Happy Mother’s Day!

May 13, 2007 By

My recent trip to Moab had me thinking a lot about my former life. You know, back when I went to the bathroom by myself, climbed mountains without hauling an extra passenger and when I chose sleep deprivation because I could. Translation: before Motherhood.

And what I came up with is that despite our daily drama that life is really, really great right now. I hesitate to say that because through this admission, I’m afraid the bottom will fall out. But I just feel really blessed for our happy home.

Jamie is a doting, hilarious and hard-working husband.

Haddie is a spitfire who, despite her fierce independent streak, is a joy to be around. Most of the time.


And I cannot get enough of Bode who is crawling, exploring and absolutely delighted for every discovery he makes. Particularly when he attempts to ingest those things you and I call “choking hazards.”

For Mother’s Day this year, my little family went all out.

Bode: Slept through the night and made his mama proud when his “cutest baby” face was sent to a 1/4 million newspaper subscribers. Who cares that his daddy is the boss? Nepotism had absolutely nothing to do with it. Really.


Hadley: Promised to be nice the entire day and generously offered to let me watch the special “Mother’s Day Mini-Marathon” Dora the Explorer with her. Gee, how did she know?

Hunky Hubby: Marathon snuggles, a thoughtful present and breakfast in bed. Admittedly, the latter present came about with a wee bit of coaxing.

“Jamie, I splurged at the store today and bought myself some fantastic blackberries, blueberries, raspberries and strawberries.”

“Errr…are you giving me your menu for tomorrow?”

“Exactly….”

At least the man takes a hint.

Happy Mother’s Day!

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog
Filed Under: Bode, Family, Hadley, Humor, Jamie

A Man Named Craig

May 10, 2007 By

It’s confession time: a few weeks ago there was another man in my life named Craig. And he has lists. Lots of them. Hence his name: Craig’s List. Craig and I became so intimately acquainted that my dear sweet hubby finally had to intervene.

Let me explain. I had the same affair with Craig last year when I was searching for a used swingset for Hadley. I finally found one after weeks of F5ing (for those unaware, this sordid term is in reference to refreshing my computer over and over again). You see, Craig has other lovers. Highly competitive lovers who pounce on any listing within moments. And upon finally winning his affections, I was perfectly happy with our offspring.

Until recently. You see, the Hurricane has what I call a climbing problem. She scales everything in her wake, no matter how precipitous or dangerous. Whenever we hike, she is the kid shimmying up the rock faces. And our old metal swingset has become a veritable climbing gym wherein she kills herself almost daily. She needs an outlet. Like a climbing wall.

Knowing the price of those sleek wooden playsets, there I was again: prostituting myself to Craig. It started out innocently as it always does. Logging on here and there. But then it grew to where I could not even pass my laptop without F5ing multiple times a day, skank that I am. In my defense, it’s not called obsession.

It’s called mental illness.

That is when Hunky Hubby staged an intervention. I could hear him furiously working on the computer upstairs before I received The Summons. Wearily, I dragged myself in there only to be shocked/thrilled/astounded with what he presented me: a reconfigured budget wherein we would buy the kids a spankin’ new swingset if I promised to end it with Craig forever.

And of course, there was another catch: I will have to make a good number of sacrifices to compensate for this rather daunting expense. And make my own monetary contributions to the cause.

So just look for this sassy mama coming to a street corner near you…

Addendum: I thought my playset stresses would end after Craig. I was wrong. Turns out EVERY SINGLE QUALITY PLAYSET is back-ordered for months in Denver. I’ll spare you the gory details but after hours on the phone harassing corporate executives and not taking “no” for an answer, we’re the proud owners of our very own playset.


Aren’t those boxes the most beautiful things you’ve ever seen? Sniff. And yep, they are sitting on the crate of our old-fashioned soda fountain that, after a year and a half, is still waiting to be assembled. Hopefully Haddie will have her playset by her fifth birthday….

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog
Filed Under: Hadley, Humor, Jamie

Happy Anniversary to Hunky Hubby!

February 15, 2007 By

It’s been four years since the best day of my life: the day I married ma honey. Many people list the day their child was born as the best day of their life. They obviously forgot the torturous 9-month journey to get there and a little thing called labor. Sure, the miraculous reward takes your breath away but for me, the lead-up definitely trumped the aftermath. And afterbirth.

But my wedding day was perfect. In atypical Amber “Murphy” fashion, the day actually went smoothly. In my dictionary, such an occurrence is called a miracle.

We awoke to freshly fallen snow and I thought “Oh here it begins.” Denver had been in a drought that winter and this was the first snowfall in months. On my wedding day. I thought for sure we’d be snowed in but it had the opposite effect: we had a surreal winter wonderland and our pictures turned out beautifully.

We were married in the Denver LDS temple surrounded by everyone we loved, followed by a luncheon at the Marriott for close friends and family, and a reception at a beautifully rustic lodge in the mountains, complete with roaring fires, oodles of votive candles and the warm embrace of the Continental Divide.

And don’t go into shock: I even boogied to our song, Sting’s “When We Danced.” And the greatest lesson in marriage was revealed to me at that time: watch your back.


Oh, I mean that I am so unbelievably blessed to have married a man who, above all, gets me.


And one who puts up with me. One of my anniversary traditions is to write an annual poem detailing our life together. This year, I mentioned our focus on blogging and also the debut of Jamie’s blog, “Crazy Canuck: The Truth Set Free,” his attempt to defend himself against me. And so, a profundity from my latest, humble offering:

“Blogging was central, and Jamie’s countering blog was unveiled
As he searched for the ‘truth’; too bad he failed.”

So let it be written, so let it be done.

And so now it’s your turn: where were you married, what was your song (if you had one) or what was your favorite wedding memory?

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog
Filed Under: Favorite Posts, Jamie

San Francisco: From Riches to Rags

October 10, 2006 By

Well, our riches to rags story is a sordid tale of our condescension from the Ritz to the Ramada. Normally, I wouldn’t deem this to be a bad thing, except for when it’s a blatant reminder of our station in life. I.e. Glamorous Ritz Carlton: company tab. Dumpy Downtown Ramada: our sad little dime. But I digress.

First, our San Francisco experience. I LOVE that city but it rained. And rained. And rained. It didn’t start out raining. It just waited until we were too far away from Said Dumpy Hotel to turn back. We were optimistic and believed the weather would clear because of the blue skies intermingled with storm clouds. Yeah, right. I guess in California, it still rains when the skies are blue. Who knew?

And so we walked. And walked. And walked. For hours and hours. And miles and miles. To Union Square, China Town, random neighborhoods with near-naked homeless guys and finally, Fisherman’s Wharf. And it rained and rained and rained. Don’t get me wrong. It wasn’t all bad. Bode made a friend.

And despite the deluge, we kept our spirits up and just enjoyed being drenched as a family. We also had an amazing lunch at a shamelessly touristy restaurant in Fisherman’s Wharf with stellar views as Blue Angels dipped over the Bay and the Golden Gate Bridge.

And the weather did finally clear. Of course, we were on our way to the airport.

But back to Said Dumpy Hotel. It was quite a miserable experience, notwithstanding the stellar view.

Oh wait. Wrong day. This was more like it:

Yippee. It was possibly the worst hotel I’ve ever stayed in. Maybe it was the lights that didn’t work most of the time. Or the shoebox room with only one foot of maneuverability. Or the sticky bathroom floor. Or the lack of elevator for our second-story room. Or the television with crappy reception. Oh, and don’t ask about the pancakes…err…pillows.

Suffice it to say, it wasn’t our most memorable night of sleep. But imagine our delight when leaving the next day and we spotted this sign we had missed on the way in.

Next time around? I think I’ll just mortgage my house and stay at the Ritz.

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog
Filed Under: Bode, Family, Family travel, Humor, Jamie, travel

“Meet the Parents” Incarnate

August 14, 2006 By

So, it’s been pretty crazy ’round these parts with the folks in town. Saturday afforded me my first morning off I’ve had in a long time while Jamie took my parents and Haddie on an adventure. Well, if you’d consider “off” to mean hauling a screaming newborn out on a walk and then passing the rest of the morning screaming at pharmacists who lose and then chose to not fill prescriptions. All this while I could have been out playing in the mountains.

Truth be told, I actually chose to stay behind while Jamie drove them to the summit of Mount Evans. At 14,000-feet, it’s the highest road in America with some of the most stellar views of the Rocky Mountains. But if you’ve ever hiked around at that elevation, altitude sickness abounds. Call me crazy but I’ve invested too much in Bode the past 10 months of my life to have his head explode at the top of the mountain. Just call me a good mommy.

Jamie, on the other hand, ain’t exactly in the running for The Son-in-Law of the Year Award. When showing me a picture he took of my parents at the summit with a mountain goat in the background, Jamie commented, “Don’t you think this is a great shot of three old goats?”

But my folks have been definitely dishing it out from the beginning. If you knew my crazy family, you would know why I was a little more than nervous when I first brought Jamie home for our own version of Meet the Parents. My mother, in particular, was given specific instructions to, well, behave (i.e. not be herself). It took only one day for her to break down and announce that she was no longer going to be on her best behavior. It was good while it lasted.

So Jamie shouldn’t have been surprised when he called my parents to ask for permission to marry me and my mom interjected his touching declaration of love by shrilling announcing, “Oh, you can have her.”

Suffice it to say, those Fockers don’t have nothin’ on myfamily….

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog
Filed Under: Family, Humor, Jamie

Crazy Fun Family Weekend

January 23, 2006 By

Welp, we had the best ever family vacation to YMCA of the Rockies last weekend! Now, “best ever” meant different things to different people. For Jamie, it meant I completely lost my voice and could only murmur sweet nothings in his ear. For me, it meant I was out of the house. Thankfully, Hadley was in a great mood the entire time. Oh, and she slept through the night. That makes “The Best Ever” list for both of us.

We called it our Crazy-Fun Weekend. Each time we’d say that, Haddie would obligingly throw her head back and raucously do her Crazy-Fun Laugh. Someday she’ll look at us in disgust and pray no one will see us participate in such corny activities. But for now, we’re milking it.

Our mountain resort was idyllic. A huge storm blew threw on Thursday, leaving a blanket of powder and bluebird conditions. We had planned to snowshoe and skate but since going up the stairs made me cough up my only good lung, we downgraded our activities. We still knocked a few baskets down on the basketball court, went swimming, played with the stuffed elk in the lobby, and pigged out on the buffet free times a day.

But the real highlight was sledding and playing in the snow at the Nordic Center. The tubing hill was abuzz with activity, mostly teens dog-piling and trying to kill each other. Hadley looked at them in wonder…and then proceeded to pummel down the steep slope in her little sled, absolutely annihilating her competition. They marveled at her: “How old is she?” they’d ask. Proud Papa Jamie would humbly reply “Oh, she’s only 1.” I think he was secretly plotting her Olympic prospects in the luge.

Our little speed demon was also in her element at the base of the mountain when Jamie put her in a tube, grabbed a rope and spun her around in circles. He had her going so fast her body was sloped over and her neck flung back as she squealed with delight. I thought for sure her head would pop off but it held strong. It’s a good thing, too, because after a year of questioning if it even existed during her Jabba/Chub phase, she recently discovered she had one.

We rushed home to watch the sad demise of Jamie’s Broncos. OK, he watched, I napped. We’re both feeling a bit bummed–he, because of his team. Me, because it’s painful to see a grown man cry. Oh, and because I’m going to have to have to endure his nappy 1999 Broncos Superbowl sweatshirt for at least another year.

© Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck–A Denver Mom’s Blog
Filed Under: Colorado, Family, Family travel, Hadley, Jamie, travel
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