Coulda Woulda Shoulda

What's the main ingredient in hand sanitizer?

.....

paranoia

Ahhhh.....the 'coulda woulda shoulda' revelation. That feeling, while examining scenarios, circumstances, predicaments, when one feels that another course of action, or even better, REACTION, would have been more suited to the situation. It leads you to mull. Re-examine. Go around and around, dissecting your words, the words of others, pondering, why? How? What could have been better?

It has everything to do with one of my most serious New Years resolutions to date, of which I'm committing to for 2015. A conscious decision to really make my choices in life count, for real this time. Mostly because being a mom of two littles, I have very very little time for anything. So therefore, logically, let's put a real effort into making the time that you do have really count. Translation? Choosing the best words. The best reactions. The best people. The best path. Most of all, choosing happiness.

For example: don't PVR that extra show. Because then you'll feel obliged to watch it. And the pressure to watch it will inevitably take away from the effort that you are putting into making funny (and let's not forget consistent) character voices for your daughter's story time. You absolutely have to have continuity in the voices. Your kid WILL notice if one week, the gingerbread girl's voice is squeaky, and the next week, it's husky. And she will call you out on it. Trust me.

Anyway, I'm really trying to commit to this state of mind. So far it seems to be going well.

Truthfully, what inspired this post was an event that occurred almost 4 years ago. I was at the hospital, just having birthed my first child. To say that I was shocked and in awe of this is the understatement of the year. I remember looking at my new baby girl, totally rattled on adrenaline and remnants of laughing gas, looking around in disbelief that the hospital was actually going to let me take this little human home with me. I felt like I had cheated on an exam and had taken home a congratulatory A+.

We were waiting nervously for the go ahead to leave, and also waiting for that one test that they do, the PKU test (I believe?), that checks your kid for some nearly eradicated blood disease (which they had conveniently forgotten about, and subsequently, left us sitting waiting for 3 hours in a room). 

So I hid in the bathroom while the nurse took the blood.

Which is really weird in itself, because I don't usually hide from anything. I remember standing there in that hospital washroom, staring in the mirror, not fully recognizing myself - only knowing that some little human that I didn't even know yet had succeeded in really stressing me out already. I wasn't so much upset about it....I just felt very....peculiar. It was like I was trying on a new costume, that sort of fit, but didn't quite feel right yet. Peculiar.

When I finally came out of the bathroom, I felt sheepish that I wasn't there for my baby's first needle. I felt guilt, already, less than 24 hours in.

So I made a joke, made light of it. Told the nurse with a giggle "I hid in the bathroom cuz I hate needles"

You know what the *%# said to me?

"Paranoia will destroy ya" all snarky and stone faced.

I remember looking at my husband, puzzled. Not sure if this was a joke. Not sure if she was trying t be funny, or trite, or if she was just plain insensitive. Maybe I was missing the point? Never mind that I had just laboured for 10 hours, been sliced and diced, cried and lost all dignity, and I was the one who felt responsible to lighten the mood about my little hiding in the bathroom joke? Only to be sarcastically shot down by this nurse that clearly needed a coffee break, or a hug, or something.

So coulda woulda shoulda? I've gone over the situation so many times. What I should,have said to her, instead of just staring at her, wide mouthed, until she left out hospital room. In one scenario I call her a name. In another, I cry and return to the bathroom, sulking over the prospect of a paranoia ridden life that will inevitably ruin my and my child's future, in another scenario, I just give her a hug. Because that's probably what she needed most.

But in all seriousness, what am I going to tell my kids about people like this? That feel the need to kick you while you're down, or that simply just don't know their timing when it comes to offering their opinions.

All I know is that when one of my kids is having a meltdown, even though I want to scream at them, I find the most effective thing is to just get down and hug them. It takes them down a notch, and decompresses the situation.

Coulda woulda shoulda. Teach kindness. Try harder to make that moment count. Don't look back on the coulda woulda shoulda situations, because they're everywhere. Just make it count in the present. That's all.

Conversations with a 3 year old

Sometimes chatting with my toddler makes my brain hurt. There always seems to be an endless barrage of "why's" and "why not's" (usually in the incorrect context, btw). But then she makes me double over with laughter thanks to some cheeky or quirky comment, and I remember that she's brand new and life for her is too! I have to remember these moments because before I know it, she'll be moving out and off to college, and all I will want is to transport myself back to these days where her view on life is as fresh and wonderful as it will ever be!

Here are some of my fave conversations


3 year old: "Do we have a horse?"
Me: "No"
3 year old: "Why?"
Me: "Ummmm....because we don't have room in our yard?"
3 year old: "why?"

....you get the idea

3 year old: (aggravating her baby sister, baby sister starts to wail)
Me: what did you do to her?
3 year old: I just smashed her
Me: why?
3 year old: because I'm a naughty princess

3 year old: (sipping her milk) mmmmm....this milk is so cold. So silky

(Me, noticing the 3 year old has colored all over her face)
Me: when did you do that?
3 year old: on Friday
(Keep in mind it was Monday)

3 year old: mommy will you rub cream on my legs?
Me: sure love (I start massaging her feet and legs)
3 year old: thanks mom. That feels fantastic

Happy Friday everyone :)

The Blackout

                                      Ahhh, the blackout.

The phenomenon that happens to all new moms, and plagues us for anywhere from 2-10+ years after your child is born. For some, it never goes away.

It's that moment when you walk into a room with the intention to do/grab/make/change something, and like a magician waving his magic wand, "POOF".....the thought is gone.

Gone. Evaporated. Vanished into thin air.

You stand there in the blackout, trying to remember why you entered the room. What was it you were coming in here to do? Ok, let's retrace our steps. You back out of the room, searching for triggers that will remind you why you went in there in the first place.

But sadly, it's gone. Sometimes forever.

My fave is when you're mid conversation with someone, and like a crow that is attracted to a shiny object, something draws your attention elsewhere, and you forget MID SENTENCE

When do we determine if a complaint is just a complaint, or a cry for help?

What I mean is this......

When we text our husband and tell him that today, managing a toddler that pees on the floor and an infant that has an ear infection is almost unmanageable? And he responds that he's already paid for golf, so he can't cancel now?

He assumes you're just having a bad day, and that your complaint is only a complaint, and not a cry for help?

Or when you text a family member to joke "want to come over?", when you know full certain that this said family member will most definitely not come over, due to being "very busy today" doing stuff that you think is dumb stuff, but that secretly you would give your right arm at this point to be able to muddle around luxuriously doing this "dumb stuff" instead of lugging around a crying, snotty 22lb sack of sand all day long?

The family member gives you the standard canned "pep talk" (soon they'll be 16 and you'll wonder where the time went, I'm sure the Advil will kick in soon, I didn't have any help when I was your age etc) and you reply that you were "only kidding, you're doing fine, just complaining" and that your asking them to come over and help has turned into a joke so to deflect the real disappointment that they can't detect your cry for help.

Responses like these always make you reevaluate the difficulty of your situation (it can't be that hard, or else they truly would sense it and come to my rescue), and you reach, for the 50th time today, into the seemingly bottomless pit of your reserve of patience, and pull out a bit more, just to make it through the next few hours.

Reading over this, it all seems quite melodramatic.

But trust me, in the moment, while one can't be soothed and the other has locked herself in the bathroom, and you're surviving on stale triscuits and cold coffee, it tends to feel like the end of the world.

There's my complaint for the day. Trust me, that's all this is....a complaint.

Xox Me

I wish

I wish people would smile more, and complain less

I wish that the feeling you get on that first real sunny day of spring lasted all year

I wish I liked country music

I wish cake was good for you

I wish I didn't have to worry about pesticides on my strawberries, GMOs in my cornflakes or radiation in my salmon

I wish people would put down their phones and play with their children

I wish time would freeze

I wish cancer didn't take little children

Rest in peace, sweet Connor. Heaven has another angel today

The learning curve: Hockey - 1, Melly - 0

So far, 2014 has been a year of learning.

I've learned now that I am a mother of 2, that life is insanely busy and some days I don't bother to change out of jammies. I've learned that sometimes I can't remember if I've brushed my teeth that day. I've also learned that I have now completely metamorphosized (spelling???) from someone who used to like to fold the clothing and put them away, into someone who just tosses the clothes into the drawer and worries about wrinkles later. Chasing after 2 kids is something like a cross between the movie Groundhog Day and going for a run with your excellent runner friend while you have a hangover. Both somewhat amusing, but have their moments of eye rolling and WTFs.

Most of all, I've learned that I enjoy different things now. Life's little pleasures completely took on a new meaning as soon as the first kid was born, and especially changed after baby #2 entered our lives.

This became a very powerful and pertinent realization while on a recent trip to Arizona with my family.

We've always wanted to visit Arizona, to do some shopping and golf. While looking at dates to travel, my husband and I literally planned our trip around the Vancouver Canuck's hockey schedule. We desperately wanted to see our hometown boys play in another city. To our delight, everything worked out perfectly and we were able to fit our travel plans accordingly.

Sadly, within 6 hours of arriving in Phoenix, my husband and I were both violently ill with the stomach flu. Horrific doesn't even describe it. We both were sick all night long, and into the early hours of the morning. Thankfully, the vomiting dissipated by the next day, but as many of you know, after a night of puking your guts out, you don't feel right for a few days. Your back aches, your stomach is uneasy, and you just feel weak.

What a damper on the trip.

We kept our heads up and crossed our fingers that no one else in our travelling brood (in laws and our children) would get this majorly contagious asshole of a virus. A few days passed and we did the tourist thing, and everything seemed on the upswing.

Thursday rolled around, and we were feeling almost 100%. We had a great day, sitting by the pool in 22 degree weather and sipping on cocktails. The kids laughed and squealed in the water, and my husband and father in law and I chatted excitedly about the hockey game that we would be attending that night. I was beyond excited to be going out solo with my hubby -  no kids, while enjoying dinner, drinks and Canucks - how lucky was I?!

As we all returned to the room to start getting decked out in our jerseys for the game, I noticed my older daughter looking rather pale and lethargic on the couch. I spoke softly to her, held her face in my hands, and felt her forehead.

She was burning.

I whipped out the thermometer to find that she was running a mid-grade temperature. My anxiety levels spiked as I remembered my puking adventures from the other night. My immediate instinct was to forfeit my ticket to the game and wrap my daughter in my arms to comfort her for the night.

It took a lot of convincing on behalf of my husband and my in-laws, but eventually, they coerced me to go to the game. They said that I needed a night out, and that my daughter would be fine.

I knew that they were right. I did need a night out. And of course she would be fine. She's in the trusted and gentle hands of my mother in law, whom she adores.

Nevertheless, I just didn't want to go. And it wasn't totally because my daughter was sick; it just was what it was: I didn't want to go. I had no interest in hockey anymore. It was gone.

It was a shocking revelation for someone like myself who could, at one time, recite all the players names and numbers, spout stats like a guy, and invested time and energy into the playoffs like a true fan. I'd plan my schedules at work around their games. Some of my best memories of my life are of my dad and I attending the games at the Coliseum, listening to cow bells and team chants from the stands. I cheered until I lost my voice at the televised screen in the Coliseum in the Stanley Cup Final game in '94.

My relationship with hockey was over.

If I do say so, it was a gentle breakup. We're still friends, hockey and I. I'll still tune into the games now and then. But I'd much rather be doing a Dora puzzle with my daughter than watching my husband turn blue in the face because the refereeing is "diabolical". LOL

I think my face says it all in this photo. We made it onto TV at the Phoenix Coyotes Game. Don't we look impressed?

Thankfully, neither of my kids caught that flu from us. However, the eldest's fever spiked to 103 on the plane ride home, which turned into a trip directly to the clinic and a round of meds for a chest infection. Sigh. Kids!! Little germ factories!!

Thanks for reading! xox Melly

The Child-Rearing Olympics

Hi all

In celebration of the upcoming Sochi 2014 Olympic Games, I thought that I would talk about a few "events" that I feel are missing from the games, and if they were included, I would be well-decorated with gold medals by now. And maybe a silver or bronze or two. I'm sure all of you moms out there would be well decorated too.

1. THE "BUTTON UP A SNAP ONESIE PROPERLY ANYTIME BETWEEN 1-5AM, IN THE DARK" EVENT

-difficulty: moderate, dependant on the mobility/fussiness/hunger of the infant the said onesie is being buttoned onto

Picture it: it's 3am and your kid just crapped their pants. The bad mommy in you wants to fall back asleep and leave him/her in a poopy diaper until morning comes at 5:30 am. But the ethical mommy overrides and you fumble in the dark trying to change their bum. Cue the moment when you attempt to do up those damn buttons on their onesie, which NEVER EVER seem to align properly and you end up with a gaping section in the leg upon which their foot gets tangled after it wiggles its way out of the hole. Bravo to whoever invented onesise with zippers, and note to self: I need to buy more onesies with zippers.

2. THE "I HAVE 2 CHILDREN AND I'M GETTING THEM READY SOLO FOR A BIRTHDAY PARTY AND I WILL ARRIVE TO SAID PARTY ON TIME" EVENT

-difficulty: moderate to severe, depending on the age of the children of which you are trying to usher out the door, hunger factors, interest in the party, etc.

In my opinion, this event goes from severe to extreme difficulty if you add a 3 year old to the equation. For instance, my 3 year old has decided the time has come for her to completely stop listening. I'm trying to get her shoes on and out the door before the little one, who is already in her car seat carrier, realizes we're not yet in the car, which in her opinion is unacceptable (why aren't we moving?? I will scream my head off in protest). Meanwhile, the 3 year old runs away from you and the shoes and hides in a nook of which you are too large to retrieve her (e.g.: under the bed) (damn you baby weight!). When you finally arrive at the party, ON TIME, make sure you and the children appear cute, cheerful and well-rested for a gold medal. Bonus points if the crepe paper in the birthday gift bag is brand new and not all crinkly.

3. THE "YOU'RE GOING TO EAT THAT VEGETABLE" STAND-OFF

-difficulty: crazy

This event is all about endurance and patience. Thank god my husband possesses both these traits, because I sure don't. I kind of picture this event as something out of TV's Survivor, in more ways than one. It's like my husband is the guy who is standing on a skinny piece of wood, suspended over the ocean, and he can barely get his footing. If he can stay standing on this piece of wood the longest, he wins immunity for that week. In the opinion of the child who has to eat the yucky vegetable, it's kind of like that Survivor challenge when you have to eat a gross giant maggot or a pig testicle; either way, it needs to be chewed, not swallowed whole, and you have to show the judge (my husband) an empty mouth once you've eaten it. Be prepared to commit to this event for the long haul, and remember that immunity only lasts a week.

4. THE "I'M GOING TO WRITE A BLOG POST WHILE TRYING TO PARENT A CHILD JUST COMING OFF THE STOMACH FLU AND ANOTHER TEETHING CHILD THAT REFUSES TO NAP"
Hold on, someone's at my door.....
Ah! It's my gold medals! I'll have to go now, as I need to find somewhere to display them ;)

UP NEXT: THE WINE DRINKING OLYMPICS. WE'RE ALL WINNERS IN THAT ONE!

xox

Life with Girls

I'm looking around my living room right now, and it's a sea of pink. Hair clips. Disney princesses. Dolls, doll houses, frilly stuff and lip gloss. Yes, that's right. I have a 2.5 year old who is obsessed with lip gloss.

It's strange and awesome.

I was the one who would never, EVER have girls. It wasn't a decision that I had made, either. It was decided by the universe, in my opinion. I grew up surrounded by boys. I preferred them as playmates as a kid. I much rather would race on the gravel field at school to see who could run fastest, than dress up my Barbies in the latest fashions.

I vividly remember being pregnant with my eldest daughter (we didn't find out the gender with either of our girls), standing at my husband's soccer game, discussing the pregnancy with the other wives of the team.

"It's a boy for sure" I said with self assured conviction. "I'm just not going to have girls. Could you imagine having a house full of girls when they're teenagers? When they're PMSing?!"

Well, it looks like that reality is in my future.

According to my hubby, I spewed out several profanities in delight and disbelief when I birthed my first daughter.

As for the second daughter, I was 100% convinced, once again, that there was a little penis growing in my uterus. We would be the perfect little family of 4. That was, until, we were en route to the hospital, and I was immersed in a furious active labour.....

"It's going to be a little dude!!! I just know it!" my hubs exclaimed excitedly as we raced down Fraser Highway.

I looked over at him and shook my head, as it was in that very moment that I knew, without a doubt, that this baby too would be a little lady.

6 hours later, I was proven right.

I mourned the loss of the idea of a son for several weeks after my second daughter was born. I fumbled through the days, feeling many emotions.....the only one being consistent was that of being overwhelmed. I felt guilty for feeling this, and I cried.

But all of a sudden, it lifted. It was around the time that someone told me some sound advice.

"Girls!!" they said. "Such a special bond with their moms! And sisters!! I wish that I had a sister. Shopping trips, spa dates and someone to yack on the phone to for hours."

It dawned on me that I called my mom several times a day, and saw her almost every day. I love my mom so much. And now, will I be lucky enough to have not one, but two little ladies that one day would hopefully become my best friends too

! I'm feeling so blessed....

Until that same person then said "WOW and now you have to save up for two weddings!!"

Crap!

I'm gazing at them both right now, hoping they have everything they hope and dream for in life. That they grow up to be strong, confident and happy.

And jeez....I hope that when they're teenagers, they still like me!! LOL

xoxo Melly

People Watching

It’s been a long time since I’ve written a post, partly because life is busy and time gets away from you so easily, and partly because baby #2 is on its way and I’ve been so incredibly tired that I haven’t had the creative energy!

But in this case, this idea for a post has been brewing for some time, and I haven’t put it to words because I'm having a tough time communicating it in a humorous manner....and without sounding like I'm being judgemental. All this revolves around "people watching", and the hilarity and clarity that ensues when you see other moms and dads out there stumbling over the rocky and wonderful terrain that we called parenting.

Like I said, these are purely observations….about parenting, demographics, and most importantly, preferences for different types of coffee. 

It came to me one day when I diverted away from my usual community center's "tot romp/open gym/stay and play". You see, I usually take my daughter to the community center that is closest to my house. It’s a great way to let the kids blow off some steam, romping around with the sporting equipment and socializing with other tots their age. It’s also a great place to meet other moms, chat, and compare parenting notes.

Did I mention that I love people watching?

The open gym is a great place to observe people and their behaviour. I’m the type of person that could sit on a park bench for hours, just watching the people go by. I like to try to imagine their stories, where they’ve come from, and what they’re doing. Disneyland is a great place for this….but I digress…..

I rotate between 2 rec centers in my area, because they seem to have the most kid-friendly programs and the timing of the open gym corresponds perfectly with my daughter’s schedule.

The first gym we’ll call the “I drink Tim Horton’s Double Double” gym. It’s a great gym. It’s never overly busy, the kids play well together, and like I mentioned before, it’s close to home. I’ve met a lot of moms there. There stories are all similar – they are usually working moms, on their day off, or on their way to an evening shift. Some are pregnant with their second child. They are 20 to 30 somethings, fresh faced but often tired, usually no makeup in sight, wearing sometimes Costco yoga pants, sometimes Lululemon. They are enjoying their Tim Hortons Double Double, letting their kids run free, but also interacting with them when needed. When the kids get hungry, they have a supply of fishie crackers, juice boxes, water or fresh fruit available. They laugh, they run with their children, they smile, they enjoy their day. They step in when their kid spazzes. Change their pants when a newly potty trained kid has an accident. They try to be real. This is the gym where I feel most at home. 

However, if the “I drink Tim Horton’s Double Double” gym isn’t available that day, I go to my second choice gym. 

We’ll call this the “I drink a grande Starbucks skinny no foam sugar free soy vanilla latte” gym.

This, too, is a great gym.

However, hence the name, perhaps a little more complex. 

It’s always super crowded. The ratio of mommies/daddys/nannies (all there in equal representation) to children is sporadic. You will see the yummy mommies, outfitted in their designer rain boots, name brand sweaters and diaper bags that cost more than my car, carefully watching over their one little offspring. Then you will see the daddies, who are just as decked out in designer duds, chasing after their children, who are equally as decked out in designer duds. Don't forget the nannies who have 3 children in tow and are efficiently, seamlessly managing. The playtime flows like a well-oiled machine. The mommies look more rested than I feel, and they are armed and ready for snack time with organic fruit snacks, kale chips, spinach smoothies and purified alkaline water.

These are my 2 choice gyms. I love the diversity. I love to observe the people, the parents, their interactions. I love to pine over the cute pair of teal designer rain boots and the unique ways that the mommies and daddies show love and discipline to their brood.

However, on one particular day, our usual "Tim Horton's Double Double" gym was cancelled for some reason. My daughter was intent on going to a gym of some sort and was vocal about her disappointment in it's cancellation. So, I pulled over to the side of the road, and googled to see if there was any other tot romps occurring that day in the area.

Lo and behold, I found one....right around the corner from my house! I was ecstatic! I would have a happy child, and an opportunity to try out a new community center right in my neighbourhood.

My first impression when I arrived was that the drop-in fee was more money. Hmmmm. That must mean that there are more activities, or perhaps some newer equipment?

As I walked into the gym, child in tow, I soon realized that I was quite wrong on both accounts.

It wasn't so much an open gym as it was a "makeshift daycare" with toys, books and some gymnastic toys strewn about. There was a craft table and a baby area with toys appropriate for those under the age of 1.

So far, it looked good.

Then I noticed that the majority of the parents were all sitting around a large table, sipping coffee from a vast array of mismatched mugs. Upon further investigation, I saw that the coffee was....gasp....FREE? from a large urn in a small kitchenette at the back of the gym? Wow! Free coffee! This was a bonus!

Thus....this gym gained the name "Free coffee from a large urn, to be drank in a 'world's best teacher/Dad/cat' mug".

The parents were friendly and very clearly well acquainted with each other, as they chatted around the table. It appeared they were so called "regulars" at this open gym. They all knew each other by name. I hung back, observing, debating whether to grab myself a free coffee (I had already indulged in my usual double double that morning in anticipation of hitting up the aptly named open gym).

Then, things started getting kind of strange.

There was an old man in there, chatting and interacting with all the kids. He took a keen interest in my little one, commenting on her hair and how cute her shirt was. Don't get me wrong, this guy didn't set off my "creepy" alarm, but I was (and still am) confused as to which child belonged to him, or if he was just there for the free coffee?

A few minutes later, my daughter, in true terrible 2 form, decided to whack another kid in the head when a toy was taken from her. It wasn't bad, there were no tears, and was over and forgotten before I could say boo, but this weird old man decided to take it upon himself to discipline my child....but he decided to YELL it across the gym instead of approaching her directly. Yes, I know, both weird scenarios....first of all, who the hell are you and please don't discipline my child!? And second, when you yell "HEY! NO HITTING! NO HITTING! NO HITTING" from 30 feet across a room, to a 2 year old who doesn't even know who you're talking to and has already moved her 2 second attention span to some other toy, yeah....it's not going to work, pal!

Then, my attention was turned to a rather loud, borderline hysterical scream/cry coming from the other side of the room. Some kid had bailed off of a Little Tykes playhouse. He wasn't injured, but likely startled. I scanned the room, either expecting weird childless old discipline man to remotely come to this child's rescue, or for the rightful parent to swoop in and kiss it all better.

Once again, things started getting strange.

The kid cried for a good 20 seconds. Stopped. Looked around. No one was coming to help him. So he cried a little louder, a little harder. Still nothing. WTH? Where is this kid's parent? I wanted to go help him, give him a hug. I was about to move over there when finally, I saw a young mom elbow the girl next to her at the coffee drinking table, and say "hey, isn't that so and so (your kid) crying over there?" And finally this mom realized that it was her offspring that was upset and perhaps slightly injured, and she came to his side to make things better.

But still.....how did this one not know it was her child that was crying? I don't know about you, but I would recognize my child crying from a mile away.

Moments later, one of the gym monitors approached me and said "You're new here....we have circle story time now. We all put the toys away and then we sit on the red carpet and have story time."

I looked over at the red carpet, just as some kid dumped his juice all over the red carpet. Another kid sneezed and wiped his hands on it.

Hmmmmm.

I'm not one to give up easily, so I started to put the toys away with all the other moms. ( was told that the ride on toys go into one storage room, and all other toys into the other. I dragged a cartoon themed tricycle behind me, only to feel a "tap tap" on my shoulder.

It was weird old "who's child belongs to this old man?' again.

"That doesn't go there." he pointed at the bike. "it goes over there."

Keep in mind that I'm 6 months pregnant here, and my hormones (not myself, but my hormones) get irritated very easily. And this man was seriously irritating my last one.

I graciously put the bike back into it's correct home, and nonchalantly scooped my child up and snuck out of there before anyone noticed. I was secretly fearful that if they saw me leave before storytime on the pee rug was over, that I would be forced to clean all the boogies off the plastic food that belonged to the 'never been cleaned' kitchen set that resided in the corner of the gym (which, BTW, my lovely daughter opted to lick the fake ice cream cone, which might have given me a minor heart attack).

I drove away that day, silently deciding that I definitely preferred my "Tim Horton's Double Double" gym to this ""Free coffee from a large urn, to be drank in a 'world's best teacher/Dad/Cat' mug". I wondered what I could learn from what I saw there, and how it compared to what I saw at other gyms on other occasions. 

I had nothing. And I still don't. 

I just thought it was a funny story, and I had to share.

My mom and I had a good hard laugh later about the weird old man that yelled at my kid later though.

I'm only observing, and not judging. But that doesn't mean that I can't have a laugh, right? And if I ever do go back to "Free coffee from a large urn, to be drank in a 'world's best teacher/Dad/cat' mug", and weird old man is there trying to parent my kid, my hormones might have to be my only alibi in court ;)

XOX Melly

Food for your Doomsday thoughts

Lately I have been feeling more emotional than usual. Blame it on the withering levels of vitamin D, the impending mayhem of another Christmas in retail, or even watching the sand in the hourglass slip away with far too much speed (see: my kid is growing up so fast that I feel like if I don't document every milestone, these memories are going to be lost forever). Either way, my response to my own emotions are, for some reason, to pull towards me and keep my family as close as possible these days.

I find myself calling my Dad every day. Just to talk, to check in, see how he is feeling. Same thing goes for my brother - I will just dial him up at work to "chat" and he politely tolerates my mindless banter, regardless of how busy he might be that day. And don't get me started on my poor mother....one moment, I'm searching MLS like a private eye for little abodes that she can purchase and make the relocation to my neck of the woods, and the next moment, I'm pleading with my husband for us to "splurge" and buy the old house that is for sale next door to where Mom currently resides. Make up your mind, will ya Melly??

For the reasons mentioned above though, the roller coaster of emotions are most likely to be blamed on the lack of vitamin D thing. Nevertheless, I can't help but to notice that it seems that A LOT of people around me are edgy these days. I see my fair share of strange people at work. People that behave in very strange manners (The Customer is Always Right is the title of my next satirical piece of fiction, dedicated to all those encounters over the years). These people flock to me to talk about strange things, almost like I have a giant neon sign above my head that says "If you are weird/angry/ornery/sick/sad/demented, please talk to me!!". Further, I see mother nature getting pissed right off and hurricaning all over Manhattan. I see the government trying to take away our rights to access holistic supplements and herbs (Bill C-51, don't even get me started). 4 Earthquakes of Vancouver Island in 2 days. The list goes on.....

But most of all, I see all these strange television documentaries about the Mayan Calendar and the impending doom associated with December 21, 2102.

You see, this one kind of 'concerns' me. Y2K could have passed me by without a second glance. The Rapture of May 21, 2011? Never heard of it until after it never happened. But December 21, 2012? I don't know what to think about it.

I actually asked to my beloved hubby the other day if he would be into making a survival kit with me. I'm not going to lie; he laughed at me. So I mentioned it to my Mom. She matter-of-factly asked me "well, what happens if you make a survival kit, and the earthquake makes something fall onto your kit and squishes it, rendering it useless??" (my mom didn't use the word render, BTW....I added that word myself). So, good times. I'm on my own in the event of an apocalypse. Well, screw you guys, you're still my family, and even if you don't think the world is coming to an end in December, I'm still going to make a survival kit and I will gladly share with you if it doesn't get squished.

Some theories about 12/21/2012?

-Earth's alignment with a black hole will obliterate our planet
-there is a polar magnetic shift happening, which will make the weather go crazy
-Earth will collide with another planet called "Nibru"
-New Age theory says that Earth and it's inhabitants are due to undergo a positive "physical or spiritual transformation" of sorts......

one source for these theories:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2012_phenomenon

Anyway, on December 21, as I'm hiding out in a bunker that I've dug in my back yard with a bottle of J Lohr and a Peppermint Aero bar, everyone else will be carrying on with their day to day life and not even thinking of the apocalypse.....

at least until you read this post.....muahahahahahaaaaaa

No, but seriously, I'm hoping that my affinity these days to hug and harass my family with love is just a sign of my maturity and understanding of the fragile nature of life. I need to absorb every last moment with everyone I love because it could all be gone tomorrow, apocalypse or no apocalypse.

Nevertheless, don't be mad if myself and Sheldon Cooper are the only ones that have a half decent survival kit. ;)

Thanks for reading!
Melly

Dirty Laundry: AKA Ice Cream for Breakfast

One of my girlfriends told me that she loves reading my blog, but that she would love it even more if I posted a "bad mommy" blurb. You know, one of those posts where we can all air out our dirty "parenting" laundry in regards to what kind of lazy, terrible things we do on those days when we don't feel like making the best decisions for our kiddlets.

For example, she told me that she gives her kid ice cream for breakfast on the days that she is too lazy to make him anything.

Sure, some of you will be shocked and judgemental about this. I'm sure there is the odd one of you whose child has never even tasted ice cream.....

But for the majority of us? Come on, this will be fun! Let's all share our terrible secrets! That way, we can have a laugh, and feel a little less guilty about this daunting job they call parenting!

OK....I'll start the confessional.....

1. My daughter has only slept in her crib about a dozen times in her life. She sleeps with us most nights. And she loves to turn around in her sleep so that she can kick me squarely in the jaw in the middle of the night. For those of you that know me well, I can survive quite well on no sleep. However, I do NOT react well when woken up/kicked/am used as a soother all night long. I turn into a demon, basically.

2. One day she was chewing on a shoe that she had been wearing outside. You know, had been walking around at the mall in, on the sidewalks, in the muddy park. I was in the middle of a brilliant paragraph of my book and I honestly let her continue to chew away until I finished the paragraph. Who knows how many germs ended up in her mouth

3. I don't brush her teeth properly because she spazzes out at me and let's face it: I just don't have the energy to do it for the full 2 minutes! If anyone actually does, please stand, so I can throw something at you!!

OK people! That's my top 3! There's many more, but I just can't bring myself to admit it right now!

So now I'm asking you for a favour! Comment on my post and air your dirty laundry! Share your secrets! And we can all see and feel that we're not alone, and have a laugh along the way!

XOXO Melly

Moving on

It's been awhile since my last post.

Lily is almost a year old now. She is chatting. She is crawling, pulling up and walking along furniture, showing a fierce diva-esque personality. She hits me in the face and laughs when I say no....

But she knocks my socks off every day. She is the joy, the essence of life.

My grandma passed away a few days ago. Before she left us I went to see her one last time. I brought Lily.

It was amazing to see the interaction between this 98 year old woman (who was virtually comatose the day before) and my beautiful daughter. As soon as we arrived, Grandma stirred and awoke. She locked eyes with Lily and they proceeded to have a silent, intimate conversation for a little more than a minute. Then, miraculously, Grandma reached out and "coochie coo'd" Lily under the arm. Dad and I sat there, amazed at what we were witnessing.

When we left, Grandma waved bye bye to Lily.

Dad told Grandma it was OK to go. She passed away that night. Rest in peace, Grandma. oxox

Perspective

As any parent of a toddler, I find that I am really maxed out for time. My daughter is at the age now where she is mobile and extremely curious, so she is into everything…..particularly all the cliché areas that your ever-knowing mother-in-law and other parent friends mentioned before: the Tupperware drawer, the cd cabinet, the clothing drawers, your makeup case….pretty much any drawer that they can get their chubby little digits on. She has learned to full-out run, and she speeds away from me like a criminal runs from the law, all the while giggling and shrieking at this fantastic new game. She flips her interest more quickly than my eyes can follow. She is just SO BUSY, and I can’t leave her alone for one second. This makes for accomplishing ANY task that I tackle virtually impossible to complete. Hence, I am maxed out for time.

In order to deal with this, I plan my day accordingly, designating time intervals for everything. For example, she naps from around 11am for an hour and a half, so I have to bust my booty during that window to do whatever it is I need to do that requires my full attention (see: surf pinterest and facebook).

No, but seriously…..I devote 15 minutes to put away her laundry (and nope, I don’t fold it….I don’t believe in folding, personally) and as I stuff her onesise and leggings into one drawer, she has pulled everything else out of another drawer. OK, so we start again….I put away everything that she just pulled out of the other drawer, whilst distracting her with a puzzle, to which she gives me this look “lady, I’ve already solved this puzzle ages ago….let’s look alive here, ok?” and she proceeds to pull everything out of another drawer. Yep, the 15 minutes that I devoted to laundry is now up, and I give in and toss all the laundry onto her bedroom floor and close the door to conceal the evidence. Later, when hubby gets home from work, he clucks his tongue at us when he notices the mess in her bedroom. “I see that our lovely daughter has pulled everything out of her drawers again, hey?” he asks. I roll my eyes in agreement, “yep, she sure did” and I snicker under my breath….if only he knew the truth!  

Anyways, I guess that I have pretty much just accepted the fact that my house will never be clean again, but it’s not without trying. For instance, I bought myself a rechargeable Swiffer vacuum from the store so to vacuum up the Hansel and Gretel trail that this kid of mine has left throughout my house. When I first pulled that shiny green Swiffer vacuum out of its box, I felt triumphant! Take that, cheerios!  I thought to myself. Well, it turns out that the vacuum needs to be fully charged before it works…..fully charged for 12 hours. And you can guess what happened once that Swiffer became charged. Yep. By then I had lost interest in the task….the 5 minute window that I allot myself to vacuum is over, people! Damn you, Swiffer! (I have since forgiven the Swiffer and we get along very well).

Sometimes I feel so stressed as I gaze around at the chaotic mess that has become my home. On a particularly bad day, when there’s nothing made for dinner, I’ve worked all day and I have a toddler immersed into the “witching hour”, I feel like unravelling. But sometimes, all you need is a little perspective, and it seems that this perspective comes with perfect timing. The perspective came in the form of two customers at my work this weekend. The first was a woman who seemed stumped as to what mascara to buy. I suggested a few options, upon which we started chatting and she revealed to me that perhaps the reason why her mascara kept clumping was because she had lost all her eyelashes to chemotherapy. She then told me that it was her son’s wedding that afternoon, and that she didn’t want to look washed out in the photos, and would I help her find some makeup?

Long story short, I put a bit of blush on her, a touch of a neutral shadow, and drew some eyebrows onto the area where her own brows had once resided. Then, when I was done, she  pulled me into her and gave me the biggest hug. She barely looked me in the eye, for fear that I would see her tears, as she whispered “thank you so much” and scurried away.

Well, that certainly made my day.

But that’s not it!

Today, I was feeling particularly sorry for myself, being stuck at work while my hubby and daughter were out playing in the Canada Day festivities. Then, along came a very patriotic looking woman, decked out in full red and white, with her adorable little granddaughter in tow. This little girl had painted her nails as Canada flags, and grandma was looking for some stick-on rhinestones to complete the look. I couldn’t help but notice that this little girl (who could have been no more than 4 years old) had very short, coarse hair. As I tried not to stare, it was as if grandma read my mind.

“She’s lost all her hair from cancer treatments. She’s healing from leukemia.”

I nodded knowingly, trying to disguise my pain with understanding.

They continued on their way, checking out polishes and perfume. I couldn’t help myself, as the tears were in danger of spilling over and could only be quelled by one piece of information.

I approached them.

“Will she be ok?” I heard the words tumble from my mouth as if I were asking a doctor about my own daughter’s fate.

“She’s tough.” Grandma said. “She swallows pills and everything. She just finished up her treatments. She lives in California, and she and her sisters are here on vacation. I have seven granddaughters, you know” she added proudly.

I know this post is shaping up to sound like a corny after-school special, but seriously, people. If this doesn’t put my complaints into perspective, then I don’t know what does?!

One thing I do know is this: I made a decision right then and there. I decided to TRY not to feel so stressed about the silly things in my life. They are truly trivial compared to what these two customers are dealing with. And I also vowed to hug my daughter a little more tightly that day. And every day from now on.

Guilt and worry, be gone!

Ah, mommy guilt. Feel free to leave at any time, will ya?

Ha ha.

Unfortunately, it comes with the territory of being a mom, and unless you can find a way to quell it, it will always be there, nagging in the back of your mind.

Come on, moms....you know what I'm talking about!

Before your baby is born, you have this idealistic expectation of what will happen as you raise your little angel. "My baby will never sleep in my bed. Nor will he/she watch tv, eat anything that is not homemade and/or organic. We will spend our days snuggling on the couch, reading educational books and listening to classical music."

Yeah, this was pretty much my idea before Lily was born. I was going to cultivate and raise this healthy, spiritually aware little being that would never know the likes of Sesame Street or Yo Gabba Gabba before the age of 2. She would slumber peacefully in her own bed for 12 hours straight and would be perfect.

WRONG! And I have to laugh, because this is where the guilt comes in! And this is why....

1. I plunk her in front of the TV every day for at least a bit... for my own sanity. I need to make myself something to eat.. .or just sit on the computer for 10 minutes so that I can have a moment to myself. But here comes the guilt: Is her language development getting hindered by watching this silly program? We could be reading an educational book right now, spending more quality time...

2. She sleeps in my bed. Every night. Everyone says "you really should put her in her crib. Just let her cry it out. Crying never hurt anyone" (you know, I really need to get a t-shirt for Lily that says 'my mom doesn't want your advice'). Anyways, so here I am, feeling immensely guilty that I am not teaching my daughter healthy sleep habits by letting her sleep in our bed. And further, she's mobile now, and there is a very large chance that one of these days she's going to bail out of bed onto her noggin on the hard floor.....

3. I give her tylenol. And I think... am I giving it to her more than I should? My mind wanders to my earth-mama friend who matter-of-factly states that none of her children have ever had tylenol... that when her kids have fevers, they get water and snuggles and that does the trick. WTH??? My mind wanders to last night, when at 4:30 am my daughter's 3 day fever stint had returned with a vengance, and her poor little body was burning up. So I stumble out to the kitchen and grab the tylenol, and attempt to rouse a sleeping child to administer it. Of course, she's pissed that I woke her up, and half the first dose trickles all over her chin and onto the pillow (yes, we sleep with pillows near baby. judge away people). So, I fill the plunger up with another dose and into the mouth it goes. And then for good measure, one more dose. Realistically here, I have no idea how much I have just given her, because she spat a lot of it out, and that silly tylenol dispenser sucks. And now my mind is wandering into the guilt territory again, thinking OMG am I damaging her liver by od'ing her on tylenol??? Did she get enough?? Will the fever go down???? and so on.....guilt guilt guilt. Worry worry worry...

4. I don't make her baby food. I got a baby bullet for a shower gift and I was so excited to put it to use. When the time came, I went to the organic market and stocked up on veggies and fruit to blend up to perfection.

I think I made one batch of sweet potatoes for her. The look on her face when I proudly served her the first spoonful was priceless. It was as if I had just served her doggy doo. She shuddered and spat it all out, and never touched another bite. Same thing with the bananas that I pureed. And the avocado. So now the baby bullet collects dust in the pantry and picky-eater Lily will tolerate "certain" organic jarred foods, but for the most part, survives off of breast milk and cereal puffs. Worry worry worry....guilt guilt guilt....is she getting enough protein? Vitamins?

I could continue for days here, but why beat myself up? Although I am giggling to myself as I write this, it is also re-hashing that guilt and worry again.

However, just by writing this, is is reminding me to catch myself before those emotions get the best of me. Because I guarantee that any mom out there that is reading this is either agreeing with me or relating to this post in some way or another. We're all in the same boat here, with our ideals about our children and how they will grow up and thrive. And we all come to the realization that those ideals don't always pan out. Nevertheless, I think that raising children is a series of small battles and even larger victories, and at the end of the day, if your child knows that they are loved, it's not the end of the world if you give them a non-organic handful of cheerios to snack on once in a while.

Just give them lots of love, people. And hugs. Give them enough courage to venture out into the world and explore, but just stand close enough behind them so that when they look back, you're there. And try to keep that guilt and worry to a minimum. After all, a good half-hour of "you" time while baby watches Elmo will probably make you a better mommy in the long run because it will give you a break!

And on a side note: The TV has been on the whole time I've been writing this. The Cat in the Hat. And I don't feel guilty one single bit, because my little lady just told me that a cow says "moo". She's only 11 months. I guess TV doesn't hinder language development after all :)

Thanks for reading!
Melly

Be kinder than necessary....

It wasn't long ago that myself and my extended family were out for dinner, and my beautiful niece, who is Autistic and has other special needs, was making quite a kafuffle.

You see, to the average bystander, she looks like an undisciplined child. She yells. She throws things. She cries. My sister-in-law (her mom) has the patience of a saint and is super-mom. We were trying to enjoy our dinner, avoiding the stares of others as my beautiful neice carried on.

Moments later, this old lady came up to our table and yelled at us to "keep our child quiet" or something to that degree.

Needless to say, I was furious. Normally I mind my own business...I am very socially aware. However, for some reason, this really struck a chord in me this time. How dare she?? She doesn't know us! Does she think that my niece is just a bratty kid that is undisciplined, or moreover, that her parents choose to ignore her behaviour and carry on like it's no big deal?

The answer is NO on all accounts. This woman was totally off side. She had no idea how difficult it is for my sister and brother in law to take my niece out to a restaurant, let alone any public place. Some people are very judgemental and for the most part, rude.

I jumped up from my seat to confront this lady. I was steaming angry. But my hubby gently grabbed my arm and stopped me. He told me that perhaps, just like my niece, this lady was suffering from a mental illness or special need as well. Maybe that was why she approached us in anger. Maybe she doesn't have the strong social filter that I have. He calmed me. He consoled me. And our dinner continued, in a very nice fashion, as we promptly ignored the old rude lady.

He reminded me that you never know what is happening in someone's head, or why they behave the way that they do. It also reminded me of a customer that I used to have at my workplace who would come in and scream, yell, and fuss at us from all angles. She would swear at us. She would call to us from across the room, and if we didn't answer right away, she would swear at us again. We hated this lady!! Her rudeness, her uncouth behaviour, was just that straw that was about to break the retail camels' back on many an occasion.....

But then I found out that she had a brain tumour and that was why she yelled and carried on the way she did.

The moral of this story, and my mantra for every day?

Be kinder than necessary, for everyone is going through something.

Cheers
Melly

Bargoons!

Good morning!

I have recently discovered the joys of on-line shopping....and it's good. In fact, it is so good, so fun, that it is getting bad :p My visa has been getting a little bit too much exercise these days, if you know what I mean!

However, there is much to be said for the great swap meets out there, as well as the kid's swap, buy and sell site on facebook. It is a community site that allows moms to post pics of their new and or gently used clothing, toys, baby gear etc. and sell it. Let me tell you, I have scored some deals on this site! I have so many cute outfits for my little peanut now, and they're all barely used. After all, these kidlets of ours grow so fast that they often only get to wear an outfit once before it's too small!

So.....this newfound passion of finding deals on-line makes me happy. It's reusing old clothes, which is good for the environment, which makes me happy :)

gotta go...the baby's whining. Have a good one!

Melly

Navigations

Good morning all

One of the reasons I decided to create this blog was not only to vent, but also to provide support to all those other mommies out there that have inevitably felt overwhelmed at one point or another.

I marvel now at all the books, websites, blogs etc that are dedicated to prenatal care and advice. The section at Chapters is huge! However, I find that the literature and support for post-partum care is much more limited, and albeit, a little trite and condescending. For example, you will read that childbirth is a beautiful and magical experience (which it is), but no where is it mentioned that you will need a good 2 week all-inclusive vacation in the Carribean afterwards, sans baby, to recover. You might read that your post-pregnancy hormone shift is a little drastic, but that you should bounce back within 2 weeks or so (and if not, contact your doctor). Once again, there is nothing that I have found that says that the plummet of your pregnancy happy hormones will leave you feeling like a weepy mess, looking at this crying newborn thinking "what have I done??"

Do I sound harsh? Well, if you've done it - given birth, I mean - then you are probably agreeing with me. I remember 2 days after giving birth, I recieved a message from a friend. She asked me "have you hit rock bottom yet?" I chuckled at that, thinking "I won't hit rock bottom. I'm made for this, I'll be fine"

Wrong!

Every first time mommy hits rock bottom. And if you don't, I think you're fibbing. Sorry to sound insensitive, but let's face it. You're exhausted, especially if the doctors made you push for 3 hours like they did me. Your hormones have been through the gauntlet. Your milk is coming in. And you are completely, utterly SHOCKED that you made this little snuffling, squeaking person that is attatched to your boob/bottle 24/7. I kept wondering when the real mommy was going to come and pick my daughter up and let me return to my previous life!

But then, all of a sudden, your baby starts smiling at you. Starts waving her arms, grabbing at things that dangle in front of his face. Cooing and showing characteristics that are familiar to you ("hey! That's my hubby's dimple in her cheek!"). And this makes it all worth it. They grow on you until it becomes a full-blown love affair quite unlike anything you have ever experienced.

So what I'm trying to say here is this: it DOES get better. And if you have encountered anything that I have written above here, then sigh with relief: YOU ARE NORMAL!

xo
Melly

EcoBabyBuys - one of my fave deal sites

Check out EcoBabyBuys at http://www.ecobabybuys.com/. Sign up for their daily email alerts and they will send you their daily deal on eco-friendly baby products!

Right now they have a giveaway for cloth diapers! http://www.ecobabybuys.com/blog/?p=303


Lily wears Comfy Rumps, a local company, and we love them.  https://store-aca76.mybigcommerce.com/

My Very First Blog Post!

Wow! I've always wanted to create a blog, but never found the time or energy to put it to fruition! Well, here I am, on maternity leave, with a 6 month old baby girl that now can sit up on her own and play on the floor for longer periods of time, and sleeps for longer naps during the day, which means one thing to me: that I finally have some spare time! Let me tell you, as tempting as it is to do the five millionth load of laundry while she occupies herself with a rattle, or catnap while she slumbers ("sleep when the baby sleeps!" say all the advice-givers), I would prefer to vent some creative energies and write this blog.

 I'm hoping that all of you that choose to follow my posts will find them amusing and refreshing, because I'm going to try to be candid, straight up and tell it from the heart. This journey called parenthood is a real mind-bender, and no matter how prepared you think you might be, it still blows your mind in amazing, scary, wonderful ways!

As with every day that passes in my daughter Lily's life, I am marveled by the miracle of it all. I am also finding myself scratching my head, rolling my eyes and sighing with relief (and not in that order) at what it takes to parent. Let me tell you .... everything I swore that I wouldn't do, every book that I read, every preperation that I made, all went out the window when she was born. And it's OK! There are no rules here, you just have to navigate this new journey with your instincts and learn from your mistakes along the way. I hope you all enjoy reading about my trials and tribulations as a new mom, and most importantly, have a few chuckles along the way. After all, if you can't laugh at yourself, then what?

Cheers
Melly