Rom-Coms with Real Mess, Real Magic, Real Heart.
I just wanted to make sure you all knew that Three Spaces will be free in the Kindle store today, May 9, 2013, through to early Sunday morning. Don’t have a Kindle? No worries, you can go to Amazon.com and download their free reading software for a Mac or PC, desktop or laptop.
Just wanted to give my readers a gift this Mother’s day weekend. Enjoy!
THREE SPACES FREE in KINDLE STORE
Heather
This Christmas, I am telling my inner Supermom to leave the building.
In the pre-Christmas chaos, I will remember to breathe while juggling the buying flying shopping shipping put-it-on-plastic happy hoopla pot luck and good luck trying to squeeze into last year’s little black dress.
Multi-tasking to the point of burn out will no longer be my middle name. I will not apologize or feel inferior if the cards are late or the presents aren’t perfectly gift-wrapped or the kids look like baboons in the family photo.
This Christmas, I won’t trip over my words when I start to say Merry Christmas to someone celebrating Hanukkah. Screw political correctness. This year I will remember what’s truly important: opening a door for a senior, giving food and clothes to the homeless, teaching the children it’s not all about that guy in the red suit.
This Christmas I will put on John and Yoko’s Happy Christmas (War Is Over)—and listen.
No. Really, truly listen.
Another year over, and what have I done? …And so happy Christmas, for black and for white, for the yellow and red ones, let’s stop all the fight.
This Christmas, I will be still. Between the turkey and the silly paper hats; between the wine and the goodnight kisses, I will find my true North star, make a wish for the world and count my blessings—every one.
My six-year-old’s latest passion is telling me I’m “not that funny.”
Kayla has invented a “Funny Meter’ and tells me daily that I’m “only half-way there,” while she and Bill are “way at the top of the Funny Meter.”
Given that I like to inject humor into much of my writing, my ego could get a rather big bruising here, but I love this little game we’re playing too much to honestly let it bother me.
I find myself making more jokes when she’s nearby, trying to inch my way up the Funny Meter. Yesterday, I got her laughing about our rotting pumpkins. I even resorted to some potty humor. Kids love that stuff.
“That one out there in the garden? The one that’s frowning? He’s saying ‘There’s frost on my bum! Get me outta here! I didn’t sign up for this!”
Kayla started to giggle.
“Hey! You’re laughing!” I said. “I’m funny!”
“No,” she retorted. “The pumpkins are funny. You, you aren’t that funny.”
And with that, she was off on her school bus, and I was left walking home, laughing at what had just transpired; wondering how to make my kid laugh at my jokes again before she hits Tweenhood and finds me not only not-funny but also not-cool.
This morning, I got her laughing by verbally creating an alternate ending to something on TV. But this kid is always one step ahead of me.
“Hey! You’re laughing! I’m funny! I’m funny,” I said, laughing at myself, and the desperation in my tone.
“Oh, no.” said my stubborn child, her face frozen, expressionless. “No, you aren’t.”
“My mouth was laughing, but my mind didn’t find you that funny.”
I hope she’s a little easier on me when she’s all grown up and attending Law school. Somehow, I doubt it. That’s okay. I’m happy just being her Mom; happy to stay smack in the mediocre-middle of the Funny Meter.
I just hope those pumpkins don’t move up any higher.
My crush on Mike Holmes could turn into a flaming hot romance. Or, at the very least, I want to bake chocolate chip cookies for him. My husband would approve.
I’ve always loved Mike Holmes’ TV shows about home renovation. Before he got syndicated and started appearing in everyone’s home in North America, before everyone else fell for him, we had something special. He tended to all my (housing) needs. He listened to me. He wanted to ‘Make It Right.’ He always did.
I introduced him to my husband, and they began a bromance. I wasn’t jealous. Things were getting done around the house. Getting done right.
I’m not saying my hubby didn’t know how to do things right around the house. He’s actually a fantastic handyman. But now he’s adding what some would call feminine touches; the extras he used to to guffaw at when he saw them on ‘girly’ home renovation shows.
This past weekend, we watched Holmes Inspection. At the end of the show, an elated woman showed the viewers her closet, complete with dark chocolate baskets that kept everything in their place.
A few years ago, my hubby added wooden shelves and a cabinet to our closet. It was gorgeous, but within weeks, we were just stuffing our clothes, my purses, and other knick knacks on the shelves. I honestly had too much going on to even think about baskets. So it’s my fault too. But this is supposed to be a funny story about the men we love, so let’s get back to that.
Months of girly home renovation shows did nothing for my husband’s imagination, or that closet. But one hour with Mike Holmes and my dear husband was hammering and sawing away in the basement, improving his closet renovation with the passion of a man inspired by art.
That’s not all. Last night, he came home with six dark chocolate baskets under his arm, another dozen in the car, and a smile on his face like a kid’s on Christmas morning.
These were practically the same baskets he had laughed at when some other home renovation experts showed them in their shows. Turns out those home-reno amateurs are easy to ignore. It’s not so easy to ignore Mike Holmes.
And that is why I love the man, and invite him to our home (to make renovations, of course) any time. I know there must be a long line of adoring women who feel the same way.
I’ll wait for you, Mike.
Heather Grace Stewart 