Looking back at 2012 through this blog and this is what I see. 4. Four blog entries in the entire year of 2012.
Surely I must have had more than 4 thoughts in 12 months!? Surely more than just that has happened in the life of a mother of 3 and wife of one. And yes, I do realize that I am mixing the use of numerals and writing out the numbers here, but hey...that's how I roll.
So to catch you all up on the events of the last year in my life...I was home on maternity leave, spending every waking (and unconscious) moment with my 3 amazing children. I started a side business as a Consultant doing direct marketing (I throw parties where I sell you shit, but it's good shit that helps families like mine live healthier, more flavourful lives and I love it).
I went back to playing soccer after a year off due to the "condition" of having a human draining the life force out of me whilst attached to my inner Mommy parts, went up for a header and came down with a gushing gash on my eyebrow and broken face (and just so you know, I slapped on a Band-Aid band-aid, drove myself home for a quick inspection by my paramedic hubby, then drove myself to the hospital out of town for stitches...because that's how this Soccer-Mommin', van driving (oh ya, got one of those too) Mutha does it).
I spent a summer watching my kids play soccer, bounce in their bouncer, learning to crawl, take their first dance lesson, earn their first medal, cutting the ends off countless freezies, setting up playdates and running out of propane for the barbeque at the most inopportune moments.
We drove (yes drove) the kids to Florida for an incredible family reunion filled with so many wonderful memories, Princess and Pirate makeovers, Haunted Houses, Wizards, overpriced souveniers, and sand in everyone's unmentionables (that I just mentioned) and we loved it. But I will never do that again. Wouldn't change a second of the trip, but will never repeat it.
Skip to the fall and I've got a full on grade oner, a kid who NEEDS to be in school but missed out by 15 days and a broken-toothed snuggly bear who has my whole world wrapped around that tiny little finger...you know, the one I'm constantly trying to pull out of random things like ears and noses and electrical sockets.
One month of the school year in and we hit the birthday parties. Harry Potter for my now 6 year old (which was a huge success because Mama is da BOMB!) and jungle themed for my now toddling 1 year old. Skip forward a few more days and we have Daphne, a spotted monster and a tiger roaming the hood begging for candy, the addition of another cat and we're into the holidays.
Back to the "real world" of working where I get to talk to grown ups every day (in physical form only...if you know anyone who works in radio it is abundantly clear that we never truly grow up mentally). Oh and a whole OTHER level of Mommy Guilt...any working mom will know what I mean by that one.
So, as 2012 prepares to come to a close and we await the arrival of a right jolly old elf who undoubtedly left out the items that the kids just "had" to have, inevitably leaving them whimpering over their mountains of house cluttering crap, I come full circle. I'm about to hit "publish" on another blog penned after 2a.m., knowing that morning will come far too quickly for a non-coffee drinking Mommy of 3. It's like I never left.
Sunday, December 23, 2012
Monday, September 10, 2012
What Would Your Answer Be?
Earlier this evening I was sitting on my couch scouring Facebook while a cheesy chick flick played partially unnoticed in the background. A friend of mine posted a link. I clicked on said link and watched a short video about a woman from New Orleans who, with a simple gesture, created something so incredibly powerful.
By taking the side of an abandoned building in her neighbourhood and turning it into an oversized chalkboard, she, with a simple unfinished sentence, allowed the hopes and dreams of hundreds (and now millions) of people, find a safe place to land. "Before I die I want to..."
Insert answer here.
Silly, intriguing, superficial, inspiring...whatever the answer, those letters etched in chalk on the wall of that abandoned building are someone's hopes and dreams for what they want their lives to be.
What would your answer be? How would you complete that sentence if you could answer it with complete anonymity? Go ahead...think about it...I'll wait...ok that's long enough. I've got 3 kids, a load in the dryer and I've got to hit the loo before bed.
Now that you have committed to your answer inside your mind, stop being a chicken shit and commit to it on the outside. Pick up the chalk.
http://www.ted.com/talks/candy_chang_before_i_die_i_want_to.html?source=facebook#.UE1O_jIUC3N.facebook
By taking the side of an abandoned building in her neighbourhood and turning it into an oversized chalkboard, she, with a simple unfinished sentence, allowed the hopes and dreams of hundreds (and now millions) of people, find a safe place to land. "Before I die I want to..."
Insert answer here.
Silly, intriguing, superficial, inspiring...whatever the answer, those letters etched in chalk on the wall of that abandoned building are someone's hopes and dreams for what they want their lives to be.
What would your answer be? How would you complete that sentence if you could answer it with complete anonymity? Go ahead...think about it...I'll wait...ok that's long enough. I've got 3 kids, a load in the dryer and I've got to hit the loo before bed.
Now that you have committed to your answer inside your mind, stop being a chicken shit and commit to it on the outside. Pick up the chalk.
http://www.ted.com/talks/candy_chang_before_i_die_i_want_to.html?source=facebook#.UE1O_jIUC3N.facebook
Thursday, August 9, 2012
Remember That Mommy Guilt Thing?
Remember that post I did oh so long ago talking about Mommy Guilt? Man, I don't think I truly knew what I meant back then.
Mommy guilt tripled is exhausting...and never ending. Today alone, I heard Madison asking if anyone wanted to play with her. Of course I did, but was it possible right then? No. She asked again. Same answer. She played by herself for a while, then played with her brother while Daddy and I tried in vain to prepare for our huge road trip that has been in the works for almost 2 years and has somehow snuck up on us.
Two hours later, I hear that goregous little girl of mine ask once again in a sad voice..."Doesn't anyone want to play with me?". There goes what's left of my heart. So, setting aside a (finally) smaller mountain of laundry and strapping Ewan into his highchair for a meal of zuccini seasoned with cinnamon, we had at it. Disney princess figures were transformed into the many different characters of my incredibly creative daughter's newest obesession, Harry Potter. Accents and all.
I always say that the laundry will still be there when the kids are sleeping, when the kids are at school, when they are cramping their little fingers playing Scooby Doo Wii. Fur on the floor isn't going to kill anyone and the toilet will still flush if it hasn't been scrubbed since the last time we had company.
Yes, I say all of that, but living it is a very different beast. I hate constantly having to ask my kids to hang on a second, or tell them I can't sit on the floor and re-enact every scene from Scooby Doo, Harry Potter or Cat in the Hat right now. I have to clean the kitchen (which truly is my nemesis most days), sweep the floor, or chase down their now mobile little brother before he decides to give himself a pet water facial.
I love every second that I get to spend with my 3 amazing children. Even the ones where I want to squish their little heads together. But (and there's always a but isn't there?), each one of them can make me feel like the worst Mom at times. Madison has so many wonderful ideas, so many scenes running through that amazing little head that she needs to get out. And I just don't always have the time or the energy to really let her share them. Not where she is my only focus like she deserves to be.
Brayden, he is just a little cuddle bug when he's in the mood. All he really wants is a quick game of Sponge Bob Memory Match (which he is a master of by the way), some chocolate milk and some face time - the actual face to face version, not the Apple kind.
And Ewan, he just wants Mommy...all day, every day. I can't even go pee without someone crying...sometimes that someone is me.
Nobody gets my full attention, Andrew included. The house is never truly clean. The cat, well he's just a bugger who secretly cuddles with me once everyone else has gone to bed, and the dog (you know, the one with the bullet in her back) looks longingly at all of the other dogs trotting by the house with their leashes in their humans' hands.
If I could split myself in 2 to get things done, I would. Then again, one half of me would always miss out on something that way, so not really an improvement on the current situation.
And now of course, I'm ignoring even myself. It's almost 2:30 in the morning and I have yet to go to bed, knowing full well that my 9 month old will be up with the roosters, full of broken toothed smiles and drool skin treatments that really should be bottled and sold.
Mommy guilt tripled is exhausting...and never ending. Today alone, I heard Madison asking if anyone wanted to play with her. Of course I did, but was it possible right then? No. She asked again. Same answer. She played by herself for a while, then played with her brother while Daddy and I tried in vain to prepare for our huge road trip that has been in the works for almost 2 years and has somehow snuck up on us.
Two hours later, I hear that goregous little girl of mine ask once again in a sad voice..."Doesn't anyone want to play with me?". There goes what's left of my heart. So, setting aside a (finally) smaller mountain of laundry and strapping Ewan into his highchair for a meal of zuccini seasoned with cinnamon, we had at it. Disney princess figures were transformed into the many different characters of my incredibly creative daughter's newest obesession, Harry Potter. Accents and all.
I always say that the laundry will still be there when the kids are sleeping, when the kids are at school, when they are cramping their little fingers playing Scooby Doo Wii. Fur on the floor isn't going to kill anyone and the toilet will still flush if it hasn't been scrubbed since the last time we had company.
Yes, I say all of that, but living it is a very different beast. I hate constantly having to ask my kids to hang on a second, or tell them I can't sit on the floor and re-enact every scene from Scooby Doo, Harry Potter or Cat in the Hat right now. I have to clean the kitchen (which truly is my nemesis most days), sweep the floor, or chase down their now mobile little brother before he decides to give himself a pet water facial.
I love every second that I get to spend with my 3 amazing children. Even the ones where I want to squish their little heads together. But (and there's always a but isn't there?), each one of them can make me feel like the worst Mom at times. Madison has so many wonderful ideas, so many scenes running through that amazing little head that she needs to get out. And I just don't always have the time or the energy to really let her share them. Not where she is my only focus like she deserves to be.
Brayden, he is just a little cuddle bug when he's in the mood. All he really wants is a quick game of Sponge Bob Memory Match (which he is a master of by the way), some chocolate milk and some face time - the actual face to face version, not the Apple kind.
And Ewan, he just wants Mommy...all day, every day. I can't even go pee without someone crying...sometimes that someone is me.
Nobody gets my full attention, Andrew included. The house is never truly clean. The cat, well he's just a bugger who secretly cuddles with me once everyone else has gone to bed, and the dog (you know, the one with the bullet in her back) looks longingly at all of the other dogs trotting by the house with their leashes in their humans' hands.
If I could split myself in 2 to get things done, I would. Then again, one half of me would always miss out on something that way, so not really an improvement on the current situation.
And now of course, I'm ignoring even myself. It's almost 2:30 in the morning and I have yet to go to bed, knowing full well that my 9 month old will be up with the roosters, full of broken toothed smiles and drool skin treatments that really should be bottled and sold.
Friday, August 3, 2012
So, what have you been up to?
Ok, so it's been a long while. A really long while. It's almost like when you reconnect with an old highschool friend and say "So, what have you been up to for the last 15 years?". Obviously much has happened, but really, how do you explain it all?
There have been many times when I have wanted to write and share what it's like to be a mother of 3. But really, my beloved MacBook went tets up (good Lord is that a whole other post and a half) and I can't make it through the next chapter of Harry Potter with Madison each night, let alone have energy left to post any of the few fleeting thoughts I have running through my brain.
Suffice it to say, there has been a lot going on. Ewan is now 9 months old, Madison has completed kindergarten and looking forward to being a grade "one-r" in the Fall and Brayden has one game left in his inaugural season of soccer. My dad suffered and survived a heart attack, I fractured my orbital bone and discovered that at some point in her 10 years, my beloved pooch was SHOT and the bullet remains lodged near, but not effecting, her spine.
This past year has been trying, amazing, exhausting, inspiring and many other "ings" I'm just too tired to think of at the moment.
Now that I have a stand-in computer (so not my Macky, but functioning so I will be content...for now), I will be posting more regularly. Hold back your shouts of glee, I need a nap.
There have been many times when I have wanted to write and share what it's like to be a mother of 3. But really, my beloved MacBook went tets up (good Lord is that a whole other post and a half) and I can't make it through the next chapter of Harry Potter with Madison each night, let alone have energy left to post any of the few fleeting thoughts I have running through my brain.
Suffice it to say, there has been a lot going on. Ewan is now 9 months old, Madison has completed kindergarten and looking forward to being a grade "one-r" in the Fall and Brayden has one game left in his inaugural season of soccer. My dad suffered and survived a heart attack, I fractured my orbital bone and discovered that at some point in her 10 years, my beloved pooch was SHOT and the bullet remains lodged near, but not effecting, her spine.
This past year has been trying, amazing, exhausting, inspiring and many other "ings" I'm just too tired to think of at the moment.
Now that I have a stand-in computer (so not my Macky, but functioning so I will be content...for now), I will be posting more regularly. Hold back your shouts of glee, I need a nap.
Monday, January 9, 2012
Let's Try This Again
Ok, I'll admit it...when I sat down to write my last blog entry, I fell asleep. Hence the short post with a somewhat abrupt ending. I could have gone back to it once I woke from my restless slumber on the now 8 year old Ikea couch, but I decided that I should try to sneak upstairs, get in my flannels and try to get some real sleep (you know, all 23 minutes of it) before our newest addition decided he needed me....NOW MOTHER!
So let's try this again. The last weeks of my pregnancy went quickly and fairly smoothly. I finished work a few days before Madison's 5th birthday (which was celebrated with her, surrounded by a gaggle of girls and a couple of boys from school, doing gymnastics to their little hearts' content). I was SUPPOSED to have 2 weeks at home with my kids to enjoy some time with them before Wayne made his debut. True to family offspring fashion, little Wayne decided he needed to one up his sister and brother and make an early appearance.
My wish was that I made it past Madison's birthday so that she could have her birthday all to herself. Granted. Just barely. Baby brother (aka Ewan) was born in the wee hours of October 29th. Here's his story...
Thursday I had yet another check up with the doctor, who promptly informed me that he could have sworn I would have been at the hospital and home with my boy days earlier...wrong! That was at 38 weeks. He had informed me early in the pregnancy that I was not going to be "allowed" to get to 40 weeks due to my history of rapid fire deliveries. So, in order to avoid a repeat performance of my husband having to deliver my son and save us the expense of a new mattress (again), Dr. H. told me to head to the L&D ward on Saturday morning. He wasn't going to book me for an induction as there was a good chance I would get bumped down the list as I AM a machine after all. Basically, he told me to just head in there and tell them I was having contractions, tell them my previous delivery story and there was no chance they would let me go home after that. Sneaky, but truthful.
In the end, all of that was irrelevant as I had my 1st contraction just after 11pm Friday night. I sort of ignored it, but kept it in mind as I went up to take a nice long bath before heading to bed...except I never got there. At 1am I woke Andrew up and told him to call his parents. We needed to head to the hospital. "WHA?? Are you serious?". I can understand his confusion as he'd only just gone to bed about an hour earlier thinking everything was fine and we'd head to the hospital at our leisure in the morning. Kids always have a way of messing with your well laid plans.
So, we called his folks who live 25 minutes away at about 1:20. Our neighbour had said they would brave the long walk across the lawn if we needed anyone to get to the house immediately to stay with the kids until the grandparents arrived...yeah...except it was Hallowe'en weekend and they were out at at party. Awesome. If they weren't such amazing people and wonderful neighbours, I might try to keep the guilt going on that one. ;)
We also could have called our dear friend and former cruise ship singing roomie Andrea, but by the time she would have arrived the in-laws would likely have been there anyway. So, we waited it out...and out...and...well, in their defense, they thought someone was going to be at the house for the kids while we left for the hospital should we have a middle of the night thing happen. I think Andrew was more worried than I was. Oddly, I was fine...in full on labour, but somehow totally fine. Talking through contractions (even though I fully remember that the stage I was at meant imminent delivery).
We broke all land speed records...of course should Andrew's employers be reading this or any local police...followed all posted limits to the tee and not going through a single red light (in truth, the only one we really hit was the ONLY light we have in our town...and of course it had to be red)...and got to the hospital in an amazing 20 minutes.
Moving on...we arrive at the hospital at 2:20am, get through the door we were told was going to be locked and begin to make our way through the lobby (I'm sure there is a fancier name for it that the hospital uses like atrium), when we are stopped by what I can only assume is a security guard.
"Hi folks. You going to work?". Yes Captain Obvious, my husband, our ridiculously oversized traveler's backpack, my enormous belleh and I are heading up to work...in the WOMEN'S HEALTH building, which is basically only used for LABOUR AND DELIVERY. My shift starts at 3a.m.
After very nicely stating (while still in full stride) we were heading up to L&D, he yells at us saying "Hey, get back here...you're not in labour!!". I'm sorry WHAT??? Did you seriously just tell me that I'm not in labour? I'm sorry to tell you Honey, but Hollywood has played up the whole woman crawling on floor clutching belly while performing primal scream therapy routine a little too much. Because I was walking upright and smiled, apparently my son WASN'T trying to rip his way out of my lady parts. Sorry, my mistake. Thank you so much for clearing that up for me.
In my usual full of class fashion that makes my Momma so very proud, I offered a "Screw You" and kept on walking...upright and smiling. We were followed up to L&D by some woman in another elevator, were checked in and had a triage room in a matter of seconds. At that point I believe I was at 4 or 5 cm. After a short stay there, we were given a delivery room (quite nice actually...huge, with a couch for Andrew to crash on and a view of the city). Doctor arrives on his bicycle shortly after, letting us know that for any other patient he would have told the nurses to just keep calling him with updates, but I'm special. Oh, I should also mention here that moments before he entered our room we heard another woman performing that primal scream ritual I just mentioned with a gusto. Man, somebody get that woman some drugs! Our nurse tried to ignore it, I laughed and the doc came in smiling saying that he was glad that wasn't me.
My water was broken and with a whoosh and a "whoa, can we get some more towels over here...man, that was a lot of water" from the doctor, all dignity was gone. He waited around a bit, I wasn't able to talk through contractions anymore at that point. Andrew asked if I wanted an epidural or a piece of wood to bite down on as I was close to shattering my left hand with my right with each uteral surge, I said not yet.
To cut this insanely long post short, I asked to be checked a short while later, the doc came back in the room, slapped on a glove, took a quick peek and said "GET ME ANOTHER GLOVE!!!". In 2 or so pushes, Ewan was born at 4:22a.m. weighing in at a miniscule 6lbs 11oz (almost 2 full pounds smaller than his brother and sister).
Everyone was happy and healthy and Mommy was pleasantly surprised that she A) didn't need a single stitch and B) the gluten free hospital food wasn't shyte like I thought it would be.
I'll save all of my other anecdotes for future posts, mostly because the kid has been wedged into his swing for 3 hours now and my left hand is cramping from holding in the decrepit power cord to my laptop.
Good night, fair readers, until we meet again. Hopefully not in a short few hours.
My wish was that I made it past Madison's birthday so that she could have her birthday all to herself. Granted. Just barely. Baby brother (aka Ewan) was born in the wee hours of October 29th. Here's his story...
Thursday I had yet another check up with the doctor, who promptly informed me that he could have sworn I would have been at the hospital and home with my boy days earlier...wrong! That was at 38 weeks. He had informed me early in the pregnancy that I was not going to be "allowed" to get to 40 weeks due to my history of rapid fire deliveries. So, in order to avoid a repeat performance of my husband having to deliver my son and save us the expense of a new mattress (again), Dr. H. told me to head to the L&D ward on Saturday morning. He wasn't going to book me for an induction as there was a good chance I would get bumped down the list as I AM a machine after all. Basically, he told me to just head in there and tell them I was having contractions, tell them my previous delivery story and there was no chance they would let me go home after that. Sneaky, but truthful.
In the end, all of that was irrelevant as I had my 1st contraction just after 11pm Friday night. I sort of ignored it, but kept it in mind as I went up to take a nice long bath before heading to bed...except I never got there. At 1am I woke Andrew up and told him to call his parents. We needed to head to the hospital. "WHA?? Are you serious?". I can understand his confusion as he'd only just gone to bed about an hour earlier thinking everything was fine and we'd head to the hospital at our leisure in the morning. Kids always have a way of messing with your well laid plans.
So, we called his folks who live 25 minutes away at about 1:20. Our neighbour had said they would brave the long walk across the lawn if we needed anyone to get to the house immediately to stay with the kids until the grandparents arrived...yeah...except it was Hallowe'en weekend and they were out at at party. Awesome. If they weren't such amazing people and wonderful neighbours, I might try to keep the guilt going on that one. ;)
We also could have called our dear friend and former cruise ship singing roomie Andrea, but by the time she would have arrived the in-laws would likely have been there anyway. So, we waited it out...and out...and...well, in their defense, they thought someone was going to be at the house for the kids while we left for the hospital should we have a middle of the night thing happen. I think Andrew was more worried than I was. Oddly, I was fine...in full on labour, but somehow totally fine. Talking through contractions (even though I fully remember that the stage I was at meant imminent delivery).
We broke all land speed records...of course should Andrew's employers be reading this or any local police...followed all posted limits to the tee and not going through a single red light (in truth, the only one we really hit was the ONLY light we have in our town...and of course it had to be red)...and got to the hospital in an amazing 20 minutes.
Moving on...we arrive at the hospital at 2:20am, get through the door we were told was going to be locked and begin to make our way through the lobby (I'm sure there is a fancier name for it that the hospital uses like atrium), when we are stopped by what I can only assume is a security guard.
"Hi folks. You going to work?". Yes Captain Obvious, my husband, our ridiculously oversized traveler's backpack, my enormous belleh and I are heading up to work...in the WOMEN'S HEALTH building, which is basically only used for LABOUR AND DELIVERY. My shift starts at 3a.m.
After very nicely stating (while still in full stride) we were heading up to L&D, he yells at us saying "Hey, get back here...you're not in labour!!". I'm sorry WHAT??? Did you seriously just tell me that I'm not in labour? I'm sorry to tell you Honey, but Hollywood has played up the whole woman crawling on floor clutching belly while performing primal scream therapy routine a little too much. Because I was walking upright and smiled, apparently my son WASN'T trying to rip his way out of my lady parts. Sorry, my mistake. Thank you so much for clearing that up for me.
In my usual full of class fashion that makes my Momma so very proud, I offered a "Screw You" and kept on walking...upright and smiling. We were followed up to L&D by some woman in another elevator, were checked in and had a triage room in a matter of seconds. At that point I believe I was at 4 or 5 cm. After a short stay there, we were given a delivery room (quite nice actually...huge, with a couch for Andrew to crash on and a view of the city). Doctor arrives on his bicycle shortly after, letting us know that for any other patient he would have told the nurses to just keep calling him with updates, but I'm special. Oh, I should also mention here that moments before he entered our room we heard another woman performing that primal scream ritual I just mentioned with a gusto. Man, somebody get that woman some drugs! Our nurse tried to ignore it, I laughed and the doc came in smiling saying that he was glad that wasn't me.
My water was broken and with a whoosh and a "whoa, can we get some more towels over here...man, that was a lot of water" from the doctor, all dignity was gone. He waited around a bit, I wasn't able to talk through contractions anymore at that point. Andrew asked if I wanted an epidural or a piece of wood to bite down on as I was close to shattering my left hand with my right with each uteral surge, I said not yet.
To cut this insanely long post short, I asked to be checked a short while later, the doc came back in the room, slapped on a glove, took a quick peek and said "GET ME ANOTHER GLOVE!!!". In 2 or so pushes, Ewan was born at 4:22a.m. weighing in at a miniscule 6lbs 11oz (almost 2 full pounds smaller than his brother and sister).
Everyone was happy and healthy and Mommy was pleasantly surprised that she A) didn't need a single stitch and B) the gluten free hospital food wasn't shyte like I thought it would be.
I'll save all of my other anecdotes for future posts, mostly because the kid has been wedged into his swing for 3 hours now and my left hand is cramping from holding in the decrepit power cord to my laptop.
Good night, fair readers, until we meet again. Hopefully not in a short few hours.
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