I'm a Good Mom

Ah, the week before New Year's. This is a time where I traditionally reflect on all the things I do wrong, and how I'm not going to do them wrong the next year. It's a time when I think of all the things I am NOT (not healthy, not good with money, not fit...) and how I am going to attempt to change all of those things starting January 1st. But this year I actually surprised myself. 
Being a mom is probably the largest part of my identity at this time of my life. And generally, since I have been thrust into that role, I have never felt like I excel at it. I always have felt that I am surviving; some days better than others, but surviving nonetheless. 

Good Moms definitely make sure to take Instagram Selfies. 

Despite all of the reassurances to the contrary from my husband, my family, my friends, my therapist, the internet, the piles of parenting books and my other parent friends, I still believed I wasn't doing a great job at being a mom. I was doing an adequate job; I was the world's okayest mom. 
But reflecting back on this year, I had the shocking realization that I don't really feel that way anymore. In fact, I think I'm doing a damn good job. Even if my kids watch too much Netflix, eat McDonald's, and are not fully potty trained. Even though I hate the park, I don't make cute little presents for preschool on holidays, and I often don't shower for more days in a row than is probably healthy. Even if sometimes I feel like I want to scream, and sometimes I do. Even if I need some precious alone time from my children, but then sneak into their rooms and risk waking them up just to get the goodnight kiss I missed. Now, when my children throw an epic tantrum in the middle of the grocery store and all eyes are looking at me and how I will deal with it, I know that no matter how it ends I AM A GOOD MOM. 
I am not perfect, but as someone once said to me: "if there was such a thing as a perfect mom, you would hate that person anyway". There is no need to be perfect, because what my kids need is me, crazy and all. All of those times I felt like I was barely surviving, and doing a horrible job at raising tiny humans, I was actually just being a great mom. Because that is what great moms do. 
I have told myself this countless times before this day, and never ever truly believed it. I would say it, and then think of all the things that I needed to fix about myself, to make me "a good mom". This doesn't mean that there isn't a bunch of things I can do better, because of course there is. But not doing them doesn't mean I am failing at all. That is a very freeing thought. 
So this new year, I will still start it off with wishing I was more healthy, more fit and better with money. But I will not be feeling horrible about the year I just gave to my children. I actually feel really proud of it, despite all the rough spots, because it means that I have been lucky enough to spend it with the people I love the most in all of the world, and I know that they (and I!) am better for it. 
So Happy New Year to all of the Great Moms reading this. I wish you another year of joy, tears, tantrums, messes and LOVE. 

Lazy Mom Fall Decorating Reveal

My front door area needs a lot of help. The door is just awful; full of marks and old stickers. I am desperate to replace the door with one with a window to let some light in because I have zero windows on the front of the house on my main floor. But replacing a door seems like a normal person DIY project, which means we are not capable AT ALL of doing it. So it will wait. 

So beautiful...

But it is a bit sad. I have a dead hanging basket hanging on the front and a generic black rubber mat that says "Welcome". That's it. I wanted to spruce my stoop (is it a stoop?) up for the fall season.  So here is the before photo:

See? It needs some help. There is a lot of space for really cute fall decor, and it has a lot of potential. So I did some decorating that fits into my busy lifestyle:

All Fall-ified

 Isn't it amazing? Here, I'll show you a side-by-side comparison just so you don't miss it. 

And here, my dear ones, is an example of setting small, achievable goals. You too can have a blog worthy front porch with minimal effort! Here is a handy tutorial: 

Step 1: Purchase pumpkin.

Step 2: Place pumpkin on step. 

Happy Fall Everyone! 

Hello...it's Me

Whoa. So normally I kind of hate the "sorry I haven't written" type posts, but considering the fact it's been about 2 years since my last post, I suppose there should be SOME sort of catchupiness happening here. 
So. It turns out blogging when you have 2 small boys is hard, yo. I mean, I had a lot of balls to juggle, and blogging seemed like the best one to drop. Because the other two were my boys (and that isn't a good thing, I am pretty sure we can all agree), or my ever-loving mind. I have managed to escape with that one somewhat intact, though it hasn't been without a struggle. 
Depression and anxiety are not great for my creative juices. I had opened my laptop many times and stared at the blank screen with my hands ready to type and literally nothing came to mind. It was almost like someone had deleted the writing program from my brain. I have not really written much of anything for 2 whole years, and that is pretty crappy. Because I do love to write, even if it is dumb little anecdotes. 
So, here we are. 2 years later. After therapy, and group therapy and medication and many, many, many tantrums (both from the kids and from me), and tears and laughter and joy and fun and sadness. We have made it through, and are at a point where I can put them in front of the TV to watch Penguins of Madagascar (I mean, how hilarious is Dave?!) and sneak upstairs to write this. Because the days of my children needing 140% of my time and attention are gone, and now they only need about 110%. So maybe I can use that -30% to concentrate on myself for about 20 minutes until someone needs something. I mean seriously, how many times a day can you hear the words "Mom, I'm STILL hungry!!"!?!  You are tiny little humans with stomachs the size of lemons*. I mean how much can you actually fit in there for crying out loud?? 
*please note, I have no idea what the actual size of a preschooler's stomach is. 

You know what? Parenting is hard. Being a person is also sometimes very hard. It's even harder to be a parent and also a person at the exact same time. I haven't got it mastered yet, but I am getting better at it. 
I'm sure it's been hard, in my absence, to not know what my thoughts were on (trying desperately to think of parenting issues that have happened in the last 2 years...) the Royal babies, celebrity baby names and *insert hot-button parenting issue here*, but I am sure you managed somehow. And thank you to all who wrote me a note to check in and see how I was doing, and to those who requested I start to write again. I am sure you will regret your decision soon enough. 
So here is where we are at now. Peanut (Finn) is turning 4 next week. New Baby (Q) is now 2.5 and Hubby and I are still basically the same, just with a few grey hairs. Also, Kitty is still alive and well (she is still not quite right in the head, but that is her normal, and we generally love her anyway). We moved into an awesome house last year where we finally feel completely at home. Despite my terrible past as a plant serial killer, I am trying my hand at growing some fruit and veggies in our gardens and not completely failing. So far my success rate is about 60%. The plants are being lulled into a sense of safety. I am still at home with my boys, which means I basically sit on my butt all day and watch Maury Povich (is that guy still on TV? Because Oprah isn't, right?) and eat bon-bons. 
So there we have it. When written down it sort of sounds like I haven't done much these last 2 years. Which is basically true, lets be honest. Sometimes just surviving is all the busy you can handle. 
Much love to you all. I've missed you, darlings.  xoxo

Why Leaving the House is The WORST

Ok. Upon reading the title of this post, you may assume it is because of my recent struggles with anxiety. But it's not. It's because of these 2 little angels: 

Sweet, right? Yep. They generally are. Until we have to leave the house. As if my sanity wasn't fragile enough, I also have to wage fullscale WAR in order to walk out the door. No matter how much strategy I employ, no matter how clever I think I am being in preparing hours in advance, I am always outwitted, outlasted and outplayed. I am the weakest link, there can ONLY BE ONE!!!! and it's not me. 
Let me explain.   Sometimes, we just have to leave the house. Maybe we have an appointment, maybe I'm crazy enough to think an outing would be nice, who knows. In any case, I have to be somewhere at some time. I try and start at least an hour before we have to leave, but this has proven to not be sufficient. I get them changed, which is like trying to wrangle an octopus into a ziplock bag, but twice. I eventually succeed, and then it is my turn to try and make myself presentable for the outside world. 
This is impossible. The oldest is running around and throwing toys and dumping puzzles and pushing his brother and chasing the cat and evil laughing while dumping a glass of milk on the carpet. The youngest is screaming and crying like I have abandoned him in the wilderness despite the fact that he is 2 feet away from me. If I have to go to the closet to get a sweater, he crawls after me with his head up screaming and wailing at the ceiling. The 10 minutes it takes me to get dressed and run a comb through my hair is the loudest and most chaotic 10 minutes that has ever existed in space and time. It never fails either. I can have a ton of well-timed activities planned, I can even resort to putting Thomas the Tank Engine on...it doesn't matter. None of this holds any power compared to the innate instinct to make mommy lose her ever-loving mind. 
This is usually the point where I start to really lose my composure. I shut down into a resigned zombie with no feelings on auto-pilot. I think it's a coping mechanism. "No Finn, don't hit your brother, Q, you are ok sweetheart, Mommy still loves you even though I am not physically touching you" while I smear eyeliner on and pull my greasy hair into a "messy bun" (understatement of the year). 
After this, the hunt for the boots/coats/hats/no-not-the-green-ones-the-blue-ones-mommy-mittens begins. This is where my adrenaline starts to kick in and I wake up out of the zombie-state and start to get into a state of panic. I have usually noticed that if we don't leave the house in exactly 5 minutes, we will once again be late. But of course this one boot cannot be found. How can it not be there?! It's always in the box with all of the stuff. Could it be in the closet? I have checked absolutely everywhere, including the places that is doesn't even make sense to look. Maybe it's behind the toilet in the bathroom?! Any attempt at recruiting help from the toddler is just enlisting him to run around yelling "where's my boot mom?"about 30 times. Eventually, with one minute until we have to leave I unearth the missing boot from underneath the couch in the basement (I have no blooming idea how it could have gotten there) and get it on. 
I put Q in his bucket seat and begin to buckle him in. Maybe I'm actually going to make it this time!! I can't even believe my luck...my hair is in disarray and I have non-matching socks on, but we may have actually done it. Just as I clip the last buckle, I hear the tell-tale rumble and know that it is not to be. Somehow the diaper which is designed for the specific purpose of not allowing everything to explode everywhere has failed, and it requires an entire change of wardrobe for the babe. Any chance we had at being semi-punctual is out the door (unlike us). 
Once we get that settled, we all head into the car, and I strap the toddler in, while he tries to escape so he can drive Francesco Bernoulli. Why my toddler thinks our tiny little Honda Fit is a Formula One Racecar from Cars 2, I have no idea. 
I finally sit in the car and heave a sigh of exhaustion. We haven't even pulled out of the garage and I am ready to go home. 
And this happens every.single.time. 
So THAT, my friends, is why leaving the house is the WORST (and also why I will be late every time we arrange to get together...sorry). 
#momlife

I'm Struggling

I'm not sure where I want to go with this post, I only know that I am just going to sort of vomit it out through my fingers on the keyboard. It's probably not going to be pretty, or all that funny. What I do hope is that it is honest, and not too self-indulgent. So bear with me.  I am struggling a lot lately. As you have probably noticed, I haven't been writing much. This is because, for the most part, I am a lazy blogger. I am attempting to juggle quite a few balls, and it turns out I'm not the best at juggling. Blogging is the ball that seems to drop first.  It's not that I am having a lot of difficulties. I'm just struggling with the every day life that all of us lead. I have 2 boys taking up most of my energy, and so I sort of feel like my energy reserves have been depleted, and I just don't have the motivation or the desire to expend it on anything else. My house is usually a disaster, and I feel like I am not even doing that wonderful a job at parenting. Peanut is so independent that a lot of the time I am checking Facebook or making dinner or a myriad of other things that make me feel a bit like an absent parent. I am there but not THERE, you know?  This is not meant to be a pity post about how I am not the Pinterest mom with the organized house, adorable outfits and perfect kiddos. We all know that is all just for show and people don't actually live like that...or if they do then they must be some sort of superhuman and/or bionic robot. I just mean to say that I am pretty sure that I am not doing my best. I think I am doing a decent job, but I know I could be doing better.  So I am struggling to parent in the present moment.  I am also struggling with my self-image. I treat my body pretty badly. I eat terribly, and very rarely am active at all. Then I feel pretty horrible when I still look pregnant with my mommy pooch. Logically I know that none of my self-worth is tied up in my appearance, and that I am most likely my harshest critic. The feminist in me rebels against wanting to look cute in this season's fashions and putting so much emphasis on my physical appearance...but this isn't logical at all. It's a purely emotional and irrational desire, and I'm struggling. I'm struggling to get the motivation to go to a yoga class. A class I know will make me feel 10000 times better, but then I would have to get dressed, and organized and head out. It's easier, so much easier, to stay home in my yoga pants and lounge on the couch eating DinoSours (not that I'm doing that RIGHT NOW or anything...noooooo....).  So I am struggling to accept my body as it is.  I'm struggling to keep my anxiety at bay. I haven't really shared much, but I struggle a bit with anxiety and depression in my life. I am on top of it for the most part, but some days are harder than others. I have yet to leave the house with both kids to go to the grocery store. It's been 5 months. I get my husband to get the groceries or go later when he's home. I am positive that if I go both kids will have a huge meltdown and all those shoppers will turn and look at me, and give me the evil eye and judge me to be a horrible mom. A horrible mom with annoying kids who just won't shut up. In my head I know this is not likely, and if it is, then screw 'em. But it's not a logical thing, anxiety. It's a crazy thing. A hard-to-control thing that sometimes gets the best of you.  So I am struggling to stop worrying about the past and the future and just live in the moment.  I am struggling with finances. Money is tight. I also realize this is not something many people talk about, and that I am probably breaking a million and one societal rules of etiquette by saying it. But it's true, and it's on my mind, and this post is about me writing what I am thinking without editing myself. So there it is: money is tight. It's a constant struggle, and I hate that so much of our happiness and stress levels rely on our bank account. I know that money doesn't buy happiness, but goodness is it ever hard to be happy without it. I would love to have many awesome things and go many awesome places like so many others, but we can't. I am not bitter about that, as it's our choice. I know how lucky we are to have what we do, and to have the lifestyle we have. But I just wish we were better at managing our finances so that it wasn't an issue. Because that is what it boils down to: we aren't good with money management at the moment. I am hoping we change this soon.  So I am struggling to be more financially responsible.  And I am struggling with this blog. Inspiration is hard to find lately, I won't lie. And even when I do have an idea, I usually choose watching TV over putting the work in here.  So there it is. Reading back over this post, I realize that most of my struggles are emerging from not living in the now. I don't expect to solve all of this. Parenting, marriage, life itself...it's hard work. And sometimes when you live in Internet-land so much you get bombarded with posts and pictures and you start to think "Am I the only one who sucks at all this?". You aren't. And maybe you don't think that, but I do every now and then. So this post is what came from all of those thoughts bouncing around in my head. It doesn't really have much of a point I guess, but I felt like maybe being honest with the random void of the internet would maybe help in some way.  So there you go, Random Internet Vortex. I give to you: my thoughts. Do with it what you will. 

On Being a Super-Mom...or Not.

Being a mom to 2 boys under 2 has been interesting to say the least. It's a crash-course in multi-tasking. If I wasn't a good multi-tasker before, then I have to be one now as my sanity relies on it. But I think I have developed a pretty successful strategy. 
Let's work through an example.   Situation: Toddler is crying because he is hungry. Baby is crying because he is hungry. House is a mess. Dinner needs to be made because adults will be hungry. Kitty is running around like a maniac. Mom is losing her sanity. 
Step One: Assess the situation You need to prioritize which screaming/crying/tantrum is most urgent, and then attend to that kiddo first.  In this situation, I can hope that Toddler is probably open to some sort of reason. I first try and appease him by giving him the apple he is asking for. If I am lucky, that is the end. I'm never lucky. 
Step Two: Damage Control Most of the time the simple solution of giving my toddler what he wants just results in me not actually grasping what he really wants. For example, he asks for an apple. I assume this means he would like an apple. I am a fool. What he really wants is an apple, but only after being offered 3 other things, and then he wants it cut in a certain way, in his blue bowl and sitting in a certain section of the kitchen. While I try and discover what the magic routine is this time, I let him have his little meltdown and attend to screaming Baby. 
Step 3: Neutralize one of the threats to sanity I feed Baby. This is an easy fix, and I am pretty much guaranteed he will be super happy afterwards for at least 10 whole minutes. 
Step 4: Return to the original problem and re-attempt damage control By this time I can usually hug the toddler and help him calm down. We can then reattempt the apple-giving and he will usually concede at least 1 of the requests (perhaps this time I can use the plate instead of the blue bowl) and be content.
Step 5: Accept the things you cannot change I know I cannot make Kitty sane. I also know I cannot keep my house clean. It's best to just abandon all hope that these things will ever be accomplished. 
Step 6: Attempt the task you need to get done Yesterday I actually was bouncing a bouncy-chair with my foot while baking muffins and keeping an eye on my toddler. This actually happened. For a second I felt like a pro. I mean, look how amazingly I am multitasking! 3 things at once! And muffins to boot...that's like Martha Stewart stuff right there. Then I remembered I hadn't showered in 2 days and my house looked like a bomb containing toys, food crumbs and random kitchen utensils had exploded. See step 5, and then make dinner.
Step 7: Once the kids are in bed, attend to your sanity Pour yourself a huge glass of wine, or cup of coffee or hot chocolate. Pat yourself on the back and say "Congratulations Mommy. You made it through another day."

Oh man, are they worth it! xo

Adjusting to the New Normal

Well, I have had 6 weeks now of being a mom to 2 boys under 2 years old. And no one has gone crazy. For the most part. 
Things were a bit harder with Peanut than I anticipated they would be. I didn't think jealousy would be much of an issue at 19 months, because he didn't really seem to "get it". Boy, was I wrong. But despite occasional bouts of "Baby...all done!" and getting upset when someone he wants to play with is holding the baby, Peanut has now become a tolerant big brother. He brings the baby his soother or blanket and he often tries to share his toys with him. It really helped to have Peanut "help" with the baby and really went a long way in easing that jealousy. 

The lack of sleep has not been that bad. This was one of the pluses of having the boys so close together; we are already used to the sleep deprivation. We had been spoiled for the last few months as Peanut sleeps through the night and well into the morning (he's not much of a morning person...takes after me). But for the most part the baby has been pretty decent at going back to sleep after nursing through the night. Let's hope I don't jinx it! 
The thing that has really suffered is cleanliness. In many ways. The house is pretty much a disaster. It seems like I can accomplish one task a day, but what's the point in having a clean floor amidst a disaster area?! It's hard to notice! And showers? Yeahhhhh....rrrriiiiiiighhhhht. Let me enlighten you with a scene from a recent (typical!) day. 
Here's the scene: 
Hubby enters from a long day at work. Zoom in on a disaster: toys strewn everywhere, an explosion of crumbs and remnants of a toddler's uneaten lunch littering the floor (and perhaps even the walls). The toddler in question is wearing one sock and pyjama bottoms. His top does not match (the evidence of a third dumping of milk all.over.everything). He is either crying/angry/screeching in delight/terrorizing the cat...basically anything but sitting quietly reading a book. The baby is in the midst of getting changed, having pooped all.over.everything. The husband looks at his wife. 
Hubby: (cautiously) Hi hon. How was your day? Me: OK I guess. Yours?  Hubby: OK. 
The husband begins to get his hopes up. He can smell that there is obviously something being made for dinner. That's something! 
Hubby: What's for dinner? Me: Freezer mystery.  Hubby: ...
Me: We are short on supplies and I haven't had time to make anything. So I went to the freezer and found a tupperware container of something. I am not sure what it is. Is it spaghetti sauce? Chili? Stew? The only thing I can say for sure is that it has been there a long time, and it's freezer-burnt. It's thawing now, and we'll know more in a few minutes.  Hubby: ... ... ... I love you. 
Me: Listen. I know that this looks bad. Like I didn't do anything all day. Like I probably just sat around letting Peanut wreak havoc on the house while I napped. But I actually did a ton today! (Proudly) I SHOWERED! 
(I proudly smile and wait for him to acknowledge that this is, indeed, a tremendous feat. That he knows that in order for me to accomplish this task, I had to orchestrate a grand series of events all culminating in the miraculous and elusive Tandem Nap. I then had to manage to get into the shower without the baby's radar detecting that personal hygeine was about to be performed, thereby resulting in an epic screaming session the moment my foot hits the water. This is epic!)
Hubby: ... ... ... I love you. 
Me: Oh look honey! Freezer Mystery has thawed enough that I can conclusively deduce that it is, in fact, chili. So we're having chili for dinner. 
End scene. 
Yes...this is the new normal. And we seem to be making our way through it just fine (for the most part). 
As an aside, I just want to thank the amazing women who have been dropping off meals for me and saving my husband from having to endure too many Freezer Mystery nights. You are angels, and have made my life so much easier. THANK YOU! 

Am I Able to Do It All Again?!

We are just playing the waiting game now for New Baby. I am 37 weeks today, which means FULL TERM. ACK!

FULL TERM. OMG. 

So as I get up every day and think "will today be the day?", I am thinking more and more about what is going to happen after he arrives. It has been easy to get caught up in the whole delivery and how that is going to go, and so far that has been our focus. But I have started to think about what life is going to be like with a newborn again (and this time with a toddler as well!).  Mommy amnesia is a powerful thing. Without it, I doubt there would be as many kiddos running around! I have a hard time remembering precisely just how labour felt last time, and how the recovery was. I remember it being super painful, but beyond that I can't describe it. Similarly, in my head it feels like the newborn stage with Peanut was a breeze compared to the craziness of the toddler we are currently experiencing. In my mind I think back to the days when he was content to sit in his little bouncy chair, or be worn in the wrap. He stayed where you put him. He was happy with a couple little toys hanging in front of him, or his Sophie the giraffe to chew on. All in all, he just didn't do much. And in my head that feels like that's how it was.  But in reality, I know it was much tougher than that. If I really think about it, I remember him constantly being hungry. Which was exhausting, and for quite a few weeks was incredibly painful due to thrush. I remember every time he latched I basically yelled out in pain. I also can remember that he didn't really sleep for very long, and that those wake-ups every few hours were also exhausting, to say the least. So what I am saying is that in reality it was a lot tougher than I remember it being.  So am I going to be able to go through all of that again, and still be a good mom to Peanut? I think some things will be easier, as we have the benefit of experience. With Peanut I remember getting so frustrated and upset with nursing and feeling like I was never going to get it. But this time I have the benefit of knowledge and experience to tell me I can get through it, and to seek help if something is wrong. Hubby and I also have the benefit of knowing the drill when it comes to the whole baby thing. We won't get so upset or flustered if New Baby is crying as we know it's just part of newborn life, and we know how to effectively troubleshoot. We are confident parents now, whereas with Peanut we were scared and hesitant and had no clue what the heck we were doing. 

Dude. We are having a baby. 

I know that there are so many unknowns that seem like they will be impossible at the moment:  How will we love another child the way we love Peanut? How will we cope with a new baby?  How will we deal with going back to the no-sleep newborn haze? How will we be as parents to 2 instead of just 1?
And almost always the answer from experienced parents is: You just do.  You somehow have enough love for both.  You somehow make it through.  So I am banking on the "We just will". I know it's going to be tough, and there will probably be moments when I think "What the heck did we do?!" but that the awesome is going to far outweigh the scariness.  At least I am sure that it will be that way, right?!

My sweetness being a true Canadian: Hockey and a toque! 

Are You Upset It's Not A Girl??

Since announcing the gender of our little guy, I have to say one of the most common things I hear is "Are you upset he's not a girl?" 
I don't really know how to answer this question, to be honest. 
I mean, sure there is a part of me that wanted "one of each" or to have the experience of raising a girl, or even the superficial part that wants to buy cute little outfits and accessories. 
But honestly, it's pretty awesome to be having another boy! I mean, we have so many clothes from Peanut that we really don't have to spend too much money on buying new clothes, which is awesome. Plus, having 2 so close in age I think it's awesome that they are brothers. There is a bigger chance they will have the same interests, and that means that most likely (but not necessarily) we will get to avoid a lot of fights over whether or not we watch a princess movie. It means having a house full of my boys to take care of, to hang out with and to love. Well, Kitty is an exception, but honestly she doesn't really count...
I do understand that some people do experience disappointment. And what I really think they are experiencing is the loss of that possibility. Finding out you are expecting a little boy means that girl you've imagined in your head or in your dreams or in your prayers is not going to be at this moment. And that can be tough, I know. But while I may have felt a tinge of that this time, it was not really the big deal that most people assume it is for me. That may have been because I had a pretty strong feeling this new little one was going to be a boy so I had less of those dreams...I don't know for sure. 
I know that it would have been awesome to have a little girl. But I also know that it is equally awesome to be having another boy. Gender matters so little with children. What really matters is that they are mine. And that they are healthy and happy. And it's impossible to imagine wanting my family to be any different. 

And for those of you who missed our gender reveal on my Facebook page, here it is! 

The One Where I Have a Meltdown

Before I get into the less awesome stuff, I am having a good ol' gender reveal for New Baby© over on my Facebook Page. Head on over if you want to see! Part 1 is posted now. :) Check it out here: Up Mommy Creek on Facebook

Today was not a good day. It is one of those times when I know that there was no real reason for me having an emotional meltdown of epic proportions, but I still did it anyway. And there was a reason, but I think I should have been able to deal with it better, perhaps. 
Anyway, it was just one of those things. We had an appointment with the dietician for Peanut. He started to get upset at being in the room and being bored listening to this woman speak and the door was closed and he wasn't free to roam about and get into whatever little boy trouble he was wanting to. But it was sort of weird, since he started to thrash about and started head butting me. I say it's weird because he doesn't do this sort of thing normally. But we just so happened to be talking about the tantrums he throws while eating right at that moment. The same moment when he was doing all this flailing and head-butting and so it really looked like he was quite the problem child. And, while I admit he is sometimes very spirited and difficult to deal with, I wouldn't exactly say he has issues with behaviour. He is, after all, a 14 month old boy. It sorta comes with the territory. I was not blessed with a sweet and quiet child. 
So, we get out of there and (FOOLISHLY) think it will be a good idea to go grab some dinner instead of going home to cook. Last time we had this brilliant idea, we ended up asking for our food to go and having to leave. Why we thought this would end differently, I have no idea. Especially as Peanut was already giving us many cues that he was not in the mood. I guess we thought that food might solve the problem. It did not. 
As soon as we entered the restaurant (a family restaurant...not some fancy nice one. We aren't THAT crazy) he became a demon-child. I have never seen him act like this. He was the stereotypical "spoiled brat" that you see in movies. He was screaming and screeching. He was throwing things around. He was grabbing for things he has never grabbed for before and losing his mind when we said "no". It was like some one replaced my kiddo with someone else. Immediately I just felt so overwhelmed and frustrated. I felt like everyone was judging us and thinking what horrible parents we must be to have a child who acts so spoiled. Like it's common place that he would be allowed to drink Diet Pepsi, since he seems to be so intent on having it, and when he can't he loses his ever-loving mind and throws the biggest fit in the world. 
And I know that if this was happening to the other family that was there, I wouldn't have judged them or rolled my eyes or think they were bad parents. I would have probably thought "Oh honey, we've been there" and felt bad for them. And I didn't see or hear anyone making comments. For all I know they probably were thinking "Oh honey, I've been there." But, I just felt like at that moment it was all too much. I literally burst into tears at the table. It was too late to order the food to go, so instead Hubby and I sat and ate our chicken while tears rolled down my face. And trust me...I am NOT a pretty crier. There are some women who look all sad and have tears roll down prettily and you think "Awww! She's crying! :( " Not me. I get super red and puffy and I start gasping and sobbing and you think "Ewwwww! She's crying!" Hubby just sat there not sure what to do. His previous experience probably told him that doing anything was futile. Especially when dealing with a pregnant woman. So he just tried to keep Peanut occupied and relatively quiet. This involved Peanut throwing rice around the table with his spoon. It looked like a rice bomb exploded. 
So there we are: me, sobbing hideously while defiantly eating my chicken, Hubby nervously picking at his chicken while watching Peanut out of one eye and me out of the other to make sure we don't explode, and Peanut gleefully tossing rice at the neighbouring patrons while intermittently screaming in anger. Worst. Dinner. Ever. We barely even had the last bite in our mouth before we were asking for the bill and were out the door. 
I lost it in the parking lot. Sitting in my car and sobbing seemed like the only solution. I mean, what else could I do? I honestly felt like the absolute worst parent at that moment. I felt like there was nothing left in my parenting arsenal that I could whip out. I was not one of those moms who is fun and never disciplines and has the most well-behaved kids. I was the mom who gives her kid crappy snacks as bribery to get him to stop screaming instead of eating dinner. Who will let him do almost anything just so he won't throw a fit in public. And I just felt like this is so NOT ME, not HIM, not US, but that no one in there knew that. And so I had a meltdown.  
A few hours later I feel slightly better about the whole thing. I am no stranger to random meltdowns. Sometimes things just reach that point where you can't take it anymore, and it has to blow somehow. Well, it blew today. It blew a whole heck of a lot. 
So, on to a new day! Although, I don't think we will be eating out any time soon. I think we all need a bit of recovery from that one. Yikes. 

Not an hour later we are sitting on the floor folding laundry and Peanut is in the middle of it all, piling socks on his head. How can you not just want to squish him to bits?! I am one lucky mama, even when the going gets tough sometimes.  xoxo

On Becoming a Mom

Becoming a mother is a strange thing. I still don't truly feel that I "am" a mother. I feel I am in a constant state of becoming. Every day I learn new things; new ways to love, new ways to grow. My son is now 9 months old, and he has been around in the real world just as long as he has been around in my body. 
Becoming a mother is the most strange and glorious thing that has ever happened to me. 
It is so strange how much love you can feel for someone you have never met. Someone who doesn't even really exist independently of you at first. No idea if they are a boy or a girl, what they will look like, if they will be healthy, what their personality will be like. It is coupled with the anxiety and the fear of the unknown. It is a strange feeling to be so attached to something so tiny and miraculous, and something which is now so out of your control. 
Then the moment comes when your baby actually breathes. When he is there in front of you, and you embark on the next leg of your amazing journey. All of a sudden there is this new life that you are responsible for. He is small and precious and so incredibly breakable. He relies on you to survive, to give him love, to teach him how to live and learn and grow. It is an unbelievably huge amount of responsibility to lay upon someone. And yet, it is so utterly wonderful that there is no way I could trade it for the world. 
It is impossible to remember my world without him. This was something that crept up on me slowly. It was not like there was an instant switch when he was born. While I was pregnant, it was still so abstract to think of this new life that would be with us soon. After he was born it was so overwhelming. Learning all the things you need to learn in order to care for this new being is all-consuming. Or at least it was for me. I loved him like no other, but he was not entrenched within my life. Within my soul? Yes. Within my heart? Yes. But he was just so new, and the memories of my "old" life were so close. I can't say exactly when this changed. A week? A month? 6 months? But one day I just realized that there was no way I could imagine my life without my son. He is a part of me now; a part of my husband. 
Becoming a mother is a constant struggle. It is hard work. I still have those moments every day when I am amazed that I am actually a Mom. There are nights full of tears, moments of self-doubt, frustrations galore. There are days when I feel like it is impossible, and that things shouldn't be this hard. 
But there are also moments where I feel like my heart will burst with love and happiness. Moments where I look at him and think that there could not be a more perfect being in existence. There are times when my husband and I laugh so hard our tummies hurt at the crazy things he does. We have moments where we are practically exploding with pride and love. 
Becoming a mother is bittersweet. Watching him learn and grow and accomplish amazing things. Watching him discover the world around him and discover all the cool things our bodies can do. Cheering for him as he learns how to sit, how to crawl, how to clap, how to wave. And at the same time feeling the regret that he is growing so fast, and that these moments are passing us by and will never be experienced again. Packing away his little sleepers, his bassinet, his tiny shoes; these are moments that bring tears to your eyes. Tears of happiness and pride for the child he is becoming, and also tears of saying goodbye to the child he once was. 
Becoming a mother is my greatest accomplishment. It is something I long to do again sometime. It is something that I could never imagine not having done. Looking into the eyes of my son, I see what pure love looks like, feel what pure devotion feels like, and know the reason for my existence. 
Becoming. Evolving. Emerging. Growing. Transforming. 
As I watch him accomplish these feats, so do I become a mother.