Voices

When your kids are sick, it's like they're yo-yos.  One second they are curled up under a blanket watching a moving and not moving a muscle, the next, they're running up and down the halls playing Power Rangers with their little brother.

Sometimes you just have to listen to that little (or sometimes loud and overbearing) Mommy voice that says "nope, not quite right".

Last Tuesday, Brayden went to the dentist for a filling (yes, it makes you feel like a crap parent when they have to get them, but that's another post for another time).  My husband brought him while I was at work.

By the time I came home, B's lower lip was gargantuan.  I'm talking Bubba Blue from Forest Gump big...nope, not even sure that covers it.  More like Mike Wazowski after a battle with the glowing urchins in Monsters University.


Please don't sue me, this picture and all associated characters are the property of Disney Pixar.  I'm just trying to prove a point.

 

Ok so maybe that's a slight exaggeration...but only a slight one.  Apparently Brayden had chewed on his lip when it was numb and it ballooned.  It got so large it actually split a bit. 

 

The next day, he didn't want to go to school, but being a responsible mother who doesn't let her child get away with not going to school just because someone might ask them why their lip is fat, I sent him...with a note to his teacher that if he couldn't handle the day, to give me a call and I'd come get him.  So she did, around noon.  Apparently he got extremely quiet and just went and lay down.   

 

Thankfully I work for a very understanding company where I can take my computer home to work when things like this happen.    The following day, I sent B back to class, still fat lipped and miserable, but hey, no slackin' right?  No sooner had I sat at my desk when the school called for me to come and get him again.  Now my work is understanding...but I can't ask them to be THAT understanding.  Enter awesome grandparents to the rescue.  B spent the day resting at their house and thankfully finally ate something (he hadn't eaten in almost 2 days at this point).  

 

Friday rolls around.  Andrew decides he needs one more day at home just to make sure (lip still swollen, not much eaten as it was REALLY sore).  Sigh, Brayden insisted he needed just one more day...ok fine.  BUT, my condition was Brayden see a doctor to make sure it wasn't infected.  B spent the day "resting" (aka running and playing like a crazy man with his little brother) and never went to the doc as clearly, he was feeling better!  (Enter relieved Mommy.)  Except I wasn't really.  Nope, something just wasn't right.

 

Friday night Andrew leaves for work and as is always the case, the kid goes down for the count.  Shivering, moaning, crying, fevered...just another fun Friday night in our house.  His mouth looked horrible, he wasn't eating, he had a high fever (can't tell you how high as when I went to use our thermometer, I discovered it was in pieces...of course...2 days later it had come down slightly and based on a friendly neighbour's tympanic thermometer, read 102).

 

Off to the doc we went.  Two different meds, both 3 times a day and 3 school days back under our belt and the kid's finally smiling again!  Sometimes, you really do just have to listen to the Mommy voice telling you when something isn't right.  And sometimes, SOME times, you just have to listen to the damn kid.

When The World Stops Turning

Tonight as we drove home from a day spent with my parents, Madison looked out of the window and said "Mommy, look at the sky!"  Little did she know, I'd been admiring it the entire time.

You see, there was a difference in the sky tonight. 

Watching the sun set has always been one of my favourite things to do.  I love seeing the sun paint the sky with infinite colour combinations.  I can get lost in it...and just as it fades away, I'm enveloped in a sea of stars shining in all of their brilliance.

But tonight, there was a difference.

For tonight, the sun did not fill the sky with its radiance.  Instead, the sun focussed all of its energy into a stream of light so wondrous that even my almost 8 year old daughter stopped and took notice.  A perfect path, leading from Earth to the Heavens.  And indeed, today it was.

Today, the world stopped turning for so many people in my life.  Today, an angel gained his wings.  Although, even as I type this, I can hear his incredible laugh for referring to him as such. 

Today, the world dimmed as the heavens shone just a little more brightly.

And tomorrow, my world will start turning again, but I know it's going to take a lot longer for others.  But, eventually, albeit slowly, it will turn again.

And yes, this is supposed to be a blog about being a mother of 3 and wife to 1, but give me a fuckin break, this is what you get, when the world stops turning.

 

 

 

Pass the Bucket

We do our best to teach our kids to share.  But some things, I wish they'd just keep to their damn selves. 

Late Saturday evening, my 5 year old looked kind of miserable.  We were all cozied up in Mommy and Daddy's bed watching some cartoon (probably Big Big Friend...oh man that Golias cracks Andrew up to no end!  To be clear...Andrew is my husband, not the 5 year old.).  Anyway, we were all cozied up when I hear a small voice say "I puked".  So obviously I reply with "You did?  When?"...then lean over and realize that he meant he had JUST puked...on MY side of the bed!!  (Side whine, why is it always on MY side of the bed???)

The poor guy didn't even make it to the bathroom (a mere 15 feet away) when it happened again, on the carpet...a mere 2 feet from the TILE in the bathroom...sigh.

He spent the rest of the night on repeat, slightly recovered by morning, then went down again.  Monday, Brayden was feeling a bit better stomach wise, but his bowels decided they wanted nothing to do with him either.  I can't begin to tell you the joys of that one.  I'll spare you the gory details, suffice it to say his super awesome Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles underwear only comes in packs of 7 and I was handing him number 7...

I felt so bad for him...until the breaking hours of Tuesday morning...when Mommy, who was sleeping in his spot in his bed while he slept along side Daddy in my spot in mine, woke repeatedly, shivering and uncomfortable.  For a reason I'm not totally sure of, I decided I needed to get up and go to the washroom...and I had better bring my hair elastic (which I methodically employed on the long walk down the hall).  And good thing I did, because I, the Mommy who NEVER gets the flu...I mean EVER, spent some quality time paying homage to the porcelain gods and watching the sun rise.  It was a spiritual experience, like Linda Blair in the Exorcist spiritual, only she wore it better.

Tuesday, I quite literally couldn't get out of bed.  My 5 year old still felt like garbage, but wasn't hogging the bathroom any longer, my 2 year old couldn't hit a toilet if he tried, sadly he "didn't try" at least 6 times.  My husband, who was also starting to feel like crap, had to deal with it all as I truly couldn't get up.  I was almost incoherent for the entire day and night.  The man cleaned, chased, comforted, fed...then cleaned again and still came in to check on me a number of times, never once hesitating, complaining or taking a break. 

Today, we kept B home from school as his tummy was sore this morning (though he likely would have been ok, but who wants to put a teacher through that??).  The 2 year old?  He's a frickin' tank!  He pukes and just keeps on running.  Nothing could stop my little beast.

So now that we are finally all on the mend...wait...cue daughter running down the hall causing Mommy to do a full on sprint up the stairs at 12:30am, quite literally in the middle of my writing this post..."I just had to go to the washroom Mommy"...praise the good Lord...I tucked my little angel back into bed and turn out the big light so she can watch her nightlight change colours until she drifts back to dreamland and as I'm walking out..."Mommy, my tummy hurts...a lot"...

Pass the bucket and break out the Resolve.  Mommy's in for a good one.

People always tell me "I don't know how you do it".  3 kids, a home daycare, a custom cake business, husband, 3 pets...don't know how you do it. 

Truth is, I don't know either. 

And some days I don't "do it".  Some days I take a little longer in the washroom simply because the door is locked and I can.  Two year old kicking down the door or not, leave Mommy alone, she and the Frozen Free Fall game are having a moment.  Even if it's in the loo.

So you want to know the secret?  So do I.  There really isn't one.  Maybe that's the secret.  That we are all moms, just doing what we do to try to raise our kids in a way that won't break the bank with hours billed with a psychiatrist, even with health insurance.
Between trying to keep my daughter's heart from breaking, my daycare kids from breaking our house and my sons' spirits true to who they are, there really isn't much left for much else.  But you just keep going.  You have to, you're Mommy.
You're the maker of lunches, the creator of endless Hallowe'en costumes, an event planner and co-ordinator, doctor, nurse, warrior, moulder of innocent minds, monster vanquisher, spider relocator and the accountant that somehow figures out how to find room in the budget for gymnastics, soccer, Brownies and every other thing that crosses your kids' minds.

Oh wait...budget...crap, maybe that's where I went wrong.  I don't have one of those.  But I digress.

The point is, no-one knows how Moms do it, including Moms.  You look at "that" Mom you know...the one who's got it all together, the one you envy and hate all at the same time...and honey, you have no clue.  She's just as bat-shit crazy as you are.

This Mom is lucky, as are many others I know.  I've got an amazing Dad helping me on this journey.  And I have no idea where it's leading us, but I do know that...

...wait, Olaf's calling.  Apparently I've got a new set of lives...I've gotta hit the loo.

Comebacks...not the smartass kind

I've been seeing it more and more lately.  "Celebrities" from the good old days (namely my early high school days) popping up in random television commercials.  Making a comeback via ridiculous spots promoting law agencies, website registration companies...really people?  You ain't no Betty White and you ain't never gonna be!  She's had more comebacks (if you can ever really say that she was gone) than I have freckles!  (I'm Irish Canadian and my parents rarely slipped, slapped or slopped when I was a kid...I don't tan, my freckles unite.) 

Is that all they want to be known for?  Being one of America's most loved Dads (even though he is Canadian), or the martial arts phenom who can hover between 2 tables in the split position while eating a bowl of cereal?  If that's what makes them feel alive, well then who am I to judge really right? 

I guess my point is that, save for very few of us, nobody knew who they were going to turn out to be 20 years ago.  I thought I was going to be married by 25, have 2 kids, have a clean house and money in the bank.  None of that is true now (well I DO have 2 kids...plus one) and does it really matter?  Who cares if my life didn't go according to "plan"?  The best plan I ever made was to throw that one out the window.  I have an amazing family (who I'll admit some days I want to throw out the window...not literally people, but down your cell phones), a lovely home filled with chipped Ikea furniture and have no clue what I do for a living anymore. 

I have always said that regrets are stupid in the sense that every decision I have made in life has led me to where I am now, good or bad.  Let go of who you were then and embrace who you are now, whether it's Mike Seaver's dad or the mom at the bus stop who wears the same jeans every day, never quite has her make up on yet and eats breakfast as her home daycare kids are walking up the drive.

I don't want to make a come back.  The girl I was in high school can stay there, she didn't really have all that much fun anyway.  I always had friends but never felt like I fit in.  I went to parties but hated sitting there watching everyone else just let loose and have a good time while I sat there wondering when it was time to head home.  So ya, she can stay there, but I'll take with me the amazing people I knew there and still know today.  None of us are where we thought we would be really, but we've grown into some pretty incredible people (I won't say grown ups because I'm not sure we are yet). 

In the words of another (and WAY hotter) LL, "Don't call it a comeback, I've been here for years..."  I think it's just taken me a little time to see it. 

That Was A Close One

Ok, so Mommy got herself a little present for once and picked up the new iPhone 5 just before Christmas.  I'm loving it.

Still exploring some of the many things I can do with it, but don't regret it a bit.  Now, I finally "turned on" Siri the other day at home and showed my 6 year old daughter what you can do with it.  She was in awe and practically begged me to use it.

Sure, fine, no problem.  Just push the little microphone and ask it what ever question you'd like the answer to.

"Ok, can I try now?".  So, I hand over the phone and wait to see what her little mind is wondering...

"Where do babies come from?"  Holy BALLS WHAT??  Lord help me.  My husband and I quite literally froze, staring at the iPhone dreading what was going to come from Siri.

"Ok, here you go..."  Siri says..."From their mothers."  Praise Jesus, that's an answer I can handle.  Breathe Mama, you're all good.  "How do they get there?" Maddie adds.  This is where I made a superhero style lunge for the phone...Siri, don't make me hurt you..."Would you like me to look it up on the web?".  No thanks Siri, we're good.

Phew, that was close.  Yes, one day I will have to have the full on conversation with her, but not now, not when she's 6.  There are already far too many things that make my kids grow up too quickly, this is NOT going to be one of them, at least not yet.

She still thinks boys are silly (which they are) and that her boyfriend is our best friend's husband.  Can't blame her really, he's a musician and he's got an accent.

Just know Siri, I got my EYE ON YOU!

6, Five, 4, Three, Two, 1.

Some days I don't believe it.  I have a 6, a 4 and a 1 year old. 

How did that happen?  Well, o.k. I know HOW it happened and have had to semi-explain it to the six year old...which was a really awkward night time conversation that somehow involved talk of an apple, a tree, dirt and sunshine...don't ask.  And of COURSE it happened on a night when Daddy was working nights.  Yep, I get all the good ones.

But back to the point.  I am a mother of 3 young kids and some days still can't believe that these amazing, intelligent, hilarious, inquisitive, irritating and gorgeous creatures are something that I have anything to do with.  Well, alright the intelligent and gorgeous I believe, the rest they get from their Dad.

I am completely in love with my children and would squish them and cover them with kisses all day, in a very healthy, non psychiatrist visit inducing sort of of way.  Having to witness Mommy rock it out to Just Dance 4 on the Wii...well that may be their breaking point. 

There aren't many I know these days who are not already a parent (or thinking of becoming one), but to try to explain the feeling...it is like your heart is living outside of your body.  It doesn't belong to you anymore and it is somehow both more fragile and stronger than you ever thought it could be.

You feel their victories and their hardships more strongly than they do.  Maybe that's why there are so many crazed parents in the rinks or off stage...no wait, those are just some crazAY bitches.  Dance Moms anyone?  Good Lord I fear putting Maddie into a dance company because of them.  Mostly because I may end up going to prison should one get all up in mah bidness.  Watch yoself!

I want to protect Madison from the little punk who punches her in the arm in the school yard...repeatedly.  I want to teach her that she is amazing and although I would never teach her that hitting someone is an o.k. thing to go out and do, I have also told her that should someone, anyone, hit her or physically hurt her, after exhausting all other avenues (telling them off in a 6 year old sort of way), telling a teacher, removing herself from the situation...SLUG THAT SUCKER AND MAKE 'EM REMEMBER IT!  Damn right.  Sorry, but if I should one day get a call from the principal because Madison just decked a kid that has been tormenting her and her friends since the beginning of school, after repeatedly telling them to stop and the above mentioned solutions...Momma got your back baby girl!

Having said that, she has the kindest little heart and would never do it.  Just want her to understand that things like that are never o.k. and that I don't care WHO they are (Mommy or Daddy included), taking a hit, although fantastic on the soccer field, is not something she should ever have to put up with.  She needs to know that now, before she heads out into the real world, so hopefully she never has to learn how to truly take one...and cover it up.

Ya, I wasn't sure where this post was going when I started it to be quite honest, but there it is.  This one's for the girls I guess.  (Sorry Brayden and Ewan, Mommy will write another post later about teaching you to lean into it or roll them off your shoulder.)

It terrifies me to think about how different it is raising a girl.  You have to prepare them for so many more dangers out there.  Not just the obvious ones and stranger danger...you have to create a girl so confident, that nothing anyone can ever do will put a dent in her armour.  Including her so called friends.  We all went through it and I honestly have no idea how to protect Maddie from it, so suggestions are welcomed.  Girls are horrible to each other at certain ages and it leaves scars.  But, scars are testaments to battles fought and survived.  Some even come with some pretty fun stories.

But physical scars?  Put there at someone else's hand?  Lord help the man (or woman, I don't judge) who ever tries to do that to my girl.  I've seen it happen before.  I've stood on a doorstep praying that "he" didn't answer the door in fear of what I may do should I see his face.  Funny how violent this post is making me sound.  Anyone who truly knows me knows that my heart is made of mush (not white mush Andrea)...but when Mama Bull comes around, those horns are the least of your worries.

So ya, being a Mom to 3 amazing kids who are so incredibly different poses some challenges.  You want to treat them all equally, treat them all the same.  But how can you?  If they are so different, then your approach to how you raise them has to be too. 

And hey speaking of too...look what time it is.  Once again it is just after 2a.m. and I have to get up for work in a few hours.  (Slick segue...I AM in radio after all.)

So good night my loyal followers (all 6 of you).  Guess we'll figure this parenting thing out together. 

Word.