Bread Crumbs In The Butter

One woman, two sides.

During our time away, one thing that struck me was how easily I went from "Over-Scheduled Mom", planner in one hand, cell phone in the other, to "Relaxed-Easy Going Laid Back Girl".   Laid Back Girl was more concerned with where her next Dirty Monkey was coming from than which kid had to be at which field or what customer email to answer first.

I spent the week in a relaxed haze, enjoying each day - which seemed to by at a perfect lingering pace.  I'm usually sort of high-strung and I can be a bit shrill when I don't get my way, but I don't think that happened once all week.  Well, with the exception of the night we all settled down to play Asshole.  We were playing out of turn and that's a key element to the game!  Some rules just have to be followed people!

Unless I was specifically asked, I don't think I spent too much time talking about the kids.  Adult conversation abounded and I was depserate to take part.  At some points I wondered if I had lost the ability to discuss topics other than team sports, standardized testing or lawn and garden ornaments.  I think I did okay.

Does this mean that despite my frazzled exterior I'm actually quite well-adjusted?  If it does, what will I write about now?

Or maybe it was just a sign that I need to remove myself and relax more often?  Recharge and grow somewhere other than here.

Yeah, I'll take that over losing my crazy.  Crazy is more fine while you're knee-deep in it.

Detox and Decompress

Five things I did on vacation:

1. Read two whole novels.  Almost an entire one was read in one sitting.
2. Burnt my bum! (Turns out my bathing suit was not UV-proof).
3. Wore a bikini and was fine with it.
4. Got drunk and passed out between the wedding dinner and reception.
5. Ordered cervezas at 9am and thought it was perfectly natural.

Five things I came home to:

1. A six-year old, newly ear-pierced Meghan! (She turned 6 on May 25, while we were away.)
2. A squeaky clean house and no laundry. My Mom and StepMom rawk so hard I could hump them both before dinner and then serve them dessert.
3. Four children who missed me, but say they had an awesome time with all their grandparents.
4. Clean sheets on my bed and a note from my Dad on my pillow saying he would do it again in a heartbeat.
5. A camera filled with over 400 photos. The highlights are on flickr and Facebook now.

Wasting Away

Legs (and other parts) waxed?  Check.

Hair highlighted and summery?  Check.

Nails done (making it really hard to type!)? Check.

iPod full of lazy music and hilarious throwbacks? Check.

One suitcase packed? 

One suitcase packed?

Wait, wait, wait.  Hold the phone here.  One suitcase?

Yeah.  Sure.  For my shoes.

Getting my two suitcases down to one is going to be hard.   I fear not though! John's suitcase promises to leave me a lot of room for my extra flip flops, bathing suits and toiletries.   He's only planning on bringing two pairs of short, two t-shirts, a bathing suit and some deodorant.  And really, since he's travelling with me, I don't care if he's funky.  That leaves room for a whole extra pair of shoes!

We leave at the buttcrack of dawn on Sunday morning and should be in the sunny Dominican by afternoon. Tomorrow is going to be jampacked with birthday parties, so I don't think I'll get a chance to say goodbye.  I'll be thinking of all of you as John and I sip anything with an alcohol content and laze around like brocolli.

Only, I'm having a wee bit of a hard time with the idea of leaving the kids.  If you wanna read about it, go here.

... cause I'm a star!

Today I drove deep into the depths of downtown Ottawa to meet Andrea and the lovely team of producers and hosts (Micheal and Hallie) of CBC Morning.  I was excited and nervous and I'll even admit to practicing a bit on the drive in.  If you saw a crazy, sunburnt lady talking to herself in a blue Suburban, that was me.

I was totally in awe of the CBC studios.  It was noisy and busy and pretty excited. I felt a bit out of place and horribly dowdy next to the hip and stylish Andrea, but I calmed down once we arrived in the taping room.

Before I knew what was happening, we were on!  I think it's good that I didn't have much time to think about what I was saying.  The words just flew out and we both did pretty good.  I didn't say anything stupid and I think I got some good points in. 

Funny though, I spent so much time nodding at Andrea that I forgot it was a discussion.  I got over it though and soon I was jumping right in and throwing out my opinion.

I'm not going to give anything away.  You'll just have to listen to see for yourself.  The segment airs Monday, May 21 at 7:15am - you can listen online or at 91.5 FM in Ottawa (and I've heard rumours of an MP3 version since I'll be sipping Dominican beer when the show airs!)

Icky Sticky Tanning Salad

Today was Kristyn and Erin's school track and field meet (which they just rocked, my kids can run and jump my friends!).

As you can see, we could not have asked for a better day.  The temperature was ideal, the sky was clear and the sun was shining.

Did you read that? 

The sun was shining.

I'm not normally all that concerned with sunblock.  Sure, we use it when we're on the beach and barely clothes.  But for your average day at the park with hats on and lots of shade?  Not really.

Today though, the UV Index seemed to be high and there was little shade, so I walked around reminding not only my children, but many other children to lather up.  I hounded and barked and begged them to reapply.  It was the kind of day where you would burn before you knew it because it was windy and a bit cool.   I was a good parent and chaperone.

Only, someone forgot to remind me. I burnt my forehead, my chest and my arms.  I look, to be frank, like a complete tool.  It appears, when I'm naked, that I'm wearing a start while t-shirt. 

We leave for the Dominican in six days and when I wear a bathing suit, it appears as though I've forgotten to remove a key piece of clothing.  I give several new meanings to the term "Farmer's Tan".  We can call it "Idiot Tan".

A friend told me to try aloe, so I did that.  I was all sticky.  Another friend told me to rinse in cold water as soon as I could.  It hurt.  One more friend told me that apple cider vinegar neutralizes the burn, so I tried that a few minutes ago.

I'm now stick and in pain and I smell like a salad.  I'm going to bed with a cold beer to numb my wounds.

A Good Mother

I have a confession to make...

I'm a good mother.

It's not as funny to read about, or as juicy, but it's honest.   I have a great home, a great marriage and great kids.   I don't remind myself often enough, but my kids are great kids because I'm a great mother.

There are days where I cry for no reason.  Days where I wonder how I can handle all of this responsiblity for even one more hour.  In the midst of that chaos it never fails that one of my children will come and pat me on the back and offer to help.  Just when I think I can't take anymore, I get to see where all of my hard work goes.   There is no job in the world with more at stake, but there's also no other job in the world where you get to witness the amazing result day to day or even hour to hour.

When I get into bed at night and Buzz Lightyear stabs me in the back or I find a squished up granola bar in the bottom of my purse, I roll my eyes and laugh.  Secretly though, I'm smiling because it's a reminder of this life that I pretend to shrug off as impossible turmoil, but really do adore so much.  Some days are so tough that I sing in my head "You could have been a lawyer or a doctor, but you're here wiping the butt of a child wearing Spiderman underpants", but I just can't imagine myself going any other way.

If Moms complain about how hard they have it or how tough it is, they're made out to be martyrs begging for sympathy.   Really though, can you think of anything in life more self-sacrificing?  I think we're entitled to the occasional wallow or meltdown.  We do it because we love it, even if we don't always like it.

I'm a good mother because I put everything I have into it and I know I'm not alone.  I'm a good mother because I let my kids read a story fifty times before they get bored.  I'm a good mother because I trip into the kitchen at 3am to get kitchen water for a child who hates it from the bathroom tap.  I'm a good mother because I spend time away from them, working on myself, my body and my relationships with friends.  I'm a good mother because I expect a lot from my children and they rarely let me down - and I let them know that.  I'm not crafty or extremely creative, they can actually teach me a thing or two, but I'm freaking silly and I make my kids laugh.  I tease them and compete with them and show them that I can be pretty dorky a lot of the time.  I sing to the car radio and they tell me I'm breaking their ears and they love it.

I like to sit here and tell you that I don't know how I got here. That I had different plans for myself that went slightly awry, but that's not really true.  I was meant to be here and I was meant to be good at it.  I'm not always going to be here, stuck in the trenches of childhood.  My future holds a lot of promise and I'm really looking forward to it.  In the meantime, this is my job and I'm having a huge amount of fun ... most days. Okay, most hours.

On Mother's Day it's hard not to be cliche or say things that haven't been said repeatedly, but I just wanted to make that point.  I'm a good mother.

And so are you.

Let's get ready to rumble!

A few months ago (like seven of them), I got an email from a CBC Radio producer.  It was very lovely and complimentary.  He said a lot of nice things about my blog and asked if I'd be willing to, at some point, help him out with parenting-type media. 

I'm a blogger.  What do you think my answer was?

"No. I'm sorry, I'm not interested in any kind of attention focused on myself."? 

Um, no.

My answer was  "Hell yes!".

And then I didn't hear from him again.

Until yesterday that is.

I (finally!) received an email, asking me if I would be willing to help him out with a holiday weekend "Road Trip!" themed show.  As you know,  Victoria Day Weekend (aka May 2-4 Weekend) is fast approaching.  Many Canadians mark this weekend as the official start to summer and take to the roads.  Personally, I'll be marking that weekend with a little umbrella in my drink on the Dominican beach with my gorgeous husband, but that does that matter?

The show is designed to be a "debate" between two parents (both Moms) regarding the use of portable or built in DVD Players on car trips.  Micheal asked if I was interested and which side I would like to take (and if I knew someone on the other side).

I blinked.  Then again. Then again.  Then I wrote back:

"People are against them?"

Turns out, they are.  Some people don't think they're a good idea.

Shocking. I know.

Micheal called late yesterday afternoon.  Thankfully the kids were outside so we had a good chat about how he hoped the show would go.  As dinner burned I gave him a quick rundown of my opinions and experiences with both long car trips and DVD players as a parent.   It was fun!  I made him laugh. I took that as a good sign.

At the end of our delightful conversation Micheal said "Okay, so you'll be discussing this with another local writer, Andrea Tomkins..."

...and then I laughed so hard I think I scared him a bit.

We all know Andrea, right?

He was thrilled to learn that Andrea and I know each other, are friends and have a good rapport.  My exact words to him were "This is going to be fun, but Andrea is really smart. I'm gonna have to step up my game. Do some research. Know what I mean?"

We hung up and I could tell he was pleased with how things had gone and excited for the show, which we are taping Tuesday at 2pm.  I'm not exactly sure when the air date is, but it's safe to say you'll all be the first to know.

Now, Andrea and I have been instructed not to compare notes, but that doesn't mean you can't give me your ideas.  My opinions are pretty definite and I know exactly what I'm going to say, but I'd love to hear what you think.

A little British accent

It makes me sad to admit, but I can't remember much about Kristyn as a baby.  I can remember places - a very hot and very small apartment in South Ottawa).  I can remember circumstances - John and I were still in school and his Mom was sick.  No matter how hard I try though,  I find it hard to picture myself and her  alone.  The same can be said for all four.  I'm finding it harder and harder to remember the little things.  What made me rant and rave four years ago?  Where were we rushing to? What moments made my heart melt?

I often remind myself to savour these moments. Which leaves me wondering if won't I inevitably find myself, years from now, staring off in to space trying to remember the small things?

Tonight as I put Alex to bed he asked me why one of my friends sometimes calls her daughter by her full name.  I told him it was because that was her name, like his is Alexander John.   And he said "No, it's Alex Yander John."

He thinks that Alex is his full first name and Xander is his second name.  He doesn't realize that what we call him 99% of the time is his nickname.  If that doesn't wash away a shitty day, you're even more dead inside than John says I am.

There's so much I want to write down, right here and now.  To tell you how adorable my children can be, despite how frustrating being their mother is some days.  So here goes.

Kristyn is ten years old and she still calls nailpolish "nalishpolish", like she did when she was two. 

Two weeks ago, Erin got a book on origami for her birthday. She pronounces it oramagami.

Meghan can make any situation about her.  We can be praising Alex for eating his beans and Meghan will pipe in "I wiped my own ass today. And I did good! Daddy, there were zero skid marks!"

Alex is so polite. Not only do I get "Please", but I get "With a chewwy on top!"

When Kristyn concentrates on something really hard, she sticks out her tongue.

Erin sometimes speaks with a little British accent. She doesn't realize she's doing it, but everyone notices it.  It's usually when she asks a question.  She can say  "Mommy did you want a piece of pie?" and it sounds like she's asking me over for tea and crumpets. (My apologize for the sweeping British stereotype, but I'm proving a point!).

Meghan is not yet 6, but she taught herself how to read.  She reads me stories at night.  Long ones. I did the same thing.  While Kristyn and Erin are both excellent readers, I can tell that Meghan has the same love for it that I do.

Alex will pee anywhere.  Today he peed in the parking lot at the store.  I was looking around for a bathroom or you know, a private spot when he just whipped it out and peed on my tire.  I know we have to stop that, but it's hilarious that my kid feels so free, isn't it?

I wish that every moment as their mother could mean witnessing those adorable things, but I know that's not reality.  Sometimes, I want to throttle them, wondering where they came from and what I did while I was pregnant.  Some days drag on and the countdown to bedtime is agony.  What I can say is that each day features at least a few of those little moments.  I hope that in a few years, I'm remembering those things and not the fact that I've been known to hide in the bathroom to get some peace.

You can say you knew me when...

I've always felt I was just on the cusp of fame - as though it was right there my whole life, just waiting to be grabbed. 

I could be famous. People would know my name! Women would want to look like me! They'd ask their hairdressers for "The Chantal"!   Children would idolize me! Old ladies would want to pinch my cheeks! Clive Owen and I could wed after a whirlwind romance and then he'd divorce me very publically after I got caught canoodling on a beach with Matthew McConaughey.

It's in me. Always has been. Do you see it? I've got that spark.  In Kindergarten, my painting of the apple tree was in the front lobby of the school.  In Grade 4, my stick drawing of Santa Claus was pulled out of the big Canadian Tire box draw and framed for their store.  I was the Scrooge in the Grade 6 Christmas play "Monsieur Scrooge Et Les S.O.S. Fantomes"  (Scrooge Meets The Ghostbusters). 

I've rubbed elbows with some pretty famous people.  Alanis Morrisette went to my high school for two whole years.  Sure, it was before I went there, but still.   And one day, at the Central Canada Exhibition,  three friends and I did the weather with Ian Black.  Have you done that?  I told you. Hollywood Royalty right here.

It was only a matter of time before I hit it big ... and I have. 

Today, Typepad featured this blog right here.  On their main page. 

I think their exact email said  "If we finally feature you, will you please stop emailing and calling?  The flowers were nice, but the photos were a bit over the top."

Seriously though - can you tell how excited I am?  I've checked the Typepad main page since I became a member in 2005 and enjoyed many of the featured blogs (but I admit that personal blogs or parenting blogs haven't been represented in high numbers).

The best part?  The schwag. I've been told some is on my way.  Being featured freaking rocks, but free stuff?  Well I'm sorry, but you just can't beat that.

As she grows

I had a good deal of freedom growing up.  I'm not sure if it was the era in which I was born or that my Mom was single and working a lot, but it seems to me I was doing things at ten that I don't let my own daughter do.  I can clearly remember getting on the OC Transpo Bus at 11 years old and travelling to K-Mart to spend some birthday money.  Alone.  That day, I bought my first album - Madonna, Like a Virgin - and ate lunch in the small cafeteria.

I can't even imagine letting Kristyn do that.  In fact, I don't think it would even occur to her to ask.

It's not that my kids are sheltered.  I think it has a lot more to do with where we live than how I parent.  No busses travel to this area and we live nearly 10km from the closest stop sign, so a walk into town alone would take Kristyn about two hours.

And yet, we're at a point now where I'm faced with letting go a little bit.  Slowly Kristyn is realizing that it might be time to branch off a bit and venture out on her own.

Last week, Kristyn's best friend's mother called me and asked if it would be okay for her daughter and Kristyn to walk to Tim Horton's at school lunchtime.   Their school is across a very busy road from the Tim's, but there is a crossing guard and they would be together.  I was not at all prepared for the question let alone giving her an answer.  She sensed my trepidation and told me that it was okay to say no.

"No no!" I said. "I'm just shocked to be even considering this. She seems so young.  I know it's because she's my first, and by the time Alex is her age he could walk to Ottawa alone, but I'm gonna need to think about this."

All day long I fought with myself.  Part of me desperately wanted to say no. Or offer to drive them. The other part of me knew how thrilled she would be.  I knew she would understand what this meant and how much I trusted her.  John and I went back and forth until he eventually left it in my hands to decide.   I think I always knew that I would let her do it. I just needed the time to process it in my head - to get used to the idea after being sort of blindsided by the question.   She was thrilled just like I thought she would be.

That morning,  I thought of her constantly.  The possibilites started to drive me nuts, so I tried to let go and just trust my daughter and us for having raised to her to be a smart and sensible kid.  That in itself was harder to do than saying yes was, but I did okay.

Really. 

And I can honestly say that when I found myself in the lineup at the drive-thru, it wasn't to check up on her, but to get John a coffee.  I pulled up to the window and tried to force myself not to look inside, but the cashier sensed that I was struggling and asked what was up (remember, this is a very small town).  I asked her if a little girl in a purple coat was inside.

"There's a big girl in a purple coat eating a sandwich and she's doing just fine. Don't worry, Mom. She's good."

I was relived so I laughed and drove away.  As I pulled around the corner Kristyn caught sight of me.  I thought for sure she would roll her eyes and laugh. Instead, she jumped up and waved and yelled "Hi Mommy!".  She was thrilled to see me and I drove on, remarking at what an awesome kid I was raising.

More and more, situations are popping up where I'm having to give Kristyn more rope.  Places where she'll have to be without me and on her own.  I'm not going to lie and say that I like this, no matter how proud I am of her.  Relinquishing control of my kids is a big issue for me. For all that she is learning to deal with the world,  I'm learning to trust the world deal with her - and I know it won't always be kind.  It breaks my heart and makes it sing all at the same time.

It was so much easier when she was the little bald baby on my lap, not as fun or nauseating, but much easier.