Author Archives: ladywicks

About ladywicks

I'm a woman in my 30's and unlike many women my age, I LOVE being in my 30's. What you see is what you get with me. This is all about my life-about marriage, raising children, attempting to have a career that doesn't include diaper changes and report cards, and trying my best just to get through it all one day after another. If you think it seems boring-JUST READ. I guarantee you that it will seem more like a three-ring circus than any experience that you would have "Under the Big Top". No sugar coating, no editing designed to make me seem like the mom and wife of the year.... just my life. And I wouldn't trade it for the world.

I can do “angry” really well….


I have recently come to realize a lot of things about myself. My life is a series of learning opportunities. Some I pay attention to, some I do not. Recently it has come to my attention that anger is something that I have used to escape for a very long time. Anger is more powerful than any substance I have ever used, any place I have been, or any person I have ever know. Anger has changed my environment, and has always produced results. At least it has for me. The only down side, as it has recently become more apparent to me, is that it produces the exact opposite of what I was hoping to accomplish in the first place. As an example, I offer a personal battle that I have had many times in my marriage. Let me draw you in to the familiar scene. My husband wants to go out for the evening with his friends. I swiftly proceed to give massive amounts of attitude because I am angry that he is choosing to go out with his friends instead of choosing to spend some quality time with me…. yes me, who is now acting like the Ice Queen and expecting that this will make him change his mind. What does my behaviour reinforce? Only how much more fun my husband would have with his friends because I am acting like a stone cold female dog. So what has this scene proven? That acting out in anger only creates the negative consequences that I fear to begin with. It distances me from people, it keeps me completely self-centred and victimized, and it serves me in no way what-so-ever.
My best friend and I have always joked about our anger. We always have said that we could be the Founder, President and CEO of the “Angry Little Girls Club”. I think in joking about this, I was sitting comfortably in denial about just how destructive a force it was becoming in my life, thus never really needing to do anything about it. I don’t want to be known by anyone-especially my Husband and my Children- as the Ice Queen, or a stone cold female dog.
So I have dropped the rock, so to speak. Let go of the weight that I have been slowly drowning myself with. It doesn’t serve me, and it does not help me to live a life of serving the people in my life that I love so deeply.
I am beyond astounded at the lessons that life continues to hand me. I am beyond grateful that I have the presence of mind to see the lesson and the willingness to change. Today.
That’s Me.


Giving up the Crazy.


It has been a crazy month.  Literally.  I have felt, at times, a bit crazy.  I am sure to others, namely my family, I have seemed more than a little crazy.  What, you ask, has made me so crazy?  The answer is simple, yet so complex.  The answer is…. me.  For as long as I can remember, I have been my biggest problem.  When I was a small child there was so much going on around me that I could not control.  The things that happened between my parents, the way that children bullied me so horribly- I could control none of it.  I think that somewhere along the way I decided that the only way to protect myself was to do whatever I could do to control what was going on around me.  I had no idea that in order to accomplish that I would sacrifice a lot of wonderful things along the way.  You see, I have always been so busy trying to control the people, places and things in my life, that I have missed out on so many of the little things that have been gifts along the way.   Now, I should clarify, that in no way is this a self-deprecating exercise during which I put myself down for being a few sandwiches short of a picnic.  In fact, it is intended to be quite the opposite.

I have come to truly understand in recent days how little control really serves me.  I have also come to see more and more how little it serves others around me.  The relationship that my sense of control has with my simply divine sense of fear, paralyzes me in a frightening way.  It also takes hostages.  Usually this includes most frequently, but is not limited to, my family.  Isn’t it a ridiculous notion that I fear that horrible things will happen, and so If I control them then surely it will all work out magically?  What is even more ridiculous is that I truly believe at times that this is the best solution.  The result, however, is exactly that which I am afraid of and attempting to prevent in the first place.

Here’s the good news.  If I am the problem, then I can be the solution.  This does not mean that I fix the problem.  After all it was my fear and control that got me into the mess to begin with.  It simply means that I can step aside and let the natural order of things transpire as they will, regardless of my attempt and failure to control them.  The results?  A Husband who wants to be around me, kids that have a happier mom and are happier as a result, and freedom.  Time…. just to enjoy each moment as it comes.  Control and Fear no longer serve me.  I am finally ready to see what my life might be like without them.  Today, I got a small taste of that freedom.

Dare I say, it was better than my Mom’s carrot cake.

Sicker than Old Yeller


I have officially been taken down by the fall cold bug. Needless to say, I feel like i’m on the receiving end of the beating of a lifetime.

Besides remedies such as Tim Hortons donuts and several episodes of Boardwalk Empire on the couch, not much has worked to heal my aching throat.

Until, of corse I googled recipes for smoothies high in Vitamin C.  What I found and made was  nothing short of Delish!   It tasted amazing and gave me a little boost to get me through the afternoon.

For those that want it….
1 cup pineapple (fresh or frozen)
1/2 cup mango (fresh or frozen)
1 banana
1 cup almond milk

My committment to eating a diet with more raw foods has not only been benefit to my shrinking waistline.  I now can use food to boost my health.  Who would have thought!  (Apparently lots of people… just not me. Haha)

A taste of the tropics from my couch. Now all I need is some sand.  And an ocean for the kids to pee in.

Bottoms up!!

Eatin’ Green and Lovin’ it!


I have lived in Kitchener for almost three years.  When I first moved here, one of my favorite things was how close we were to St.Jacob’s Market.  It was exciting to me that if we so chose, we could purchase Ontario grown goodness in our own backyard. What I didn’t know about was The Kitchener Market.  Well boy oh boy, let me tell you… A-MAZ-ING!

I recently started eating a diet consisting of mostly raw foods.  I have been saying and have heard others say that it costs more money to eat healthy foods.   I will say “on the record” (although i’m not sure which record) that I discovered this to be very untrue yesterday. My hubby and I went to the market to see how far we could stretch 30 dollars.  I was, and still am, blown away at how much we got.

Here it is, just to illistrate the point to all of you guys and gals who may want to know just how much 30 bucks will actually get you.
2 bunches of organic Kale
1 bunch of organic beets
Organic carrots
3 pineapples
3 bunches of asparagus
1 large basket of peppers
1 basket of pears
1 basket of apples
15 tomatoes
15 mini zucchini
1 bunch of celery
4 cucumbers.

By the end of our shopping experience, our double stroller was packed with more than babies. I was also aware first hand of the benefits of supporting local farmers selling Ontario grown foods.  There were no “food like products” for sale at those tables.  Just wonderful, fresh, locally grown food.

It’s official. I want to be Mrs. Farmer Brown.

And they lived happily ever after….


This weekend I was fortunate enough to witness the marriage of my youngest cousin Brooke.  My sister and I grew up with our cousins Kate, Liz and Brooke.  We have had many adventures over the years.  When we come together, often we end up reminiscing about our fondest memories of our young childhood and teenage years.  Now as adults, our memories continue but the adventures have changed a little. Where our adventures used to be “The Adventures of Peter Pan and Captain Hook” in our bedrooms,  we now find ourselves discussing our careers, our significant others, and our children.  We share in our successes and we support each other, even with distance between us, through the hard times as well.  Suffice it to say, it would not have felt right if we were not all together to witness the beginning of the newest adventure that has begun in Brooke’s life.

There was nothing more surreal than watching Brooke walk down the isle to her love and the Father of her children.  In that moment, my youngest cousin Brooke was no longer just my childhood playmate.  She was a beautiful woman making a life long commitment to walk through her life with her new husband.  Watching her brought tears to my eyes.  Tears for our childhood which passed us by so quickly.  Tears for the difficult times we have had, and our ability to come out on the other side triumphantly.  Tears of appreciation and pride for the woman that she has become.  Naturally, it also reminded me of my own love story.

I have had 4 days in my 30 years of life so far that have been the happiest of them all.  The day that Thomas, Isaiah and Elizabeth were born, and the day that I married my husband.  I remember so clearly walking down the isle.  All I could see was Wayne.  In the church filled with my family and friends, in that moment we were the only two people there in God’s presence.  I felt truly in awe of the amazing gift that I had been given in finding the kind of love I never imaged existed with him.  I stood at the front of the church looking into his eyes, truly excited about starting my life with him as Man and Wife.

The moment quickly passed as I realized that I had walked down the isle to no minister.  Yes, you read that correctly.  There was no minister.  You see, he thought that the wedding started at 2, and in the panic and excitement of the day no one really checked to see where he was.  The cues to begin were given, and before you knew it, I was standing at the front of the church in front of all of my family and friends…… and no minister.  I left the church, had my nerves mowed by my bridesmaids, and patiently awaited the minister’s arrival.  Before you know it, I was walking down the isle for the second time in one day.  It would become a running joke that I was the only bride to walk down the isle twice-IN ONE DAY.  My piece of advice to those married since then has been, “Trust in God, and wait for the Minister”.  Words to live by.

Despite all of that, my wedding day was perfect.  Not to say that it all went according to plan or that it turned out exactly the way that I would have wanted.  What I mean to say is that despite all of that, my wedding day was perfect because I was joined to Wayne in marriage in the presence of God, and those we love.  I married my best friend, the Father of my children, and my partner in life, until Death do us part.  The only thing that matters is that through the good, the bad and the ugly that life may hand us, I know that I have someone to walk through it all with.  I have someone to share in my successes with, to share my burdens with, and to watch my children grow up with.  And now, so does Brooke.

So congratulations Brooke and Ryan.  May the years ahead of you as Man and Wife be rich with love, faith and trust in God, and one another.  Always remember how happy and in love you were on the day of your marriage.

I know I will always remember.


“Where do you want me to park now?”


I am 30 years old and I am preparing for what most 16 and 17 year olds prepare for.  My G2 road test.  As to the reason why it has taken me so long to do it, a combination of anxiety and laziness have been the culprits.  Through my late teen years and early 20’s it was likely best that I not be entrusted to operate a hair straightener let alone a motor vehicle.  Now, as a mature mother of three and wife, I no longer wish to belong to the “bus pass of the month” club.  It’s time.

My attempts to become a capable driver began with our Nissan Versa about a year and a half ago.  The vehicle had been purchased a year or so prior and to my chagrin it was a manual transmission.  My wonderful husband took me around the block a few times and although I was able to get the hang of getting the car into first gear, the lesson ended in tears.  Wayne was encouraging, highlighting that I was able to get it into first which is great.  I decided though that the only thing first about it was that it was my first and last attempt at driving a standard car.  What can I say, other than I have no inner race car driver begging to get out.  I am an automatic-car-lovin’ girl.

As luck would have it, I got knocked up…. twice.  Therefore it became clear that we would not be able to fit all of our children in the vehicle, let alone double strollers and basic necessities.  So we were on the hunt for a van.  What we purchased was more than just an ordinary van.  It was written in the stars that it would soon become the mom mobile.  It was then that I decided I would take the plunge, face my fears, and get my driver’s license.  The mom mobile was crying out to be driven, and there was only one mom for the job.

Fast forward to today.  I am a capable driver in the opinion of my husband.  Parking is the next evil that I am overcoming one driving lesson at a time.  Now for those of you that know me (and even for those of you that don’t) you know that when I do things, I like to do them perfectly, or not at all.  Suffice it to say that as a result of this expectation of my ability to be perfect, I have not accomplished many things for one reason-that I have never attempted them to begin with.  I attempted to reverse park a few times and was obviously frustrated that I was not able to perfectly reverse park our Dodge Caravan.  It was only after Wayne said something to me that everything changed.  He looked at me with the look that he gives me that lets me know that he knows me better than I know myself most of the time.  He said, “You do not have to do this perfectly.”

After hearing what he said, I laid on my horn in the nearly empty parking lot and repeated out loud to myself those words, “I do not have to do this perfectly.”  It’s amazing how powerful a remedy those words were to my dilemma.  After having that moment to accept that I am not now, have never been and never will be perfect, I attempted the reverse park.  I nailed it.   Twice more and more success.  Parallel parked in downtown Kitchener on a busy Saturday afternoon at the park.  Success.  Gas station reverse park, check.  And the final test was reverse parking when I got home in the spot right next to my nemesis, the Nissan Versa.

I will tell you that the feeling that I felt when I got home was amazing.  To most, I am sure that it seems silly.  But the fulfillment that I felt from facing my fear of not being perfect in yet another area of my life was overwhelming.  In asking for help and accepting my limitations with attaining perfection, I surpassed the expectations I had of myself to fail.

I kicked parking’s ass.  Thanks Wayne.

Caution: May not play nicely with others.


I took the babies to a play group this morning so that Isaiah can begin the age old journey of learning how to play nicely with others.  For those of you that know me, you know that our precious Isaiah is adventurous and does not often fear much of anything.  He has had to adapt in order to keep up with his 11 year old brother.  He is a bruiser for lack of better words.  Don’t get me wrong, Isaiah is a gentle and loving little boy.  He has amazed us with how gentle and loving he is with his little sister.  But if there is child holding something that he wants, or he would like to cut the line for the slide, he is not shy about it at all.

2013-09-24 13.17.14

This morning there was a set of twin boys who were 14 months old playing nicely and quietly on the mat with their mother.  Isaiah cut in between those boys like a knife and snagged one of the toys that they were playing with.  He then proceeded to trip and decided to use one of the little boys to break his fall.  We had only been at play group for 5 minutes, and already there were tears and they were not Isaiah’s.  Once Isaiah heard the tears, he went over to the little boy and gently rubbed the little boy’s arm as if to say sorry.  Wait….. that didn’t really happen.  That’s what I imagined that my kind, loving little boy would do..  Instead what he actually did was run across the gym to play with the hoola-hoop while giggling, leaving me behind to apologize and feel like the worst mom on the planet.  Thank goodness that the mom was incredibly laid back about it, because I will tell you that not all parents are.

I first had a taste of life with a bruiser when Thomas was a youngin.  I was in my second year of college and was in a midterm exam. Thomas was 2 1/2 at the time.  My cell phone rang repeatedly and finally I excused myself, explaining to my professor that it was my son’s daycare calling and I was worried that it might be an emergency.  I checked my voicemail and this is what I heard.  “Hi this is so and so calling.  We just wanted to let you know that there was a fight over a bike with a couple of the kids today, and Thomas appears to have lost.”  When I arrived, I was shocked at what I saw.  Thomas had a bruise under his eye, a bite mark on his cheek and a cut on his lower lip.  What took the cake was that the following day was picture day.  I will never forget that incident because I have his daycare photo as a fond reminder of my rough and tough Thomas going after what he really wanted without consideration of the other child’s feelings or the potential for injury.

So I suppose that it is fair to say that my boys will definitely be boys.  Wayne and I will continue to attempt to teach them how to play nicely with others, while they learn how to be loving and gentle with women from me and life with a little sister.  Thomas is 11 and he is still learning to play well with others.  Isaiah will have lots of opportunities to learn how to play with others at the weekly playgroup down the street on Wednesdays, while I perfect the art of apologizing on his behalf.  At the end of the day, no bones were broken, no self-esteem damaged and everyone made it out alive and home for nap time.

There’s always next week.