We Are Family

I was intensely reminded recently of how much I miss my family and how important a strong family is to a healthy state of mind.  You see, I live a good two-day drive from all but my Dad and one of my brothers.  If you consider that my grandparents, on their 60th wedding anniversary, were given a single rose from each of their grandchildren, great grandchildren and great-great grandchildren, totaling a whopping 60 roses, I’d say that I miss a lot where my family is concerned, simply by being so far away.  I hear about all the births, deaths, marriages, divorces, and all the drama in between (or some of it, at least) but it’s only about once a year that I actually get to physically get together with my huge clan.
It’s been a big year.  My grandmother, probably the most amazing woman I’ve ever known, just turned 91 and in years since my grandparents 60th anniversary the clan has produced around 20 or so great and great-great grandchildren.  So we had a little get together to celebrate her birthday and all the new babies.  While we were celebrating, in fact, another great granddaughter was born.
Honestly, the gathering was chaos, but it was chaos of the best possible kind.  There were kids everywhere, from my second cousins one-week old boy to my nephew’s five-year old son.  My two-year old daughter was overwhelmed with all her new cousins.  As far as she knew, she only had three cousins!  She had suddenly hit the cousin jackpot.  Everywhere she looked there were new playmates, all around her age.  I remember that feeling from when I was young and living near this part of my family.  It was a unique kind of belonging that I’ve never felt anywhere else and I want it so badly for my kids.
My Gran was in her glory, with new babies to hold, and older kids coming by to chat and hug and sing happy birthday.  The pride in her eyes as she looked around at her crew was massive.  I remember a few years ago at my grandfather’s funeral, a reminder that his family; his children, grandchildren, great and great-great grandchildren, was the thing he was most proud of in his life.  I don’t know if this appreciation of my family was instilled by my grandparents alone, but I know it started with them, and it continues because of them.
Don’t get me wrong, I love and appreciate the family I share with my hubby at home, but there’s just something about the madness created by 40 some odd family members (the children nearly outnumbering the adults) reminiscing and getting to know each other all over again.  If everyone felt a part of something this big and this strong, the world would be a far better place.  It’s hard to feel lost or hurt or angry when surrounded by that much love.  Family is that double edged sword sometimes.  On one side you're stuck with maybe some people that you wouldn't choose to know otherwise, but on the other side you're surrounded by people who love you just because.  I'll take it.  It's worth it.

Road Trip... Part Two

So, the adventure continues… We made it to our hotel, just over halfway between my house and my mom’s house, nearly 10 hours into Day One of our road trip.  We got mostly settled then headed to a local diner for dinner.  The diner had just changed ownership or management or something a few hours before we arrived, which apparently meant that it had a whole new menu.  Unfortunately for us and every other diner that night we got copies of the old menu to order from.  I’ve never heard “I’m sorry, we’re not serving that anymore” so many times in my life.  Regardless, we did end up eating, and it was food, so I guess I can’t complain too loudly.  After dinner the girl and I went for a swim in the hotel pool (which I had confirmed was in working order before booking the reservation on-line).  Then it was bedtime, which was a challenge with a two year old sleeping in a room with three adults.  It took until nearly midnight to even get her into the bed we were sharing, but that was followed by an epic toss-and-turn session which included having her feet in my face and on my pillow a number of times.  Then there was the temperature issue… too hot, too cold, too hot… each time having to get up to “fix” the thermostat thingy.  On a positive note, the little man only got me up once in the night.  Of course, it was right in the middle of the longest stretch of sleep I had all night, but whatever.
The morning was a new beginning, with both kids sleeping a little in the car.  Then, well, all got turned upside down.  The girl was happily playing in her car seat when all of a sudden she turns to me, panicked and says, “Mommy, my tummy hurts!”  As I ask her whether she’s hungry or wants a drink of water, she begins to cough and I know what’s coming.  “She’s throwing up!” I yell and begin frantically looking for something to “catch”.  Enough details.  We had to pull over and clean up both her and the carseat (luckily everything was contained to the car seat, but I’m still trying to get the smell to completely disappear).  Once everything was cleaned up, though, aside from the smell, the rest of the trip was uneventful.
We spent the next few days at my mom’s.  She lives in a fifth wheel (aka great big camper) which doesn’t leave much room for 3 adults, a toddler and a newborn so the girl and I slept in a tent.  She was so excited the first night that she shouted, “We’re sleeping in a tent!” at the top of her lungs the second she was all tucked in.  Oddly enough, after the weather reports said it was going to be clear and hot all week, we, instead, got thunder and lightning storms with typhoon style rain.  Imagine my concern every day as I watched the clouds roll in and the rain begin to fall, then my pleasant surprise as, every evening, the clouds disappeared and it warmed up just in time to go to bed.  It was always a little touch and go, and there was a back up plan, but it was fun and so sweet to wake up each morning to the beautiful sleeping face of my little girl.  We never got even a little damp (my step-dad really knows how to put up a good tent!) and add to it, one morning the girl’s first words were “Mommy, you’re the best friend I ever had.  We’re going to be friends for ever and ever.”  It was all definitely worth the risk of a wet night’s sleep.  So, here I am now, sitting at my cousins kitchen table, waiting to feed the little man for the last time before going to bed.  I’m glad to say, in a few weeks time, we will be flying home.  I’ve had enough adventure for a while

Road Trip... Part One

So there’s progress on the house, if you count having no walls, no electricity, no kitchen and one barely useable bathroom progress.  I keep telling myself that it must get worse to get better.  It has and it will.  I can walk through the front door and see the beautifully large living room space, followed by the huge dining and kitchen area.  The kitchen is so large, in fact, that I’m a little lost as to what to do with it.  It’s the entire width of the house, about 25 feet, and pretty close to square, with a separate large pantry area (that used to be attached to a bathroom oddly enough) AND another separate area we are planning for a built-in breakfast nook (the bathroom, minus the walls).  The problem is that there is very little wall space for cabinets, so we’re working on a creative way to build the island that will be both ultra functional and kinda cool looking.  Anyway, there’s progress, but we’re a long, long way from moving in.  And did I mention that we’ve rented out our condo so we’ve moved into a 2 bedroom basement suite that’s about half the square footage of the condo until the house is ready?  Packing was a real treat.  I always had three boxes on the go; storage, basement suite and trip.  Then once we moved into the basement suite I went through the kitchen, bathroom and bedrooms again to purge nearly another fifty percent of stuff into storage.  This is what prompted a month long “vacation” to visit family, that starts with a two-day road trip.  Hubby is staying at home and using the next month to get as much done as he possibly can on the house… when he’s not working his real job, that is.

I currently sit in the back seat of my dads minivan, between my two year old daughter and my two month old son and we are about six hours into Day One of the road trip.  The kids have just traded places in the sleep department.  The girl finally passed out after a couple episodes of Toopy and Binoo and several rounds of The Ants Go Marching In, just in time for the Little Man to open his eyes and want some playtime. I tried to plan for every possibility and so far, knock on wood, I’ve been well prepared.  We’ll see what the next few hours bring.  As I type now, I just glanced up at the battery life on my laptop.  It’s in the red.  I guess that means it’s time to go.

Inspiration Interrupted

I’m not feeling particularly inspired these days.  I don’t know if it’s the utter exhaustion due to the middle of the night feedings of my little man (who, by the way, does not sleep as well as his big sister did at this age).  Or maybe it’s the preparations to move into a temporary home this weekend, a week before embarking on a month long vacation to family-land (the question at every turn is whether what I’m looking at should be going to storage for the new house or into the far smaller temporary home or whether it will be needed for the trip).  Or maybe it’s the million ideas I have for the reno swimming around in my head (pink and blue bedrooms, bathrooms that won’t have walls for a few months and a huge kitchen with limited wall space are really making my head spin).  No matter what the culprit, I’ve found myself sitting down many times over the last couple of weeks with absolutely nothing swimming around in my head.  Perhaps the problem is not a lack of inspiration, but rather too freaking much of it.

I get writing about the renovations and I go on and on about all my ideas, which I then decide no one really cares to hear about (unless I can provide drawings and pictures, which would be far too much information).  If I get going on the kids and how they inspire me every day with their changes and unique insights into life, I feel like I could go on forever.  (Short story about the little miss…  I was feeding the little man at 3am the other morning and noticed the little miss’s favorite stuffy “Tiger Baby” in the living room.  When I was done with the boy, I decided to take Tiger Baby in to the girl while she slept.  She was awake, at 3am, and as I leaned down to kiss her, telling her she should be asleep, she asked “ Mommy, did the cow jump over the moon yet?”  Priceless.  “Yes, Baby.  You can go to sleep now.”  “Mommy, you’re the best friend I ever had” and she drifts back to sleep. Yes, it brought tears to my eyes. Yes, she talks that well at only 2 and a half.  Yes, it seems that every moment grants me some kind of dream of that calibre from my kids.  I am a very, very lucky Mommy.)

Anyway, I guess I just needed to say that it’s not for lack of trying that I’ve not posted (again) for far too long.  Time just gets away from me and my mind spins with too many ideas.  It feels a bit like an overcooked soup that has too many good things in it.  Mush, but tasty mush that you’ve got to really focus on to find your favorite ingredient.  Wow, I just compared my brain to the chicken noodle soup I made the other day (It was really good, by the way).  I think it’s time for bed… after I feed the boy…

I am Super Mom!

So, my mom has been gone for about 3 days.  She came to stay with us when the boy was born about a month ago.  Having her with us made life so much easier.  We took turns at getting up with the boy in the night or getting up with the girl in the morning.  Getting out of the house was easier with one of us to dress each kid.  Honestly, I thought I would never leave the house again after she went home.  I was terrified of her leaving.  I would suddenly be outnumbered and I wasn’t sure I could deal with that.  I know, I know, I should have thought about that before I got pregnant with kid number 2, but I didn’t exactly consider the logistics of it.  Anyway, I was so stressed about the prospect of being on my own that, the night before Mom left I burst into tears over a burnt pizza, thinking “If I can’t even cook a pizza properly, how the hell am I going to take care of two kids?!”

Today I proved to myself I can handle it with an interesting trip to the park.  I put the kids in the double stroller and headed down the hill with a friend.  All went well as Friend, two kids and I dropped off some mail and got a coffee, even after leaving Friend at her front door and making our way the rest of the way to the park.  That’s when things started to go awry.  The girl wanted to go on the baby swing… no problem.  As soon as I got her into the swing though, the boy started to fuss, and cry, then scream.  I had to take him out of the stroller, but duh, had forgotten the snugli at the house.  So, there I am, holding a screaming 5 week old in one arm and pushing a swing with the other.  Really, not so tough, in the scheme of things.

But wait, there’s more...

The boy continued to cry and scream and, even though I had fed him shortly before leaving the house, suddenly started rooting… desperately rooting.  I thought it might just be gas, but after a few minutes of back patting and swing pushing I decided I’d better pull out the bottle I’d brought with me for just such an occasion.  So then, there I am, baby in one arm, tucked into my hoodie (great on the fly snugli replacement, by the way) bottle in the crook of my neck, pushing a swing with the other hand.  I noticed strange looks from other moms as they passed by (all of them with only one child each, by the way).  The sweet old gentleman who was pushing his granddaughter on the swing next to ours must have thought I was crazy, and said as much when he laughingly remarked “Boy, you’ve really got your hands full there!”.  Yeah, thanks for offering to push my kid for a second, buddy!  No, really, he was nice enough to take the girl out of the swing a few minutes later.  And he was, like 90 years old so that was more than enough.  And if he had taken the pressure off for me, I wouldn’t have figured out that I am Super Mom.  I can do this, even in the awkward, unplanned, crazy moments.  I’m not saying I don’t need a little help once in a while (okay, as often as I can get it) but when it’s not there, I’m enough.  Like I once said, in all of my Oprah-like wisdom, to a cousin who was expecting twins, “You just do what you do.  There is no question of whether or not you’re capable when you’re a mom.”  Apparently, I may have known what I was talking about for once.  I just do what I do because I’m a mom.  Today, I felt like a Super Mom.  And when you’re outnumbered, you take what you can get.

Different is good.

I’ve never been too fond of parenting advice, or any kind of advice really.  So much of it sounds like something that’s been translated from Japanese into German then into English.  You know that somewhere along the line the translation got screwed up and a “don’t” turned into a “do”, or, worse,  a “cool water” turned into “puppy saliva”.  If it makes you question the sobriety of the advisor, it’s probably not the best advice.  Instead of advice, I prefer the “What works for me” approach.  My best friend gave me her version of this insight when I was pregnant with my daughter.  Basically, take the information you can use now and file the rest away in the back of your brain until it sounds like a good idea at 4am and your newborn won’t stop screaming.  The conversation usually goes something like this…

ME:  My kid keeps…. And I wish she’d stop it.
FRIEND:  Well, I don’t know if it will work for you, but what worked for me was….

It’s almost as if the person giving the “advice” can’t quite believe it worked and doesn’t want to be blamed if it doesn’t work for me.  That type of suggestion is far better than the “only way to do it” kind of advice.  I don’t generally respond well to the “Only Way” of doing things, and most people I know are the same.  That’s the thing about parenting and kids.  Every parent, child and situation is different, vastly different, so no one solution will work for everyone.  Even with the same parents, kids are individuals and need different approaches for the same problems.  That’s possibly the largest thing I’ve learned over the last two years.  My kid is different from your kid, and even my other kid, and that’s okay.  In fact, it’s good, it’s what differentiates us from robots and computers.  Different is good, and that definitely works for me.

Breastfeeding 202: Another Kick at the Cans

I was nervous about a few things when I looked ahead to having baby number 2.  Would I have enough love/time/energy to spread between two, and not let number 1 suffer?  Yes, but it now becomes quality over quantity that matters.  Would I be able to handle the lack of sleep that I never quite recovered from the first time?  Grandmas are amazing.  And would I have the same difficulties with breastfeeding that I had the first time around?  Yes, and no. 

When my daughter was born I was under the illusion that breastfeeding was a natural, easy and cheap way to feed my baby.  Not so much.  Anyone who tells a first time mom that breastfeeding comes easily and that both Mom and Baby “just know what to do” should be shot.  That belief had me in tears for weeks, months, while I tried to figure out what I was doing wrong the first time around.  I made it nearly 3 months with my daughter.  That’s about the time that my hubby realized that the stress of trying to do “the right thing” was going to kill us all and convinced me it was okay to stop.  I admit, I gave up, but only after spending more than 50% of every single day either breastfeeding, pumping, bottle feeding, mixing formula, packing myself with heat packs, massaging and taking teeny little pills a bunch of times per day.  I’m sure there were other things I did too, but thankfully my brain has blocked that trauma out.  I cried more tears over breastfeeding my daughter than I have over every other cry-able thing in my life combined.  That includes all of my angst ridden teenage years. I was determined to do things differently this time, but that didn’t mean an automatic formula fed baby.

I understand the reasoning and the benefits of breastfeeding, which is why I, like so many other moms, fight so hard to do it.  What I don’t understand is the fanatical attitude that so many people take when it comes to moms who just can’t do it.  I decided to give myself a break this time, just relax about it and hope for the best.  I was able to anticipate the potential issues I would have (like my milk not coming in until Baby was 5 days old, then disappearing as rapidly as it appeared) and wrangle whatever help I could from nurses, doctors and public health services.  Things are less frustrating this time around, but not exactly more fruitful.  There are so many things that can go wrong, many of which are beyond my control, like Baby’s latch or how much milk my body is willing to produce.  Yes, there are things I can do to help and I’m doing them, but even then it’s no guarantee.  I am definitely feeling better about breastfeeding, though.  I’m not feeling so guilty or frightened that if I don’t breastfeed until my son is at least a year old he’ll be a chronically ill, dumb, badly behaved child.  That is definitely not what I got with my daughter.  She’s brilliant, healthy and well-behaved (for the most part, anyway, she is two).  Maybe that’s why I feel better this time around.  I know it’s all beyond my control and all I can do is my best effort.  I’d just really like my best effort to give me a better result.  I’m working on it, but even if it doesn’t work out, I know that I tried and my son will have more love than he knows what to do with.  That’s the important thing, right?  Love.  So, to all the breastfeeding fanatics out there, back off, I don’t want or need your speeches.  I may have barely enough milk (at this point), but I have more than enough love.

It's a Boy!

I just realized that it’s been 2 weeks since I posted.  Bad start, but I have the most incredible excuse possible.  It’s a boy!  This little person that I’ve carried for the last 9 months finally made his appearance 16 days ago.  He’s perfect, and beautiful, and more wonderful than I could have hoped for.  I now have the perfect little family, one girl, one boy.  But I have, so far, found one major difference between boys and girls.  I’m sure I’ll find others, but this one’s a biggie. Boys will pee on anyone who leaves themselves vulnerable.  Virtually everyone who has opened this kids diaper has been sprayed, even showered.  My daughter has peed on me maybe a handful of times over her two and a half year life span, and I don’t expect that number to go up any time soon.  In the course of 16 days, my beautiful little boy has easily multiplied that number.

While the boy is peeing on anything that gets in shot range, my beautiful daughter has decided that now is the time to stop doing such things.  With Grandma and Daddy’s help she, at two and a half, is completely potty trained!  Now, I think she’s amazing, because I think that this is pretty early for such an important milestone.  Maybe I’m confused on this point, but regardless of timing, I couldn’t be more proud.  Of course, she still insists on showing us what she has deposited, every time, and we all do the potty dance and chant her name and sing happy songs, but that’s what’s making her successful, and it’s kinda fun, so we’ll keep it up as long as we need to (I mean, really, what 16 year old still cheers when she poo-poo’s in the big girls toilet!).  It’s strange, though, that everything I read about potty training said not to do it during this time, with all the changes and newness, but I think that’s why it worked for us.  She has something special and positive that gets our attention every time, without fail.  If Mommy is feeding the baby, or changing the baby, or even sleeping, she celebrates the victory with the princess, every single time.  It’s a happy time and big sister gets to just be Mommy and Daddy’s little girl again for a little bit. 

It’s been an adventurous couple of weeks and hopefully I’ll have the chance to fill in some gaps in the next little while (I promise to post more often).  Things have slowed down for the time being, but we still have a condo to sell and renovations to start and a move to make and…well, “slow” is maybe not the word.

By the way, if you have some potty training to accomplish in the future, Home Depot (and others) carries this fantastic toilet seat that has a toddler seat built right into it.  Even beyond training it’s awesome to keep little bums from falling into the toilet. The toddler seat is inset into the actual lid, and stays there, via magnet, unless you actually pull it down.  It’s easier and nicer looking than the add-on seats and costs about the same as a regular toilet seat. And you can use it until all the little bums in your house are big enough for a regular seat.  Check your local home improvement store.  We bought ours at Home Depot.

Hang on, here we go.

Let me introduce myself, and my crazy life.  I have a two year old daughter who is the most brilliant and frustrating and wonderful person I have ever met in my life.  I am expecting Number 2 any day now (literally) and am somehow more frightened of Number 2 than I was of Number 1.  I have an incredibly supportive, yet also frustrating, boyfriend, who in the nearly 10 years we’ve been together has had far more faith in me than I have ever had in myself.  I have a huge extended family, who I love dearly and wouldn’t trade away for anything, although I have considered it occasionally.  I work full time as an events reporter at one of the most popular radio stations in Canada, and I am going to University part time to complete a Psychology Degree.  I should finish school about the time my daughter hits middle school.  Add to all of this a massive renovation project that we’ve just bought and can’t even move into because it needs too much work before it’s acceptable for the kids.  Crazy life achieved successfully.

            So why would you care who I am?  I am no expert on life, or anything really, except that I try to pull as many lessons out of my days as I possibly can.  I don’t have a perfect life or perfect children or perfect balance, or really anything perfect in my life.  What I do have is the awareness that sometimes imperfect is far better than perfect, whether it comes to getting my hands dirty with my kid(s), having a mostly undisturbed evening alone with my hubby, finding the best paint colour for that wall, or dealing with the many extraordinary issues and surprises that are thrown at me daily. Perfection is over rated. Life is fun, and even though I do take it seriously (sometimes too much so) I know that without laughter it would all mean nothing.

            Sometimes, I’ll write about parenting and what works for me.  Sometimes, I’ll let you in on my relationships with my hubby and others that I care about.  Sometimes, I may just need to rant about life in the middle of a whole home renovation project.  But, I hope, through all of it, I’ll keep my sense of humour and my sanity intact.  Hopefully, along this ride, I will be able to find and share some insights into life as I live it, and somewhere along the way, as you do too.  Hopefully, I’ll be able to help you, and me, appreciate the lives we’ve chosen as parents and just simply as people trying to get the most out of this crazy experience called life.  Stay tuned… things are about to get wild.