The other day, the children and I were walking into Office Max to get some fliers printed for Mile High Mamas. Or was it Office Depot? I am continually getting the two mixed up and went so far as to go to the wrong store last week. I blame my mistake on their close proximity to each other and their inability to have an original thought that does not include the world “office.”

Nevermind my blonde hair.

Anyway, we were on the sidewalk of one of the Offices when an SUV of two cute old ladies pulled up.

“Excuse me, dearie!” they beckoned.
Figuring they must need directions, we sauntered over there. “Yes?”
“How old is your daughter?” they asked, pointing to Hadley.
“Almost four.”

I saw them rustling ecstatically around in the car. They then produced two brand-new stuffed toys and shoved them my way. They smiled sweetly and I ascertained they were were the Givin’ Grandmas and drove around trying to help the less fortunate. Until the woman in the passenger seat offered,

“Mildred has been trying to get rid of these for ages!”
Confused, I gave them a blank stare.
“She wins them at the slots, you know. And just doesn’t have any grandkids she can pawn them off on.”

Or more like Gambling Grandmas.

I stifled a laugh, thanked them graciously and then tried to ditch them at the adjacent pet store. You know, one of those big chains that is original enough to have “Pet” in the name. They would have nothing to do with them, which is when I really started analyzing our gifts and made the horrible realization:

Which can also be used as voodoo dolls.

And disturbingly enough, some recently-acquired dolls are carbon copies of their owners.

Frighteningly enough, they even got the “Where the Wild Things Are” tag correct. Did I mention my childhood nickname was “Animal?”….

So, what kind of doll are you!!?

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

I was just cruising through my latest blog entries and realized there has been a noticeable drop in my regularity lately. On posting, that is (lest you think I am discussing my bathroom habits again).

There are a number of reasons for this:

1) I have been working on some new projects at Mile High Mamas and have been slammed with Mother’s Day preps and giveaways.

2) It has been Spring Break and I have had to deal with a Hurricane on a full-time basis.

3) You seem to be posting less as well. Is it just me or do you write less when you have fewer comments? Just curious.

4) (And most importantly) My monitor is really dirty so I have been unable to vainly gaze back at myself as I type.

One of the new projects I have been working on is ME! Huhhhhhh? I enrolled a couple of weeks ago in a kick-butt outdoor adventure boot camp and am loving it. My original intention was to do just one post about it but soon became inspired by the whole experience. I have expressed frustrations here about how the rest of that Baby Weight is just not budging. Imagine my delight to discover I added muchos Fruitcake Weight over the holidays.

The crazy thing is I don’t even like fruitcake….

So, here’s the project (drum roll, please): I am going to lose weight through the boot camp’s Biggest Loser Club and write about my progress every week on Mile High Mamas. I have the newspaper’s backing and online and print reefers to publicize the whole thing.

Talk about accountability? Just a little!

So, I need your support, encouragement and advice. Come watch me or join on in. I need all the help I can get! Just don’t post all those delectably tempting recipes on your blogs.

Unless they involve lettuce.

For the start of the journey, tune into Mile High Mamas today!

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I have survived my first two weeks of boot camp. No, this maple-leaf-pledging Canuck did not join the American troops but I have ventured out on a new kind of workout and weight-loss program. The kind I hope will not only kick butt but will reduce my protruding one.

Do you know those women whose pounds just seem to magically melt away after giving birth? I am not among them. Following my first pregnancy, I lost most of the weight but after baby No. 2, it is still clinging to me like a blood-sucking leech. Too bad they don’t do fat.

I have participated in a number of great mommy and me exercise classes, most of which I highly recommend. But this time, I needed something different; I needed to focus only on myself to get back on track.

Enter: Front Range Adventure Boot Camp for Women. The program originated out of Orange County, CA and is a part of the largest fitness boot camp in the world. Well, daunting Canadian marine corps notwithstanding.

I was thrilled to begin my four-week outdoor fitness program, nutritional counseling and motivational training. As I was leaving for my first day of class, my husband called out,

“Have fun!”
“This is boot camp, Jamie. I am not supposed to have fun.”
“Well, don’t cry, then.”
“That’s better.”

And it is so much better than any workout I have ever done. Instead of being submitted to the drudgery of the stairmaster or weight machines, the program takes everyday objects and uses them as tools. We have done everything from hill training to park-playing to racing up a half-pipe to playing dodge ball. And I am having the time of my life with this cohesive group of women who are already making extracurricular plans to go backpacking and scale 14ers this summer.

Rest assured, it ain’t all fun and games. The first class was the longest hour of my life and the next day, I unearthed muscles I never knew I had. How did I discover them? Simple: I could not move them.

Robyn Morrisette is our lean, buff, butt-kicking machine. She is motivating but not annoying. Tough but fair. But overall, she is an inspiration. She left her longtime career in the corporate world to become a Certified Life Coach and now whips people’s butts into shape on a full-time basis. I feel a kinship to her because I did the same thing.

Only mine is called motherhood.

Join Amber on her journey – and butt whipping – over the next few months. Starting next Friday, Amber will be documenting her successes and setbacks every single week in Boot Camp’s Biggest Loser Club. Amber can also be found blogging about it at Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck.

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

On the day many people were celebrating Jesus’ resurrection, I was celebrating death. Of my laptop, that is. Like Jesus, it has endured great injustices and abuse such as when I dumped a gallon of water on it last year.

Evidently it does not walk on water. Or even tread lightly.

For my latest episode, I prayed for a miracle and got one. Though functioning, I fear my laptop may be on its last legs and then I will be reduced to co-habitating with Jamie online. Word to the wise: the man does not share. I thought ice cream was his only vice but turns out any time taken away from the beloved plant porn on his computer is equal unto Gardener Geek Purgatory.

As I may be forced to take a temporary hiatus, you can find me over at Mile High Mamas on Monday giving the sordid details of our Easter. I have to say that stealing candy money from a baby was not one of my finer moments so make sure to tell me alllll about yours!

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

If “Christmas is for children,” is “Easter for competition-obsessed parents?” If so, I may have coined the new tagline of the season.

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

[Setting: Date night for the Canuck parents. Driving hurriedly down the freeway so as not to miss our appointment.]

Cue the music.

Jamie: Don’t let me forget to change my tail light tomorrow. Someone told me it is out.

Amber: No problem, my loving, hunka hunka hunka hubby of burning love (or something like that.)

Not even five minutes later, Jamie encounters a state trooper on the freeway and moves to pass him.

Amber: Err… Jamie? Do state troopers pull people over for broken tail lights?

Jamie: I’m not sure.

Jamie brazenly passes him. The trooper fires up the siren and turns on the lights.

Jamie: I guess that would be a “Yes.”

[Fade music, dim the lights. Or would that be another kind of dim?…]

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Getting Hadley dressed and out the door in the morning can be likened unto banging your head against a wall. With thorns. Though she has gotten somewhat better lately, brushing her hair is still an on-going battle.

Amber: [Exasperated after a 10-minute battle] Do you want me to cut your hair off all short and ugly like Bode and Daddy’s? (No offense intended for anyone with short hair).

Hadley: NOOOOOOO!

Amber: Then let me brush your hair!

Hadley: It hurts too much! I don’t want you to ever brush it again!

Amber: I am doing it as softly as I can. Give me one good reason why we shouldn’t brush your hair.

Hadley: Well, you don’t brush yours.

Touché.

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

No, I’m not talking about someday having that nice house with a picket fence or being able to fit into a size five again. I am talking about when your head hits that pillow, what are you dreaming about? Do you remember your dreams? Have you ever pondered their interpretation?

I have very vivid dreams every night. A few times they have translated into gripping nightmares or deeply spiritual experiences. One night, I dreamed about my friend’s ailing mother whom I had never met. The dream was so lucid that I woke up in the middle of the night to drop him an email, letting him know I was thinking about them. I found out the next morning his mom had passed away at the same time as my dream.

Before you think I am some kind of soothsayer, let me assure you that most of the time, my dreams follow the same pattern: psychosis. And poor Jamie gets to hear allllll about them them in the morning.

There was that captivating dream when I rode to a desert island in a shark’s mouth. Or those many times I dreamed I was knocked up at BYU and was stressed because I could not get a date. Go figure.

But my most reoccurring dream is driving me nuts. I have had it in some version at least five times per week for the past few years: I am in my last semester of college with finals looming before me and I realize I have forgotten to go to class the entire semester.

Have you ever had a regular dream where you F-R-E-A-K O-U-T? That is me, running in circles, crazed that I will not graduate and trying to cram four months of work into a few days. Is it not enough that I live like this during the day but does it have to translate to nighttime, too?

It has been bugging me so much that I finally googled “dream interpretations” the other day. And do you know what I pieced together?

To dream that you forgot to attend a class you signed up for, indicates your anxieties and fear of failing. You may also be lacking self-confidence in your ability to handle new responsibilities or projects.

Gee. And I just thought it was a sign that maybe I should have gotten my Master’s Degree after all. 🙂

So, what are your interpretations, oh Dream Senseis? What are you dreamin’ about and what do you think it means?

Editor’s Note: Angie left me the following comment:

I used to have that exact same kind of dream! I had it for years — high school, undergrad, masters — seriously, years!

Then, one time I read in a magazine that the psychologist writing the article said that he always calls it “the overachievers dream.” He said that the only people that have that kind of dream are the people that would never, ever let that happen in real life.

I will take her anal retentive overachiever interpretation over obsessive failure any day. 🙂

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

Ever had a trip that went terribly wrong?

That was actually my shtick back when I was a travel writer. Because every trip went terribly wrong in some way.

Like the time I boasted to my friend John that I had packed for our trip to Southern Utah in less than 10 minutes, only to discover I had forgotten the tent. No problem. It was the desert and clear temperatures were in the forecast.

It rained (those sordid details are here).

Last week was no different. Jamie and I decided to take the kids on a mid-week trip to YMCA of the Rockies, my absolute favorite destination in Colorado. Seriously. If you are planning a vacation here and want something beautiful yet affordable, this is the place.

Unless you get snowed out like we did. And end up leaving your winter paradise a day early….

Tune into Mile High Mamas on Monday for all the details and tell me about when your vacations went terribly wrong. Just to make me feel better.

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Hands down, my favorite Colorado getaway is YMCA of the Rockies. I have been to the Estes Park Center once in the summer and we recently went on our third getaway to Snow Mountain Ranch in the wintertime.

It is tough to qualify why I love YMCA of the Rockies so much. The cabins and lodges are extremely affordable but very basic; the facilities are plentiful but worn. It has more to do with the abundance of activities, the majestic Rocky Mountain backdrop and the sentiment you are in a magical place that truly celebrates family.

Unless you happen to visit during a huge snowstorm on a weekday.

Our latest trip started as fabulously as any other.

Last Monday, we checked into our three-bedroom cabin, consumed about 2,000 calories and then decided to go for a walk to burn about 30 of them off. We made snow angels, raced down the slopes and breathed in the crisp air.

Later, we went to the Kiva Center – land of indoor recreation – and were thrilled to have the place to ourselves. We shot some hoops, flexed our ping-pong chops, peppered the volleyball and I gave my 3-year-old daughter Hadley her second roller-skating tutorial.

I then went for a whirl around the abandoned rink. Despite the fact my Canadian parents stuck me in figure-skating lessons, I have always fancied myself a speed skater. I have it all: velocity and a speed skater’s physique.

Well, minus the muscles.

We returned to our cabin, snuggled on Haddie’s bunk bed and planned to spend the next day at the Nordic Center. We would shoot down the steep sledding hill, race around the ice-skating rink and snowshoe on the 100 km of world-class trails through pristine hollows and bowls.

Until the snow came. An overabundance of it. In its defense, the name of the place is Snow Mountain Ranch so there was full disclosure. But try telling that to someone who has a full slate of outdoor activities planned. The resort is certainly not lacking in indoor diversions but our midweek stay proved problematic in that the pool and gym didn’t open until later and the craft center was closed all together.

Instead of relishing the crunch of our snowshoes on bejeweled blankets of snow, we were relegated to playing tedious puzzles in the lobby and watching Amber is Grouchy Elmo in Grouchland in our cabin.

But we will return to play another day. Let’s just hope Snow Mountain Ranch implements rainchecks in the future.

Or at least one involving snow….

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

I have a shameful confession to make: I am weeks behind on my blog posts. I know none of you have never procrastinated anything in your entire lives but this lil’ post of looooove has been burning a hole in my drafts for weeks.

The Canuck Clan was invited to “Hearts of All Ages” on Valentine’s Day, a schmaltzy fundraiser for The University of Colorado’s cardio and vascular center. Part of the excitement was our $400 tickets were comped and local celebrities such as Pete Coors and the mayor were in attendance.

But the main excitement was when some of my friends delivered Valentines prior to departure. I swung open the door in my spiffy dress as if to say Look, I am showered! It truly was the highlight of my day. Rubbing it in; not the shower.

I loved this event because it was designed for families. They had a clown, kid’s
craft area, balloonist, face painting and dancing. Lo, did we dance. They also touted “gourmet children’s food” as the fare de choix. Note to the wise: this is an oxymoron. I don’t care how beautifully pigs in a blanket are displayed. They are just that: pork in dough.

There were so many enjoyable things about the evening. Getting our faces painted….

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

Overheard by my friend Lisa as she carpooled the kids to preschool.

Hadley: “This overpass is like the ones my daddy has to go through to go to work.”

Alex: “Yeah?”

Hadley: “Only he doesn’t work downtown anymore.”

Alex: “Why not?”

Hadley: “Well, the mean people at work – they threw fire at him.”

Editor’s Note: “M” is for “MEAN.”

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog

It is my birthday today. I do not say this to solicit birthday wishes. I already did that on Mile High Mamas when I required anyone entering today’s giveaway to include “Happy birthday Amber” in the subject line.

Because I am not above pandering.

And there is nothing like having my inbox full ‘o birthday love, even if coercion is involved.

Today will be pretty low-key. I will take Haddie to dance and then we are heading up to the mountains to indulge in our favorite fare at Country Road Cafe. I made this announcement yesterday amidst much protest. Admittedly, I have been resistant to making any plans and Jamie had a follow-up appointment with his former oncologist this afternoon. A doctor who requires him to fast six hours prior.

I generously offered to simply eat in front of him, reminscent of those times when I used to sloooooowly consume my ice cream so my brothers could covet mine after they gobbled theirs in one tongue swoop.

He rescheduled his appointment. What a killjoy.

Tomorrow, Grandma is coming to watch the kids while we fly out to Carmel-by-the-Sea. A land of sand, sea and story-book cottages.

And rain. Non-stop rain that is the forecast.

Welcome to my paradise….

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog