joy

When I watch my children play, I see a freedom and joy in them that is often missing in my ever so grown up, silly-busy, responsible, to-do list filled life. I love how they just let themselves be who they are and what they feel in that moment instead of being caught up in have to’s, need to’s and worry over what someone might think. There is joy in every day. As I learn to be more like a child- eager, anticipating, willing to try and risk and live out dreams- joy comes.

How about you? What is bringing you joy these days?

push

Yesterday afternoon I was sitting on the front porch watching the kids play. In the garden to my left, I noticed a piece of moss sitting at an odd angle. I got down on my knees right there in the dirt so I could give it a closer inspection. Underneath the moss were three little tulips pushing the moss aside on their way towards the light.

Isn’t life a lot like that? Sometimes, before we can grow to our full height, we need to push large obstacles out of our way. Just like those tulips, we can’t do it on our own. We need to stand with our community and do it together. And when that big piece of moss finally falls to the side, the sunshine feels so good, doesn’t it?

Happy weekend! Go find some sun.

punked?

Dear Children,

Am I being punked this week? It sure feels like it.

At first I thought it was a coincidence that you were all acting up at the same time. On Monday I thought you guys were exhausted from the busy weekend. My excuse for you on Tuesday was that you were tired from staying for lunch at school and not eating enough. Then Wednesday rolled around and brought with it a fresh batch of misery. That’s when I started to get suspicious.

I’m wondering when you hold your secret planning meetings? Do you meet at night when Daddy and I are sleeping? Who chairs those meetings? Maybe you meet by the water fountain at school, make your plans and then bring your brother up to speed when you get home? I’m really curious.

I’m thinking it goes something like this: “Things have been running too smoothly around here lately. It’s time to SHAKE it up and turn the house upside down. We need to band together and tag team if we are going to make this happen. Mr. Baby, you need to start waking up yelling at 5:45. As soon as Mom crawls back into bed, G and Tuck will start a fight in the bathroom. Then they need to keep fighting over EVERY.LITTLE.THING.FOR.AS.LONG.AS.POSSIBLE. Got that? FIGHT LOTS. And don’t forget to cry. Especially at bedtime. We all need to have HUGE flailing temper tantrums every night for absolutely no reason. Refuse to brush your teeth. Cry when you have to wear long sleeved pj’s but then cry harder if they let you change them. Cry about everything! What else? Oh, yeah! Mom hates it when we don’t eat. Let’s all go on a total food strike! Refuse to eat anything, especially our favourites. Got all that? Don’t sleep, don’t eat, temper tantrums, make messes, fight lots. Goooooooo team!”.

However it goes down, I’M ON TO YOU! The next time you hold one of your little meetings you better remind yourselves who knows where the stash of Halloween candy is…

Lots of love,

Mom

yes we can

Typically I avoid politics. I can’t stand how worked up some people get over certain platforms and issues (death threats… get real). I hate that all too often politics (and politicians) are divisive instead of unifying and inspiring. Unethical, greedy, apathetic… just some of the words that come to mind when I think of politics. Our recent Canadian election was an excellent example of why I have been known to say that I will lock my children in a barrel if they ever aspire to being a politician.

HOWEVER….

Last night was AWESOME! For the first time in my life I found myself wishing I was an American. I wish that I had the opportunity to feel so proud of my country and to be able to vote for hope, for change, for something different and positive. I was crying as I listened to Obama speak. He is not perfect, not is his platform but his MESSAGE is something that I can get behind. His message of unity and hope, of listening and finding common ground, of compromise and positive change. THAT is what I hope for my children and their futures.

Yes we can. I cried again as I listened to the people shouting with tears running down their faces. Who wouldn’t want that to be the hearts cry of their nation? Of their leadership? Of their children? There are too many nay sayers in our world. I am thankful to live in a time when millions of people stood together and kicked history’s butt. Oh, yes we can!

by the grace of God

This morning I found out that a friend from college lost her husband in a car accident on Saturday. He was 33 years old. They have a four year old, a two year old and are expecting their third child in October. My friend is a widow at 32. She is planning her husband’s funeral while she sits at her daughter’s bedside in a hospital hours away from their home. One minute they were driving to BC with a summer of swimming, camping and bbq’s ahead of them and the next, tumbling through the air, forever changed. It is truly beyond me.

At times today I felt almost panicky thinking about it. I have always struggled with the fear that something terrible will happen to my husband or my children. I have a hard time letting my kids drive with anyone other than my husband or I. The first time they slept away from home I was nearly sick. It’s even hard for me to leave them so I can enjoy some grown up time. I welcome the break but find waving goodbye so very hard. What if it’s the last time I see one of them? Last weekend I found tears running down my face as I backed out of the driveway for a much needed night away. All three of my kids were waving madly and my husband was laughing. I took a mental snap shot of their beautiful, smiling faces and trusted that God would walk us through whatever lay ahead. It’s not that I’m morbid or that I spend a lot of time playing out imaginary scenarios in my head but when I hear about accidents like the one that happen to my friend, I think, “that could have been us”. It was only a year ago that we were driving on that same stretch of highway, at times through heavy rain and fog. Several times I took off my seatbelt and reached into the backseat to help one of the kids. It could have been us but by the grace of God, it wasn’t.

Last week I took my eldest to an allergist appointment an hour away. About half way into our drive we both needed to go to the bathroom. There is a Tim Horton’s on the corner where two highway’s intersect. As I was completing my turn into the parking lot, our back bumper was struck by a semi-truck that had been driving behind us. There was very little damage to our van since it was really just a graze but never-the-less, we were hit by a semi (Incidentally, the driver flipped me “the bird” and continued on his merry way. Later, the police discovered that his plates were stolen.)! When I thought about what happened later that day all I could think was that my son was sitting in that corner of the van and if we had been just one or two seconds later… well, the outcome might have been quite different. By the grace of God, it wasn’t.

It’s hard not to be overwhelmed by the fragility of life. I now have three friends my age who are widows with young children. Last week a woman I have been praying for died of cancer. She was 35 and had two young boys. My brother’s childhood friend had emergency brain surgery last week to remove an aggressive tumor and will find out his future prognosis this week. That doesn’t even take the news into consideration. Africa, Iraq, China…

When I hear of human tragedy, part of me would like nothing more than to put my fingers in my ears, close my eyes and sing, “lalalalalala”. Instead, today I didn’t worry about the chores that needed to be done when my kids wanted a hug or a story or an airplane ride, I went into my husband’s office just to tell him that I love him and I made sure we all ended the day well. These are all things I try to do everyday but today, I was more mindful. I am reminded to live and give my best and to walk in thanks for God’s amazing grace.

redefined

I’ve got to tell you, my world is a better place these days. Since my sleep deprived insanity has lifted, I find myself actually looking forward to the days ahead of me instead of plotting ways to escape them. The headache I had for three straight months is gone. I haven’t thrown up from exhaustion in over a month (except for the day my perfectionism overtook me and I attempted to shovel 40 cm of snow from the driveway by myself and ended up nearly passing out and then puking for 2 hours… I’m thinking I’m a bit out of shape?). I am enjoying playing with my kids. Helping them make balloon fish. Baking and cooking for reasons other than sustenance. Taking pictures. Being creative. I’ve started knitting again and I just MIGHT finish the scarf I started for my sister in December 2006 but you know, don’t count on it Bisto! I’ve also been slowly working through the backlog of details that need my attention but I never had time or brains for. Stuff like paying bills on time, submitting receipts to insurance for reimbursement, calling the government to find out why on earth I’m still not receiving any money for the baby I had back in August.

It feels good to lie down at night and know that my day was successful. I’m a list maker and it gives me a huge sense of accomplishment to to see my whiteboard full of slash marks at the end of a day. Much more importantly, I have been able to fall asleep at night without agonizing over all the things I screwed up during the day and the ways that I failed my children, my husband and let’s be honest, everyone around me. Before all I could think about was the times I yelled, said no because I was too tired or said yes and didn’t come through. I was heavy with guilt over the times I was late, meals I didn’t make, crafts I didn’t do, books that remained on the shelf, time that wasn’t spent, interest we paid because I forgot, cards and gifts I wanted to buy but didn’t… With sleep came freedom. I could be more like the person I want to be and was able to let go of the guilt that did nothing but hold me deeper under the water I was already drowning in.

I have also been able to accept that we have a new normal. The reality for us is that three children is a whole lot more kids than two, especially when one is a baby. There is a level of chaos that never dissipates. Since I found out I was pregnant with Baby J, I have assumed that once he was sleeping through the night that life would return to normal. The funny thing is, I can’t remember what that is anymore! I know that our life is busier. There is more to balance and do in a day but it is also much richer and deeper. And busier…

Accepting a new sense of normal also means redefining what is possible and being realistic about what we can all handle. Last week I purchased a chicken with the intention of cooking a full Easter meal for our family. I wanted to do something special to mark Easter and for me, that is often expressed through good food. Once the weekend drew closer, I saw how busy we had been during the week. That G wasn’t feeling well. That our house was a mess and needed to be cleaned. I looked around my kitchen and realized that in order to cook a big dinner that I would have to first clean it and then start again. My perfectionistic side wanted to make it all happen but in my heart, I knew that there would be a cost to the wonderful meal that was too high. This Easter we went to McDonald’s (insert gag) for lunch because that was what our kids really wanted to do and then we had friends over and made home made pizza’s for supper. Sunday was an amazing day. If I had pushed through and made that fancy dinner we might not have taken the time to have a life changing conversation with our son. That was a big wake up for me.

Our new normal is going to include more of the word, “no” and “how about this instead?”. We are going to disappoint people sometimes, including ourselves (we recently decided not to continue attending a home group we enjoy because it is not working for our family right now) but I can live with that way more easily than crippling guilt and a broken family.

Tiny pushes

I long to accomplish great and noble tasks, but it is my chief duty to accomplish humble tasks as though they were great and noble. The world is moved along, not only by the mighty shoves of its heroes, but also by the aggregate of the tiny pushes of each honest worker. ~Helen Keller~

verbal diarrhea

I’d like to post more. Really, I would. The thing is, I don’t have time. I’m hard pressed to go pee without someone screaming at the door so you can imagine how difficult it is to get through an entire post. Nearly impossible. I also don’t have a lot that is really worth sharing right now. My kids do say all kinds of funny things that I wish I recorded more (like the fact that G offered baby J her bedroom and said that she would “sleep in Daddy’s office or somewhere really” when she heard that he needed his own room but we didn’t know what we were going to do or N’s insistence on calling those handy little directions or how to’s, if you will, that come with games and DIY things “in-constructions”). Otherwise, I’m feeling rather negative and surly and really, who wants to read that crap?

The truth is that I’m tired and worn out. Big surprise. I have a baby that generally doesn’t sleep more than 3 hours at a time. 2 other kids that get me running around like one of my sister’s crisis patients and a husband who is over tired and retreating to his man cave (I loath the man cave). I know that it’s a time of life thing but it’s sucking right now to the point that I want to smack myself for ever even thinking of having four kids (really, WHAT. WAS. I. THINKING?). All I want is to go to bed when I am ready to and be able to sleep until a reasonable hour (not for an hour. UNTIL a reasonable hour). I need some sleep and I’m getting kind of pissed off about it. My get up and go is gone. To be honest, I’m even starting to feel mad at God and found myself giving him a rather cranky speech last night (I know, I know. Model Christian. Excellent demonstration of faith). Basic eating has even become a challenge with not being able to eat any dairy or eggs. I’d just like to pour myself a bowl of cereal or have a little yogurt when I drag my sorry self out of bed in the morning but I can’t do that anymore. And then I feel a bit resentful that I’ve had to totally change my eating for my baby and he doesn’t even have the decency to sleep! Truth be told, I’d eat nothing but boiled seaweed if it would help him but I’m just feeling sorry for myself and acting like a grumpy old sow.

While I’m allowing myself a rant, I would like to say that I am sick of having to deprogram my kids for a month after Christmas. They are acting entitled and rather ungrateful. I’m done with that. So very done with it. I’m not sure exactly what we are going to do about it but I swear that this was the last Christmas we allow our children to be totally sold out to the commercial side of Christmas. I doubt they even registered that we were meant to be celebrating the birth of our Saviour. That precious little baby changed the world and do you know what we did about it this year? Not much. I am ashamed by that. I am embarrassed by the attitudes we have allowed to foster in our children and the sea of excess they live with (though good intentions but none the less…). We have a serious problem here in North America with coveting and hoarding and excess and I don’t want that for my kids. Our goals for this year are simplicity and joy. That’s what I want to give my kids because they can carry that into their future’s much longer than the plastic toy of the moment on their lists.

I warned you that I’m cranky! At least I was honest. Now what was that I said about joy…?

remember

This weekend my husband and oldest son are away for a little guy time at the cottage. Our house is so quiet without them. It’s kind of eerie at times. My daughter is really missing her Daddy and big brother. She came into my room at 6:30 this morning looking for her “bruh-ber” and was fairly devastated to discover he hadn’t come home during the night.

This afternoon we went to visit Auntie J. We had a great time walking around downtown and the lakefront. It was good to have some adult time! On the way back to her house we passed a WWII memorial. Out of the corner of my eye I notice an older gentleman standing with his head down in front of it. I wondered what he was thinking about? Was he remembering the horror of the battlefield? Was he mourning a father, brother or friend who was lost in the war? Was he feeling thankful? I wondered about his story as we continued walking.

When we returned home the first thing G wanted to do was call her Daddy. She just wanted to hear his voice. He told me how much he has missed us this weekend. After we chatted I got thinking about what it would be like if he was gone for 5 years. I thought about how much he would miss. Our baby would be the same age as our oldest is now. There is no way to get those years back. Worse, what if he never came home? How would we go on? I know that we would but that is just not how it is “supposed” to be.

Today as I ponder Rememberance Day, I think of it in a new way. I am thankful. So very thankful for the devastating sacrifices those who went to war and those who stayed behind made for our country. For our families. For me. Today I honour you.

What’s with all the hate?

So there has been a lot of bitterness and snarky commenting lately on some of the blogs I read. A few bloggers have done book reviews on “The Dangerous Book for Boys”. Seems that a fun little book for boys has got a whole lotta panties all bunched up in knots. I just don’t get it. What’s the big deal about saying that boys and girls are different? Why is it bad to produce/publish/want something that is gender specific?

Don’t get me wrong. I believe in egality and get all fired up when women are pushed down. I just don’t have a problem saying that males and females are different because in my opinion they are. When I was pregnant with N, I read several articles about gender identification and the ways that society and parents impose stereotypical gender roles on children from day one. We make sure not to tell our son, for example that “boys don’t cry” or teach our daughter that she is weak and helpless. We wrestle equally with them. We also cuddle equally. And I get equally annoyed when either of them cries ad nauseum! Given all that, I still see major differences in my children. Sure, part of it is their personalities but a lot of it is that boys and girls are different.

When I was pregant with G we bought N a doll so he could practice being gentle to a baby. He was nice to his doll and even attempted to breast feed it when I was nursing G but I never saw the same motherly instincts from him that G showed at the same age to her doll. N has never bothered to wrap his doll so it would be warm. He has never changed the doll’s diaper or rocked it to sleep but G has done all of those things. For quite a while she made beds for her dolls, toys (cars included) every night and covered them up. She has never watched me care for a baby but she seems to “know” what to do whereas N has seen me with a newborn and still doesn’t have the same instinct. I think it comes from inside of them.

I remember the first time my son played “stroller” outside. He was playing with 2 little girls from our street. They were all between 3 and 4 at the time. They each had a kid sized stroller with a doll strapped in. I watched as the two girls pushed their strollers up and down the sidewalk. N joined them for a while and then he yelled, “this is boring! Let’s have races.” and began to run as fast as he could with his stoller. “It’s a stroller durby!”. The girls started shrieking and crying because he was going to hurt his baby. “That’s not how you do it,” one of them yelled. I laughed to myself as I watched this little scene playout in front of me. How different they truly are.

From what I’ve seen in my kids, boys and girls are different from birth. I don’t think the differences are as marked as they were made out to be say, 50 yeras ago but inanate differences persist none the less. Personally, I celebrate that fact. I don’t understand all the hate that spews when someone dares to do something gender specific. I guess it is just one more thing that fans the flames of the ever diversive “Mommy wars”. I certainly hope that those same people don’t buy Barbies for their girls or Tonka’s for their boys cause their kids sure are going to be messed up if they do!