Love From Maria

​ ​ S M L    In January I set out to do more of what makes me happy. I set out to consciously take time for me, everyday. I set out to walk, every day of this year. And I decided to share it too! Well, not too long into it I very honestly missed some walks. Some days, between work and me and husband and sons and life in general, my walks just didn't happen. That's okay. That's called balance. And that's exactly what 2016 and my Walking 365 challenge became.  Balance between being a mom first and being me first. I've discovered that it truly changes in as quick as a minute.  One minute I have my shoes on to head out the door for a walk when one of the boys wakes up with a fever. Or my husband ends up stuck at work on overtime. And other times it is a choice. It can be easy to be a mom first as a reason to not go do something and this year I consciously tried to evaluate each time I said no, or thought about putting off my walk. Some of the times it was m

​ ​ S M L On Tuesday we all witnessed an historical election - and election result. This has nothing to do with who I think should or shouldn't have won and everything to do with all of the posts on Wednesday morning asking "what will we tell our children?"  While I can see where folks are coming from with this, I also just can't understand how this could be so difficult - and I know I'm not the only one. A friend obviously felt the same and shared her thoughts that happen to line up pretty well exactly with mine.  What did you tell your children before the election?  You likely told them to be kind, to love others, to accept others and not judge. You may have told them to be a friend, that together we are stronger and that the biggest and best things happen when we all focus our energy together. Maybe you didn't tell your kids these exact things, my point is let's not allow a president-elect to seamlessly strip us of our foundational beliefs an

To be honest, today I lost my temper with Stetson. To be honest, I was so so angry. It may have been my angriest moment as a parent. The boys are now sharing a room and Stetson decided to start hollering and hooting about twenty minutes in to his nap. He not only didn't nap himself, but he woke up his little brother, Porter, and I was furious. To be honest, I raised my voice and then I started to cry. I rarely raise my voice or lose my temper. Rarely. That's not a brag, that's just my personality. But today I yelled. Today I sounded like my own mother, when she was angry. S L XL ​ ​ After our upset, cry and regroup, I sat the boys in front of the TV with a movie on and I went for a shower. In the shower I replayed it all over in my head. The yelling, the crying, the hugs, the TV, the lack of naps. To be honest, sleep is a huge trigger for my post-partum anxiety. When the boys refuse to sleep or wake up constantly or miss a nap or are late for bedtime... pre

S L XL ​ ​ In the past two months I have attended two intentional acts of neighbourliness. One was a softball game and the other a picnic. I wish I could say that the crowds were overwhelming and that these opportunities were well received and embraced by the community. In all honesty, they were not. Fewer folks than expected came out to these, which can be slightly disappointing. The funny thing is, the people who did come out had a really, really good time. They, admittedly, didn't know what to expect or if they would like it, but all feedback was positive. At softball we all were reminded of the simple joy of self-organizing and having a fun game, of trying something new and of reliving schoolyard recess when our softball game turned into kickball. S L XL ​ ​ At the picnic we braved the chilly fall morning, fog included, and felt the joy of sharing, sharing stories, homemade treats and laughter. We surprised people out for a walk by offering them some of our homemade tr

S L XL ​ ​ I spent my morning immersed in culture at Alberta Culture Days at Vivo. It was incredible - obviously I adore how the community can come together to create such a diverse and beautiful event. There was so much talent under one roof, so many languages, histories, beliefs and humans. But most importantly there was so much love and respect.  Although I thoroughly enjoyed all of the performances and displays my heart was completely filled by a conversation that I had with an amazing woman. She told me her story of where she is from, how she came to Canada and what that has been like for her. And while her story is not mine to tell, I can say that it made me truly recognized the difference that our loving, accepting and respectful Canadian culture means to others. Living in Canada means this woman is free to be who she is and free to believe what she does. Today there was no "Canadian" table, or dance or storytelling because Canadian Culture is all of those table

Growing up my mom always had us set out our outfit for the next day as part of our bedtime routine. I grew up figure skating six days a week - four of those days were mornings and I mean six am mornings. There wasn't much time in the mornings to contemplate which clothes to pack for school. When I got older and finally moved out of my parents' house I stopped setting out my clothes at night. One night my husband had the delight of listening to me talk in my sleep. I was in a panic about something and crying in my sleep, so he asked me what was the matter. "I am late for work and I can't decide what to wear" I answered him through my sleep-crying. The following morning when my husband teasingly retold the nighttime drama I had zero recollection of this apparent nightmare but I did feel a familiar sense of anxiety around choosing my outfit. After that I started setting out my outfits at night again, just like I had done all those years at home.  As a mother my

About three and a half years ago I became a mother, my son was a few weeks old and I was having the hardest time I've ever had. I felt overwhelmed, anxious, I couldn't sleep and I felt indifferent about my son. I felt afraid to be alone with him, afraid he would start crying and never stop, afraid my life would never be the same and that I would never feel like myself again. Without a doubt I was experiencing Postpartum Depression (PPD) and Anxiety - and I had no idea. I read an article tonight that brought me to tears - a mother, Allison, in Virginia took her life as a result of PPD. She had no outward signs or symptoms. No one close to her had any idea, she didn't even know. My heart is breaking for her family and for her. How do we reduce these deaths? How do we reduce PPD? I'm not really sure what the answers are but much like Allison I had no idea what I was experiencing, nor did the people around me. I felt like something was wrong with me or with my son

Last week at midnight, a first responder knocked on a woman's door. A neighbour wasn't doing well and their partner was out of town. The first responder explained that they would need to take the neighbour to the hospital, leaving two young children without care. The first responder asked if the woman would care for the children. There was no one else to ask - no family or friends to ask - just this woman. The neighbour and the woman had met briefly a few times. The woman knew the name of the eldest child but as far as specifics go, the name was all she knew. Without hesitation the woman said yes. She woke the young children and explained to the eldest that her mommy had gone to the doctor. She took them to her home, across the street, where she tucked them lovingly into cozy beds and stayed in the room with them all night. In the morning she made them breakfast, her and her husband played with the children as if they were their own grandchildren and when their mother was feel

Fear. It's one of those trendy-type things now, you know "feel the fear and do it anyway" and all that jazz. It's also one of our most basic states. From a very young age, fear is something we know and a state that our body enters with relatively little stimulus. We enter it in a physiological state - that flight or fight response - and we enter it in a mental state - when we don't understand.  There's a lot I don't understand. The past few weeks have produced several events that I don't understand, that I may never really understand. I'm not writing to convince anyone to take either side. I believe every situation needs to be examined independently of others, in its entirety - all details included. But I would be lying if I said I had little fear in regards to the recent events. I am afraid. And I am confused. And I am saddened. Why are people being judged by the colour of their skin or the profession they choose? Why are so many people being sh

I often find myself thinking about the society we live in today - how we live, what we do, eat, say, etc. - I always wonder how we ended up here and why. I wonder this even more when I read an article like this one , underlining the damage we are doing to our bodies by living the ways we do now.  I know we are all trying to do our best and I am in no way calling anyone out or trying to criticize any one person's parenting, but we are a collective whole and as a whole we really need to reconsider the choices we are making. In specific, the movement we are, and more often than not, aren't making. I hope you had the time to read the above article, if not, I hope you'll find the time at some point. This information gets me down, I have to be honest, but rather than dwell on the negatives, let's talk about how we can work on this. Incorporate movement into your daily routine. Carve out time to take your kids to the park, for a walk around the neighbourhood or i

Today I watched as fifty people became Canadians - fifty people, from twenty four different countries. I hope you join me in thinking this is an amazing thing.  Years ago I was lucky enough to help a dear friend study for her citizenship. I'm sure when she asked me that both her and I figured I would be a helpful tutor, being the good Canadian that I am. I'll be honest though, and I remember admitting this to my friend, I didn't know a lot of the answers to the questions on the exam. I was humbled and filled with so much respect for anyone who decides to become a citizen and write our exam. You can imagine my joy when my good friend officially became a Canadian.  Of course I thought about this when watching the fifty new Canadians take their oath this morning. I thought about the time they had spent studying for the exam and the effort they put in to officially joining our country.  Before the ceremony we were asked if we had any advice for the new citizens. I thought

I want to tell you a story - it isn't too long, if you have a minute, I hope you'll read it. She's always been a survivor, she's always been strong. Her childhood was not what anyone would label as easy and unfavourable situations at home led her to move out at the age of sixteen. After marrying she bravely moved out west, with her husband, to start something new and leave behind what needed to be left. Her first child came to her easily - a boy - her whole heart wrapped up as a sweet, blond headed baby. He quickly became her everything but like so many, they wanted more children. As it turned out, the second would not come to her so easily. For four years they tried to conceive, experiencing no luck. When the time came that the doctors decided to investigate her troubles with conceiving, their luck had changed - she was pregnant with baby two. Life went on, as it does, and at twenty four weeks pregnant she found herself away with her family of three when sh

Do you ever just hear a song that instantly connects with your soul? I don't just mean your jam or something that makes you want to dance but a song that could just bring you to tears, to your knees, a song that feels almost like you wrote it? I hope you've experienced this. It's one of my favourite feelings, and I am sure it's the intention behind most artist's work. Recently good old, Tim McGraw released Humble and Kind and it's one of those songs for me. I don't have too much to say, because I think the song speaks for itself. Just imagine we lived in a world where everyone was humble and kind?  -lovefrommaria

It's a funny thing, sharing. We are taught about it and teach our kids about it as early on as we can, we tell them how nice it is and how it's the right thing to do - but do we really think about it in our lives? As adults, do we consider that it still means so much to us? At the beginning of this year I decided I would do more to make me happy - I would walk, every day, even if it was just a short one, I would try my best and make myself more of a priority. And just in case anyone else was feeling a little how I had been feeling, I decided I would share my walking photos every day. I wasn't sure if anyone would care, look at them or feel inspired, but on the off chance that just one person would gain something from my walking journey, I decided to share.  It's been over sixty days now and I can't believe how many people have felt inspired, have asked to go walking together and have encouraged me along my journey. Friends from my childhood and