Heather's Hurrah: writing

We had a great weekend, and Halloween was a blast with the kids. Lucy didn't wear any of her 3 costumes, so I improvised and made an orange sweater into a pumpkin to wear with her pumpkin hat. Molly had a blast trick-or-treating and I was shocked at how bold she was acting at some houses (marching right up to the doorbell and yelling "trick or treat!" and then grabbing candy despite my urging to "just take one!"). The kids also loved greeting visitors to our house and giving out candy. It was a fun night. We started the next morning far too early for my liking, but I think we are back on track a bit today and feeling decently rested.

As I mentioned last week, I'm looking to November with hope and getting back on track with healthier eating (minus yesterday with the leftover candy) and strength training. I also want to devote a bit more time to blogging, and more time to things that will improve my general happiness. I'm going back to the basics with our meal prep and I'm going to hold off on trying too many new recipes this month. The internet is an amazing wealth of knowledge, but sometimes I find myself saving recipe after recipe and workout after workout to the point where I am overwhelmed with information. I'm taking a bit of a step back from browsing Pinterest and random blogs and hoping to connect with the things that really make me happy.

That being said, I love writing prompts. I've found some of the best on Kenzie's blog Hello Neverland and I use these in my personal journal. Although I don't find a lot of extra time to write these days (at the end of the day, reading seems to come more naturally to me than writing), I try to write a bit every week. I want to remember these days of our lives. I want to remember the kids chasing each other around the living room and Lucy tossing a book onto my lap before clambering up herself. I want to remember Molly's incessant questions about everything in her world and her matter-of-fact way of talking.

I'm going to follow along with some of NaBloPoMo this month, but I know that I can't commit to all of it. However, if a particular prompt really resonates with me, I'd like to write about my thoughts on it.

The prompt for today is: What was the one toy that a friend had that you wished you had when you were younger?

I know for awhile when we were younger, all 3 of us wished that we had a Nintendo. Our best friends had a Super Nintendo and our cousins had the original Nintendo. We played Duck Hunt and Super Mario with them sometimes. I can completely understand why we didn't have one, and it's the same reason why Molly and Lucy have limited screen time now. However, we missed out on a relatively significant part of 90's culture and I am now TERRIBLE at video games if we ever play them socially. My hand-eye coordination is absolutely awful and I can't drive in a straight course at all if we play Mario Kart with friends (so I usually just don't play, haha). There was also a time when we wanted some Power Wheels. Instead, we learned how to ride our bikes and biked all over the neighbourhood. I don't look back on my childhood with very much longing at all. We had everything we needed, and we had a lot of fun family memories and happy times. I do sometimes I could drive a Mario Kart now at the age of 30 though ;)

How was your Halloween? Are you looking forward to November??

I'm also over halfway through The Husband's Secret and dying to finish it because I'm sure the ending will be intense!! Then I can get right into my Reading Challenge!!!

At Christmas time, my dad's family members all write something and compile it into an annual anthology for my grandmother. My grandmother usually selects the topics (but you can write or submit anything you want!) and we all try to contribute something as a gift to her each year. It's a great family tradition, and my dad has encouraged us to write something each year.

This year, I came across a post that I loved on Alison's blog, Writing, Wishing. It was a poetry exercise based on the poem Where I'm From by George Ella Lyon. I decided to write my own "Where I'm From" poem for our Christmas book this year, and I'd like to share it here too. If you'd like to see Allison's poem, you can find it here. You can also read more about the original poem here and follow a template for writing your own version here.

Here's my poem:

I am from black and white sheet music and wet Speedo swim goggles.

I am from a productive and hard-working metropolis that maintains a country vibe and is home to many friendly citizens.

I am from the moors of Scottish heather, the small purple flower that is my namesake.

I am from Sunday mass, family board game nights, and a competitive spirit. I am from Ella and Wesley Munroe (parents’ names changed).

I am from both quiet musings in a circle at the dining room table and loud chitchat in a large group where everyone is always right.

I am from a family that values education and thoughtfulness, and the reminder that life is not always fair.

I am from a 2000 year old Roman Catholic faith that is growing and evolving under a new world leader this year.

I’m from Calgary, known to many as Cowtown, but I am also from the small island of Cape Breton, the home of many hearts. I’m from Acadian French meat pies, the jagged Rocky mountains, lively Scottish fiddle tunes, the rolling plains, Alberta beef, and Atlantic seafood.

I’m from the family of 5 that camped our way across the country and sought out big things along the way, from a home that considered stuffed animals to be family members, and from the infamous sibling trio 3Mo. I’m from books that were read under the covers at night, from Jack stories made up on the spot, and from Hank the Cowdog and the jelly-bean game.

I’m from the old photo albums stacked in the basement, the box of childhood mementos that has been saved, and the soldier ornament hanging on my new Christmas tree. I’m from parents who constantly showed me the meaning of love. I’m from a family that I am proud to call my own, and one that I love to share with my husband and daughter.