Now that summer seems to be within reach, that means that cottage season is nearly upon us! I suppose this means I should pick up our cottage quest where we last left off…

In June 2016, the hunt truly began, although we had had several near-ownership attempts before that (three in about 4 years, to be exact…two of which we had put in conditional offers on various locations where we were actually considering building our own place from scratch. Building something from scratch is a life-long dream of Christian’s that I’m certain will one day be fulfilled…more on that another time).

We took a day off work and set out on a “day date”. Our first stop was a fractional ownership option called Inaski Shores in the Kawartha Lakes region. If you haven’t heard of fractional ownership, it’s partial cottage ownership without any fuss. You “buy” 5 weeks (typically), with one fixed summer week and 4 other weeks that float throughout the year. You have shared access to a private portion of the lake, shared amenities such as a pool, dock, firepit, games room, etc and there is shared community space with other fractional owners. Cleaners come in every week when you are done and it really is a turn-key option for those who don’t want full ownership and OK with letting go of some privacy and autonomy. Prices range from about $45K to $150K depending on where you are and what amenities are available. It was a good place for us to start. We chatted with other owners, had a picnic by the lake, and toured two of the units. It was a lovely day and everything seemed pretty….ideal.

Off home we went. More discussions, more searching, much deliberation. After almost pulling the trigger on fractional ownership, we ultimately said “no”. Yes, cottage ownership is more work and stress, yes it’s a huge financial obligation (many might say it is the most irresponsible financial decision one could make), but it was what we had always talked about. No more half measures. If we’re doing this, we’re DOING THIS.

Back to the drawing board. Enter = Moore Lake.

On paper, it was perfect. Christian being the designer-type that he is, has a dream of building a home for us one day, somewhere. He came across a listing for a large piece of vacant land in a small quiet bay off of beautiful Moore Lake. There was enough land to potentially sever and sell off the secondary building lot of land to another future cottager, which makes a heck of a lot of sense financially. In August, our friends got hitched at Balsam Lake, just 30 minutes south of the property. Opportunity was knocking and we took it! Off we went, squirmy toddler in tow, to check out this too-good-to-be-true site. Christian was giddy with anticipation. After years of combing the northern real estate market, he knew this lot checked a lot of our boxes (and trust me, we had a lot of boxes). There was one big unknown: what was the lake like? We knew Moore lake was beautiful, but this bay left some question marks. We drove up the winding road, parked, and set off down the overgrown trail to the waters edge. It was beautiful: quiet, serene, tonnes of wildlife, and virtually untouched. The only problem? Weeds. A heck of a lot of weeds.

But oh man, bless my persistent, unshakeable husband. He wasn’t ready to say no yet.

Before I knew it, he had striped down to his swim shorts and was heading into the lake. As he pushed off from the swamp-like shoreline into the murky waters, he shouts back to me: “It feels like zombies are attacking me!!” (pretty sure we had been well into the Walking Dead at that point). He tried to swim, and it was no use. There were just too many weeds. Defeated, he trudged back to land. We sat quietly on the dock for several minutes looking out over the water, willing ourselves to find a way to make it work.

A kind neighbour loaned us their canoe so we could paddle out and check the rest of the bay. Maybe we could clear out the water entry near the dock and the rest of the bay would be OK? No such luck. It was pure weeds. It was no site to build our dream cottage upon. Defeated, we had to move on.

Christian was, in a word, heart-broken.

To help lift our spirits a bit, we stopped in at the Riverside Inn & Pub, a little place in Norland off of Hwy 35 that had come highly recommended from several locals and cottagers. We ate outside on the patio, lamented about the events of the day, enjoyed some wine (which became a summer favourite since then: Errazuriz Estate Series Sauvignon Blanc – add it to your shopping list. For less than $15/ bottle, you won’t regret it), and tried to figure out what to do next.

We sort of gave up for a while after that. I remember specifically saying to Christian: “I don’t think we’re going to be able to check off all our must-haves….maybe we’re asking too much?”. But again, my husband wasn’t ready to give up.

The fall approached, and the cottage-buying window was shrinking. Not great news when you are on a mission like we were, but as the days grow shorter and the weather grows colder, it can be a bit of a buyers advantage! You either sell your place before the snow hits, or sit on it for another 6 months until the cottage market heats up again.

In early October, there was a small spike in listings — the final push to sell before the long winter set in. Supply had increased, and a few new gems came online. One that caught our eye was on a small lake called Clear Lake, interestingly just a short drive away from where our 2016 hunt first began at Insaki Shores. We jumped on the opportunity to check it out and left our little guy with “Nana & Papa” in Orillia. At that same time, another tiny place came up for sale on beautiful Catchacoma Lake (yeah, you say it like it is spelled) — conveniently where some wonderful friends of ours cottage every summer!

Having a toddler-free day to ourselves, driving several hours between properties on the same day made a lot of sense. We teed up two showings: the first stop at Clear Lake, and the second on Catchacoma.

I should point out here that right away this was a build vs. buy decision for us. The place on Clear Lake was a good size, multiple bedrooms, fully functioning and fairly move-in ready. Over on Catchacoma, it was a full-on development process: building plans, demolition, construction, road allowances, the whole bit.

Clear Lake was just as the name would suggest: Clear. It was calm, quiet, quaint, clean and very relaxing. The only hitch? The realtor before us hadn’t put the key back in the lock box. Yes, after hours of driving and coordinating, we couldn’t get into the darned place. We peered through windows to get an idea of the cottage as best we could, walked the property, spent time on the dock and checked out the neighbours…but we never actually went inside.

Yes, that would be Christian and our Realtor trying to see about….err….an alternate entry.

What we loved about the Clear Lake property was that it could be updated fairly easily, AND it was on a double lot. Being city folk with a 20-foot wide lot, the prospect of all that SPACE up north was a big selling feature. The property felt very private and was surrounded by trees…a welcome change from the tightly-packed city of Toronto.

Off we went, 1 hour away, to check out the tiny run-down place on Catchacoma.

What is magic about this lake is that it’s part of a 7-lake chain system and the lakes are absolutely beautiful. Boating for miles, wide expanses of water, amazing sunsets…and as previously mentioned, friends just around the corner!

Being the ocean-loving gal that I am, I was pretty sold on Catchacoma from the start. I loved the idea of being on a large lake. The biggest deterrent was that, as expected, the existing cottage would be a tear down. There would be piles of approvals and hoops to jump through in order to build a new place, not to mention a road allowance situation to deal with. But we were still hopeful. Could this be a 2-for-1 dream machine? The dream of cottage ownership AND the dream to build from scratch?

I remember looking out over the water and almost feeling as if I was back out on the West Coast. The feeling gave me goosebumps.

On our way back to nana’s to pick up Harrison, we debated back and forth. Do we put in an offer on Clear Lake? Or Catchacoma? Or neither?

Key lesson learned in the cottage hunt: it is NOTHING like buying property in the city. In Toronto, you can look at a house and then go find a dozen comparables that are the exact same lot size, same neighborhood, similar type of house, similar finish and get a very good sense of value.

Up north it is seriously the wild west.

Is is southern exposure? What’s the frontage? What’s the lake quality? 3-season road or municipal? Good fishing? What amenities are nearby? How big is your lake? Is it boatable? Does it have boat motor-size restrictions? How far is it from Toronto? Does it have a well? Septic? Outhouse? What are the zoning restrictions? Is it water access only? Is it winterized?

and on. and on. and on.

There are no comparables, there are no apples to apples. It’s apples to papayas. Or more like apples to…..tacos. Mmmmmm tacos…..

So what’s a cottage-loving couple to do? Put in some offers, that’s what! We threw caution to the wind and went for it. (OK, we didn’t throw caution to the wind. There was hours of conversations, a tonne of research and some very extensive spreadsheets….have you met my husband?).

We went for Clear Lake. We low-balled an offer and waited. The owner came back with a counter-offer knocking just a few thousand dollars of the price. Point taken. I mean, it had only been listed for a week or so. We came back again by upping our bid and that offer was turned down. That deal was dead. Back to the drawing board.

Onto option B: Catchacoma. In went our bid, we held our breath and waiting to hear back. We received a call the next day from our agent sharing with us that our offer had been conditionally accepted!! I remember standing in the middle of the Porter Airlines lounge when I got the call = we were going to be cottage….builders.

I boarded my flight to head off to a work conference while Christian went to work crunching the numbers. Before our 2 week due diligence timeline lapsed, we knew what we had to do. The numbers didn’t lie: we had to let the beautiful property on Cathchacoma go. Our dream to build would still be realized one day, but this day wasn’t it.

November was quickly approaching, the cottage buying season was drawing to a close, and we were right back to our starting point.

And then…our agent called. The what-we-though-was-going-to-be-final deal on the place on Clear Lake had fallen through. We offered again, and this time, we knew we had the upper hand. The season was basically over and we were able to secure a long term close date to save of unecessary expenses over the winter! The deal went firm in early November and in 5 looooooooong months, we would finally get the keys.

On March 31st, we again took the day off for a “day date”. We drove to Lindsay, met the lawyers, signed the papers and got the keys. We were officially cottage owners! Check that one off of the bucket list.

As we gear up for another much-anticipated second summer at the lake, it’s amazing to look back and reflect at the journey we took to bring our family to Clear Lake in the first place.

Interested in enjoying a week at Clear Lake with your family and friends? Check out the rent our cottage page for more information.

Photo Credit: Angie @ Ear to Ear Photography

Now you are three.

1 Comment

It’s hard to believe how fast this past year with you flew by. It seems like only yesterday we were blowing out the candles on your cake together as we geared up for your very first visit to the cottage.

So many firsts. So many blurred memories. So much learned.

Our first family all-inclusive beach vacation. You LOVED playing in the ocean waves and chasing your dear friend Quincy around everywhere.

Your first monster jam truck rally. It was a life altering experience for you, and all you wanted to do was re-create the event again and again on the living room floor every night.

Your first full sentences. The first time you made me REALLY laugh because you “told a joke” (even though you didn’t necessary realize it was a joke); the first time you paid me a compliment (“mom, I really like your earrings today”), the first time you offered me some criticism (“mom, your hair looks like butter; I don’t like the strings”)

The first time you peed all by yourself, after a solid week of me doubting myself about this whole potty-training thing: had we pushed you to potty train too soon? Will I seriously have to give you stickers every single time you make a bowel movement until I send you off to college?

Your first day of preschool. You didn’t shed a tear or miss a beat and you were SO excited for your routine, new friends, new TOYS. I was so proud of you.

Your first cousin.

Our first totally public, totally confined epic toddler melt down (inside an airplane, for approximately 20 minutes).

The longest time you and I have been apart in 3 years, and the longest distance by thousands of miles. That was a long 9 days away from you and Dubai is a very very far ways away.

Your first time requesting a specific song to be played (Footloose. It’s always Footloose)

The first time you sang…..like REALLY SANG…a full song in its entirety! You started with ABC and as we moved through your second year, row row row your boat, the Robo Car Poli theme song (thanks, Netflix), and Twinkle Twinkle, have all been added to your rotation.

Your first time truly saying good-bye, to our amazing nanny, Amber.

The first time you saw that I was crying, and recognized and understood that I was upset, when a dear friends’ daughter left this world way too soon. I struggled to find a simple way of explaining the tragedy to you.

Your first time sleeping in a “big boy bed”.

Your first time taking off your shoes, socks, hat, and coat…all by yourself.

Your first time becoming our in-home barista, mastering the art of the Nespresso Coffee.

Your first organized sport, playing soccer with Little kickers.

Your first sleepover, which involved actually sleeping in the SAME ROOM as another toddler! Winning!

The first time you demanded independence.

The first time you refused to hold my hand.

The first time you negotiated with us.

The first time you tried to articulate your feelings with words.

The first time you “read” (memorized) a book. First favorite = The Giving Tree

The first time you swam in Clear Lake.

Your first ice cream, scooter ride, balance bike-ride, ride in an excavator and flight outside of North America.

And yet, within a flurry of firsts, there were also so many last times….these I find so hard to pinpoint. When was the last time I picked you up without worrying about my back? When did you stop calling me ‘mama’ and instead start calling me “mum”? When did I stop singing the “good morning” song to you each day? The past year is starting to melt together with the year prior. Those small, precious memories are already slipping into the back of my memory bank — this is the most difficult part about accepting that you are now another year older.

But, do you want to know something? It keeps getting better. That first year with you….boy…..I wasn’t so sure.

I wasn’t sure it was ever going to get better. There were some tough days, weeks and months.

But, now you are 3.

I love the boy that you are becoming. I love to laugh with you, play with you and sing with you. I love to watch your curious mind working at 5,000 miles an hour. I love to sneak in and tuck you in and give you a kiss good-night before resting my head on the pillow after a long day. I love reading to you…your attention span is unbelievable.

I love to watch you grow.

I love you more today than yesterday. But not as much as tomorrow.

Happy Birthday, my love.

Cottage Series Part 1: Taking the plunge.

1 Comment

It’s hard to believe that summer is half over.

Summer in Ontario is about so many things: soaking up as much of the dearly-missed sunshine as possible, endless trips to farmers markets, hitting every patio in sight, racing home to hit the road and drive up north to the lake….the lake. Yes, the lake calls us. It had been calling Christian and I for the better part of a decade. And we are so excited to say that summer 2017 is our first year as cottage owners! The most exciting part about that statement? Knowing that we have countless summers of cottage memory-making ahead of us.

But, before we plunge into the future, allow me to share our winding journey of how we got here in the first place.

We didn’t just wake up one morning and decide “today is the day!” (have you met my husband? He’s a very planned and calculated guy — these kinds of decisions don’t just “happen”!).

No, there were a lot of pieces and experiences over a number of years that came together in order to turn this dream into a reality.

It begins on near opposite sides of the country: me, a west-coast gal raised about as close to the ocean as you can get in beautiful British Columbia. I grew up in a small coastal town called Tsawwassen (literally meaning “facing the ocean”) and the ocean was always there. I was fortunate to have friends with homes on or near the beach from when I was in elementary school all the way into my teens. My best friend, Leah, has a family cabin right on the beach and I spent many summer weeks there: playing football on the sandbar, falling asleep to the sound of the waves lapping up against the rocks, the salty air in my hair and on my face; it is to this day one of my favourite places on earth.

Meanwhile, Christian is growing up with his own version of life-on-water. With his grandparents owning a family cottage near Minden, Ontario, he spent most summers at the lake with his brothers: swinging on the rope swing, diving into the water, pulling the darned pump in and out of the lake to help get things running right, starring up at the stars in the night sky and just being a BOY. To this day, some of Christian’s most treasured family memories occurred at the Huggett family cottage.

We both had some magic moments, independently, by water: mine on the ocean, and Christian’s by the lake. We both decided from a young age that we wanted that association with water, in some way, to be in our lives.

What is it about being by a body of water? The smell. The sound. The way your shoulders instantly sink away from your ears and relax. The way it simply allows you to sit and enjoy. There is nothing like it.

10 years ago, the ocean-born gal meets the lake-bound boy. Our first date in Toronto took us to Ashbridge’s Bay beach where we starred out at the massive lake and shared our first kiss. I had the chance to visit Christian’s grandparents cottage that fall (fortunately, as it was sold just a few years later…this photo is the last one we ever took up there):

Christian came to BC with me the following summer and we took a trip to Tofino together. I’ll never forget his reaction when he jumped into the Pacific. He was collecting sand dollars and starfish like a wild man. He’d never seen a kelp doll before; he was mesmerized by all the sea critters we would come across. I realized how much I had taken these gifts for granted. How spoiled I was to have grown up by the sea!

In our early years of marriage, while we juggled never-ending home renovations, tried to balance our bills, all while growing our careers and figuring out life as husband and wife, we would often go for walks. On our walks, we would always talk about our future: our hopes, our dreams and our plans together. Always, the topic of a family cottage came up.

At first, I was against it. In those early years, I still felt torn calling Toronto home. Although we had put down roots and bought a home together, purchasing a cottage property in Ontario just felt so….FINAL. One house you can sell, but two properties? How will I ever return out west when we have two properties tying us down?

But on went the years, and our lives. And slowing but surely, Ontario became my home.

We would go on beach vacations, a trip to the south of France, a journey around the Greek islands, a road trip from Santa Monica to Santa Barbara…and always the topic would arise: how can we find our own slice of the beautiful waters’ edge?

The truth is, we didn’t necessarily know when it would happen. But what we did know, is that we had talked abut it enough to know that when it was right, it would just feel right, and we would know.

Last year, after the sale of our first home (which had since evolved into a rental property), and after spending a glorious week at our friends’ cottage on the Lake of Bays, we looked at each other and said: we either take this opportunity and re-invest in another rental property, or we take the plunge — and dive into cottage life. You can tell which option we chose by now…

Stay tuned for “the hunt” post coming soon to a blog near you! The story continues…

Saying Farewell to our First Home.

August 31, 2016September 12, 20161 Comment

Today is the day we officially close a foundational chapter in our lives as “Christian & Melissa”.

Christian and I purchased our first home in summer of 2009. We were 3 months engaged, eager home-buyers looking for that “potential-unlocking” fixer-upper. The up-and-coming neighbourhood of Leslieville still had the grit of the city, but was showing signs of a changing landscape. New restaurants were popping up, families were moving in, and the residents had successfully fended off the terror that is Wal-Mart just one year prior. Movement was afoot.

We put in our bid just before the August long weekend and went to the nearby McDonald’s to assess what we had just done. I distinctly remember the acute need to throw up. Not from the smell of the aforementioned McDonald’s, but from the sheer panic about the decision we had just made. In just a few moments, we made the decision to incur the biggest debt we had ever seen, all hanging on the small nest egg that my uber-responsible husband had scrounged and saved into RRSP’s during the previous few years. Me? I had nothing but additional student loans to throw into the mix. We were betting it all on a desperately sad-looking fixer-upper.

But boy, did we have gumption. That, and a strong sense of purpose: we were going to turn that tiny sum of money into a home, and a life together. Throw in some major DIY skills from Christian and my early exposure to all things design (as a child, we didn’t go to the zoo….we went to Living Lighting and the Kitchen Cabinet store. Not kidding. I could tell you what wainscotting was by age 8) and we could NOT be stopped.

It was, by most respects, the ugliest house on the street. But it was OURS. We were going to turn it into our future.

I will never forget the day we got the keys. We drove to our new home and opened the door. The smell of mould, must and rotten fish was still strong…but it didn’t matter. We were home. We wandered down Queen Street East, bought some fish n’ chips served in styrofoam as our celebratory meal, and popped the mini bottle of bubbly that I had bought just for the occasion.

At 7am the next morning, we would begin.

And so unfolded four years of nearly never-ending renovations. Weekend after weekend after weekend of work. 14 hour days. Aching backs. Bloody knuckles. Loss of sleep. Living in dust and dirt. Saying no to most social events because we had to “work on the house”. Avoiding trips and costly outings because that money could go to a sink or a fixture or some other coveted item at Home Depot. Always the house. Room by room and space by space, we slowly made it our own. Together. I’ve often said that renovating a house with your spouse is like marriage counselling 101. The joy, the tears; pushing you to the brink and then just a little but further. Yelling. Fighting. Laughing. Crying.

“It’s your fault we got into this in the first place!!” I would exclaim to my tireless worker of a husband.

And here I am, 7 years later, writing an ode to that place.

I’ll never forget our first Christmas together at Larchmount Ave. It was early December, and we were scrambling to finish a few final touches on our first (of many) rounds of renovations. Not only was it Christian’s birthday celebration, it was also our first Huggett Christmas Party (which is now an annual ‘do, 7 years later), and a big open house to welcome our friends and family to come see what we had been tirelessly been working on for months on end (and why we had been so darned anti-social). The debutant ball for our home.

It’s 11pm and we are racing to finish in preparation for the party the following day.

“We have to put up the tree”, I said. “It’s the best part…we can’t have a Christmas party in our new home without a Christmas tree!”

I had lovingly picked out ornaments and determined a colour scheme for our very first Christmas tree. We put on Mariah Carey’s Christmas album (what else?), made Bailey’s and hot chocolate, and got to it. At approximately midnight, we were ready to move onto to final part: ornaments!!

I excitedly unwrapped all of our new, sparkling, ornaments from their packaging, only to realize that I had forgotten to buy ornament hangers. It was a real pine Christmas tree, and the ornaments simply would not stay on the tree without hangers.

My eyes welled with tears and my lip trembled.

It wasn’t about the tree, the ornaments, or even Christmas. It was about the fact that we had reached that moment of the JOY of decorating together, in our first home, after months of painstaking renovations, only to realize that we couldn’t finish.

Christian looked at my face and knew that we had to complete the tree.

He ran out back to where our growing junk pile of renovation debris was, and came back with an arm-load of old electrical wire that we had removed from the house. Without missing a beat, he pulled out his wire cutters, pried back the plastic casing, and started fashioning copper-based Christmas ornament hooks from the electrical wire.

Through my tear-filled eyes, I realized what he was doing, and broke into a huge smile. We hung all our ornaments that night with those quirky, mis-matched copper-wire & plastic hand-made ornament hangers.

Still to this day, we proudly point out the remaining copper-wire ornament hangers on our Christmas tree and tell that story. It’s just one reminder of all the experiences we shared together in those years at Larchmount.

The truth is, I could write for hours about that house.

The creak of the floorboards. The sound of kids playing across street at the school. Getting ready for our wedding in the living room with my sister, mom and closet friends. Sitting in the backyard with friends on hot summer nights. Warding off raccoons. My sister’s “injury incident” on our back steps. Welcoming our first basement tenants. Meeting our amazing neighbours. Watching Leslieville grow and evolve. Welcoming friends into our home for parties, dinners, drinks. Hosting the Larchmount-Caroline laneway sale. Countless Pho dinners at Hainoi. Leaking ceilings, shattered glass tables, halloween haunted “porches”, laughing, crying. So much life. So much love.

[Photo Credit: Claudia Hung Weddings]

Although we moved out nearly three years ago into our new home, a part of us always remained there. Our renters took care of it as though it were there own, and in one of those amazing circumstances in life where things just simply fall into place, they are now the official new owners of our very first home on Larchmount Ave, and we couldn’t be happier.

(Bonus: its actually my colleague, so we get to continue to see the evolution of little Larchmount Ave as they create their own memories and home).

It’s the easiest way for me to say goodbye to a place that meant to much to Christian and I.

Growing up in a family where moving was essentially a hobby, I was surprised by how much that home meant to me. I cried the day we moved out, looking back at our empty living room and family room, and thinking back to all those moments we shared together. I could still see the renovation debris all over the floor from the first demo. I could still see that first quirky Christmas Tree in the corner. Our first hideous Craigslist couches in the living room.

So now we look forward to new places, new moments and new memories together…and all with our son, Harrison. 4 years felt like a lifetime in the midst of those renovations, but it’s just a blip in the history of the Happy Healthy Huggetts!

So…cheers to you, Larchmount Ave. We toast in your honour tonight. May you continue to provide life, love and happiness to your very lucky new owners.

Infertility impacts everyone. Including me.

May 18, 2016May 18, 20164 Comments

This post isn’t about Christian and I. It isn’t a one-year-after tell-all sharing every intricate detail about our inability to conceive. The truth is, we were able conceive right away. We are not among the 1 in 6.

This post is an attempt to shed a tiny bit of light towards a dark and sometimes taboo place. This post is for the dozens of family and friends of ours who DO count themselves among the 1 in 6.

If you don’t know what I’m referencing when I say “1 in 6”, it’s this simple and frightening statistic: 1 in 6 couples face infertility.

This post is to honor National Infertility Week.

This post is for my sister.

I recently watched Pixar’s “Inside Out”. If you haven’t seen it, I highly recommend doing so. It’s on Netflix. In the same way that “Up” left you crying into your couch cushions approximately 2 minutes in, Pixar has done it again, somehow managing to spin a kids movie into a soul-grabbing tear-jerker. Inside Out offers a touching glimpse into the story behind human emotions. Two main characters, “joy” and “sadness” battle it out to take over little Riley’s emotions within her brain. Being the bubbly, glass-always-full, and energetic gal that I am, I found myself taking the side of “joy” throughout the flick. Sadness just kept getting in the way, sneaking up and taking control of Riley’s emotions. Part way through, Sadness takes the lead for some time in the story.

The ultimate lesson: sometimes, it’s OK to let go of joy in order for sadness to take the reigns. Sometimes, you just need to be sad.

I’m a fixer. I rescue. I help. I try to find the positive in every situation.

“Sadness” in the film reminded me that this isn’t always necessary. This doesn’t have to be my job. Sometimes I just need to listen. Sometimes, I just need to let people be sad. We are all entitled to our own emotions.

For the past 2 years, sadness has embodied my sister and I have had to learn to let go of my joy.

My sister is a true nurturer. She is always worried about everyone else. She is a full time emergency room nurse. She simply wants to love and be loved. She has always wanted to be a mother.

When my sister met her husband, Richard, I was absolutely elated. I knew she had found her perfect life partner. I remember telling her that I could envision them 40 years from now, sitting together in their woolly sweaters, drinking tea and reading poetry to each other. Yeah, they’re that couple. They will also both be reading this post and correcting all of my grammar and spelling mistakes in their heads.

Sarah and Richard were married two years ago, and, as my sister was approaching her mid 30’s, they decided to start trying for a family right away. The summer went by and Sarah came to visit me in Toronto. I knew that she had just started trying for a baby. After celebrating four years of marriage, Christian and I had just found out that we were expecting. On a sunny Tuesday in the early evening, I cautiously shared my news with her, sitting on a patio at an Indian restaurant on the Danforth. She cried. And cried.

“It’s only been a few months”, I told her. “You still have so much time”, I said.

The months went on and so did my pregnancy. It felt awkward talking to her about it. How could I be happy and excited about the life that was growing inside me when I knew it was all that she wanted? Our conversations were strained. I tried to ask all the questions and to make small talk. I didn’t want to bring up the baby. I tried to reassure her and yet I was angry and hurt that she rarely asked about me. About how I was doing; about this tiny person growing inside me. About how my life was about to change forever.

Time marched on and my belly grew. I rarely shared photos with her. I didn’t want to rub my happiness in her face. I didn’t want to complain about my aching back and swollen ankles. My baby showers came and went. No gifts. No cards. No “My Auntie Loves Me” onesie.

Sometimes she would call me in tears.

“Why is God punishing me?”

“What did I do to deserve this?

Mostly, I would listen. I slowly learned that listening was the best I could offer. How could I begin to provide advice and support while my little nugget was moving inside my belly? How could I begin to understand the void that she felt in her life when this joy had come so easily and naturally to me?

On May 1st, Harrison entered our lives. My sister was thrilled. I had wondered if his arrival into the world would help our relationship in some weird way, and it did. He was here. He was real. Not just some untouchable state-of-being that she couldn’t fathom.

A few days later, I celebrated my very first Mother’s Day while cradling my tiny one-week-old son in my arms. Bewildered, overwhelmed, happy, sad, exhausted.

My phone rang: my sister. She broke down into tears.

Mothers Day had now become an incomprehensibly painful “holiday” for her. But I didn’t understand. I didn’t understand why she couldn’t put her pain aside for just one day and celebrate a significant milestone in my life. Why couldn’t she just be happy for me, her only sister. Why couldn’t she just love her nephew. Why she couldn’t share some compassion for the extreme emotions that I was feeling in those early days as a new mum.

In the summer, Sarah came to visit me in Toronto. We spent one week together, and it was exactly what we needed. There were a lot of tears and late nights together. We were able to talk; really talk. She bonded with Harrison. She was so good with him. She sang and sang and sang to him. She came just as we were starting sleep training, which is a very boring a regimented time. But she supported me as best she could. I know it was hard for her. I know her heart hurt seeing me bond with him. My heart hurt, too.

Months passed. Harrison grew. Sarah and I continued to talk.

“What’s your next step?” I would often ask her.

My “joy” just couldn’t help but pour out…I made her promise to me that she wouldn’t give up until she was truly out of options. Until those options run out, she had to keep going. I made her promise.

At Christmas, Harrison and I spent three weeks at home in Vancouver with my family. Richard finally got to meet his new nephew, and he was an absolute natural. “He’s a baby whisperer” my sister had said. “I’m so sad that I can’t give him a child”, she shared.

One morning, the four of us were huddled around the kitchen table in Sarah and Richards downtown apartment. Harrison was eagerly wolfing down his breakfast, as he always did. Richard was feeding him and humming happily; Sarah taking it all in just behind him in her fluffy white robe and morning mug of coffee. They were so natural. They were so happy.

I took it all in and the tears streamed down my face.

“All I want for Christmas is for these two to become parents”, I thought.

Maybe next month will be the month. Maybe next cycle, I’ll get the call from her to share the news. Maybe she won’t have to wait another Mother’s Day. Maybe.

We’re still in waiting mode. It’s still “one day”. It’s still hope. Loss every month. Tears with every new pregnancy announcement. Her sharing, me listening. It’s the best I can do. I wish I had a happy ending to share with you all. I dream of the day that I can write an update to this post and include the birth announcement for my future niece or nephew. But until that, happens, I will leave you some perspective:

Emotions are a crazy thing. We are all entitled to our own emotions. I can’t tell you how to feel, just as you can’t tell me how to feel. Oh, I will try. I will try to spread my joy and my positive light. But sometimes, it’s just time to be sad.

Consider the continuum of emotions: extreme joy and extreme sadness. When you are at one end of the spectrum, it is near impossible to meet someone at the other end. As much as your friend may need you, if you are at the extreme other side, taking a few steps to edge a bit closer to where they are at is perhaps as far as you can go.

Peeing on that cardboard stick and seeing the “+” sign brings extreme joy.

Peeing on that cardboard stick for the 22nd consecutive month and seeing the “-” sign brings extreme sadness.

Every birth announcement. Every bump photo. Every “band of motherhood” post. Every “I can’t stand my crazy toddler” comment. Extreme sadness. I can’t fully understand it because I haven’t experienced it myself, but living this through my sister is about the closest I can get.

My biggest fear for my sister and I: what happens if she does run out of options? I don’t even want to go there.

What happens if Christian and I have a second child and she is still dealing with the crushing reality of infertility? What if she is still peeing on that stick, month after month. 31….32….33….34…how many months does this go on?

There’s a passage in the Bible that suggests that God will not put us through anything we are not strong enough to handle.

Selfishly, I pray that the edge is coming soon for my sister.

I pray for the day I can write that joy-filled update to this post.

Clop, Clop, Neigh: Kentucky Derby 1st Birthday!

May 10, 2016May 10, 2016Leave a comment

Welp, we survived. One full year of parenthood. The late nights, early mornings, breast feeding ups and downs, emotional roller coasters, highs and lows, fights, baby cuddles, milestones, bumps, bruises, giggles, cries, teething, ginormous poops, spit ups, fevers, stroller schlepping, tears, yelling, singing, laughing, heart-bursting-right-out-of-your-chest first year of raising a child is behind us.

So, like any parents do, we celebrated baby H’s first birthday in style. With lots of drinks.

Christian and I are fairly…preppy. We love a good Tommy Hilfiger sale, freshly pressed collared shirts, gorgeous pair of loafers and old fashioned lawn games. Yep, we’re those people. I, in particular, also have a slight obsession with the south. I actually have a theory that I was meant to be born in Georgia, South Carolina or perhaps Tennessee. I love all things southern charm: wrap-around porches, big hats and of course…the Kentucky Derby. (Fact: Attending the Kentucky Derby Race is actually on my life bucket list). So, we decided to bring the Derby to Toronto! Self-serving party theme? Maybe.

First up: a fun and creative welcome sign for our front door. I wanted to mimic a First Place ribbon from a race; this was super easy to do using:

a party “fan” decoration from the dollar store
glitter paper
white & blue bristol board
Hot glue gun
mini star hole punch

Just as I did for my mother-in-laws British Invasion themed 60th birthday party, I love to spread little touches throughout the house during any party, and I squealed out loud when I found these incredible and FREE (free!) Kentucky Derby themed printables on Pinterest from the Hostess with the Mostess. Simply amazing coordinated ready-to-print cut outs from cupcake toppers to bunting banners.

Check out the framed sign and win-place-show flags below:

What’s that? You’re wondering about those Bourbon Balls? Don’t you worry – I’ll be sharing that recipe shortly. My sister-in-law even voted them MVP of the party (next to baby H, of course!)

For the living room, which is a bit more formal feeling and also happens to be the room right at the entrance of our house, I opted for something a tad more fancy.

I found the “Run for the Roses” themed printables on-line at Polka Dot Chair …also FREE…also AMAZING. I loved the classic black-and-red color theme so much that I had to include it too. The black and red mini paper “fans” were actually left over from my friends little mans’ first birthday, so they were also FREE (do you see a theme here!?)

One of my favourite little details came from my dear friend Alison, who not only grew up riding and racing horses, but who has actually BEEN to the Derby! She dug up some old ribbons from Carriage Races her family had placed in and they were such a welcome and authentic addition to the decor around our home:

In keeping with the theme, it only seemed appropriate to tweak the traditional “pin the tail on the donkey” game. I bring to you: Pin the Baby H Jockey on the Horse! Big shout out to my friend Charlotte for masterfully photo-shopping H’s head onto the jockey. Such an awesome touch – it’s already been saved in his baby book!

You can find both the poster and jockey printable (you guessed it…also FREE!) here at Hostess with the Mostess as well)

We tried to stick to southern-style cooking as best as we could, while also offering some healthier options (we are the “Happy Healthy Huggetts” after all!). My mother-in-law whipped up some delicious finger sandwiches, our friend Merv made his epic Mac’n’Cheese (rumor has it he used FOUR bricks of cheese in that baby), and Christian and I made:

This super easy slow cooker pulled chicken from Clean Eating Magazine (I will absolutely be adding this to our regular meal planning rotation!)
Kale & Strawberry salad from Cookie and Kate (which also happens to be my absolute favorite site for healthy versions for those with sweet cravings like me)
Kentucky Hot Brown Dip (a much lower fat version of the original Derby classic dish thanks to Cupcakes and Kale Chips)

For dessert, we didn’t want to give baby H a complete sugar rush on his first time having something truly sweet, so we opted for these Mini Chocolate Quinoa Cupcakes with Avocado Icing. (TIP: They are very cocoa heavy, so if I were to do it again, I would pick to either do the cake OR the icing as cocoa-based, not both)

Here is Baby H giving the cupcake a try (he wasn’t so sure about them)

Oh…and about those Bourbon Balls. Yeah, there’s NOTHING healthy about them. But boy were they good. You can find the recipe here – we doubled the amount of Bourbon, because, why not?

And the birthday boy: he certainly looked the part. I bought this seer-sucker blazer off another mom in one of the on-line buy and sell groups I’m a part of for $8 when baby H was about 6 weeks old. I hadn’t planned the theme for his party yet, but I KNEW he was going to wear it. And wear it he did.

The bow-tie actually makes my heart melt.

… BOTTOMS UP to a fantastic FIRST BIRTHDAY celebration!! Happy birthday my love!

What’s the 21 Day Fix all about anyway?

April 2, 2016April 3, 20161 Comment

Ever since I started posting more about my post-partum health and fitness journey on Facebook, Instagram and on my blog, I’ve received all kinds of messages:

“What are you doing!?”

“Which program is this!?”

“I’m not coordinated and I’m so out of shape…is this super hard!?”

and…”you GO mama!” (or some other form of encouragement….thanks for that, friends)

So, I thought I would make it easy on myself and answer a few questions for you all!

Question 1: OK, so what’s the 21 Day Fix all about?

21 Day Fix is a BeachBody program created by super trainer Autumn Calabrese. The program includes:

30 minute workouts (7 total) that are designed to be in-home friendly, or you can do these at the gym, too (streaming available!). Bonus Plyo workout when you order through an Independent Beachbody Coach (aka: ME!). Light hand weights or a resistance band are required.
Nutrition plan with handy color-coded portion control containers (more on this in a minute) – it takes the guesswork out of what you should be fueling your body with every day.
On-line support via virtual “Challenge Groups” (run by me!) and the on-line BeachBody community
If you purchase what’s called a Challenge Pack (better value – only available through your coach…aka: ME!), it also includes a 30-day supply of Shakeology, which is a superfood filled shake. Why do I love it? I can pronounce all the ingredients, it comes in chocolate flavour, and it helps to curb my sugar and carb cravings! Need I say more?

Question 2: “Why 21 days?”

The answer is simple: it takes 3 weeks to form a new habit.

This is especially crucial for those just starting their fitness journey, or picking things back up again after a long hiatus. There are plenty of amazing 60- to 90- day programs out there, but I’d recommend leaving those until further down the line! Give yourself the chance to commit and see success in this first short 3-week burst, and you’ll be HOOKED. 21 Day Fix truly helps you form good habits and lay a foundation for your nutrition and fitness. The best part is that once you’ve made the initial investment, you can just keep going and complete multiple rounds!

Question 3: “But seriously though, I am so. out. of. shape.”

This program is designed for those at a beginner to intermediate fitness level. Each and every workout offers modification options. If you’re finding even the modification option challenging, ditch the weights and just use your body weight. There’s a big range of options – the key is to just get up and keep moving.

Question 4: I find nutrition and meal planning extremely daunting. Ain’t nobody got time for that.

In my opinion, nutrition is the HARDEST part of staying healthy. Quick and convenient foods are far too often the worst ones for us (and they are often the cheapest…what’s that about!?). Sugar is hiding in everything! And don’t even get me started on eating out.

What I love about the 21 Day Fix Meal plan is that it’s really simple once you get comfortable with the color coding system. Your starter kit includes these handy, fool-proof, color-coded portion containers for each nutrition family:

Green = veggies
Red = Protein
Purple = Fruit
Yellow = Carbs
Orange = nuts, dressings and seeds
Blue = Healthy fats (think avocado and cheese)

This is not about cutting everything out of your life – that’s NOT sustainable. It’s about learning to make healthy choices as much as possible and educating yourself about what your body needs as fuel each day.

For example, when starting the program, I learned that the amount of oatmeal that I was consuming in the morning was the equivalent of about 3-4 of my daily carb servings (so basically ALL my carbs for the day!). Now, I have a smaller portion of oatmeal and supplement it with eggs and fruit. Still eating plenty of good food, just spreading the nutrition out a bit.

The slogan for the program is: Count colors not Calories!

PS – my favourite part? The 21 Day Fix eating plan even shows you how you can incorporate your favourite foods like chocolate and wine (ahemwineformeplease). Again, this is about a sustainable lifestyle change, not some crazy diet that you will never be able to continue!

Question 5: But I’ve tried to work out at home in the past…I get about 3 days in and give up.

Guess what? ME TOO. I started one of Jillian Michael’s programs back in the summer, went gung-ho for a week, and then fell of the wagon. Why? Because it was just me. On my own. Every day. All by myself.

I don’t know about you, but it’s really hard to motivate yourself every single day when you’re in it alone. Well, today is your lucky day, because this is where I come in. The reason I decided to become a BeachBody coach is to offer you the support and encouragement that I know is necessary to realize results. I will text you, check in with you, and add you to my private on-line challenge groups. Through these support links, you’ll find daily posts and challenges, and the opportunity to celebrate successes (and failures!) with other challengers just like you.

Question 6: OK, Melissa…you’ve convinced me….now when can I start?

On-line, private challenge groups run every month! My next one starts on Monday, April 11th, 2016. You’ll need to order your Challenge Pack in advance (which costs less than a few months at a gym or a 10-class punch card!), so you’re ready to rock n’ roll, so if now is your time, take the first step and JOIN ME by completing this form

Let’s do this TOGETHER!

Meal Planning changed my life.

March 17, 2016March 20, 20162 Comments

Yes, I’m putting it right here for all to see: meal planning has changed my life. Seriously.

For those of you who checked out my recent post on my post-partum fitness journey, you already know that I have taken some big steps in the past few months when it comes to prioritizing myself and my fitness. However, before I got there, it started in the kitchen.

And do you know what? Living a healthy lifestyle is ALL ABOUT THE KITCHEN.

I know, I know. I fought it too. I would justify my actions, that second drink, that extra muffin (Or cookie. Or entire ~~row~~ box of cookies). The “I’m too busy looking after everyone else to worry about what I’m eating” qualifying statement. Shoving into my mouth whatever food I could quickly get my hands on in order to satisfy the hunger that I had been ignoring for the past two hours. Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

In the fall, Christian and I took a long hard look at our eating strategy, which we realized wasn’t a strategy at all. We were grocery shopping multiple times a week, using our precious time ineffectively, and spending more money on food as a result. We felt like we were eating fairly well, but often found ourselves “running out” of food (I use air quotes because we had plenty of food, it just didn’t necessary add up into a meal). Snacks were often forgotten, or the same thing on repeat every day. And then came the 8pm evening munchies. Oh yes. That.

But let me be honest with you: the game changing meal planning didn’t just magically happen overnight.

No way.

First, we started with dinners Monday to Friday. Every Sunday we would sit down together and figure out what was on our menu, and as each meal was prepped and consumed, we would keep track of those meals. The first few weeks, this took A LOT of time. But week by week, it got so much easier. After a month, we had a spreadsheet full of meal options to choose from – we just built on the progress little by little.

Getting dinner sorted then snowballed into other areas of our nutrition. For example, lunches quickly followed, because we could simply prep extra for lunch the following day. Even though I’m still at home during the day with Harrison, I too get a Tupperware packed lunch! It’s sitting there waiting for me every day. No excuses.

“Oh, I’ll just pick up a shawarma…there’s nothing ready in the fridge at home anyway.”

Let’s say it all together: NO MORE.

So, who’s with me!? Wait…you are!? Oh goody! Today is your lucky day, ’cause here are:

Five Tips to help get your Meal Planning Started

1) Start Small. If you’ve never truly meal planned before, it can all be really daunting. 21 meals and 14+ snacks is a lot to think about. Choose the meal you struggle with the most and plan for 5 days: Monday to Friday. Weekends sometimes can be wild cards, so I recommend starting with the even keel week-days.

2) Prioritize Planning and Prep Time. The biggest habit that Christian and had to form was that we do not go to bed on Sunday night without our plan for a week and a grocery list set. Typically, we aim to grocery shop on the weekend, but in a pinch, we go on Monday nights. Regardless, we ensure the planning ahead is DONE and email ourselves the grocery list. Whoever is going knows exactly what to get.

3) Shop Once. If anyone hates inefficiency, it’s my darling husband. In the past, we were shopping several times a week, throwing away food and wasting money. Since prioritizing proper meal planning we spend less time grocery shopping, eat better and save money. Need I say more?

4) Make it Visual. Find a way to post your meal plan in a visible and accessible spot. The best $3 I’ve ever spent was to purchase a magnetic weekly planning board from Dollarama. Every Sunday we write our food plan for the week, which includes breakfasts and dinners (we use dinner leftovers as our lunch for the following day). This takes the dreaded question “what’s for dinner?” out of our life completely, and it’s rather liberating.

5) Have some fun. Like to order in once in a while? Build it in! Have a Saturday morning breakfast ritual? Plan ahead and try something new each week. For us, Friday nights are a bit of a special night as we often reserve this for an at-home “date night”. We like to make something fun and out-of-the-ordinary. For example, this Sweet Potato Crust Pizza from PopSugar Fitness is one of my absolute favorite choices for a Friday night in. Served with a simple green salad and a glass of vino, its comfort food without the….bloat.

And there you have it! What are you waiting for? Why not take some time this weekend at GET PLANNING.

happy healthy huggetts

a lifestyle blog for those looking for a bit more "happy" in their life.

Category: lifestyle

Ringing in 2025 with a bit of dreamy magic

Dear Future You: A Letter for Your 5th Birthday

Cottage Series Part 2: The Hunt