get out the words, “That’s okay Loch.”<br /><br />To be fair, Beyond the Batter chocolate cupcakes are pretty rich. He’s quite used to their vanilla offerings, which come complete with sugary sprinkles on top in whatever colour suits the season. And he did just finish eating a cookie. So, I packaged up the remainder of the confection and maybe ate a few more crumbs. For good measure.<br /><br />I am a big fan of Google because it keeps me up to date on the most important days of the year. Some of the celebrations are invented in-house...i.e. favorite color day and pajama day and others are of the national variety, but each one serves as a reminder to commemorate even the simplest things, like hugs and chocolate cake. Because cake! <br /><br />But also because I want Lochlan to remember that Christmas and his birthday are exciting, but so are pretzels at the mall and building snowmen, and Fridays. And if he can learn to find happiness in the margins, the holy crap amazing moments will be the cherry on top of an already sweet life.<br /><br />PS...It’s not too late to celebrate The Day After National Chocolate Cake Day.</span><div>
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Janet Off Kilterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18064947474835725800noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5132791120008334592.post-49456563556413304482018-01-21T06:44:00.000-05:002018-01-21T06:44:08.564-05:00A Day Devoted to Hugs<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Today is National Hugging Day. I know this because I saw it listed on a friends little ones school calendar next to a graphic of Winnie the Poo hugging Piglet. So it’s totally legit.<br /><br />Coincidentally, I recently read an article that indicated people need four hugs a day for survival, eight hugs a day for maintenance, and twelve hugs a day for growth. Loch is my official hugging partner, but he’s at the age where he sometimes says, “I already hugged you,” if I ask for too many. Even Adam and the cats are like, “Really??” So basically, I’m barely surviving.<br /><br />In thinking about all of this, I could not help but wonder how many hugs the average person gives and or receives in an average day. I tried asking the general question to a few friends, but the results were inconclusive. One friend enjoys a significant amount of hugs, one asked if his dog counted...um, yes, and another said he didn’t get enough hugs...though he does love them. So clearly, and shockingly...this wasn’t the most scientific approach. And I’m still left wondering.<br /><br />There are plenty of articles out there about the benefits of hugging, much like the one I recently read. So yeah, hugs feel good and they are good and they make your life infinitely better. But why don’t we hug one another enough? Is it the touching? The intimacy? The worry that we’ll be rejected? The fact that we take each other for granted too often and thus end up skipping the hug?<br /><br />So, I guess it’s been on my mind and I haven't noticed, and today, on the huggingest of all holidays, I’m reminded that I just don’t get or give enough hugs in the course of my day. If I had to self-diagnose, I’d say my biggest impediment is that I’m an anxiety-filled lover of people, simultaneously craving human interaction while also being terrified of it. And since I’m woefully behind the daily recommended dose of hugs, I will have to find away to amend the problem.<br /><br />At least I know that tonight, after he’s bathed and relaxed for a bit, Lochlan will ask me to snuggle him, We’ll read and then sing “Down by the Bay” which he’s retitled “Watermelon Bay,” and then he’ll hug me until he falls asleep. And then I’ll sit there long after he starts to snore, soaking up the extra-long hug for as long as I can, hoping that the sheer length and depth of it will make up for all the lost connections of the day.<br /><br />Let me be clear though...while I do need more hugs in my life, there are some hugs that I'm just not interested in receiving. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">These include..<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-size: 16px;">.</span></span><br />
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<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The stinky hug. If someone is stinky, I just can’t. Maybe I’m just not a nice person but I'm just paranoid about how I smell and thus, would like to avoid the transfer of stink where possible.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The weak hug. This is someone who barely makes an effort to hug you by remaining stiff or refusing to move their arms or lean in to the hug. It just makes me feel weird.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The hug and lift. A hug is a hug. Why anyone feels the need to lift the person they’re hugging, I’ll never understand. As a short person, I hate this. Hug...yes, please. Lift...no thank you.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The over hug. This is the opposite of the weak hug. It is given by someone who is so uncomfortable with hugging that he/she over commits by pressing his/her body uncomfortably against yours or just doesn’t know where to put the arms or can’t determine the appropriate squeeze ratio. The result is strange for everybody involved.</span></li>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">What about you...do you love/hate hugs and/or feel like you get the required amount?</span></div>
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Janet Off Kilterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18064947474835725800noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5132791120008334592.post-66363989889526150392018-01-15T11:16:00.001-05:002018-01-15T11:16:45.706-05:00 le yoga dans la quarantaine<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I do yoga about a dozen times a year, which is just slightly less than I exercise and which is a shame because I currently pay a fee every two weeks to Movati (which is an amazing facility that feels a lot like a spa) but haven't gone to since my best friend and hot yoga partner Susan left for an amazing work opportunity overseas. Anyway...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: georgia, "times new roman", serif;">Yesterday (not a New Years resolution - just a promise to myself to do better), I made it to a hot yoga class and it was not pretty, not pretty at all. Every yoga pose felt not-so-limber.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br />Kind of like Lego.<br /><br />In fact, doing yoga when you’re in your forties is a lot like doing yoga when each of your joints moves only one way...like Lego. I was hoping the heat of the room and the abundance of New Years resolutions yoga attendees would help to loosen the ol body but no such luck.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Let me create a visual for you...it looks a little something like this...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Susan returns this summer and if I keep at it until her return, perhaps I'll be a little more limber then your average piece of Lego! </span></div>
Janet Off Kilterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18064947474835725800noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5132791120008334592.post-17197226607016916602018-01-10T06:44:00.000-05:002018-01-10T06:44:00.317-05:00(Almost) Wordless Wednseday<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I wouldn't be so scared of spiders if they were wearing tiny shoes.</span><br />
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Janet Off Kilterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18064947474835725800noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5132791120008334592.post-28542939898136158362018-01-08T13:08:00.001-05:002018-01-08T13:08:42.607-05:00Nine Hundred<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">My first blog post was on April 27, 2011 titled <a href="https://janetoffkilter.blogspot.ca/2011/04/i-think-im-ready-noi-know-im-ready.html"> "I think I'm ready, no...I know I'm ready"</a> and from that date in April seven years ago, I've published 900 posts (including this one). </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Sometimes I wonder why I blog. Don’t get me wrong, I love it, I just don’t know where I fit into the blog world or if I even do.<br /><br />Lately I’ve been in such an emotional funk and throwing my own pity party, I’ve been feeling like pulling the plug on my blog. But then I’ll feel like writing, such as this nonsense, and I keep it going. I completely understand that not everyone will agree with what I write or they won’t get that I’m just joking about things and that’s fine, they have that right. But there have been some people that obviously hate whatever I say, yet they keep coming back.<br /><br />I write to blow off steam or “attempt” to be funny, along with everything in between but I don’t feel like I’m being malicious. I’m kind of like a hooker with a heart of gold, except for the whole hooker part. See, joking. There are times, like now, when I wonder if anyone actually comes to my site because they like it. When I see a new comment, I put my big girl panties on and I read the comments but it can still be unexpected when they seem hateful.<br /><br />I wouldn’t really strangle Adam, or duct tape his face because he won’t stop snoring, or karate chop someones face off. Really I wouldn't!<br /><br />I just don’t understand, if you hate someone’s blog so much, why would you even bother coming back and continue to comment or send me messages? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Speaking of comments, I love them and I want to thank everyone who takes the time to comment. I always have every intention of replying but lately Lochlan has been battling bedtime. By the time he’s finally settled, I’m ready to drop dead and don’t have the time like I used to. I still try to reply, it just may take a week a few days, a month or never. <br /><br />There are times when I’ll be in the middle of responding to a comment I’ll get mommy brain and just walk away from the computer without hitting submit. Then when I go back a day or two later, I’ll realize that I never replied. <br /><br />To sum it up, I’m in a funk, I don’t understand blog trolls, and I love comments. And if there is actually anyone out there who likes what I write, don’t worry, I’ll be back to my usual nonsensical posts.<br /><br />I know I won’t actually quit blogging anytime soon. How else am I supposed to ignore my family? See, that was just a joke! </span></div>
Janet Off Kilterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18064947474835725800noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5132791120008334592.post-82800672942191602752018-01-05T06:44:00.000-05:002018-01-05T10:59:24.333-05:00The Parking Spot<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">While at the grocery store the other day, I couldn’t get over how crazy people were being. It seems like it’s a battle zone these days. I don’t understand what brings out the basket of insanity in people when it comes to grocery shopping. Take for example, the man I recently had to deal with.<br /><br />Lochlan had a doctors appointment and on the way home we stopped at a grocery store to get some essentials. <br /><br />I pulled into the parking lot and when I looked around, I saw plenty of spaces available and also saw a big pile of snow partially blocking the space right next to us. I thought there wasn’t any way someone would want to park there and perfect because Lochlan has kicked off his boots, removed his hat (his hair standing on end and reminding me that he needs a haircut and kicking myself for sleeping through his appointment last weekend) and had flung off his mittens, one landing in the front seat and one in the backseat that I couldn't locate. This spot was perfect for the extra time it was going to take me to get Loch out of the car. I walked around, opened the door and tried to keep it as close to me as possible in case there was some idiot who would attempt to park next to a woman wrangling her toddler out of the backseat of her car.<br /><br />I was in the middle of pulling on Lochlan's boots when I heard someone yell “Move your ass!” I thought damn, I would hate to be at the end of this guy’s wrath. Then I heard it again. This time it was louder and closer. I turned around slightly, boot in hand and saw there was an old man in a ginormous car trying to park in the space right next to me.<br /><br />Out of all the parking spaces that were open, he picks the one that’s somewhat blocked with a pile of snow and with a woman standing right outside of her car. <br /><br />I looked at the guy and because I was in disbelief at what a jerk he was being, I said “Excuse me?” He replied ” I told you to move your ass or I’m going to run it over with my car!” For a few seconds I thought I could hop into the car and close the door so I could let Mr. WTF park but I knew if I took even one hand off of my wiggly three year old, he would try and launch himself out of his now, unbuckled carseat to get out of the car.<br /><br />I thought I could try to reason with him and be relatable so I told him that I was in the middle of getting my toddler out of the car and I would just be a minute. His response “That’s YOUR PROBLEM! You should have thought of that before you decided to bring your kid to the grocery store and block my parking space!”<br /><br />Mr. WTF’s yelling scared Lochlan and angered me. I was almost done with his hat, boots and mittens and at this point, I was shaking I was so upset. He kept on yelling at me but I have no idea what he said. I was in mama bear mode and wanted to kick this guy’s butt. <br /><br />The minute I had asked him for took longer. I was a nervous wreck because of his behavior but I was finally done, I picked Lochlan up while closing the door. This whole incident only lasted a few minutes but it seemed a lot longer.<br /><br />He got out of his car, walked towards the grocery store (same one we were going into), and kept on looking back at me while yelling. <br /><br />I calmed down, finished our shopping and returned to my car...Mr. WTF's ginormous car still parked next to me. I wanted to lave a note on the guy’s car. I wanted to use lots of words containing the letters F and U while suggesting he needed to learn some manners. <br /><br />Sadly, I had neither pen nor paper and it was snowing so I’m sure the note would have disintegrated by the time Mr. WTF came back out. I pretty confident though, that he wouldn’t have cared even if he did read it.<br /><br />Have you experienced any grocery store unpleasantness?</span><br />
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Janet Off Kilterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18064947474835725800noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5132791120008334592.post-56069100397651055442018-01-04T10:32:00.000-05:002018-01-04T10:32:55.536-05:00A Word, Not A Resoultion<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I often overhear people discussing what their goals are for the New Year. Resolutions come in so many different forms. Read more, drink less, exercise five days a week. Spend more time with friends and family, spend less money on frivolous items, eat healthy foods. The overall theme that can be found in each resolution is "more of something" or "less of something" and usually involves some sort of self improvement.<br /><br />I have been asked twice this week what is my New Year’s Resolution. Honestly, I’ve just never been a New Year’s resolution kind of girl.<br /><br />I think here are a few reasons why...</span><div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><i>I Really Value Promises</i></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">To me, a resolution is a promise, and I don’t make promises lightly. Maybe I’m taking this all too seriously, but I can’t seem to do otherwise. I just don’t like to make a commitment I might not be able to keep. Not even to myself.</span><div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>No Shoulds</i><br />If there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that I don't experience my best self when I’m following a “should.” When I’m doing something purely out of obligation or compliance, I become resentful, cranky, and lazy. At one point in my life, this was my primary way of functioning. But since I broke free and took ownership of my decisions, my “should” radar is strong. Basically, if I pick up on the message that I “should” make a New Year’s resolution, I very likely won’t. This might not be the healthiest reason to make a choice, but at least it’s a choice. And I’m sticking to it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>My Personal Growth Doesn't Follow Calendar Time</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I absolutely believe in making improvements, setting goals, and implementing disciplines. But my need for that kind of structure rarely shows up on January 1. For me, growth means paying attention to what is needed during any given season or moment and adjusting as I go.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Instead of resolutions, I’ve decided to embrace the trend of choosing a word for the new year</span>. </div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I haven’t chosen a word yet for 2018, but it might have something to do with letting go. Late last year we moved into a new home and unrelated to the organizing/making a house feel like a home, my son Nathan (my sidekick & humor buddy) moved himself and most of his belongings 450 kilometers away to Toronto. Lochlan (my wee sidekick & humor buddy) will of course keep me busy but suddenly, I feel like I'll have more space and time to fill.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I'll let you know when I've chosen my word for 2018. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">What about you? Do you make a New Year's Resolution?</span></div>
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Janet Off Kilterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18064947474835725800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5132791120008334592.post-15511917683540807602018-01-04T08:50:00.001-05:002018-01-04T08:50:17.874-05:00 Two Thousand Eighteen<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> I want to thank everyone for their well wishes and support that flowed my way in 2017. I don’t think I would be where I am now without that. It was a year filled with ups and downs, but I am very optimistic about 2018 and I'm looking forward to what life has in store for my family and I. </span><br />
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<br />Janet Off Kilterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18064947474835725800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5132791120008334592.post-47926452948530135762017-11-24T06:44:00.000-05:002017-11-24T06:44:00.162-05:00Today I Choose...<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">When I'm feeling an upsurge of terrible pressure because of all the things that have to be done, and are undone; all the things I planned to do, and have no idea when I'm ever going to do them; all the things I would like to do, yet know that it is impossible for the time being, I remember very precious words I once heard that struck a cord with me and now have a place of honor in my personal mental notebook of inspirational lines...<br /><br /><i>"Do the first thing, and let the first thing be just to love and care for the people in your life." </i><br />If you feel that extra commitments or certain relationships are hindering you for doing so, cast them (the commitments) or set them (the relationships) aside for the time being, until you feel you can reach out a bit further." <br /><br />I feel that at this time, it's very important for me to hold on to this simple truth...set it aside. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Set it aside, for the time being, if it doesn't really matter, and/or if it isn't really urgent. Let myself be free from the burden of feeling that certain things must be done, when in fact the only one who feels that they must be done, and without delay, is actually myself. <br /><br />Even when it, frustratingly, feels as though nothing will ever be done because of time constraints, money constraints, energy deficiency, certain circumstances that oblige us to be away from home oftener than it would be convenient, I know that it is not true. Just as we have had busy periods before, and then they passed, and when things were calmer a great deal of what I had hoped for was accomplished, so it will in all probability happen now. Even and especially when it seems when the pressure will never end, the difficulties are temporary and the hectic busyness is over all too soon. <br /><br />And for now, I try to focus that today, like every day, I have the privilege and joy of caring for my family. There are meals to be served and dishes to be done, clothes to be washed and folded, walks to be taken, conversations to be had and countless things to be learned.</span></div>
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Janet Off Kilterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18064947474835725800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5132791120008334592.post-44842442512031509212017-11-23T14:54:00.000-05:002017-11-23T14:54:24.152-05:00Twelve Days Ago<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Twelve days ago we moved into our new home. <br /><br />Before we moved to our current house, we had lived in the same little house for just over eight years, so it had been a while since we’d moved and adjusted to a new place.<br /><br />And there were a lot of things that I had forgotten about.<br /><br />You see, I tend to be a bit naive of an optimist. When I thought about moving in to our house, I thought that we would just plop down the boxes, unload everything, put our furniture in place, and be good to go.<br /><br />Nope.<br /><br />In actuality, there have been several things that have surprised me about adjusting to a new house. I wouldn’t call them bad surprises. I’m actually really enjoying the process of making our house a home, and all of these things are part of that. But since I was sort of taken aback by some of these changes, I figured that others who are moving would experience them as well, so I thought I’d write them all down as a little “heads up” for people so you can know what to expect much more than I did. <br /><br /><b><i>Moving from a house that's "Done" to a house that's "In Progress" is an adjustment</i></b></span><div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><i><br /></i></b>Moving from a house that was pretty much exactly how I wanted it to a totally blank slate was more of an adjustment than I thought it would be. By the time we left the old place I had decorated and organized nearly every inch of our space. I had routines and systems in place and felt like everything ran smoothly and efficiently.<br /><br />And then we moved.<br /><br />I love our new house! Love, love it. But there are a lot of unpainted walls, blank spaces, unorganized areas, undecorated rooms, routines that could use some work, etc. And I am so looking forward to working on all of those things as we continue to get settled in, it just surprised me that I’ve kind of missed that “settled” feeling I had in the old place.<br /><b><i><br />You'll have the urge to get everything decorated and done right away. Resit, resist, resist</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So if you haven’t figured it out yet, I like order. I like everything to be in its place. I like our spaces to be functional and beautiful. So of course my first instinct when we moved in was to get everything done as quickly as possible. I wanted to organize and decorate all the things, and for some reason naive little me thought that I could do that in the first month we lived here. Haha!<br /><br />The truth is, it takes time to “get to know” a house. The space is laid out differently, the way you think you’ll use a room may end up being different from how you actually end up using it. The furniture arrangement you thought would be perfect actually isn’t ideal at all, etc. I am a planner for sure, but as much as I planned, there were things we learned from just living in our space that we wouldn’t have been able to figure out any other way.<br /><br />Because of this, I have tried to resist the urge to furnish and decorate every single room right away. Yes, there were some things that were necessities of course but for the things that aren’t needed now, I’m trying not to make hasty decisions in the name of getting things “done” that I may regret later.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><i>There will be more expenses than you think</i></b></span><div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">At least there were more expenses than I thought there would be. I knew that moving to a new house was going to involve some extra expenses, but I don’t think I foresaw exactly how many. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><i>A lot of the furniture you have won't fit in the spaces where you need furniture</i></b><br /><br />The furniture situation has been one of the things that has surprised me most! It’s almost comical! We have several furniture pieces that don’t really have a home in the new house, and we also have a lot of blank spaces that could use a piece of furniture; however, none of the extra pieces we have seems to match up with the open spaces that need furniture. Go figure! I see a lot of time spent on Kijiji in my future.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />So those are just some of the hings that surprised me most about the move. I hope this post didn’t end up sounding like a rant. I’m so, so grateful for our new house and am loving the process of figuring out the ways to make it work best for us. But since I was surprised by some of these things, I just thought I’d give a heads up to others as well so they would have more realistic expectations than I did.</span><div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Lochlan's room is starting to come together </span></td></tr>
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Janet Off Kilterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18064947474835725800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5132791120008334592.post-85125491142678519862017-11-07T08:02:00.001-05:002017-11-07T08:02:36.760-05:00No, Ingen, Οχι, いいえ, Non...<div style="background: rgb(255, 255, 255); border: 0px; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, "Bitstream Charter", serif; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 24px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
On my way out to get lunch yesterday, I passed a guy in his car who wasn’t wearing a shirt.</div>
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The first question: where could he be going? Or, where could he be going that it would be appropriate to show up not wearing anything on the top half of his body? If we were near a shore town, maybe (and that’s a big maybe), it might happen that a man would need to get from one place to another fast and without his shirt. But on a sunny cool fall afternoon in Ottawa, I just don’t see the logic. I mean, he’s not going to a store or a restaurant because those kinds of places are clearly marked. You must wear a shirt. And shoes. It says so on the door.</div>
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So, is he going to a friends house? And if so, does he really want to show up half naked? What if he and his friend decide they want to go to the store? Or a restaurant?</div>
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Maybe he’s driving to a significant other’s house. And if that’s the scenario, shouldn’t he throw on a shirt anyway? For good manners? It says, “I respect you enough to assume we’re not just going to start making out as soon as I arrive at your apartment.” I suppose this guy wasn’t worried about manners. But maybe he should.</div>
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Perhaps it was the sun. Sunny day, no shirt. Though, I’ve seldom thought to myself: <em style="background: none; border: 0px currentColor; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Wow, it would be a lot cooler in here if I just took off my top.</em></div>
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And this brings me to my next question. What is so laborious about putting on a shirt? I don’t see the hassle. I mean, I get it. Men have an advantage. They can walk around shirtless. They can pee outside. It must be very freeing, and I do not begrudge them of these perks (if you will). But I’ve never found the activity of pulling on a t-shirt tiresome. Just poke your head through the top there and place your arms in those holes at the side. Right. Then pull down over your torso. Great. Now you’ve got it.<br />
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Part of me wanted to follow this guy to see where he was going and what he was up to.<br />
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Janet Off Kilterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18064947474835725800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5132791120008334592.post-21488807743895806722017-11-02T06:44:00.000-04:002017-11-02T06:44:06.493-04:00Because Three<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Insisting on being left alone "Give me some privacy" to poop with the door closed, and proceeding to unravel and entire roll of toilet paper and feed it into the toilet</span>. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Singing Happy Birthday to the candle inside the jack-o-lantern.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Singing Happy Birthday when the Halloween lights turn on.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Insisting on singing "Down by the Bay" All. The. Time.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Singing the ABCs and completely messing up the LMNOP part.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Counting but always calling eleven, eleventeen.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Playing make-believe with several monster trucks inside a giant box on the kitchen floor</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Apologizing to his own toe for stubbing it. So-yee toe!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Carrying handfuls of recycling to the garage.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Yelling "I do it <i>MY</i>self" whenever anyone offers to help, or hands him something, or touches him.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Asking "What that noise?" for EVERY SINGLE SOUND EVER HEARD BY HUMANS.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Yelling "Mama" repeatedly when I lave the room until I come back.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Petting the couch.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Doing puzzles better than I do.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Running in giant, endless circles around the dining room, fanatically screeching at maximum lung capacity with surprisingly ear-piercing pitch, until he's falling-over dizzy and punch-drunk.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Three is amazing & awesome ☺</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>Janet Off Kilterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18064947474835725800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5132791120008334592.post-53081318571420763412017-11-01T14:39:00.004-04:002017-11-01T14:39:31.514-04:00(Almost) Wordless Wednesday<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">No, I will not lightly brush off my sweater. These toast crumbs are part of the outfit and I spent fifteen minutes carefully arranging them.</span><div>
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Janet Off Kilterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18064947474835725800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5132791120008334592.post-29881034613558537292017-10-30T06:44:00.000-04:002017-10-30T15:11:38.310-04:00He Got It From His Mama<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">This is going to sound ridiculous, but I used to find myself being envious of my cats. I would be leaving for work in the morning after having stayed up too late writing/watching late night TV and there they would be, cuddled on the bed, ready to take a luxurious, uninterrupted, hours-long nap. They have no job to worry about and no bills to pay. They never have to think:<br /><br />“Hmmmm, what am I going to make for dinner tonight?”<br /><br />Yes. Being a well cared for, domesticated, house cat seemed to have a lot of perks until I realized that much of my life would consist of sleeping and staying in-doors and that I would have to eat the same meal every day for the rest of my life. In fact, all my decisions would be made for me, and I would be vulnerable to my steward’s whim. Then, there’s the whole having to groom oneself and the pooping in a box and the shortened life span.<br /><br />All of a sudden, it’s not all apple-pie and sunshine in the life of a cat.<br /><br />Now that I have Lochlan, I often find myself thinking about how great it is to be a kid. You have no real responsibilities, no job, and no bills. Your whole, big life is ahead of you, and your whole day is centered around playing. You get complimentary chauffeur service everywhere you go. People go out of their way to tell you you’re handsome and smart all the time, and when you get a little cranky, someone comes along and says...<br /><br />“You really need a nap.”<br /><br />Then, you are scooped up into loving arms and cuddled until you drift off to sleep. When you are having a bad day or moment, you can just emote, kicking your legs and acting like a crazed loon, and no one will call to have you committed. Instead, they’ll offer you a cookie or try to distract you with something fun.<br /><br />As far as I can tell, it all seems pretty awesome in the Land of Loch.<br /><br />Alas, he is not of the same opinion. He is now three years old, and he is under the impression that he is at least ten years older. If he knew the years of toil ahead, he would never want to hurry past these wonder years, but kids never seem to get that concept. So, while I am here pining away for my lost youth, he is calling me to task for all the injustices he suffers at my mighty parental fist.<br /><br />Lochlan has quite the list of the activities that he would like to conquer without my help (thankyouverymuch), and it is growing every day. Please note that 99% of the time, he is a well-behaved, darling little boy with good manners and plenty of kisses for his Mama. Please also note that he only has these grievances with Mama and that most other people, including his day-care provider will say, “Who? Loch? No!” if I even try to broach the subject.<br /><br />He’s a sly one, my little love.<br /><br />Here they are, in no particular order, just a few of the things that will upset Lochlan these days.. </span><ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Wearing pants. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Not being able to take his own shower without me in the bathroom. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Getting into the bath. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Getting out of the bath. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Getting dried off after the bath. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Not liking his pajamas. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Not being able to read his own bedtime story. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Being told he we have to move on to something else.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Not being asked to help with day-to-day activities like making scrambled eggs, putting cream and sugar in my hot tea, folding the laundry. </span></li>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">This is by no means a complete list, but rather, just a taste of the pain and suffering that it is to be a three year old boy. I wish I could warn him to enjoy this time because it is so fleeting, but he would not understand, and he probably would not take the advice even if he could. So, even though I find myself getting flustered from time to time, I know that I have to hold tight to these moments, too, because they will never pass by here again. Instead, I choose to admire his independence and his strong-will. It’s a do-it-yourself kind of world, and it cannot hurt to be a little stubborn/focused. And to these amazing and challenging, three...I take a deep, sturdy breath and say...<br /><br /> Bring. It. On.<br /><br />After all, Lochlan gets all that fire from his mama.</span><div>
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Janet Off Kilterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18064947474835725800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5132791120008334592.post-53833788709354990812017-10-26T06:00:00.000-04:002017-10-26T10:38:34.318-04:00Raising A Dreamer & Owing Your Weird<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I’m madly in love with the concept of raising creative children, of raising dreamers. Here’s what I’ve learned in my home that works for us to keep the hope and the dreaming going....</span><br />
<ul><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Space ~ Kids need room to explore and be and do. This could be inside or outside, their room or the family room. Anywhere that sshhh and too messy don’t apply. I'm excited about setting up "Lochlan's Space" when we move into our new home next month. </span></li>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
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<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Time ~ Kids need free time, as in unstructured, unplanned, unmonitored time. This is so hard to get some days as two working parents but it’s there if we zoom out and let them be sometimes.</span></li>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
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<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Tech/No Tech ~ Kids need access to the things that intrigue them. Some of what they want to create can be enhanced by cool things online. But they also need time in their own heads to explore and imagine and create. There’s a balance here of course but we do allow Lochlan to have the iPad on the weekends.</span></li>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">“I can’t wait to see what you come up with” “You can do this;” “I believe in you;” and “Tell me more;” are all wonderful variations of this. The main idea is you can do this plus, I believe that you can do this plus, I will get out of your way, I promise. It’s so easy to see our adult ideas spin circles around our kids’ imaginings, but the ideas can’t ever become theirs if we place our own parameters around them. Which is, surprisingly, a perfect leeway to the next idea...</span></li>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
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<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Help ~ If they ask for help, give them just what they need to keep moving, no more, no less. This is just like when our kids ask us questions about topics that we’d rather not discuss. When this happens, we try to share the bare minimum information, keeping their questions in mind. The same is true when they are creating. Answer their calls for help with questions, materials, ideas but just a few, then get out of their way. “Let me know if I can help” are fabulous words I keep in my parenting back pocket for this one.</span></li>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Mistakes ~ </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The biggest difference between a dreamer and someone who could have been a dreamer is fear. Fear of mistakes, of failure, of imperfection, of stolen ideas, of “not good enoughs.” When we teach our kids (by modeling our own reactions to their mistakes and ours) that mistakes are an every day (perhaps an every hour) occurrence, we let them know that they are part of the process, and that being a dreamer and a creator trumps every possible thing that they’re afraid of. This also includes letting go of our expectations, as parents, of who and what our kids are and where their sparks lie.</span></li>
</ul>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Dreaming is what makes the world go round. It’s the glorious freedom to be odd and quirky and a risk taker and loving every last bit of it, of you. I’m convinced that teaching our kids to own their odd is what makes them great and confident people. Weird is rad!</span></div>
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Janet Off Kilterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18064947474835725800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5132791120008334592.post-31096927476754359392017-10-25T09:03:00.004-04:002017-10-25T09:03:59.352-04:00(Almost) Wordless Wednesday<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">What do you call a crying Camel?<br /><br /> A humpback wail ☺</span><div>
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Janet Off Kilterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18064947474835725800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5132791120008334592.post-91490290830105034022017-10-19T14:09:00.002-04:002017-10-19T14:09:55.622-04:00Everyone Wants A Hug...Right?<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The other day I ran into someone I've met a handful of times. She is someone whose name I actually remember but I know her in only the strictest professional sense. We are polite. Cordial, even. But we are not chummy.<br /><br /> So it makes perfect sense that the following took place.<br /><br /> We say hello to each other.<br /><br />And then she extends her arm.<br /><br />Which I naturally take to mean she wants to hug me. I mean, sure I think it's weird. After all, we're polite. Cordial, even. But definitely not chummy. Certainly not huggers. Then I think, maybe she's resolved to give more hugs this year. Perhaps it was one of her 2017 New Year's Resolutions and time is running out to meet that goal...2018 will soon be here. Not wanting to be the one who stands in the way of her fulfilling her New Year's Resolutions,<br /><br /> I...<br /><br /> Lean...<br /><br /> In...<br /><br />I'm getting closer. It's almost time for our hug. And then I see her face.<br /><br />And so it occurs to me...<br /><br />She does not want to hug you! Abort! Abort! Do. Not. Hug. Her. Fall on the floor. Pee your pants. Anything but hug her.<br /><br />I stand up straight, clear my throat, straighten my sweater and follow her gaze to the door we are standing in front of.<br /><br />That door has been there the whole time. I bet you guys didn't even see it. Don't feel bad. I didn't see it either. But this woman, who I know in a strictly professional sense, did see it and was extending her arm to open the door to the stairwell. She was not trying to give me a hug because of course she wasn't.<br /><br />I followed her up the stairs and into, coincidently the same store where I stayed very far away from her.<br /><br />I spent the next twenty minutes browsing the store, knitting my brows together, giving the appearance that I was giving thoughtful consideration to what I was looking at. But really, I was trying to telepathically Jedi mind trick her into forgetting what happened.<br /><br />I don't think it worked, and I'm pretty sure that's the last time she'll approach me or even meet my gaze.</span> <span style="font-family: "georgia";"></span><br />
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<br />Janet Off Kilterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18064947474835725800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5132791120008334592.post-79079247730328208562017-10-11T10:02:00.002-04:002017-10-11T10:02:27.951-04:00(Almost) Wordless Wednesday <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: small;">Twenty nine days and counting until we move into our new home. I'm so freaking excited!</span></td></tr>
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<br />Janet Off Kilterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18064947474835725800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5132791120008334592.post-76909202597488297312017-10-10T10:37:00.000-04:002017-10-10T10:37:03.943-04:00Thirty Six Reasons Why My Three Year Old Might Be Freaking Out <div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Seems like it’s hard being a three year old...</span></div>
<ol><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">His sock is on wrong.</span></li>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">His lip tastes salty.</span></li>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">His shirt has a tag on it.</span></li>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
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<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The car seat is weird.</span></li>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">He’s hungry, but he doesn't want to eat food.</span></li>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Someone touched his knee.</span></li>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">He’s not allowed in the oven.</span></li>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I picked out the wrong pants.</span></li>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The cat looked at him.</span></li>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The other cat didn’t look at him.</span></li>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">His hair is heavy.</span></li>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">He doesn’t want to get out of the car.</span></li>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">He wants to get out of the car by himself.</span></li>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">His sleeve is touching his thumb.</span></li>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">He doesn’t understand how popsicles are made.</span></li>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The inside of his nose stinks.</span></li>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
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<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Chicken is gross.</span></li>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">A balloon he got six months ago is missing.</span></li>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
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<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The gummi vitamin is too firm.</span></li>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
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<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">YouTube kids is slow.</span></li>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">He jumped off the couch and we weren’t watching.</span></li>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">He’s not allowed to touch fire.</span></li>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">A shoe should fit either foot.</span></li>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I asked him a question.</span></li>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I'm talking.</span></li>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">He can’t lift a dump truck.</span></li>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The cat is in his way.</span></li>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The cat won’t let him touch its eyeball.</span></li>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The inside of his cheek feels rough.</span></li>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Things take too long to cook.</span></li>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">He has too much food in his mouth.</span></li>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">He sneezed.</span></li>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Someone knocked over his tower.</span></li>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The yogurt won’t stay on his spoon.</span></li>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The moon goes to bed in the morning.</span></li>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Walking is hard.</span></li>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">
</span></ol>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">What about your little ones...what might they be freaking out over?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"></span><br />
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Janet Off Kilterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18064947474835725800noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5132791120008334592.post-70587921775763715842017-10-04T08:23:00.000-04:002017-10-04T08:23:56.769-04:00Wordless Wednesday<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAaAFJLSSZz5J_BjOgQtFDuOZhfDRUqJBG2Qy1QLbp59ixzAAu1i99vvW0UzB02o3KP7TIPaEQLEKh2M1eXqhCJ38PcYgmWKL0iQKbPpms7xabBfSr8DMAoQTWUzA2z-Ie-YE3gqDa5Ls/s1600/pray-for-las-vegas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="428" data-original-width="760" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAaAFJLSSZz5J_BjOgQtFDuOZhfDRUqJBG2Qy1QLbp59ixzAAu1i99vvW0UzB02o3KP7TIPaEQLEKh2M1eXqhCJ38PcYgmWKL0iQKbPpms7xabBfSr8DMAoQTWUzA2z-Ie-YE3gqDa5Ls/s400/pray-for-las-vegas.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />Janet Off Kilterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18064947474835725800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5132791120008334592.post-11047067553065743252017-10-02T12:03:00.000-04:002017-10-02T12:03:31.186-04:00Then Verus Now<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Here are just a few of things that I've done in the past three years that I would not have done previously...</span><br />
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Put peanut butter on a piece of toast while peeing. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Brush someone’s teeth against their will. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Blow on food while it’s in someone else’s mouth. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Help someone else blow on food while it’s in someone else’s mouth. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Eat food that’s fallen out of someone else’s mouth. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Eat food you found on the floor. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Chase someone at full speed through Home Depot. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Eat more then a dozen snack size chocolate bars at 4 am while watching Paw Patrol...alone. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Sing the Paw Patrol theme song to yourself while driving...alone. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Bribe someone to poop with a Dora fruit flavored gummy vitamin.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Eat food you found under the table. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Eat candy you found in a shoe. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Wipe somebody’s nose with your bare hand. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Eat baby food. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Give yourself a crotch bath with baby wipes. </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Pretend you’re terrible at basketball using a toddler sized net. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Finish someone else’s soggy cereal. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Blame a fart on a child. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Blame a child’s fart on your spouse. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Get someone dressed while you’re in the shower. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Cut up a grape. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Almost agree to cut up a raisin. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Pretend to enjoy the flavor of children's medicine . </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Ask someone why their hair smells like yogurt. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Ask someone why their hair smells like your antiperspirant. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Put someone else’s toenail clippings in your pocket. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Let someone watch you poop while they stare blankly eating a popsicle.</span></li>
</ul>
<span style="font-family: "georgia";">Again...these are just a few. There are more. So many more. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia";"></span><br />
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Janet Off Kilterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18064947474835725800noreply@blogger.com1