What Did You Do Today?

Absolutely nothing of any real interest happened in my life today.  Nor did anything of any real significance happen yesterday.  With the odd exception of days here or there that hold a little excitement or deviance from the norm, absolutely none of my days jump from the pages of my life.  Well, at least at first glance they don’t.

Oh, I mean, yeah, sure, I got married.  That one was a biggie.  I had my first baby, and that one was a doozy, then two, then three, then…..snip!  That was a good day too!  But really, how am I supposed to find meaning in the humdrum and inertia of diaper changes and trips to preschool?

Sometimes I sit down in the middle of the day, when there’s a lull in whatever menial task I’m preforming, and ponder what I MIGHT have been.  I mean, I did alright in school, went to a top notch University, and then started my career as a high school English teacher at the tender age of twenty-two so I could change the world before I was forty.  Life has a funny way of working out though, and before I knew it, I was married (to the man of my dreams, forever then and now, I might add), had a mortgage and a baby.  From that moment on, everything I have done has been not for the good of me, but for the good of my family.  I’ve sacrificed sleep, and beauty and relationships and jobs and a good part of who I was, to nurture the lives I chose to bring into the world. 

It’s funny, because those words are so easy to say, and yet so difficult to do sometimes.

I don’t want to get up in the middle of the night because someone wet the bed. But I do it.

I don’t want to leave the house forty times a day schlepping this kid here, and that kid there while dragging a toddler. But I do it.

I don’t want to wash endless piles of laundry that miraculously reappear after only a day. But I do it.

Most of all, I don’t want to just throw on the most unflattering and unattractive outfit I own every morning just because anything else would be covered in sticky handprints or drool by the end of the day. But I do it.

I do it because these extremely uneventful moments in my life, are huge, momentous moments in the lives of my children.  When a child, for whatever reason, needs you at 4 am, your reaction to their need will shape how confident they are in your love for them, in your desire to provide for them.  How you show them love and patience, teaches them love and patience, and that is a big thing.

A child’s education, and your support of it, helps to mould their minds and to free them to think critically about the world around them.  The baby you drag everywhere on your hip, he’s learning to be flexible and adventurous, and that is worth talking about.

That laundry, well, laundry always sucks, but at least your kids aren’t smelly (well, they are all a little smelly)!

Last but not least, that outfit!  That outfit is your most powerful tool. That blasted outfit, you know the one, the dingy sweater over piling tights and your husband’s socks.  Yeah, that one…

That outfit allows you to get down on the floor and play.  It allows you to let your little ones come up and press their dirty cheeks to your thigh as you prepare their lunch.  That outfit makes you real, and touchable, and warm.  It smells of you, and is soft from wear.  Just like you, and that is unique.   

So, in the spirit of new found introspection, ask yourself, “what did you do today? Who have you become?” The answer to these questions doesn’t lie in your wardrobe, or your degree.  The answer to these questions lie in the hearts of those you’ve helped shape.

Ten Things My Children Did To Me

THIS is what my children do to me: 

1.  Hold Me Accountable
It is not only what I say, but what I do, that helps avoid my kids from dropping random F bombs at school or birthday parties.

2. They Mellow Me Out
The more kids I add to my mix, the less I flinch when one falls.  Dealing with a toddler, a panicking five year old and four year old that needs stitches and a trip to the emergency room all at once?  Call me, I've been there.

3. Preemptive Thinking
See a bathroom?  I'd better use that, just in case I have to sneeze later.

4.  Selflessness
Despite what someone told me the other day about how bringing kids into the world = selfishness, I really have to say that my children regularly teach me to give up the following things:
     a. Sleeping in
     b. My pre-baby body
     c. Bladder control (see preemptive thinking)
     d. My ability work, let alone work and keep all of my money to spend recklessly on myself.
     e. Fingerprint / dent free walls.
     f. Keeping a clean house longer than twenty seconds (literally, try to clean with a toddler)
     g. List making skills (someone just fell, hang on, I'll get this...


....Yeah, that list could go on forever.  Don't worry, it was a Minecraft related argument. No need to take the toddler, the "panicker" or the four year old to emergency room today!)

See, I'm the least selfish person in the world.  I'm not really sure what I've got left for me, really?  Wait, I've got 5, 6, 7, 8, 9 and 10!

5. Travelling As a Couple 
Who wants to travel alone and enjoy five star resorts or restaurants, wake up at noon and visit the wineries of the Okanogan Valley?  Not me!  I'm going  to wake up at the crack of dawn, carry a diaper bag, go on train rides and to the play park at McDs!  Pfft, Snobs.

6.  Financial Planning
I've got so much money saved for my kids to go to school, I could theoretically be the first one to vacation to Mars.  But I'm not selfish like that.

7. Food
I've never had such a well stocked fridge before!  Granola bar, goldfish casserole anyone? Also, missing that pre-baby body?  Hubby likes the extra "smoosh" so eat those leftover McNuggets!

8. My Mini Van
I see you checking me out when I roll up in my smokin' VW mini van!  I can be the designated driver and drive seven of us to the Pottery Barn!

9. Cheese
Who doesn't like cheese?  Every meal I make is now smothered in some kind of cheese.  Kids LOVE cheese smothered stuff.

10. Love
What's not to love about being loved unconditionally by the people you love unconditionally?  Enough said.

Welcome To Alberta

I know, I know, it's been a LONG while since I last posted, but in all honesty, I've been quite busy in the past year or so...

As some of you may know, since my last blog post, I've had a new little baby boy (that makes THREE!) and moved to a completely new province.  My husband's company was transferred from Quebec to Alberta and so we made the leap and moved the whole family across the country to our new home out West.  Quelle difference!

We'll be the first to admit that we were mildly terrified to make the leap but living here has turned out to be the best decision we've ever made.  The people here are so friendly that we've made some of the greatest friends, our neighborhood is to die for and we couldn't imagine being anywhere else at this point in our lives. Having said that, there are still quite a few differences that need some getting used to.  Here are a few we've noticed so far:

1. Friendly: The people here are so friendly that I was actually uncomfortable for a few months after moving here.  I honestly didn't know people could be so genuinely concerned or happy for you without wanting something in return (or because they weren't belligerently drunk...).

2. Pace: People here just move slower.  You can't go anywhere if you're in a hurry because what would be a ten minute run to Walmart in Quebec turns into an hour long stroll in the express line here.

3. Beer: Damn, these people like to drink beer, and it's not cheap either.  A 24 of Corona is going to cost you, on average, close to $50! Also, it's not easy to get good wine here.

4. Cowboy hats and boots: No, it's not Halloween, these guys actually OWN this stuff and wear it to wait in the slow lines at Walmart!  Plus side, sexy cowboys/cowgirls EVERYWHERE.

5. Trucks: BIG. HONKIN'. TRUCKS. That they leave running when they go into the dep.  Gas is cheaper here, after all....

6.  Money: Everything here is either a little or a LOT more expensive, but it doesn't matter, because this is the Dubai of Canada.

7. Daycare: In Quebec, we have $7 dollar a day daycare, which is so regulated by the government that no one feels the need to send their kids to pre-school. Here, it would cost me $850 a child to send them to a home daycare provider, who would have no materials sent to them by the government.  It's all good though, because chances are, if you're part of a two parent household, you don't need daycare because you probably don't REALLY need to work.  Unless you want your annual two-week trip to Mexico or Disney, which, let's face it, we all want.

8.French: There are a lot of Quebecois here.  You just don't know because they were the ones who could speak English well enough to move out of Quebec and now make a mint working in the oil industry.  I see them though, and now we all basically wave at each other like bikers.

9. Food: There is some serious lack of ethnic food out here.  Even if they have it, it sucks.  I want some Cannoli or some good Jerk Chicken!!!

10. City: Calgary does not, and could never compare to Montreal.  I really think that growing up in such a diverse, electrifying place has shaped the person I am today.  I miss Montreal's little cafes, shops and restos and I think I always will.  BUT Calgary makes up for what it lacks in culture in good old fashioned manners.

Stay tuned for more Calgary updates.  I'm sure the universe has a lot planned for us!

xox

Untitled

I cry for children I don't know
I cry at dawn when the news breaks
that a little boy was disfigured
So that he may be forced to beg in India

I cry for children I don't know
in the dewy hours of the day
for ten, young Afghan girls
Who died collecting firewood

I cry for children I don't know
for Olivier and Anne-Sophie
who felt the fatal stab
of the man they called "papa"

I cry for children I don't know
who walk to school alone
Only to have their ears cut off
by a shadow waiting at the door

I cry for children I don't know
for the little white coffins
of twenty

Quote of the Day

What we see depends mainly on what we look for.

                                                               -John Lubbock

 

 

I was complaining this week, about silly, trivial things, and this wonderful, honest woman I work with told me I had "Hollywood Problems."  She's right.  The world can be a scary, sad, lonely place, and I have nothing to complain about.

 

Yesterday, I took my kids with me to donate some non-perishable food.  On the way home, my son asked me why I had given away our food.  I explained to him, as best as I could to a four year old, that there are some people out there who don't have enough money to buy as much food as we do.  Since we are so blessed, and have more than we need, we gave some of our food to them, so they wouldn't have empty bellies.  He smiled, and said he felt proud of having done that.  I was proud of his insight.

 

 

Look at your life and pick out the positive.  Don't dwell on the negative.  

 

Let's take the first step...

This may or may not surprise some of you, but I do pray.  Every night.  I never ask for anything selfish, but I do ask God for things I think he's forgotten to give us, and for a few, minor favours.  I ask that he bless my family, and that he make me a better mother.  That he grant me patience and understanding, and the energy to be the best mother I can possibly be. Most importantly though, I never ask him to bless my children without adding that he bless ALL the children of the world, because if anyone needs a good blessing, it's the 40 million children worldwide who suffer some sort of child abuse each year (WHO, 2001).

According to Statistics Canada a child dies every week at the hands of a caregiver.  Every week. It should go without saying that a good mother, father or guardian would never harm their child, but the reality of the situation is horrifying.  People who are not equipped to care for children are abusing, neglecting, and ultimately killing innocent children every day.  In fact, 70% of children who are the victims of homicide die before the age of five (statcan).  What could a child of five possibly do that would invite such a fate?  There is no answer to that question, for if there were, we could remedy this problem.

What's more, 90% of all abuse cases involving children are not reported (The Gallup organization).  Now, I'm not good at math, but I can guess that the statistics I just quoted would increase exponentially if we were to take all those phantom cases into account.  This is by far the most harrowing of information, because it means many, many more children are suffering.  Let us put this into perspective.  According Statistic Canada's Family Violence in Canada: A Statistical Profile a total of 54, 660 children under the age of 18 are either sexually or physically abused in Canada.  And if this number weren't awful enough, this number only represents the number of police reported cases, not the total number of cases actually occurring.  (If you want to see the actual, sickening, detailed data you can click here).

So what?  Well, in the spirit the Occupy movement, I say we Occupy abuse, and run IT out of town.  Love your children the best you can, keep them close, and be involved in their lives.  Know them, their friends, and their friends parents, so as to always place them in the best situation you can.  Participate in movements that promote family planning and education both at home and in foreign countries.  Most of all, let them know YOU, so that they might trust in you if ever they should need it. 

(if anyone knows the author of this photo, let me know so I can give credit to them!)

Sunrise

This morning as I drove to work Hunter squealed with excitement and pointed out the beautiful colors in the sky.  We drove down the highway, Parker quietly listening, observing our conversation, and we talked about fog and why the sun rises in the morning.  We sang the alphabet and talked about what we were going to do that day, and when Hunter would get to join me at school.  It didn't take me long to realize, that that moment was what life was all about. 

After a long, drawn out absence I recently returned to work.  My once free, albeit a tad humdrum life, changed immediately.  In some ways, for the better, and of course, in other ways, for worse. 

First, let me clarify that I LOVE my kids and recognize the importance of a strong, stable parental presence in the home.  Perhaps it is true that my children would benefit more from me being in the home full time, but I cannot deny that the inertia of stay-at-home mom life is crippling at times.  By the end of my maternity leave, I felt that it had become difficult for me to continue to perform the same tasks over, and over, and over again every day.  I was reduced to a slouchy bump on the couch, denying the kids even short trips to the park in passive aggressive protest against my boredom.

When people I knew brought up the subject of me returning to work, it was always in a negative tone, as if I was diagnosed with some awful terminal disease, known as "working mom."

Let me now clarify that I also LOVE my job.  Follow me around for a day, and you'd see what I mean when I say that every day is different!  Every day is new!  Finally, my brain is stimulated with literature and art instead of stifled by the endless drone of cartoons and kiddy books. 

But, alas, this cerebral stimulation comes with a price.  I now start my day at 5 am, get myself and two kids up, brushed and fed and out the door by 6.  My breaks at work are completely taken over by planning as I can't do any at home, and the household duties haven't disappeared.

In the end, this blog entry is really me thinking aloud about my current situation.  I can't say that I wouldn't stay home, or that work is my passion.  What I can say though, is that all the tedious, monotonous moments of life, work related, or home related, can't compare to the car ride I took to work this morning.

An Open Letter to Clinique Belle Rive...

Dear patients/nurses/doctors at Clinique Belle Rive,

I would like to take this opportunity to apologize for the insanity that was my children this morning at Parker's annual check-up.  It is not like my children to be such devils...oh who am I kidding, it is, but let me explain.  First, I am aware that bringing two toddlers to the clinic is madness.  I am also aware that the madness was compounded by the fact that Parker was to receive his one year vaccinations.  But, in my defense, how could I have known that Hunter would try to win the "screaming competition" that Parker started when the first needle broke his skin?  How could I have anticipated Hunter's ascent onto the examination table only to scream that he was "falling!falling!" while the doctor and I had our hands full with Parker?  I don't normally entertain the thought of adoption, but I must say, it did cross my mind when Hunter hit me in the leg while screaming after being given the wrong Disney face mask.  I would also like to apologize to all of the separate doctors in the clinic for having to lock their doors after my kids systematically opened all of them while I tried to get to them.  I am, after all, only one person, and they formed a team and split the debauchery between them and went in different directions. 

sincerely,

Anxiety attack-ed.

Finding the words

My mind has been a mess lately.  I sometimes get these intense urges to write, but find myself playing out the words in my head, scribbling on an imaginary paper.  The thoughts come to me, fervently, almost prophetically, but for some reason, I find it impossible to get them out coherently.  When the words do touch reality, they seem disconnected and vulgar.  The experience can only be likened to that of explaining one's frighteningly realistic dream to someone, only to realize that the dream itself made no sense. 

I think that I am unconsciously self-censoring. 

The world is so....twisted, and I can't understand why doing the "right thing" is so difficult in so many situations.  If not by fate, I came across a definition today in "The Devil's Dictionary" by Ambrose Bierce, and though the book itself was meant to be satirical, I found the frankness of it to be quite, refreshing.

"Responsibility: A detachable burden easily shifted to the shoulders of God, Fate, Fortune, Luck or one's neighbor."

Fortune does not dictate our fate, but rather, we are the architects of our own destiny.  The world is cyclical.  I am who I am because of my parents.  Both their faults and their blessings have been gifts to me, and thus, my faults and my blessings will shape my own children.  I understand that all situations are not equal, and that my perception of "faults" and "blessings" is biased, but ultimately the world has a shape and we must all live within it.  We cannot expect our children to use our failings as parents to better themselves with as adults.  It is our responsibility to give them ALL that we can, if not physically, then spiritually (and by spiritually, I mean nurturing their secular spirit). 

We are the Gaia (sp?) of their center.  We give them strength, and independence and the ability to love.  We give them the power to say no, to stand tall, and to feel self worth.  OUR lives are THEIR lives until they can make their own.  We are their reality and we must make sure that it makes sense.

There, I said it.  No more censoring. 

(I get my boldness from my father, and my timidity from my mother.  Aren't we all just the product of an oxymoron...)

Life is Good

Wow.  First off, let me apologize for my absence from the blog world, I've been a little busy!  Pete saved his paternity leave for now and he's taken a month off from work.  Needless to say, we've been moving and running all over the place and I haven't had the time to sit and think about a blog entry lately. 
I haven't got anything particularly insightful to say tonight, but I've definitely got a few pictures to share with you.  Bear with me on this one, and I swear I'll have something a little deeper for you in a few days after my girls night out! 

First off, my niece Mia turned three on July 7th and we had a little party here for her birthday.  The kids love playing together and I planned ahead and bought some face paints to keep the kids entertained on the day of her party.  Mia decided to be a butterfly, Hunter a pirate and I took it upon myself to give Parker little cat whiskers and ears.  They had a blast and the face paints wore off before we could even take a decent picture of them. 

I'll just have to take out the paints at Parker's birthday next week and try to get a picture of the kids again!

Later that week we took a little family trip to Exporail, the train museum in St Constant.  Hunter couldn't get enough of the larger than life engines and even Parker seemed in awe of their size.  Exporail has got to be one of the best places to take your kids, and we go every year.  Walking through the maze of over sized trains never gets old by the end of the day the kids are exhausted and elated.

Guess trains really are in our blood...

The last wonderful diversion from life we've taken on Pete's extended vacation was a quick trip to Lake George, NY.  Lake George is probably one of the best memories I have as a child.  My parents used to take us all the time as kids, and I remember staying in rickety old cabins tossing all night in anticipation of the next day's activities.  This time, we had the pleasure of being the parents and watching our kids delight in the fun that is Lake George.  There's just something about road tripping it with your kids, sleeping as a family in a huge king size bed and spending the day on the boardwalk eating ice cream and swimming at the beach that makes a summer a GREAT summer.  This has got to be a veritable shangri la of family trips.  The scenery of the Adirondacks is breathtaking and the possibilities for fun are endless (not to mention affordable). 

Well folks, it's late and I'm beat.  The vacation isn't over yet, and I've got a spa day planned for tomorrow.  Here's to some much needed sleep and a good, long massage.  Solo.

I promise to check back in soon, with something deep, meaningful, or perhaps a little funny.  Can't promise which direction it'll go in, but I can promise that it wont be dark, these days, life is good.

Grounded

Every Friday the neighbour and I take our kids to the local pool so they can wade in the warm salt water for an hour or so while we chat.  In anticipation of our weekly pool visit I went to Canadian Tire to buy a swim aid for Hunter based on a recommendation from my friend Mel called a puddle jumper.  Mel's son Alex has been using his puddle jumper since last year and is real pro in the pool, jumping in and swimming independently without any help from his mum. 

Everything went well at first.  Hunter chose his own colour, talked about it until he went to bed, and went to find it as soon as he woke up in the morning.  When we were getting in the car to go to the pool he insisted that the puddle jumper sit in the back seat with him and he carried it into the change room, eager to get it on.  He loved wading in the water and played quietly until I suggested we go into the deep end to try out his new "toy." 

Finally, after a couple of minutes of hesitation, I decided to let him go....I've never heard a kid scream like that for absolutely no reason in my life!  He was terrified.  He screamed and grasped at my arms and shoulders, clinging to my body like he was going to die if he let go.  I tried to get him to ease up, but he wasn't having it.  I managed to get him to take my hands and I pulled him around the deep end, while I let go of one hand at a time.  He smiled a little, but when I let go of both hands, he screamed again and I had to take him back to the shallow end.

Sometimes I find it extremely difficult to think like a toddler.  Even after I'd explained to him a thousand times that he couldn't fall, that he'd float with the puddle jumper on, and after he'd been out of my arms and had experienced the floating himself, he still screamed and almost made himself sick with fear.  I learned later in the hour that he HAS to have his feet on the ground at all times in the pool, unless he's in your arms. 

We'll try the puddle jumper again next Friday.  I'm hopeful that he'll feel confident in it soon!

Number 20

I get these emails from different parenting websites everyday.  For the most part they are about my children's current expected milestones and other tidbits of information.  Sometimes I actually read them and start to click on the various stories and links, falling deep down into the parenting article rabbit hole.  Today I came across another disturbing one that listed the 20 reasons why someone should not have children and the 10 reasons why someone should. 

Immediately I thought it was interesting that this author couldn't find a balance of reasons, if only for appearances sake, and proceeded to read the entire article.  I wont get into them, they were your typical arguments, the ones even the best moms and dads gripe about in their facebook profiles, like not having any free time, or the ability to be spontaneous.  However, it was number 20 that really struck me as being the most naive.

Reason number 20 not to have children was DEATH.  The author argued that the ever present danger that someone may have a child and that that child may die before it's time is reason enough to never have one in the first place.  That never to have loved at all is better to have loved and lost. 

It is naivety like this that makes me question the human heart.  Is it possible that someone could actually think this way?  And so much so that they would market it as good advice? 

Every moment spent with my loved ones, especially my children, makes my life richer, and more fulfilled.  Sure, I have bad days.  Heck, today was one of them.  But the love I feel for Hunter and Parker transcends any love I've ever felt.  I would gladly lay down my life for them, and if God sees fit to take one of them from me before their time, I'll curse and I'll falter and I'll die.  But every tiny moment I've spent with them would have been worth it. 

Come to think of it, I don't think I've ever heard a parent say in a time of tragedy, "I wish I'd never had them, for right now my pain would be less."

The Last Post About My Breasts Until I Get a Lift!

And so, after all that hoopla about my boobs and my insane desire to breastfeed Parker until he was at least a year old, he's decided to self wean.  I've stopped taking the meds the doc prescribed and even though I offer Parker the breast, he refuses it.  I'll continue to offer it to him for at least a little while longer, but this looks like the end folks.  However, because I'm such a convert, I thought I'd share with you some of the wonderful benefits of breastfeeding:

1.  Bonding:  When you bottle feed a baby, you undoubtedly bond with them.  You can hold them and look down into their eyes and smell their sweet smell, and there's absolutely nothing less about feeding your baby with a bottle.  But there's just something about sitting in a quiet room, in the darkness of night, skin to skin, and knowing you're the one providing a natural nourishment for your child.

2.  Lactose Liposuction:  You can eat, and eat, and eat and eat and the weight just melts off.  You may hold onto a few pounds but that's only because you need to have fat on your body to produce milk.  I think I may miss this one the most!

3.  Affordability:  It's FREE.  I calculated that I've saved approximately $1000 dollars this year alone not buying formula, not to mention you don't need many bottles either and since they rarely use them they don't need to be replaced when they wear out!

4.  Convenience:  There's no bottles to sterilize, no bottles to pack, no water to boil, no formula to pre-measure and you don't have to worry about how long you'll be gone for because you always have food on hand for the little one!

5.  Immunity:  Breastfed babies still get sick, they just get LESS sick when they do.  That might not mean much to you now, but when my entire family came down with Gastro for 48 hours I was thankful that my tiny infant got it the least severe.  Also, babies who are sick who can't keep anything down will rarely refuse the breast, so no need to feed them that awful pedialite to rehydrate them.

6.  Amount:  Ever wonder if you're baby is feeding enough or if you're feeding them too much?  This doesn't happen when you're breastfeeding.  Babies inherently know how much they need and will stop eating when they are done, or keep asking to eat when they aren't.  Not only that, but babies are also experts at getting more milk out of your breast than a breast pump ever could.

7.  Hormonal Bliss:  When your baby feeds your brain releases a hormone called Oxytocin that relaxes you and make you feel at ease.  This hormone is ADDICTIVE.  I lied, I may miss this the most.

8.  SIDS:  Breastfeeding cuts your baby's risk of SIDS in half.  'Nuff said.

When I found out that Parker was self-weaning I was, dare I say, devastated.  After all that work, after all that pain, he's decided that he's had enough.  Naturally, I did some research to see if I could interest him in taking the breast again and I came across an interesting article that noted that babies who are breastfed on demand until they decide to self wean, who are not forced to wean, are more independent and secure.  It seems that if a baby has decided he no longer needs the breast feels that you've successfully given him the security, love and comfort that he needs to feel confident.  He knows you're there for him, unconditionally.

So, here's to the next chapter in our lives as Mother and Son.  I have a feeling Parker will be alright, I on the other hand think my babies are growing up too fast.  Guess it's time to start thinking about another one!

The Verdict

I wont take too much of your time tonight, but I figured I'd let those of you interested in on what went down at the Herzl Breastfeeding clinic this morning.

First, naked boobs everywhere.  I mean, all out, all over the place.  I think Pete was jealous he couldn't come.

Second, the diagnosis:  Nipple Vasospasm (whada name eh?!)
Definition in a nutshell:  when our blood vessels contract or become smaller in diameter due to exposure to emotional stress.  Can be quite painful and severe in some people, ie ME.

Risk Factors for developing it:
1. Exposure to cold temperatures (read, Nipple-itis!)
2. Periods of severe emotional stress. (from pain and the stress of not being able to feed your baby)
3. Smoking and second-hand smoke. (not my issue)
4. Poor latch or biting.
5. Nipple cracks or trauma.
6. Migraines.
7. Certain medical conditions like lupus, rheumatoid arthritis and hypothyroidism.
8. Certain treatments for Thrush and the birth control pill.

Things to try at home:

Good latch, Heat is very important, make sure to stay warm at all times, stay active, don't smoke and decrease caffeine.

Treatment:
Advil, etc.
High doses of Calcium, magnesium and vitamin B6. ( I got a prescription for this)
Omega fatty acids.
Nifedipine (high blood pressure meds).

So, that's the verdict.  We'll see how the prescription makes me feel, and I'll get back to you.  People still think I'm crazy considering I'm only doing this for two more months, but I'm determined!

Rockstar Mom

A little while ago my husband convinced me to go to the Face to Face concert with him, and Saturday was the night.  I'm not a huge fan of punk music, but I decided that it would be great to get out and rekindle the old bad ass flame in my heart.  So we left the kids with Pete's mum and made our way out for the night.

The night started great, dinner at the Keg, drinks and good conversation when we got there.  The show started off fantastic, and then I hit my plateau, the dreaded 11 O'clock mark.  I tried people, I tried hard, but every song just seemed to blend into the next, and I couldn't understand a single word.  I had to stop drinking since I was the designated driver (which by the way, a husband shouldn't do to his wife who doesn't like the music he's dragged her to anyways...) and sweaty neanderthals kept banging into me and making my arms slick with their gross, stinky sweat. 

It wasn't long before I started to feel faint and tired and decided that I needed to sit down and get some air.  I found a comfy chair in the lounge area of the theater and once I got to sitting, I didn't want to get up and lose my spot, so I stayed.  I didn't think there was anything wrong with this, and I didn't complain to leave.  I just patiently waited for the show to end and enjoyed the fresh(er) air near the doors.  Little did I know, this was too much for Pete and he felt that he needed to come join me instead of answering the barrage of questions he was getting from people about where I had disappeared to.  (Something tells me that people didn't really mind as much as he was putting on!)

Needless to say, I was done for the night, but still had to drive people home.  On the way, a friend of Pete's shot me the remark that I used to be fun and that I had lost that "party girl" mentality.  I'm pretty sure he wont read this, so I'll just say it...he really hurt my feelings. 

My children don't define me, but they do define how I live my life at the present moment.  I can't be the mom I want to be if I'm hungover, drunk driving, partying like a rockstar, or overtired and quick tempered.  I want to patient, and kind, I want to be present and involved.  Sure, I want to have time for myself, and I want to go out, but how can you possibly give equal weight to both?  You can't.  Well, I can't. 

So, no, I'm not the person I used to be.  I'm better.

Not for the faint of Heart (or breast)

I struggled with the idea of writing this blog entry.  After all, it's going to be unpleasant for many of you to read.  It is, in all honesty, much more unpleasant for me to live through, and yet has almost become like a war wound for me.  A mark of my unwavering determination in the harsh world of breastfeeding.

I did not breastfeed Hunter for very long, three months or so.  Just when all the engorgement, mastitis and sore nipples started to seem better, I jumped off the breastfeeding boat and grabbed hold of the life preserver formula.  I loved that my body went back to normal, and that I didn't have to suffer through a sinus cold without medication anymore.  My body was my own again.  But it cost me. 

By the time I was pregnant with Parker I had grown as a mother.  I had become less selfish.  Less inclined to moan about how my body was changing (though, admittedly not much less!) and much less inclined to make decisions based on how I was going to be affected versus how they were going to be affected.  I made a vow to myself, and spent months talking myself up, that this time I'd breastfeed.  I didn't give myself a time, but I made a promise that I'd at least try. 

Since I'd psyched myself up for so long, the first few months were painful, but bearable.  I was in Ecstasy with my new little family, so a little pain felt like nothing compared the happiness of daily life.  When that two month mark came and went, and I was no longer in pain, I was a convert.  I went to Disney, I nursed in public, in restos and, gasp!, across from my DAD.  The bliss, didn't last.

A few months later, Parker got thrush, and an incompetent clinic doctor, even after I'd asked the question specifically, told me that the thrush couldn't be passed between mother and baby.  He gave me meds to treat ONLY Parker and never told me how to prevent myself from getting it, and then subsequently giving it back to him.  Well, I got it, and here's where the two month long cycle of thrush begins.  I wont go into details about this dark time in my life, but what I can say, is that it was much more bearable that what is happening to me now.

Parker is an inquisitive little guy.  Always exploring, always looking around, always wanting to be part of the action.  He's been this way since birth, and I've encouraged it.  So when he eats he pulls and tugs and looks around, and unlatches and it's awful.  At the beginning, it wasn't so bad, but as he grew older, he seemed to want to eat as fast as possible so as not to miss anything that was going on, and so he began to suck super hard, pulling at my breasts, biting down on my nipples to get more milk out.  This of course, is completely counter productive, and I'd take him off and let him know forcefully that it was not OK to bite mommy, but by then, since this was happening every time, the damage was done.  He's also using me as a teething ring.  Thanks Parker...lol!

And so, this is where I am now, broken, bleeding, raw and dealing with mastitis AGAIN.  I spent all of Monday in tears, feeling guilty that I couldn't fathom feeding my child for fear of the pain it would cause me.  He's started to notice too and is sensitive to my tears and inability to even breathe while nursing him.  I called La Leche League and finally spoke to a lovely woman named Jennifer who told me it's not normal for a woman with a nine month old to have such problems while nursing, and that she'd write me a referral for a clinical trial at the Jewish to take part in a study about healing my wounds.  She gave me hope, and after about an hours' conversation she'd convinced me to keep trying. 

So, here's the gross part girls (or boys if you didn't follow the rules not to read this!), I take some Tylenol, numb my nipples with an ice pack, and feed my baby, reluctantly, when I have to.  When he eats he breaks the scabs and my nipples bleed more blood than milk and he spits up blood. 

My goal was a year.  Now, I've changed that goal to 11 months, depending on whether or not I can heal. 

The point of telling you this story is on the one hand to let you know the dark side of something so beautiful and on the other hand to let you in on a secret.

Motherhood does not make you weak, it makes you invincible.

Last resort

I'm tired of reading about this stuff.  On the homepage of the Montreal Gazette the heading reads, "Two Children Burned to Death in Car Near Drummondville." There aren't many details except for the fact that the two children were very young and that the father was in the middle of a divorce.  This article comes right on the heels of the news we've all been hearing about that doctor who stabbed his two children to death in their own beds for the same reason.

Children are not property that can be used as a means of leverage in the disintegration of a marriage/relationship.  They cannot be used, abused and thrown away in order to hurt the other spouse.  I'm both livid and heartbroken as I write this.  It is completely unfair that children should suffer like that....that anyone should suffer like that. 

I am just putting this out there right now.  If anyone ever feels all crazy like and can't handle their kids for some reason or another.  Please, drop them off at my door and I'll gladly take them for you.  I don't want to argue about the mental illnesses that these people may suffer from, and I don't want to think about how much I want to strap the person who did this to these kids in a van and set him/her on fire.  What I want, is for the world to change.

Mommy, Can we go to Canada?

Yesterday my son Hunter asked me if we could go to Canada.  Now, although I was proud and had a mini patriotic moment about the fact that he had chosen Canada of all places to ask to go, I was also completely puzzled as to how I was going to explain the concept of geography to him.  The idea that we live in a huge land space that comprises of cities and towns and that the world was filled with other such places was an idea too abstract for some of the 12 year olds I teach geography to (I’d like to say I’m kidding, ,but I’m not.)  So, to make it easy I just said, “We already live in Canada, Honey.”  He just gave me this blank look and responded, “I don’t get it.”  The conversation that ensued went way over his head, and no amount of kid talk could have saved the situation. 

When you have moments like this, you begin to remember that your kids are just that, kids.  As soon as they can walk, talk, butter their own toast, and get themselves dressed, we hold them to these mental standards that they are incapable of understanding.  We expect them to be able to be quiet in church, walk nice in the mall, restrain themselves in the grocery store and to never put anything in their mouthes at the clinic, and we can sometimes lose our patience with them.  I find myself saying the words, “I’ve told you this, time and time again,” a lot, when even I know that that sentence means nothing to them. 

I have to make a concerted effort everyday to remind myself that Hunter is not even a little boy yet and that I should cut him some slack.  Questions like the one above bring me back down to earth, and thank God for that.  Without his adorable little questions, I’d probably miss this, the most beautiful time of his life.  After all, I’ve got boys, and they wont let me snuggle them for long!

Never Take Any Moment For Granted.

Tonight I rocked my baby to sleep.  It wasn't quite eight o'clock yet and the sun had nearly set, leaving the sky a glowing grey.  Parker was tired and rubbing his eyes, squirming in my arms to try to turn to snuggle up against my chest.  While the boys sat engulfed in the fury of playoffs, I quietly took my leave and went to snuggle my baby.  I sat there, the room vaguely illuminated in dusk's soft blue light, the faint hum of the standing fan drowning out the noise below us, admiring my sleeping angel.

There is nothing more relaxing, more precious, more priceless, than holding your baby in your arms while they sleep.  All day long they run, climb, fall, scream and laugh.  My children drive me crazy sometimes, so much so that I often can't wait to get them to bed at the end of the day.  But every so often, I ground myself, and remind myself that time is fleeting.  They wont stay little for long.  Before I know it, I'll have teenagers who never come home, who avoid me at the mall, and who fail to answer my worried phone calls when they're out. 

So tonight, I steadied my heart, calmed my breathing, and lulled my baby to sleep with soft humming.  I watched him descend into a deep, protected slumber that only a mother's arms could produce.  I breathed in deeply, committed his smell to memory, and kissed him gently on the forehead.  When I finally put him down, I came downstairs to begin the process again with Hunter.  Although he's a big boy now, I picked him up and we whispered our good-nights to each other on the way up the stairs.  I tucked him in and treated myself to a quick snuggle and tickle before stealing a kiss and turning out the lights. 

Moments like these are worth dying for.

The Impromptu Shower

There's this little thing I like to call the "impromptu shower" that happens to people with kids.  I don't want to scare you people who are pregnant or contemplating children, but this is something I think everyone should know about. 

The "impromptu shower" pertaining to children is not the same as the "middle of the day romantic shower" or the "I just woke up from a nap and need to freshen up" shower.  No, No, this shower is a necessity.  It must be taken or life in your household will cease to exist for the rest of the day and the whole family system will crumble under yours or your husband's inability to continue to exist in your body.  Scared yet?  How 'bout I demonstrate the definition of the impromptu shower with a real life anecdote?  Ok, here we go.

There I was, dancing my butt off with Hunter, jumping up and down, twirling to the final song of Imagination Movers, falling to the ground, dizzy and giddy with happiness.  Parker was watching intently in his exersaucer, jumping to the beat, and enjoying every bit of the dance party as we were.  At the end of the song I had every intention of making dinner, but was then horribly blindsided.

Picture this.  The song ends, slow motion, I bend down to swoop up Parker from his prison of an exersaucer and lift him high above my head exclaiming, "WEEEEE!" 

BLECH!  I've been vomited on.  Fresh, hot breast milk and bits of soy chicken nuggets smothering my chest, hair and the INSIDE OF MY MOUTH in a goopy mess that only a child could produce.  Gag.

I run to the bathroom to survey the damage (Parker's unscathed, not a drop on him, sitting quietly in the living room on the floor) while I spit out semi-digested food, that I must remind you is not mine....

Here's where I barricaded the kids in Hunter's room with the baby gate and a box full of toys, to take my "impromptu shower".