It is time for me to close up shop on this... It's been fun times, healing, insightful and encouraging. But my motivation to write here has been at an all time low. There is a fresh busyness to life that I am enjoying and a new season is around the corner.

I can't stop writing, it is entirely a part of my being, but as for sharing, I need to decide how to move forward. Perhaps a book? Another blog? Even better, how about I write every single one of you an email daily ;)

Thank you for all the love and kindness. This little space has changed my world in ways you cannot fathom.

CherryApple Art is finished for now. Perhaps forever. Now is for new beginnings.

XOXO

I woke up the next Sunday morning and made myself a peppermint tea. I broke routine. I never have tea in the morning. Ever. Isn't tea just meant to be had in the evening when coffee would be a wickedly bad idea? So going against habit and instinct I drank down the tingly warmth. 

I had no idea what to have for breakfast. I hadn't truly thought about what I would eat on this "little" cleanse. I popped a couple of eggs on the pan and avoided looking at all the cereal in the cupboard beaconing to me. With two sick Monkeys and a Hubby away playing festivals, I was at home rather than Church. And I truly needed the sanity I usually find on a Sunday morning...

I spent the best part of the early day trying to stop thinking about coffee. It was spinning through my head like the new Fall Collection of Michael Kors nags at my shopping lobe of my brain. By 3pm I had the shakes. I ate two meals and had a snack of fresh veggies but I was starving! Was I wilting away to nothing? The pounding headache and moodiness made me an insufficient mother and by 5pm I was couch bound for the night. I was sure the pounds were just falling off my behind.

Day 2, 3 and 4 followed in a similar pattern. The cravings controlled how I behaved. I required naps to stay awake until 8pm and light, noise and smells became my enemy. I had my first migraines. Fighting  a cold for weeks prior and giving up on all my food loves left me feeling like the fetal position in a dark room would be the only way I would ever find peace again. 

On Day 5 I decided that if I made it to Day 7 that would be triumph enough. I was about to go through the stages of "Candida Die-Off" while working a major tradeshow, and backing out of the show wasn't an option. To get through that would be proof of my ability to follow through, and then I could quit with a clear conscience. But it turned out that it wasn't so hard after the first few days. My afternoon fog that had plagued me for months and couldn't be fixed with coffee left. The tension I felt seemed to have vanished as well. My sleep was deeper, and my stomach felt good. Overall the shakes, aches and irritation was totally lifting. 

On Day 8 I patted myself on the back and determined that I could make it through 2 more weeks of this... On Day 8 I also bought the book The Candida Cure, and researched what I'd gotten myself into. Only to realize that this short term commitment wouldn't fly. It was all or nothing baby, and I'm an all in kind of girl...

I think about sharing on a regular basis. And then I get into this mood where I don't want my words to come out, because that takes effort, and I put effort into every aspect of my life all day long, and sometimes I just DON'T WANNA! But as I pour out I feel full and the less I actually write about life the more time I waste writing about writing. Which is complete and utter nonsense. 

I want to take this moment to blame Instagram for the lack of blogging. I share my experiences all throughout the day. My family sees the moment to moment, the friends I miss back home see how our family is thriving, and I get a little glance back into their lives. But then I figure why bother with anything beyond it? 

Well I need to bother. Because my life is SO MUCH BIGGER than the Insta-Shot of my journey.

Almost two years ago now I stopped feeling consistently stressed. I was the one when asked "How are you?" that replied: "Oh, I'm stressed. Unbelievably stressed!" And following that would come the verbal diarrhea of all things bad in my life. How I had gracious friends and forgiving family who saw past the whining is amazing to me. 

I do get overwhelmed at times. And I have a natural stress that happens when I need to get shit done, but the crushing, anxiety inducing panic hasn't been around much. That is until my health went to pot. 

I had my first pain attack in April. By the sixth one I went to the ER to make sure my appendix wasn't mid-explosion. Death by toxic insides isn't on my bucket list. Hell I haven't even had the chance to make a bucket list! Turns out I have bilateral ovarian follicles. (Cringe all those who hate to hear about... wait for it... ovaries.) Fine. Poo. And some allergies thrown in there for good measure. 

I met with the most amazing woman who did muscle testing on me and she explained I had major Candida (yeast, fungus, lets call it all the other yucky names too). I took the capsules she gave me, as I ate a Drumstick. Plain of course, the double fudge had just too much sugar. I made zero effort to eliminate sugar outside of ditching the sugar in my coffee(s).

Then I began to get chronic colds. And migraines. And the pain began again, and again, and again.

Until one Friday night sitting in my office I hit the end. I was in my fat pants (don't judge, you know you have a pair) watching a service happening in Toronto, where people were being healed from major health issues. There was cheeseburger on my chin, and a chocolate shake in my hand. The fries were getting cold on my desk. I was hungry all the time and I knew that though I was eating a massive calorie meal, I would be starving an hour later. It was a gross moment. I had gone from being unhappy with myself to hating myself. And that's not the way I want to live or the example I want to show my kids. I also knew that while I was watching people freed from pain, Jesus wasn't going to melt my fat off with an AMEN and BE HEALED. I knew better. And we are to cherish wisdom. Well I had been throwing all the wisdom imparted to me right out the window at the fast food drive through.

So in my fat pants, smelling like grease, I googled Candida. A few hours later I had printoffs in hand, a faint hope that things would get better and the desperation to be past this low, low, very low point in my life. 

Sunday morning was the first day I gave up coffee... I had been drinking coffee for almost 12 years with no break... I knew I was slightly addicted. Ha.

This is Part I.

I work from home. The Hubby works from home. And there are two kids at home on summer break.

Cue the miniature violins playing as I whine on about the challenges of working from home. The problem is not the space any longer. I have an area, The Hubby has an area, The Kiddos have THE HOUSE. Volume is only an issue if anyone makes or takes a phone call. There is an instantaneous response of sheer yelling as soon as that "answer" button is pressed. Ear plugs throughout the day make focus far easier. We only pull them out when the possibility of harm is there (which is every other Brooke Fraser song on the Flags album. Currently retaining my peace). 

The problem truly only comes in when The Speech begins. The Speech is what I lovingly call the Monologue of Devastation As The End Of The World Approaches. It begins like this:

"It's SUUUUMMMMMERERRRERRR!
We NEVER do anything FUUUNNUNNNNNUNNN!
I WANNNAAAA!
I don't WANNAANAANAA!
I'm Hungry.
Why do ALL the other kids have MORE fun???
I'm Bored."

And that right there friends is apparently one of my triggers. The twitch begins and I take a moment to breathe so that rather than pummeling The Children for using the 'B' word, I calmly lead them to their room, wherein lies an abundance of entertainment. Legos, Puzzles, Toys and Books Oh My!

We are just over a week into this break. There are two, repeat after me: TWO months left before we all complain in chorus about the school year beginning. I will take a holiday somewhere in the middle of shows and schedules. I am promising myself that. But this week it isn't happening.

For now, tag teaming is most effective tool against summer blues. The Hubby does the pool, I make a few calls. I take The Munchkins grocery shopping, he records drums. He goes on a bike ride while I fight with the scanner. I go to the beach while he edits vocals. We are more of a team than I ever knew before.

This first summer away from family is proving to be trying. We miss our families. We miss backyard barbecues and lake walks. We miss The Cottage weeks and sprinklers. But we will not join in The Speech. We refuse to join in The Speech. We are boycotting The Speech. We will LOVE where we live. Enjoy the family we have found here in California. We will DIVE in the ocean waves and barbecue with new neighbours beside the outdoor fires. We will eat too many tacos and hamburgers and meat of ALL kinds. We will force the kids under threat of torture to play with their toys. We will, we will, we will... We will Skype everyone back home to make the distance seem shorter and the time move faster. We WILL have a great summer. 

But alas, I'm off to take over for The Hubby. He wants to finish a song, and someone's got to feed the vultures.

My most favourite way to start off my mornings is not watching the sunrise. Or going for a run (potentially least favourite), or even enjoying the silence. I like to kiss my kids, have my coffee in hand then peruse my list of fashion blogs. 

I am a fashion junkie. At this moment, you wouldn't know it as I sit in my comfy jeans with an oversized shirt sans makeup, but I adore all things fashion. The latest shows, trends, accessories, MAKEUP! And my dream job would ideally be in styling. But alas, while I live in the land of fashion with some of the best schools, my life is taking me down the natural route. 

So every morning that I can, I steal away to my little office space, and indulge my fantasy world. Fashiontoast, 5 Inch And Up, Garance Dore, The Sartorialist, Hairdresser On Fire and the list could go on... 

Then I shut down the beautiful images, I make my breakfast and move along to the real life work, that I also adore. And sometimes I take a little of the inspiration from the blogs and put slightly more effort into my day's look. Sometimes...

(all images from sites.)

Of course I wrote about my messy house. Of course I shared a photo of The Kiddos closet. Of course I would decide at their bedtime I would help them out and fold some piles. Of course I would find something awful.

We have ants. Not just ants but ants suffering from an identity crisis who think they are SpiderMen. Little Spidey-Ants that don't crawl on the floor but stick to the shelves and walls of the closet, and are high up making it exceedingly difficult for my short self to reach up and squash each and every one of them.

I feel like the Keeper of all Critters mocks me. I decide to put aside my compulsive cleaning ways to spend quality time with the kids and clear my work load. And now we have ants. Laugh all you want. I will, later.

The Hubby was already on a run for beer and gas (classy) so I called him to make sure he added ant traps to his list (uber classy). We abandoned all hopes of the movie night planned and instead busted out the Dyson, picked up every toy, scrubbed the floors and for extra good measure polished the toilets. Not that there is a risk of any living creature willing climbing across a throne used by small children. Any parent knows that is a god-forsaken territory. But to be safe, it is bleached, so I hope all the Spidey-Ants crawl in and drown.

I got my wish of sparkly faucets and cleared counters. The Hubby and I gave up on the beer and stuck to tea while we squeezed in an episode of Lost. Heck, I even managed to switch the laundry from the washer to the dryer right away. 

In the meantime I'm plotting my revenge on the Spidey-Ants. They're going down...

This morning I woke up with toilet bowl cleaner on the brain. I woke up with a little prayer on my lips that as I lifted myself out of bed the house would magically be clean and tidy, the faucets sparkly and the floor mopped. 

Nope. The Kiddos closet looks like a secondary tornado whirled through since the first one didn't get the job done right. The laundry remains in the washer because I snuggled with The Munchkins rather than turning it over last night. I stepped on four lego pieces yesterday and kicked three large stuffed animals out of my way. 

My home needs a little love. And I was going to wake up early and cram in the sweeping and scrubbing before the sun came up but when sleep is robbed, you take that extra hour if it's there. While I am far from noticing the mess we make here together, I am content. Today is full. Packed with responsibilities each hour. And tomorrow will be even more so. Saturday will come, and after pancakes are made, and dishes are put away the Cleaning General will emerge and I will have my sparkly faucets and shiny floors. Today just isn't long enough.

I don't eat ice cream slowly. 

I take it from the hand of the Ice Cream Scooper and I begin by smoothing out all the sides. Then I inhale it in one fell swoop. I love soft chocolate ice cream. I hate melted soft chocolate ice cream so I ensure that a hot summers day cone is a love for me and not a hate. This usually ends in me wishing for another one while I watch the rest of my companions slowly plow away at the sticky mess. 

I realized recently I treat most things in my life like an ice cream cone. I will patiently wait in line, I will sit with a friend and chat, I will snuggle in for Family Movie Night. But once a treat is dangled in front of my face, I must inhale it all. 

Which is why when we have moved each time this past year, the house is completely unpacked and set up within a few days of getting the key. Sitting in a pile of boxes is like eating a melted, messy cone. Or when I buy a new nail polish, the old one must come off immediately so I can admire the fresh colour. Walking into an H&M does something to my brain, I see something, I want something, I must have that something. So I just avoid them now. Stop, think, act, doesn't apply.

A lot of my daily decisions come from loving the doing and hating the stewing. But in our family things occasionally happen in the snap of a finger because it's just what we know we are being led to do. We let faith guide us as quickly as our impulses do. Only thing is when it's a faith decision regrets don't come into play. So I'm trying to filter out the impulse and move with a quiet confidence instead. 

I also now want a soft chocolate ice cream cone. Immediately.