Well, as I mentioned a few weeks ago, change is in the air for our family. My husband has been accepted into the twelve month MBA program at the Richard Ivey School of Business at the University of Western Ontario.  It has been a long time coming as he has been studying for the GMAT (Graduate Management Admissions Test), and then travelling to write the test, and then filling out applications to Ivey, doing interviews with Ivey, and then the anxious nine days of waiting to hear if he was accepted.  Those of you who knew we have been waiting on this have my eternal gratitude for not kicking me in the teeth because of my constant uptightness in the past week.  It’s amazing my brain didn’t melt and leak out my ears from all the energy being created by my frazzled psyche. 

Anyway, now that we know, we can start the stressful chaos of selling our house and moving to a completely new place. You, my faithful readers, can expect many cranky and whiny posts in the future about all the work of packing/cleaning/selling/moving/being a single parent (the hubby will likely go out several weeks, if not a month ahead of me and the kids).  I apologize in advance for this. 

After the move I will probably collapse into a weepy puddle when I really hits me that I am without a single friend in a strange place where my husband will be extremely busy and I have two small children and people mispronounce “pants’ as “pay-ants”, so that will be fun, right?

So I will hope for cheery and encouraging comments from you all.  I will defend my prairie homeland to the best of my ability while residing in this foreign land of rock and trees.  Stay tuned for more information.  Ivey has two programs running simultaneously and we have yet to firmly decide whether we will go for the May or the September start date.

Oh yes, and did I mention how very proud I am of the hubby and how much totally deserves this after how hard he has worked? Because I am and he does and he did.

change, family, moving, Ontario, Saskatchewan | 2 Comments »

It’s been one of those days.  One of those Bad Mother Days.  One of those days when I question why the hell I ever had kids.  One of those days that I fear Child Protective Services would swoop in and remove my kids from me with great haste if they saw what kind of a mother I was today, or the thoughts going through my head.  One of those days when I question whether my kids will ever actually grow into fully functioning adults.  When I question my ability to raise them into said adults. 

Dinner was bombed by the temper tantrum that wouldn’t quit.  My husband is away tonight and for some inexplainable reason I chose to try and feed Avery food that she DOESN’T LIKE.  “I don’t like that Mommy. Yucky. It’s yucky and I don’t like it.  No Mommy. I don’t like it and I don’t want to eat it.” And. So. On.

For some reason I just didn’t want to loseWeight Exercise this battle tonight.  Instead I chose to muster of the energy to fight for two straight hours.  It ended with dinner being spilled on the floor (not completely intentionally) and a spanking and crying and weeping and gnashing of teeth and a partridge in a pear tree.  Well not so much that last part.  But Oh My WORD was there not enough drama in my life? Clearly not. 

I didn’t even deal with her until the baby was put to bed. And then we talked about exactly why she was being punished.  I was angry and frustrated.  Why can’t the child just eat what is put in front of her?  WHYYYY???  When I told her I was very, very sad that she wouldn’t eat her dinner she throws her arms around me, saying “It’s ok Mommy!” 

I let this go on and on and I could have stopped it at any time. I could have prevented what I KNEW would turn into a nightmare by picking something more palatable for her on a night that I have no backup.  But no, I didn’t.  And I was cold and mean.  And I spanked her.  On her rear where she has bad rash that I had totally forgotten about.  That sound you hear?  That’s the sound of karma winding up to kick my ass.  Yes, she is three and she is going to have these tantrums. But today? I could have done better.  So her willingness to comfort me was heartbreaking in the most bittersweet way.

I bathed her and got her ready for bed. And then we just cuddled on the couch until she fell asleep in my arms.  Which was beautiful and peaceful. I so rarely get to hold her when she’s sleeping anymore.  And now I will have myself a good little cry and hope to do better tomorrow.  It’s so hard to know when to fight and when to let it go and which battles are going to turn your child into a drug-addict-deadbeat-loser and which are going to mean absolutely nothing in the grand scheme of things. And it’s also hard to know when you’re just taking out your stress on the child because you’re having a bad week and you aren’t grown up enough to know better. 

Maybe tomorrow I’ll know better.  Please don’t report me!

Avery, family, mommy stuff, parenting, the good stuff | 3 Comments »

Avery has develoed what is known as picky-eater-syndrome a discriminating palate in recent weeks.  She turns up her nose at all types of food that don’t include the words french and fries in the title.  If a meal contains such vile items at green peppers or onions we might as well be asking her to eat barbed wire, her protests are that outraged. 

“I DON’T LIKE ONIONS!  BLECH!” 

It is driving us a bit crazy because a) we want her to learn to eat a variety of foods, but mostly b) we want her to eat enough supper that she does not start begging for breakfast one hour after we put her to bed.  Cruel and unreasonable we may be, but this is the reality at our house. 

In the past few days Avery has refused to lower herself to consume chicken fajitas, curried salmon, and pasta alfredo.  Lest you think our diet is too exotic for a three year old (ha!) she has eaten all these foods before and generally found them satisfying.  But after achieving this new level of enlightenment she disdains all nourishment.  Food!  Food is for mortals!  We do not require sustenance!  We are threeeeee!!!! (insert evil laugh) 

Last night we prepared for the usual battle.  You never know what is ahead, although we believed that our choice of powdered cream of broccoli soup did not contain anything too offensive.  Surely it doesn’t contain any actual broccoli.  Unfortunately, in the pre-dinner chaos, I didn’t pay enough attention and the soup, which naturally includes milk, got scalded.  If you’ve ever eaten something with scalded milk you’ll know that it is a pretty foul taste, akin to eating burned rubber.  I prepared for the onslaught of protests of IT’S YUCKY! BLECH!!  Of course, I couldn’t blame her.  I certainly wasn’t interested in eating it.

What does my daughter say after tasting the soup?  “Mommy, how did you make this DEE-LICIOUS soup?” as she chows down, amazed at her mother’s excellent cooking skills.  The secret is in the sprinkling of the powdered soup when the combined milk and water have just begun to burn to the bottom of the pan.  I should write a cookbook. 

I pray to God this girl does not become a restaurant critic.  Chefs everywhere will be slitting their wrists.

Avery, cooking, eats, family, kids | 4 Comments »

I’ve been reading old posts by dooce about her daughter and parenting in general. This is totally where I’m at today:

You’re in this stage of life where the only way to communicate to us is by complaining, and that’s the thing about kids. You can get away with it because you don’t know any better, and as your parents we have to accept that sometimes, more often than not, all you do is complain. When you’re an adult and pay bills and the government takes more than a third of your income, sometimes it’s just not nice to complain all the time, even when you can’t have the remote. EVEN THEN, LETA. People don’t want to hear it all the time because they’ve heard it a thousand times already and at some point you just have to suck it. This last paragraph is more for me than it is for you because when you hang out with someone who does nothing but complain all day you, like me, may want to put that person out on the sidewalk with a sign around her neck that reads, “FREE, OR BEST OFFER.”

What I’m trying to say is, this month when people ask me about my week or my day or even the two hours I’ve been awake with you, instead of barfing all over them and lamenting the fact that damn, Gina, this is so hard, so very very hard, the hardest thing I’ve ever done, wah wah WAH WAH WAH, I‘m trying to look at them and say, “She calls me Mama, now. I never knew that word could be so amazing.”

Exactly.

family, kids, Kieran, parenting | No Comments »

The kids are playing quietly together in the playroom. There are only a few short moments of this peace during the day.  I will try and enjoy it.  It is cold and miserable outside. The heavens opened up last night and covered us with snow.  I think I may stay home today just because it will be way too much work to get out with the kids.  I hate snowsuits.

I have spent the past several days working on a slideshow/video that I am making for some friends.  Friends who, when I was pregnant with Kieran, miscarried their seventh baby.  A baby who was big enough to make little one inch long footprints.  They had a memorial service for their children last June to create some closure and to celebrate the lives of the babies.  It was beautiful and poignant and I hope it was very healing for them.  I took a lot of pictures that day and I am putting the pictures into this slideshow as a way for them to remember the day.

Working on the video has brought some unexpected emotions.  I always thought I could empathise with these friends.  I haven’t lost a baby but I could imagine what it must feel like.  But as I put together the pictures, as I listened to the lyrics of a song about losing a baby, as I searched for images of tiny feet and hands online, I realized that I have no idea what they have gone through.  In the past few days the possibility of losing my children has gripped my soul with icy, heartwrenching sadness.  As I remembered the birth of my kids and imagined what it would be like to not hear them cry but to hold a limp and lifeless, tiny body and to will it to come back, my heart awakened to the pain that these parents must feel. Parents of seven beautiful babies, most of whom were big enough to be delivered when they died, but not big enough to survive.  Parents with empty arms and broken hearts.  Parents who went through the difficulty of a pregnancy and the pain of a deliver, but had no baby to cuddle afterwards.

I had no conception of this kind of pain.  I probably still don’t really understand and, perhaps, never will.  But the tears I have shed in the designing of this small token will be a memorial for seven little babies, two of which would be almost the exact same age as my own children.

*I found this image online but I altered the size until the footprints were the same size as the ones that my friends had from their second son after he was born. 

In loving memory of…

Michael Peter – May 10, 1998

Joseph Paul – July 5, 1999

“Peanut” – August 2000

Mabel Rose – May 30, 2002

Sarah Anne – March 2003
                                                                                                           
“Tim-Bit” – April 8, 2004

Josiah Timothy – November 8, 2005

family, goodbyes, kids, life and death | No Comments »

We spent a week at my parents’ place in Manitoba over the Christmas holidays. Because of a lack of space we tried putting the kids in the same room while we were there (although we did have a back-up plan to put Avery on the hide-a-bed if things didn’t work out). It turns out that the kids did quite well sharing a room. i had nightmares of them waking each other up and then not being able to get either of them back to sleep. But for the most part it went quite smoothly.

The hubby has been trying to convince me that they could share a room at home for months already. He wanted to turn the baby’s room into a toy room so we can have a dedicated play area and theoretically keep the rest of the house a bit neater. I liked the idea of more order but wasn’t convinced that this would actually work.

Well last night was the kids first night in their new shared room. Other than the fact that we stayed up WAY too late last night and were therefore, barely able to function when they were both up at 6am this morning, it went well. Hopefully this is the beginning of a tidy new year for our household.

I never had to share my bedroom until I lived in the dorm in college so I’m conflicted about this whole thing. I find that if people always had their own room (like me) they tend to think it’s good for kids to have their own space and if they shared a room growing up (like my husband) then they really believe in the benefits of sharing a space. I can see the pros and cons to both sides of the argument. I know this arrangement can’t last forever, especially because our kids are different genders. But I hope that it will be a good thing for them, that it will foster closeness between them. I’ll keep you updated!

Avery, family, Kieran, parenting, sharing | No Comments »

I’ve spent a lot of time in the years since I’ve become a mother thinking about generational “issues” that come up in families. How to avoid making too many mistakes by trying to do things differently than my parents (who by the way, did a pretty darn good job, but still, we have different philosophies in some areas).  It’s easy to swing the pendulum too far in the opposite direction. 

I read this blog post which I really appreciated and if you are a parent, I think you will, too.  If you’re not a parent, well I still think it is relevant because we are all a son or daughter.

PS – I forgot to add that the first bit in the post has absolutely nothing to do with what I just talked about so hang in there or just skip down a paragraph or two.

family, kids, parenting | No Comments »

I ran into a friend in a coffee shop today.  I hadn’t seen her in a couple years but I knew that she had had her second child since I last saw her.  We chatted briefly about our lives and our kids and I asked if she was back to work as her second child is now over a year old.  She answered me that she was taking a leave.

“You haven’t heard?”    

“Rob* left me,” she replied simply.

Trying not to pry but wanting to express my concern for her I tried to ask how she was doing.  She filled me on how Rob had picked up and left just 6 months ago, when she was still on maternity leave after having their second child. “He’d been having an affair for over two years, but somehow managed to get me pregnant again in there,” she says with a twinge of bitterness in her voice.  “I’ve been hoping he would come home and we could work things out but he just bought a house with this woman.  So I’m going to start the divorce process.” 

My heart goes out to Deanne*.  Her parents went through a messy divorce and I know it’s the last thing she would have wanted.  When they got married ten years ago, these two were pretty sincere evangelical Christians.  People who claim to take their marriage vows as a sacred promise before God.  What the hell happened?  I am shocked.  If there was ever a couple that I wouldn’t have expected this to happen to, it was them. Rob was a great guy and the type you expect to be rock solid in the fidelity department.   Deanne is an attractive, friendly woman. She has a career and has had two children with Rob.  Where did this affair come from? 

Bastard, I think.  Deanne is a great woman.  You two were good together.  You have two beautiful children. Wherever you are,  you probably complain that it is hard for you to be away from your children and yet you are the one who couldn’t choose to make your marriage work. You chose to leave.  You chose this other woman.  You chose to inflict a wound from which your soon to be ex-wife and children may never fully recove 

As I’m driving home after this encounter I start thinking. If this can happen to them, who’s to say it can’t happen to me?  What if my husband up and left and I, like Deanne, never saw it coming?  How would I cope?  What would I do?  What would I tell my kids? My gut twists up just thinking about it.  My husband has never given me any reason to question his faithfulness and yet, the consequences of this other man’s affair are far-reaching.  Every time a person cheats, it causes the people around them to question the loyalty of their spouse or significant other.  I know not everyone would take things that much to heart, but I suspect some women are like me.  These thoughts roll around in my head.  Sorrow for Deanne and her kids, anger at Rob, and a tiny corner of fear that something like this could happen to me.

Later I call my husband at work. I have to tell him about this chance meeting.  When I explain what happened his first thought is the same as mine was. “Bastard,” he says.   “She’d better be getting child support from him.”  My fears are instantly silenced.  My husband is not Rob.  I have no need to fear. He sees Rob’s actions as a terrible betrayal as I do.  We are on the same page.  We finish the conversation and I heave a sigh of relief as I hang up the phone.  I’ve been thinking about my marriage vows today.  We designed them by picking and choosing from vows we found in books and on the internet.  These words are important to me.  If a moment ever comes when I am tempted to cheat I hope that I will remember these words:

“I accept you as my husband, with your strengths and with your weaknesses, I will be loyal to you in health or illness, to share what I have and who I am, to love enough to risk being hurt, to trust when I misunderstand, to weep with you in heartache, to celebrate life with you in joy…”

It was important to me to say “I accept you” rather than the more traditional “I take you” because marriage is not a taking, it is a giving and the corresponding acceptance.  I can’t take what I want and leave the rest. And acceptance is a daily ritual. 

My husband is not particularly hard to get along with but we all know how it is.  We all have our moments. 

My other favorite part of this is the part about loving enough to risk being hurt and trusting when I misunderstand. Loving is a risk. A spouse may not love you the way you expect or want to be loved.   Sometimes it can hurt.  Sometimes hearing the truth can hurt, even when it’s spoken with love.  But our marriage vows created a choice for us.  We can choose to love even if it hurts sometimes because the reward for that pain can be a greater intimacy.  And we can trust the good we know in each other even when we feel we are being slighted or hurt and we can be willing to sort out the misunderstanding. 

We have wept through heartache and celebrated life with joy in the past six years.  Marriage is a risk.  It is to love enough that it will hurt like hell if your spouse cheats or turns his or her back on you.  Any less would be a betrayal.  But I think the risk is worth it.

I don’t know what I would say to Rob if I saw him today. It’s not like we are close friends.  I certainly wouldn’t tell him that I think he is scum for leaving his wife and kids, even if that’s how I feel.  I think I feel more sad than anything because he has traded something that was extremely valuable, even in its most difficult or boring moments, for something cheap.  And he is starting all over again, and this time with a statistically poorer chance of succeeding, than the first time. 

There is a quote about marriage that was given to us when we were engaged and it has become a bit of a mantra for me.  I read it over a lot.  On first reading you may find it makes marriage sound unromantic, but after years of reflection I have found that it creates safety and stability.  Because love isn’t always enough to carry you through. There are moments, days, sometimes weeks, or possibly years, when it is a promise that sustains a marriage.  That can be an act of love as well.  And I believe that when the love returns it will be enhanced by the memory of the promise that upheld it and gave it another opportunity to ignite.

“I didn’t marry you because you are perfect.  I didn’t even marry you because I loved you.  I married you because you gave me a promise.  That promise made up for your faults.  And the promise I gave you made up for mine.  Two imperfect people got married and it was the promise that made the marriage. And when our children were growing up, it wasn’t a house that prtected them; and it wasn’t our love that protected them – it was that promise.”

*Names have been changed.

family, marriage, quotes, twoo wuv | 1 Comment »

Fiddler on the Roof is one of my all-time favorite movies.  If you aren’t a fan of musicals you probably wouldn’t appreciate it but I absolutely LOVE it.  One of the main themes of the movie is the stabilizing force of tradiiton in our lives and how and when it is appropriate, and even necessary to break with tradition.  The idea of family traditions has popped up in some different parenting literature that I have been reading recently and so it has been on my mind.  These different sources have suggested that traditions, whether as big as an annual family vacation or as little as eating pancakes on Sunday morning, create a sense of safety and stability for children.  So I have been considering the rituals of my childhood and wondering which of these are traditions I would like to carry on with my own family and which new traditions might be worth introducing.

Many of my favorite family memories involve our Christmas traditions.  My mom would bake with us and make chocolates in preparation for Christmas parties, decorating the tree at the beginning of December, the home-made advent calendar that we reused, year after year, the Christmas eve tradition of attending church, then touring the city to look at Christmas lights and then home to eat special goodies by the light of the Christmas tree, enjoying Christmas music and each other’s company.  In these times, differences were laid aside.  Or at least any squabbling or other negative happenings do not inhabit my memory of those times.  It elicits feelings of warmth, contentment and genuine appreciation of my family.  When I consider these times now I feel that they somehow help counteract the blatant commercialism of that time of year.  They are rituals that I will attempt to continue.

Of course many traditions take place around holidays but there are some other ones that stick out. My mom took me (and my sisters) each on a special weekend trip when we hit age 13 as a sort of “rite of passage” into adolescence.  It wasn’t anything crazy – just to Regina to stay in a hotel and do some shopping. But it made me feel special and grown up and it spoke words of reassurance to me.  I knew I could always trust my mother and that I was very important to her.  In fact, our very common ritual of going out for “coffee” taught me the same thing on a smaller scale.  It was, and still is, in that setting where we learned about our family, the history, the secrets, where we learned about life and death, joy and sorrow and God and friends and expectations and disappointment and love and compassion.  We fought and laughed and cried and sighed and shared.  I still look forward to these moments with my mom and sisters and I already enjoy them with my daughter. This is one tradition that is very important to me and I intend to continue as long as I draw breath.

In earlier years, before sleeping in became exceedlingly important to keeping the teenage hormones under control, my dad used to make breakfast most Saturday mornings.  I have some fond memories of watching the Bugs Bunny & Tweety show to the smell of hashbrowns cooking.  It was a small thing but I think I agree with the “professional” assessment that it makes kids feel safe to know what’s coming.  The world can be scary and unpredictable.  It makes a big difference to have certain things you can depend on.  Family should be one of them and if these little moments can birth an atmosphere of protection and love for my children I’m going to do my best to make it work.

family, life and death, parenting, philosophy | No Comments »

Oh come on!  The world is shocked that the Crocodile Hunter was killed by a stingray??? Give me break!  What’s shocking is that he wasn’t killed sooner! If you choose to make a living doing dangerous and stupid stunts it should come as no surprise when you are injured or killed while doing so.  If he was such a proud father, as the article says, why was he putting himself at such great risk? 

I know, I know. People love The Crocodile Hunter. He did amazing things for animal rights and environmental causes. I think that’s fantastic. But I don’t think a person needs to put themselves in harm’s way in order to make a point. Especially when said person has a family and children who need them.  I expect his legacy will be huge and people will sing his praises for a long, long time. But I can’t help thinking that it won’t matter to his kids when they have to go to bed every night without him there.

crocodile hunter, family, parenting, rants | 1 Comment »