10 Reasons Why I Should Adopt Justin Bieber

10 Reasons Why I should Adopt Justin Bieber

Time to step back and gain perspective?

1. He needs a family to live with. My husband and I have been married for 31 years and we have three well-adjusted sons close to his age.

2. He will gain some perspective on his life if he lives at our house. He spent his adolescence performing, rehearsing, living out of a suitcase, and making more money than he could handle. By stepping back from the music industry, he will see that people around him don’t recognize he is heading for burnout, as his self-destructive behaviour indicates.

3. Our house rules are simple – have fun without hurting yourself or others, and obey the law. If you drink alcohol, do it in moderation, and call a taxi, or walk home, so you don’t injure yourself and others.

4. He can sing and jam in our home recording studio. His three new brothers need a good lead singer for their rock band, and they can do the recording and mix and produce the songs. They can also make electronic dance music for his dance moves. Afterwards, they can have some spaghetti. Eating fast food while on tour makes your body tired.

5. We will remind him to treat people with respect if he forgets.

6. His adoptive dad will lead by example, and won’t confuse him by participating in bad boy behavior with him. You have many friends to party with, but only one dad to guide you.

7. He will be free to go shopping at the local shopping mall, without paparazzi sitting on his car so he can’t leave the parking lot safely.

8. He can get back into playing hockey when he’s living in Canada with his adoptive brothers. He can go with them when they rent the ice, play drop-in hockey, or throw the net in the back of the truck and have a scrimmage on a local frozen pond. One of them is even a goalie! He can have some fun with his peers before he is back working from dawn to dusk on a fifty city tour on five continents.

9. There are lots of good addiction treatment centres nearby us, and TMZ doesn’t have to know which one he signs into.

10. His mom loves him and wants him to be happy.

photo credit: jaredpolin via photopin cc

Blogging over Spilled Milk

My philosophy on life is the glass is always half full, or the bowl, in this case.

One morning, my 16 year old son slept through his alarm, setting off a chain of events in his wake.

He ate his bowl of cereal on the drive to school to avoid being late. When we arrived at the door of the school, he handed he bowl of leftover milk to me. End of story for him.

Most of the cereal was gone, but the bowl was still almost full to the top with milk. I knew then why I was buying 4 litres of milk a day.

I drove away, my van hurdling over the huge slanting speed bumps in the parking lot, and swaying from side to side like a ferryboat. I steadied the splashing bowl of milk in my lap, but my jeans felt like they had been soaked by freezing arctic waves.

I made a note  to myself: stop home and change before going to the store to buy more milk.

Something brushed my leg, and suddenly I saw my dog Rocko’s head in my lap, licking the bowl of milk.

I raised the bowl and regained control of the steering wheel with the other hand as I didn’t want to see the explosion that would occur if Rocko had drank the bowl of Raisin Bran soaked milk.

My son was unhappy that I was blogging about this. He said: “I’m never going to do that again, or you’ll blog about it”.

Yahoo! Thank God for blogs! I bought smaller bowls and no longer do the daily milk run, and he’s been waking up with his alarm.

Cereal bowl is always half full not half empty

Cereal bowl is always half full not half empty

Short Order Hockey Gear/Dinner Combo

Hockey stick becomes a guitar whenever a goal is scored

Hockey stick becomes a guitar whenever a goal is scored

When my three sons were born in less than four years, I was thrown out of my selfish orbit into a world where children’s needs ruled. Many new tasks came along with the children, but many joys too, so I rose to the occasion, and juggled opposing tasks with good humor. The reward for opening up my personal world to others is that I felt like part of something larger than myself.

Another change was I gave up striving for perfection. Three perfect beings were born into my life – formed in nature, and beautiful exactly as they were, on loan to me in trust by divinity. How could I expect perfection in my human endeavours that could rival this?

Short Order Hockey Gear/Dinner Combo

It was a feat to complete all the tasks, and some tasks were yin and others were yang. One adverse pairing was preparing dinner and evil smelling hockey gear simultaneously. And, it came with a critical warning:DON’T mix up the two.

With three hockey players in the house, and multiple games per week, the short order hockey gear combo was a regular on the menu; washing and drying the sweaty gear by game time, and making dinner for five. When I only found out about the game an hour before it started, I was thrown into action.

With “The Flight of The Bumblebee” playing in my head, I zigzagged from washing machine to stove while my husband and sons watched computers and tvs. Their offers of help were refused, as hallways and doorways between kitchen and laundry room needed to be clear of obstructions for what was about to go down.

First, I boiled the potatoes, tore down the stairs, and placed the funky smelling hockey gear in the washer with long-armed tongs. Next, I pulled the soaking gear out of the washer – the water from the “water wicking” fabric gear wicks onto my socks, and the agitator cover that came out with the gear was tethered to it by Velcro leg straps. I replaced the part, but had no time or energy to untangle the gear, so I threw the whole clump in the dryer with a mental note to get it out before it melted.

I ran back upstairs in squishy socks to turn off the stove so the spuds didn’t turn into hockey pucks, then back to the dryer to get the jersey out before it was liquefied. The odor of the hockey bags assaulted my olfactory sense as if I was in the locker room at the rink, and I retaliated with a bottle of cinnamon Febreze sprayed fire extinguisher-style on the bags. Once I changed my socks and scrubbed the biohazard off my hands, we sat down to eat; the family oblivious to the aforementioned back stage activities.

You are “momified” if the impossible has been achieved – the food isn’t noticeably burnt, the jerseys are out of the dryer before they melt, and everything smells yummy!
Please send your stories to: dearann@annhoy.com

“Mommified”

Guitar playing hockey stick when a goal is scored

Guitar playing hockey stick when a goal is scored

At annhoy.com, we define’MOMMIFIED” as:“All wrapped up” with helping family, or caring for other people.

(Also includes dads, guardians, or grandpas, etc)

Whether you are a mom, a dad, a guardian, or a childcare worker, if you have cared for other people repeatedly, at some point, you have accomplished the impossible. At annhoy.com, we recognize your heroics, and want to hear about your “mommified”, experiences where you were “all wrapped up with helping family”.

Please send your stories to: dearann@annhoy.com