Juice Fast, Day 1

So, I've been Paleo/Primal for a while, since last April. Then December came and the holidays threw our regimes out of the door. I have been back to being pseudo-primal for a week or two but have just been feeling like total shit. So, today I have started a juice fast, in the hopes that it will help me get this general feeling of crap out of my muscles.

Normally I wouldn't blog about it, but I thought that I might this time, just so that I can keep track of how I'm feeling and what combinations of fuits and veggies I prefer.

This morning's juice isn't so bad.

5 carrots
4 celery stalks
1 mini cucumber
1 large handful of spinach
1/4 apple
1 cup of water (to get my Vitamix going)

I had to strain it through a nutmilk bag because the consistency was making me gag, but strained it isn't awful. I'll probably acquire a taste for it before long. (At least, that's what I tell myself! LOL!)

Day 1 begun.

Back to the blog

So, last I blogged, I was preggers. Now my fetus has exited my womb and is 14 months old. Lazy blogger, huh?

Today I'm feeling a need to talk about the exciting/frustrating aspects of life. Growing, adaptation, change, more adaptation. Things evolve, people grow up, kids move on, people come in your life, people leave your life, it's all very impermanent which is one of the reasons it's very important to stay in the moment and enjoy it while it's here. But it can be frustrating to stay in the moment sometimes, especially when the moment you are currently experiencing isn't a particularly enjoyable one.

-SIDEBAR-
I've always been a tribal person. The more the merrier, many hands make light work, it takes a village to raise a child-- you get the gist. I grew up around a ton of people, my childhood religion and my family taught me that families were Numero UNO on the list of priorities and I wholeheartedly agreed. Everything I did was heavily influenced by the reaction my family would have to my choices. I would break out whenever I could, but for all my "alternative living" I was still deeply, deeply rooted in my family. As the oldest of 6 children and the very oldest of 64 grandchildren and still counting (when you count both sides) I always felt like I needed to stay close to the pack because if I broke away permanently then all the other kids would follow suit and our family would crumble. Pretty self-centered, I realize now, but that's how I thought.

Anyhow--BIG JUMP-- my youngest sister recently became a mother. Even though she's been married over a year and a half, the beautiful daughter she brought into this world really cemented her to her new family, the one she created with her husband. It's not a new concept to me, (hell, I was the first one to be married out of my siblings) but I can't really say that I was the first one to break off and completely create my own family. It wasn't until I watched my baby sister in her hospital room asleep with her newborn child while her husband lightly snoozed on the couch that I realized she didn't need me there anymore. Not like she has in the past as her 2nd mom. She's now a mom. That man on the couch is her man. And this newborn niece of mine was, is the beautiful product of their union, the beginning of their progeny. So, I realized there, at that moment, without any words or knowing glances, that it was time for me to exit the hospital room and let that little family be their own little family. It was lovely. As I exited the hospital I felt.... Free? Relieved? Relaxed? I don't know. I just know that watching my baby sister remove the "baby" part from her title and just become my sister wasn't as sad as I thought it'd be. It was exciting. Exciting for the both of us. Exciting for me because I felt that I could now completely focus on my own little family now that each of my siblings had their place in their own new pods.

On the road trip back home with my husband and 3 kids in the car this feeling I'd just experienced kept running around in my mind and I got to thinking about who my own true family is. I mean, who I'm truly willing to change everything for. It really took me down some odd roads, with a few surprising turns. I'd always identified the Curt and Alberta Casey pod as my pod. When Bill and I got married, he was just an appendage of me and my place in the Casey pod, we didn't really strike out and start our own. He was fine with that, as he also wanted to belong to the Casey pod at that time. But as my siblings all paired off and started their own pods, not all of them had the same desire to keep the Casey pod as their default 1st family. As a young married I just incorporated my husband into our existing family instead of striking out and creating our own. It seemed like the right thing to do, and maybe it was at the time, but as the years went by I yearned to strike out and start our own. Which is the main reason we moved out of state. I just needed the actual physical separation to do it. Now we have firmly established our own home, our own pod, our own 1st family.

And now something else has happened that makes me question it all again.

My dad is engaged. I like her and I'm happy for them, there's no issue in the coupling or the union. It's just the realization that not only are my parents divorced now, but my father is engaged and will be creating a new pod. She has no kids and they won't be having any together, but his fiancee will still be his first priority and rightfully so. It's just made me think about my new little pod more. My kids will grow up, fall in love and couple off to start their own families one day. And then my core family will only be me and Bill. But what if Bill leaves me/I leave him/he dies/etc.? That means that I will be alone. My kids will all have their own lives that they're leading and I might have no one person to share my life with. It dawned on me at that moment, looking through the glass of the passenger window that *I* am my own family. My limbs, organs, cells and I are my true 1st family. Everyone else in my life is impermanent, though I love it when they're here. I need to be true to myself. So I am embarking on a new path, a new method of decision making. My household is the most important to me and where my work as a mother/wife is done. But I also need to make decisions that are strictly for myself, because one day that's all that there will be, and I need to be okay with that. I'll only be okay with that if I truly like myself and what I'm doing with and for myself and if I'm as proud of myself as I am of my children. So I'm starting down a path of self-interest so that I'm not a miserable empty-nester. Nothing too stringent or demanding and nothing radical because I still want to enjoy the moment I'm currently inhabiting, which is "Mother of Three Young Kids". But, I'm also going to keep an eye out for that lady in the mirror. Not the freaky one that I'm sure will jump out in the middle of the night to steal my soul, that bitch can stay hidden! LOL! I'm talking about the pretty 33 year old with long, dark hair and big, brown eyes.

Pregnancy Dreams

I woke up yesterday morning at 5:25 and took a deep breath.

I tried to shake off the immense sadness I felt and go back to sleep, but no go. So I got up, got a drink, went to the bathroom and laid back in bed. Guillaume heard me upon re-entry (I'm not so stealthy at 7 months pregnant) and asked if everything was OK. I tried to reply with a quick, "Yep" but SOMEHOW it came out, "NOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!'



(BTW, this is how I felt, hand to my heart--I can only WISH I looked this cute crying!)

Commence waterfalls of tears and bucket loads of snot and probably the nastiest ugly crying you've ever heard as I blubbered an account of the dream I'd just suffered through. I'm surprised he understood any of my gibberish through the snorts, sniffles and nose snarls that happened as I tried to deal with the fountains of mucus draining from my face. Please take note that I'm not a dainty crier as it is, but it's about 100 times worse when I've got pregnant sinuses. I wish I had a video of it to show everyone how much of a saint my husband can be, because he didn't once recoil in disgust even as I SOAKED his shirt in facial leakings for a full hour. Tears, snot, saliva.....the only thing missing from his shirt collection was my ear wax. If that had come out, I wouldn't blame him one bit for immediately requesting a dissolution of marriage citing incomprehensible grossness!

Anyhow, I'm sure that I'll share this dream one day, but for now I'm still trying to sort it out for myself. It was just SO VIVID, as most pregnancy dreams tend to be. I hope tonight I get a reprieve from the tears and dream about flying or winning the lottery or sleeping through the night. That would be an AMAZING dream to have right now!

Like Milk With No Lid

My 5 year old son, Liam, has recently started to become very independent. Independent and helpful, all at the same time. He delights in being able to fix a PB & J for lunch and a simple breakfast of cold cereal for not only himself but for his little brother as well. He's really taken to being a good older brother and it really is the sweetest thing. Besides the amazingly quick pace we seem to be going through the ingredients for said dishes, the only problem I can find with this new arrangement is the unwanted return of an old pet peeve I thought I had left behind the day I grew up and moved out of my parents' house.

Missing milk lids.

There's something about children and milk caps that just doesn't work. Like oil and water, cats and dogs, Palin and Washington D.C. the two just do not get along. This morning I opened the fridge to find this sight awaiting me:


OH, THE HORROR!!!!!!!

Now I know it's not as pressing as the state of our economy, global warming, or even the sad shape my fingernails are currently in, but for some reason this sight flashed me back to a time in my life I don't particularly like, but thought I'd long since moved past. Judging by the feverish and bounty-hunter-like manner in which I conducted my search for the escapee lid, I will now have to face the facts that I absolutely have not gotten over my past.

To clarify, it's not as if I had some deranged experience with milk, a la Carrie at the prom. Milk was actually a huge source of comfort for me when I was young. As the oldest of six kids, we didn't have a lot in terms of junk food, and milk was like liquid gold. We were never allowed to out and out grab a glass of milk, we could only use it sparingly to accompany cereal or in cooking. Every now and again, when I would feel overwhelmed I would sneak to the kitchen and grab a glass and steal a cup or two of the cool, refreshing, calming milk and breathe easier while I felt it coat my throat and cool my overworked insides as it made its way down to my stomach. When I struck out on my own, I could scarcely afford to eat a sleeve of saltine crackers a day for my main meal, but I always made sure I had a gallon of milk. Complete with lid.

So, as a youngster, my frustration with opening the fridge to find a milk carton looking like the one above, is that I would find my comfort food in the same situation I was trying to escape. The lid that was once there, meant to protect the precious milk content from foreign debris, was stripped away and the milk was left defenseless. It was now left open to any intruder that could change the way the milk tasted. Open to debris that could take the sweetness of the milk and turn it sour, rancid. The blighted milk would act as an emotional mirror and I would see myself, so young and sweet, littered and souring because my own protective lid had been ripped from me by an uncaring and selfish soul. I was left open to the elements to rot and sour. The capless milk would completely unnerve me and I would turn away from the fridge, saddened that the rest of the gallon --to me-- was ruined.

As a newlywed I remember my husband losing the milk cap once. ONCE. Of course, back then I didn't give much time for introspection and I couldn't even articulate WHY I was so upset about it, but the riot act I read him so passionately over something so trivial must've surely scared the bejeezus out of him. I yelled at him as if it was personal attack against me, how's THAT for crazy? Anyhow, it must've scared him straight, because until this morning that sight had never greeted me at the fridge again.

But today as I tracked down, sterilized and replaced the lid to the milk I was forced to delve into WHY I was so UNDONE by the missing milk cap. I couldn't very well light into my newly independent and helpful 5 year old the way I had my husband years before, that would be so cruel! It was wrong to do to an adult, let alone my baby boy. It was after a few breathers, some nervous laughter and a big sigh that I realized to what extent I had identified with Vitamin D, Whole. I know it hasn't solved anything or healed anything to have this realization, but it does feel like I'm moving in the right direction by identifying where my feelings are coming from.

Ironically, since I've been pregnant with this child, I've become lactose intolerant. I wonder what THAT means?

Tole Tray Rescue

A 12x8 inch Tole tray I rescued from a thrift store for $2. I'm searching for more information on the maker so I can find it an appropriate home. I want to make sure it's not a valuable antique before I give it away to someone who might like it, but wouldn't necessarily treasure it. Any help from anyone would be greatly appreciated! Thanks!

A Cute Giveaway Takes Me Down Memory Lane....*sigh*

So, before I start tearing up from nostalgia, let me first introduce this adorable giveaway at:


They are giving away a sweet collage of the winner's choice soon, and so I clicked through to see what was being offered. I saw this little guy and thought about the first time I saw my little guy.

You see, I'm a big girl. I'm over 6 ft tall and Polynesian, so suffice it to say that I'm no toothpick. When I had my first baby, he was also a big boy at 9 lbs 5 oz with a head the size of a kindergartner! LOL! He was so big the nurses didn't even bother with newborn diapers, they went straight to #1's! All the nurses kept coming in and telling me what a BIG BIG boy I had and they couldn't get over it. I looked at him and told him (and the nurses listening) that they didn't know what they were talking about. Sure, he might be big compared to all the little baby birdies that they have in the nursery, but he's just my tiny little baby elephant and I am his Momma elephant! (Cue "Baby Mine" lullaby from Dumbo! haha!)

So, seeing this elephant and bird together completely took me back to one of the first times I saw my boy. *sigh* Time for kisses and cuddles!

DIY My Little Pony Canvas Bags with a 3D Tail!

Hey all! I'm still pretty new to blogging, so please excuse some of the sideways pictures and the lack of all the pics of the "ingredients" before I got started. I'll get better as I do this more! haha!

Anyhow, this is how I made over a dozen super cute My Little Pony canvas bags for my niece's guests to paint at her My Little Pony birthday party. Total cost per pre-painted bag, around $1.25, if you already have glue and the main tools.

First, you'll need:
*Canvas Bags (I got mine at Michaels for about $1)
*1 fine tip Sharpie
*1 pair of Scissors
*A little bit of masking tape, just to hold things in place
*Print an image of a pony from the internet
*Hot glue gun and same size glue (don't make my mistake and get regular glue for a mini gun! ARGH!)
*Little wig headbands in varying shades (purchased at the Dollar Tree, LOVE IT!)
*A light box. If you don't have one, you can probably use a window, but you can also hack something together, like I did below.


Glass brownie pan + hanging work light = LIGHT BOX!

Turn on your "light box" and tape the printed pony to the glass. Then overlay your canvas bag and tape that as well. Or just hold it firmly in place, like I did! =) Start tracing your image. Do NOT trace the tail. It would be better if you could erase the tail from your image before you print it, as I lost at least two bags when I absentmindedly drew in the tail! TWICE! Geez....

If this were turned the right way, you poor souls wouldn't have a kinked neck. Sorry folks. Here I have finished tracing and have successfully managed NOT to draw in the tail! YAY!

These are the Dollar Tree play wig things I got. As long as you get colorful curly play hair, you can substitute anything.

You don't need much hair, I quartered each wig to get 12 bags out of the 3 bands. I cut the hair WITH the cloth so that I didn't have a million strays running around. Once you get a firm grip towards the end, glue the heck out of the last inch and then wait until the glue is warm to the touch but is still workable and squish/roll it together so it looks like this:

Then cut off the end bit of material.

Here you'll make a small incision (NOT TOO LARGE!) and poke the tail through, starting from the right side and ending on the wrong side. Then tie a knot and glue that little guy in place within an inch of its life! Make sure you're gluing on the inside of the bag at this point!

Then, on the outside, place a dab of glue near the tail in the direction you want the tail to go. I wanted a perky tail, so I angled it a little higher than the incision. Twist the hair and then press the tail in the glue.

Fluff out the tail and voilà! There you are!

A cute little craft station bag for the girls to paint and decorate! It can also double as a party favor bag! FUN!

These were a BIG hit! Paint, glitter, sequins and rhinestones go a long way in making little girls happy!

To see more fun DIY projects, follow this link!