My Cheerios pedi (no polish)...

"Cheerios pedicure*?" you ask. I swear by it, absolutely. Allow me to enlighten you...

My family should buy stock in General Mills. We consume approximately one 280g box every week. I should point out, however, that the mouth-to-floor ratio is about 5:10. NBD, because I have invented "The Cheerios pedicure"! The amount of Cheerios that fall to the ground are usually scattered throughout the kitchen (the boys like throwing them - and before you judge, yes, after three children, I have learned to pick my battles). I could sweep up the discards immediately, but if I wait even 5 minutes, I have an organically-"grown" foot sloughing mixture right at the tips of my toes! Gross? Maybe. But, if you think that's gross, my guess is that you don't have three young boys in your midst 24/7.
I basically clean up the kitchen/clear the table/empty the dishwasher as per usual, get the Dyson out and vacuum the mess, and head outside for one minute and run through the grass barefoot to clean my feet off. My feet feel divine afterwards...no kidding! Or maybe it's just me feeling better after infusing some silliness into my day. Either way - I feel great! Give it a shot - you won't be disappointed!


*Will not work if you have pets that eat floor scraps.

Vision boards, the universe, and believing in yourself...

So, I have this idea. Well, truth be told, I've had this idea for a while now, but only recently put the wheels into motion. Three weeks, to be exact. The exciting thing is, that I am going to be pitching the idea to some of the folks that can make it happen this coming weekend! More on that later, though*.

I've never been one to formulate a "vision board". I've heard they're great, and can help you keep your eye on the prize. I admire those of you with the focus to create these little masterpieces...I frankly, just don't have the time. I also think my husband would tease me to no end for hanging one of them in our home. Anyhow, every day, I've been thinking about my idea, and how I can bring it forward, how I can make it happen. I guess I would classify it as an internal vision board. I ordered the initial supplies I needed (for which I am still waiting), and formulated a plan for when they arrived. A few days after that, I happened to read of an upcoming event where I would have that opportunity to pitch my idea to a panel! I'm not expecting anything to come of this, however, the experience in itself will be invaluable! This is the first step of what I would love to do for the rest of my professional life...kind of huge, right? I am brimming with excitement at the possibilities! Unfortunately, I can't divulge too much at this stage, but I will be sure to keep you posted.

What I really want to say, without sounding too colloquial, is stay true to your dreams...stay focused, do what you can to make them happen; the universe will work with you if it's meant to be (even if it takes 3, 4, 5, or 50 tries!).

*Later = much, much later

I was paid forward!

I'd seen the movie, and during the Christmas season, I have paid for the person behind me in the Tim Horton's drive-thru. Today, however, I received the payment, and it was sublime! On its own merit, it was a beautiful thing, but considering I spent Tuesday evening and Wednesday morning in the hospital with BB2 (asthma attack), and was running on fumes, this was a marvellous thing!

Not that my faith in humanity needed restoration, but this was a reminder that the world is good. I fundamentally believe that the majority of the world's population are good citizens, but in this wild information age, it's the crazies and the idiots that seem to be front-page news. After all, who would bother to read a paper or tune into a news show that profiled good people doing good things? Everyone seems to be chasing their fifteen minutes of fame, but, consider this: who/what was the last person/thing that you learned of where all they'd done was something nice? I can only remember one. The elderly Nova Scotia couple (Allan & Violet Large) who won 11.3 million this past summer:

They took care of family first and then began delivering donations to the two pages worth of groups they had decided on, including the local fire department, churches, cemeteries, the Red Cross, the Salvation Army, hospitals in Truro and Halifax, where Violet underwent her cancer treatment, and organizations that fight cancer, Alzheimer's and diabetes. The list goes on and on. They retained about 2% for a rainy day for themselves.

So inspiring, rare, and unfortunately, forgettable. So, I propose this: in honour of the Larges, and of the woman who paid for my Starbucks order this afternoon, let's each do the same over this long weekend. If you happen to be at a coffee shop, pay for the person behind you, and if you come face to face with them, simply smile, and say, "Enjoy!" I know I certainly did!

Crazy Going Slowly Am I, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1...

It's inevitable. No matter your age, experience, gender, or normal disposition, when you have children, you will lose your sh*t from time to time. My most recent foray into crazy was yesterday. It was a beautiful, sunny day, so I can't even blame it on the rain (that was fallin', fallin'...). Breakfast was our usual Sunday "pincaaaaaaaakes!" (BB#2's verbiage), followed by church, and a baptismal celebration officiated by my mother-in-law. All good things. After the celebration, we headed on over to my in-laws' home and the two older boys were chasing eachother around, happy as can be. The it happened. BB#3 began crying. I fed him. Still crying, but now with real tears and a few shrieks for good measure. I try burpring him. No relief. I start crying, and the immediate release feels good. Then BB#3 starts crying harder (Reminding me that this was about him, not me), so I start crying harder, and before I know it, I'm choking out BD's name to come and help. He rushes upstairs, I pass off BB#3, and dash into the kitchen holding my head and sobbing. The release no longer feels good. I'm ashamed and feeling guilty for not being able to handle the situation.
Why is it that we, as women, as mothers, as parents, feel such an amount of guilt following an emotional breakdown/release? When I was growing up, I watched many cartoons (Disney and the like) where the female characters were always "saved" by the male. As a 'tween, my parents drilled it into my head ad nauseum that I get myself educated, get a good job, and take care of myself...never be dependant on anyone. I played by the rules and did just that. I got married, had kids, and life was/is grand. On a daily basis, however, I'm bombarded with images, magazine articles, and TV shows about how women CAN do it all. Motherhood, wife, homemaker, career-women...all with a smile on our faces, and a tight, toned body. Even my beloved Beyonce has bought into this idea with her song "Run the World (Girls)"...please observe: "Boy you know you love it how we're smart enough to make these millions/Strong enough to bear the children, then get back to business". Sure it's inspiring as as hell (I've got it on my marathon training playlist, and this song helps me kick it up a notch) but herein lies the problem: When we fall short of the mark of excellence (perceived or actual), it takes its toll...big-time. We women are also uber-competitive. We measure our strengths by the weakness of other women.
What's the solution? There isn't one, but maybe we can go easy on ourselves. Love ourselves, and accept the dark moments, knowing that it will eventually lead to something better. Help out a friend in need. Don't wait for her to ask. Just do it. Embrace your emotions.

Now, get your screen to YouTube and watch that Beyonce video and get your dance on, fool! XO

That's just the way it is, some things will never change...

It's interesting that it's been so long since my last post (almost one year), yet the topic remains the same. My stepfather is officially on death row. Not the traditional kind where society locks you up and decides that you will spend your remaining __ years in jail. No, this one is much more satisfying. This death row was orchestrated by God, by Karma, by whatever larger force that guides your moral compass (assuming you have one). He was not expected to survive past January 19, 2011 (kind of an arbitrary date), but here we are, February 1, 2011, and he's still alive.

Last night, I was watching one of my favourite shows, A&E's "Intervention." I think I'm drawn to the show because I want to understand more about addiction and treatment. I'm also interested to see how families are coping with an addict, and the coping mechanisms of victims of addiction. Having an alcohol addicted father and stepfather, I am thankful on a daily basis that (a) I did not choose a life partner who is also suffering from substance abuse, and that (b) I don't abuse any substances...especially with children of my own. I grapple with whether or not this is an actual genetic disorder/disease. I believe it's a choice. The medical community has built a business around the fact that it's not a choice, but rather predisposed. All I know is that as a kid, when I would see my stepfather down 3 vodka & OJ's before work every morning, it sure as hell looked like a choice to me. Back to "Intervention." Last night featured a woman named "Jenna". She was the third of three kids, and her mother married a man when she was 4, who ended up physically, mentally, and almost sexually abusing her, her sister and brother. The older sister coped by moving out when she was 15. The brother coped by immersing himself in his paintings and moving out at 15 as well, and Jenna began abusing pot, cocaine, and then moved on to opiates, and is now addicted to heroine. After 25 years of marriage, the mother divorced the stepfather because he was having an affair. The mother attended the intervention, and Jenna looked at her and said, "Thanks for taking the time to write the letter, but you have no right..." The mother was heartbroken. I agree with Jenna's stance, though. The mother has absolutely no say, no right, nothing. It infuriates me that, especially as a mother myself, that you would let a complete stranger into your house (ok, a bit dramatic, I know), and allow him/her to mistreat your children and to merely go along with it. Aren't these stupid cows aware that their children will one day grow up?? Not forgive them? Keep them at arm's length? Battle with knowing that their mother/father put their new spouse ahead of the well-being of their own flesh and blood?

As I said, my stepfather is dying. I do feel bad for my mother because I cannot imagine what it must feel like to be watching the man I love dying right before my eyes. I've told her exactly that, but said that he has done this to himself. She cried and said he's in pain and has to have surgery to drain his abdomen, but may bleed to death as a result of this surgery because his platelets are very low. I always reply with a cool, "That's unfortunate." In the late fall, my mother said that she thought things were all "fixed" between me and my stepfather because we hugged last summer and seemed like we were getting along. I told her that yes, we did hug, but that all of my anger had returned, and I couldn't believe that he had mistreated me so for so so long. She answered by saying that maybe I would find it in my heart, but hopefully it wouldn't be too late (i.e. he'd be dead) to forgive him. To that I say - to myself, "Give me an effing break."

Everyone that he mistreated in his life (his own children, my mother, friends, siblings) seemed to have forgiven him and are now rallying with him during these final few months. I have completely removed myself from the situation, and not offered any condolences or sympathies. I'm a good Catholic girl, though. Isn't one of the major tenets of catholicism to forgive? I really don't want to. I believe that once he's dead, a very painful part of my life will be over...for good. I get mad and confused when I observe everyone else putting him on a pedestal. Why are they doing this? Because he's dying?? If he wasn't dying, would they care? I have gone the other way where I care less because he is dying.

In closing, as his impending death comes closer and closer, my internal sense of freedom and relief grows exponentially. Me from the ages of 12 through to now are ready to exhale a giant, long-overdue sigh of relief, and any tears shed are for the self that survived despite the cesspool of shit that surrounded me for so long.

Protective Mom first, Dutiful Daughter second...

Although I've been a Mom for well over two years now, I feel like a hard-core Mom today. That primal 'protect your babies' instinct was in full effect, and I must say, it felt pretty damned good.
The situation was that my mother may or may not be coming to mind the boys for a period of time this spring while Baby Daddy and I go on a much-needed US ONLY trip. Two weeks ago, my Mum excitedly told me that my stepfather would be coming with her and that he could help cut some trees down on our property and help with the boys. As a side-note, my stepfather and I have had a very rocky past. I was a typical teenage girl, but he was both emotionally and physically abusive towards me from the ages of 12 through to 17 (when I moved out and took refuge with my then-best friend and her family). He was also a raging alcoholic and was raised in a house where physical abuse was the norm. I truly believe that what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, and along with that, I have never let my past define me. In my 20s, I confronted him and told him I'd forgiven him for his actions towards me, and I've been cordial with him since. Five years ago, there was another incident where I'd visited my Mum and slept at her home one evening, only to wake in the middle of the night to find my stepfather stroking my face and saying he was just enjoying watching me sleep. I then refused to ever sleep there again, and then realized that he had not changed at all. Since then, all of the alcohol has taken its toll on his body. Less than 1% of his liver is functional, his mid-section is completely distended and he is on a strict diet to ensure he doesn't die. He has told my Mum that he feels bad about how he treated me and wanted to be very involved in my life. Like I said, I've kept things cordial. I feel bad he's dying, but I also believe that karma can be one wicked bitch to those who are most deserving. Back to now. I have been anxiety-ridden and not sure how to tell my Mum that he's not welcome here while we are away and where he would have full, unsupervised access to my precious babies. So, I told her exactly that. I said that I was sorry if what I was about to say hurt her, but that my children come first above anything or anyone else, and that protecting them was my priority. I also told her one of my favourite Maya Angelou quotes, "Believe people when they show you who they are...the first time." I said that I did not trust that he'd changed and that I would cancel my trip should he decide to come. Mum said she "gets it" but doesn't agree because she has seen the change in him. I told her that I understood if she no longer wanted to come out, or if my feelings caused a rift between us, and that I was willing to risk that for the safety of my children. She truly did not understand why I felt this way. I tried to explain, but to no avail. Things are fine (I think) between us, but I know she's sad. Which, in turn, makes me sad.

One thing I know or sure is that if my teenage self and my 34-year-old self met, and I said that he was coming to watch the kids while I was gone, my teen self would kick my older-self's ass - big time. Seriously, though, I spent hours, days, weeks during my teenage years planning how I could escape from his house, vowing to never let him (or my Mum) have access to me as an adult or any of my children. I've read and re-read journal entries from that time period, and it is heart-breaking. To allow him that kind of access would ...well, I'm not even going to go there because I've made my wishes clear. I can hear my teen self right now cheering me on, and I am so proud!

My Year in words...

I can't believe 2009 is already over. Actually, I can't believe that the first decade of the millennium is over. It seems like just yesterday I was in my early 20s, single, fresh out of university, and wondering where I'd be in 10 years' time. The interesting thing is that I'm exactly where I thought I'd be. I have my incredibly sexy, amazing, kind, respectful husband, and my beautiful boys. I have the two best friends anyone could ask for, a nice home, a job, and a loving extended family. Despite any hardships that have happened over the past decade, life is pretty effing good!

The arrival of BB2 was by far THE moment of 2009 for us. I was so worried that I would be causing BB1's world to collapse...I mean, he was the center of our universe, the focus of all our love and attention...but as one of my best friends said, "You're not taking anything away from him. In fact, you're giving him the best gift ever; a best friend for life." So true. The two boys are completely aware and in awe of one another. One is always searching for the other, either in sight, or verbally. My hope remains that they are best friends. With BB2's arrival came a huge shift in our family. Just when I was into a secure routine with BB1, it all got shot to shit on August 23, 2009. Anyone out there with 2+ kids knows what I'm talking about. Just as one was falling asleep, the other would wake. I have two kids in diapers, and an endless dirty laundry hamper. Some days I have woken up and literally not known how to get the day started and would just sit with my babies and wonder how to get moving. Apparently my reactions have been quite normal. I can see that now that I'm on the other side of the 3-month hump. I have learned to embrace the chaos, and have learned the most valuable parenting lesson ever: First and foremost, kids need your love...always. Kids don't care if the dishwasher is empty. The fact that your bed is or isn't made every morning won't get them into an Ivy-League school. Their future happiness does not hinge on whether or not their Lego blocks are cleaned up and organized every night after they've gone to sleep.

Our NYE was, again, perfect. Lobster, steak, wine, peanut M&Ms, movies, and most importantly, each other. I thank my lucky stars that I am so blessed to be part of this incredible family unit. I could not have wished myself anything better.

Finally, my resolutions for 2010...pretty simple. I will work on being a better listener.

In closing, I wish you the best year that you've ever had.