I was 16 when we officially became a couple on June 9, 2000 and 24 when we got married on June 9, 2008.
Even I can do that math — eight years together before our wedding day, eight years since our wedding day, 16 years together in total.
Today I’m 32 and it’s June 9, 2016. We’ve been together 16 years. Half my LIFE, people!
And so, as I always do on our anniversary, I must trot out the wedding video I edited together on the free Windows Movie Maker software that came with my computer a zillion years ago …
Eight years. Sixteen years. However you count, it’s a lot.
Marriage is not easy, even for people like us who have been together since we were teenagers. We have to work at it, too.
We test our marriage with countless DIY projects — this being one of the worst — and we struggle to put each other first when the world tells us it should be all about the kids.
There are financial struggles and professional struggles where we try to balance two unpredictable careers. We also try to balance each other’s parenting, since I’m a cranky b. at night and he has absolutely no patience after working a night shift.
There is sickness (so much sickness) and there is tears. There are big decisions and silly decisions and everything in between.
Last year, I wrote about the day we were married and I don’t think I can say it better than that …
We took our rented Corvette for a long drive through the desert, got lost on the way to Red Rock Canyon, and didn’t care. It was a perfect day …
He’s still my everything,
As a journalist, I write a lot of stories. One of the best ways to guarantee you’re writing about something that interests you is to pitch stories, but I rarely have the time to sit down and drum up ideas. It’s all I can do to keep up with the assignments that come in, normally.
So when I pitched the idea of a story on interesting storage nooks and crannies in new homes, I was pumped when my East Coast Living editor gave me the green light. I have an entire Pinterest board dedicated to hoarding these ideas in case we ever build someday (not likely, but you never know).
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| Photo credit: Stephen Harris |
I loved interviewing builders across Atlantic Canada to ask about the coolest features and spaces they’ve created, from a bookshelf/wine rack combination, double-duty kitchen islands, dream pantries, mudrooms, banquette seating, wine cellars, and entertainment centres.
Full story is over on EastCoastLiving.ca if you’re planning a new home and want it to be as efficient as possible.
(Or if you’re like me and are forever designing your dream home on Pinterest)
He patted my head gently when he got home from school and saw I was still sick in bed with the flu. “Oh, Mom,” he started, pausing for a second to remind himself of the word he heard me use the night before. “Have you been … recuperating?”
I didn’t realize I was teaching him big words until he was already spouting them off. I can’t pinpoint when I stopped using cutesy phrases and started using real words for everything. Was it when he hit Primary? Am I automatically speaking to him like a real person because he’s … acting like a real person?
He turned six on Monday and I was, for the sixth time, startled by how much he’d changed in just 12 months.
It was so easy to mark the time during his first year.
I’d put him in a different-coloured cloth diaper each month, cut out little foam letters and numbers spelling out “four months old” or “eight months old,” and snap a few dozen pictures of him wriggling to escape.
I stopped taking monthly photos after he turned one. The scrapbooks stopped before he turned two, with his newborn sister on the scene. I stopped making monthly Facebook photo albums of him sometime after he turned four. Time is whirling faster than I could have imagined.
He used to struggle to open juice boxes and now he expertly flicks on the TV and navigates his way through Netflix. He was the scaling furniture and countertops as a toddler, and now he’s the one telling other kids that something is dangerous. He could barely speak until he was two and a half, and now he’s reading entire books out loud to me and his sister.
I keep seeing glimpses of him as a young man, in the loving way he talks to his little sister (well, most of the time) and the patient way he rebuilds his Lego creations immediately after they smash.
When I was struggling to stow one of the van seats recently, having no idea what I was doing, my not-quite-six-year-old jumped in and walked me through it. “Dad pushes that seat forward …” I did. “Then he lifts up right here. No, there. Yeah! You’ve got it!”
It is a strange and wonderful feeling when you realize your kid is old enough to help you with something. Especially when it’s something you were about to YouTube because you never, ever would have figured it out on your own.
We have years to go before his first stick of deodorant or his first date, but every time he speaks like an adult it’s like he’s standing a little taller.
“That’s my alma mater!” he shouts proudly when we drive by his old preschool.
“That was a really nice visit,” he says casually as we wave good-bye to company on the front porch. “I hope they drive safely.”
A friend from elementary school once told me that she never knew what I was saying because I “used too many big words.” I was surprised and a little flattered, but now I get it. It wasn’t that I was smarter — I really wasn’t — it was that I was always listening and soaking up those words.
I see the way my son’s ears perk up when I use a word he hasn’t noticed before and he asks what it means. I tell him, he’ll repeat the word softly, and then he’ll file it away to maybe use on his own someday. When he does, I’ll smile to myself and resist the urge to tweet — with a million heart-eyed emojis — that I see myself in him.
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When I was in junior high, I cut little words and pictures out of my Sassy magazine and glued them to the light switchplate in my bedroom. I was so proud of how cool it looked. What I didn’t expect was that every time I’d flick the light on or off, the paper would rip and crumble. I was too young to know the glory of Mod Podge, and it was a sad time to be alive.
Fast-forward 20 years later and you know what’s back in style? Funky switchplates! I know, I know — I couldn’t believe it either. They don’t usually include tiny pictures of James Van Der Beek, unfortunately, but there are lots of fun varieties to play around with. Luckily, this time, it’s much easier because we have an easy way to keep our hard work from flaking off.
In about five minutes, I redid the plain white switchplate in our powder room by using Mod Podge to affix a scrap of pretty wrapping paper. I top-coated it with Mod Podge and then sprinkled it with loose silver glitter for some extra shine, and put more Mod Podge on top to seal it in. It’ll stay exactly like this, no matter how many little fingers fumble for the switch.
Of course, the tricky part of using Mod Podge and paper is avoiding the dreaded bubbles …
Continue reading in my weekly DIY column, My Handmade Home
Pssssst! There’s a bonus project this week!
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| Glittery serving tray |
Don’t miss how I turned a $1 thrift store serving tray into a glittery spot to stash our remotes on the new DIY daybed couch in the basement.
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| DIY daybed with faux planks |
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| Hutch turned DIY media cabinet |
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| Framing out a mirror (with new wood that looks old) |
Sometimes when people find out I sew almost all of my kids’ clothes, they get weirded out.
I totally get it. It probably would have sounded insane to me a few years ago. Like, what, are you trying to channel The Sound of Music by ripping down the curtains and turning them into little jumpsuits?
(Updated to add: I did it. I turned curtains into clothing, LOL!)
What started out as a hilarious fail — seriously, you should see the hideous pair of “jeans” I tried to sew for my son when he was a baby — has turned into a hobby I love and it keeps my kids dressed in their own unique styles. They only sometimes come home with fallen-off buttons in their pockets.

If you’ve ever raised an eyebrow at a homemade frock or wobbly-stitched pair of leggings, here are five things you might not know about those of us who sew clothes for our kids:
1. It’s almost always cheaper
Yes, sometimes I’ll splurge on a gorgeous pricy fabric that I absolutely have to have, but it’s no different than picking up an expensive gotta-have-it dress at Gap or Gymboree.
For the most part, I watch for fabric sales and keep a sharp eye on the discount section. A $4 piece of pre-cut knit fabric is often enough for multiple T-shirts for each child plus a couple of pairs of leggings.

Last week I spent less than $11 to make matching pale blue PJs for myself and both of the kids. (My husband politely declined a matchy-matchy pair.)
2. You save even more money by upcycling
Once I learned to sew with stretchy fabrics, I realized our discarded adult-sized clothing was a treasure trove of free fabric.
So what if something has a deodorant stain or a tiny hole near the hem? Our kids are much smaller than us, so it’s easy to snip away those imperfections.
I’ve cut down shirts, sweaters, dresses, tank tops and leggings to make new items for the kids, and it’s been a great way to keep seeing my favourites. I also get tons of bags of hand-me-downs from my mom, my sister and her friends because they get a kick out of seeing their clothes refashioned into items for the kids.

3. Kids really, really, really like picking out their own fabric.
Remember those scenes in the Little House on the Prairie books when the Ingalls family would go into the dry goods store and pick calico for new dresses? They were psyched, and it’s no different with my own kids.

They proudly walk through the fabric store to check out what’s new since our last visit (likely three days earlier). They get to express their personalities by picking out exactly what they like, and their choices often surprise me. Yes, sometimes I kind of hate it at first but in the end I almost always decide they were right about it.
(Except for that Little Mermaid fabric my daughter picked where Ariel’s red hair looks like a repeating pattern of blood splotches. That was just a bad call.)

4. You get a custom fit (that lasts longer).
I have cranky conspiracy theories about how certain big brands tend to sell children’s shirts that shrink in length so quickly that you’re constantly needing to buy the next size … which is somehow far too wide for them. My friends complain about certain brands where the sleeves are always too short or the necklines are too droopy.

Every child is shaped differently. But when you make the clothes yourself, you can accommodate your child’s exact shape and take into account how quickly they grow.
I lengthen my son’s shirt and pants patterns so everything fits longer without being baggy, and my daughter’s been wearing the same pair of leopard print leggings for three solid years because of a sneaky sewing trick.

5. We don’t have anything against store-bought clothing.
Although I’ve bought fewer and fewer “ready to wear” items since I’ve gotten comfortable making everything from button-up shirts to hooded sweatshirts — even underwear! — I still buy pieces here and there.
Sometimes I’ll cut them up, change the sleeves or add a ruffle, and other times something is perfect as-is. But I certainly don’t think everybody should run out and buy a sewing machine to avoid putting their kids in *gasp* store-bought T-shirts.
If you have horrible flashbacks to using a seam ripper in your junior high Family Studies class, have a great time buying clothes at the store. But if sewing is a hobby you enjoy, try sewing something for your kids to wear. You’ll have fun messing around with different patterns and you’ll even have something useful in the end.
(Well, will probably be useful — don’t ask about the fur-trimmed bodysuit that literally fell apart at the seams the minute my daughter stretched.)
xo
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| That time I sewed pants from curtains |
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| The shirt I keep sewing for myself |
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| Sew your own leggings |