Bread Crumbs In The Butter

One of those days ...

Make coffee. Take out the trash. Give the kids breakfast.  Take out chicken for supper. Find time for a shower. Pay the bills online. Put in load of laundry. Do customer emails.  Set kids up with paint and paintbrushes (that lasts 45 seconds). Bid farewell to lucky husband who gets to leave for the day.  Throw kids in pool. Watch them swim.  Pay attention to each and every child as they show you their tricks. Hang clothes on clothesline.  Answer phone.  Argue with angry customer on the phone. Get hung up on. Answer phone again. Cry to my Mom. Plan menu. Try to figure out what to do with chicken for supper as I make lunch. Feed kids. Put laundry in. Answer phone from fellow soccer mom asking if I can take her kid in return for her taking mine last week. Get kids settled with a movie and ask them to please be quiet for just one hour while I work. Go downstairs and attempt to sift through piles and piles of unfinished orders and items.  Finish those with only seven interuptions. On the way up the stairs, spot dirty floor and start to clean it, but find out Alex is "all done" and needs my ass wiping expertise.

Walk to washroom and realize it's only 1:53pm - even though it feels like 9pm.  There's still so much to look forward to today.

My daughters are sisters, and the best of friends.

Kristyn has been away at camp for three days now and her absence is felt.  She's always somewhere in my mind, but I'm mostly wondering if she's having fun.  The last thing I want is for her to be sad and miserable with homesickness.  My gutt says that she's fine.  That as I write this she's diving into the gorgeous water the camp banks on and laughing with her many new friends.

Of all our children, Kristyn is by far the most easy-going. She's the one who handles change like a champ.  Therefore the person that this has been hardest on is Erin.  Erin is Kristyn's polar opposite. Where Kristyn embaces change and finds the fun it, Erin dreads it with everything she has.  She frets for days when something new approaches.  Fear of the unknown drives her wild. 

Kristyn and Erin share a room, and often, they end up in the same bed. Because of this,  Erin has been unable to sleep withour her sister.  They are extremely close.  Being only sixteen months apart, they only remember their time together.  I find that extremely adorable, but at the same time it can be frustrating because Erin is extremely protective of her relationship with her older sister.  She tends to ostracize Meghan and Alex or resist spending time with them.

As the girls get older, more changes will come up. Kristyn will go off to high school two years before Erin does.  Kristyn will babysit before Erin does.  As the teen years approach, those sixteen months wont mean the same thing they did when they were 6 and 7 years old.

I've noticed a big change in Erin in the last three days. She's more open to playing with Meghan, sometimes presenting a united front against their annoying little brother.  She's asking for more friends to come over.  Wanting to venture out into her comfort zone.   Which is exactly why I decided to send Kristyn to camp.  Funny how I've done that for two of my children just by sending one off into the world.

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.

Can I get some more coffee?

Here's what I need to do (on top of the cajillion other things I usually have to do):

Today:

Get the snack ready to be helping Mommy at Alex's nursery school. (Shit! I didn't bake mini-muffins or cut grapes in half.  Looks like it's timbits and raisins - again.)

Get back, make supper.  Put it on the table, go to the gym. (Where I get to hump my iPod.)

Do homework, shower the two littles, read stories, fall on couch and drink beer.  (Did you know Rolling Rock makes a light version? 83 calories! I can have four. I won't, but I could!)

Friday:

Stop in to travel agency, which is in the deepest depths of Ottawa, to pick up receipt for trip. (Less than 8 weeks. Less than 8 weeks.)

Take Alex to pediatrician, again downtown Ottawa. Explain Kawasaki story again.  Discuss how I'm really not sure about the ADHD diagnosis anymore, that's how much stride he's made. (They have Starbucks in downtown Ottawa!)

Stop at SportMart and get Kristyn, who grew two shoes sizes over the indoor season, new outdoor cleats for tryouts on Saturday. Make sure her old ones are good for Erin for her tryouts Saturday. (They have a Starbucks right near the Sport Mart in Kanata!)

Drive home and then back into Ottawa to play soccer for 5pm. (Snort! Good luck!)

Saturday:

Competitive Dance Showcase Day!  Get makeup, do hair, costumes, shoes!  This is all just a run through for the three dance competitions coming up between April 13 and May 4.  (I'll be insane by then and have no hair left).

Oh, and right, Kristyn has soccer tryouts at some point during that day. (Why did I have so many kids? Freaking withdrawl method!*)

Sunday:

Sleep in day.

No it's not, you arse!  John has hockey finals and you HAVE to be there at 8am to cheer him on. Oh, and Erin has soccer tryouts too.  Say goodbye to sleep in day and go hump your iPod.

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* Oh relax, I'm kidding. Alex is the only one we used the method and got pregnant with and he's not even in activities yet!

Weighing in (and late to the party, as usual)

Being a Mom isn't my job.

I don't get paid to be a Mom.

I don't get bathroom breaks. I usually end up with an audience, and a loud one at that.

I don't have a lunch time. I can't just leave the kids with a box of Kraft Dinner at noon and say "Have at it. I'll see you at 1!"

I don't get vacation time as a Mom. Some of the happiest memories I have are of family vacations, but I was still a Mom during those weeks.

There is little chance I will get promoted, unless I'm up for Queen Mom and haven't been told yet. (But how cool would that be?)

My day doesn't end at 5pm or even 8pm or 11pm. It's 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. It's frantic and busy, but fantastic.

There is no Christmas party, yearly bonus, pay raise or company picnic.

I'm the social director, chef, referee, seamstress, drycleaner, chauffeur and much more to a board of directors of four. They're demanding and whiney and loud, but they love me more than anyone else in the whole world. They zap me of my energy and sometimes, my will to go on - and I'm not meaning that to be glib*. Sometimes I really do want to throw my hands up and say "Fine. You win. I'm done and I'm going home to live with my Mommy!" Knowing all that, this work I'm doing is not only the hardest, but the most rewarding. Haven't I said this before? Haven't we all said that before? You all know that, right? Surely the whole world knows this and gives it the value it deserves?

My friends. Well, my friends are a massive part of this life. They know me. They listen to me. They laugh with me. They understand what it's like when you want to cry because your child has just barfed for the third time since midnight.  They get that if you ever see another episode of Wonder Pets you just might stick an ice pick in your eye.

Last summer, we all met at the beach on a glorious summer afternoon. Our kids were slathered with sunscreen and their arms were fat with water wings. We had on wide brimmed hats, carried sandwiches and chips in our bags. We stood on the sand and watched them like only Moms can while they built sandcastles and giggled as the water tickled their toes.

During that trip, one Mom pulled out several bottles of beer and we all cracked open and poured them into glasses. One beer each. We sipped slowly, talked about our husbands, our bodies and our lives and we laughed. We laughed so hard. There were sixty days in the summer of 2005 but I will always remember that day as one of the best.

We are not babysitters. We are Moms. We aren't doing our jobs, we're living our lives. When your husband walks in from work is he starting his second job? No. He's coming home - to his life. When working Moms walk in the door it's, it's life. When an at home Mom comes back from soccer practice, it's life. No matter what your situation, your chosen path, your home life should always feel safe and inviting. Comfortable. Welcome home. Live your life. Don't let anyone else make you feel like what you are doing is inadequate or worthy of judgement. There are so many other parenting issues we should be addressing. This just isn't one of them!

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*Tom Cruise has made that word lose all relevant meaning. Shit, that sucks.

Another Ten in 2006

In keeping with the "Ten Year" theme of this year, today we celebrate that I have a ten year old daughter.

Rather than gush about her like I did last year I'll tell you a story about Kristyn.  A story that had her and I laughing so hard, we cried.

Last week, the kids wrote out their Santa lists and we mailed them off. Kristyn knows that Santa is not real, but she knows her siblings still believe and thought it was fun.  After she wrote out her list, she wrote a letter to her best friend, Stephanie and including some drawings of Spongebob and Patrick.

Today, while mailing our Christmas cards, I spoke with the lady at the Post Office who told me she had worked all night on letters from Santa. She had done our kids and wanted to know if I wanted them then or in our box tomorrow.  Being impatient, I took them.

She said "Wait until you read Kristyn's! I laughed a lot..."

Well, when we got home and I pretended to remove them from the box at the end of our driveway we found out what she meant. Seems Kristyn mixed up the letters!

Here is what Santa had to say:

"Kristyn, what does BFF mean? I received a letter written to Stephanie (keep in mind that "Santa" also knows Stephanie, that's how small this town is!) and not me. You must have mixed them up. I must say, I liked your drawings of Spongebob and Patrick, they were very well done.  Don't worry, I know what you are wishing for from me so be over the holidays.  Santa"

I'm laughing again. Not really at her, but with her. I would totally do something like this and she's just like me - in a bit of her own world. She called Stephanie as soon as we came in the door and they both giggled for a bit and then she hung up and said "I'm such a dork!".

She's my hero.

Your Mommy Recording?

Do you have one?

You know what I mean when I say "Mommy Recording", right?

It's that short little sentence you're always repeating.  Over and over and over again.  The sentence that you start and eventually your kids finish.  Or they answer before you even say it.

Here's how it goes in our house:

Mommy: "You guys are playing nice and quietly. What's up?"

Kid: "We're playing a game.  I'm the Mommy and Alex is the boy. He's not listening so I'm making him wash the bathroom floor."

Mommy:  "Okay, just don't make a mess and if you do, clean it up properly!"

Or,

Mommy:  "Look at all this craft stuff. What are you doing?"

Kids:  "Making a diorama/scenery/scale model of the Parliament Buildings for you to put on the fridge."               

Mommy: "Okay, just please don't make a big mess and if you do, clean it up properly!"

I don't mean to do it and I hate to nag (okay, shut up!), but really, if I don't go after them on this I'll find paste in my underwear drawer.

Over the years my Recording has changed a bit.   As babies it was "My God child, do you ever sleep?".  During the toddler years it was mostly "Get down from there!"  or  "Don't bit that!".   I like how it's progressing.  Motherhood is ever-changing.  I wonder what will come next?  "Get your hand off that part of my daughter!"?  Or maybe  "You can't seriously be thinking of leaving the house like that?".   One I really can't wait for though is "Yeah right.  You think you can fool me? I invented that lie, now try again!".

So... what's yours?

Girls With Balls

I was pointed to Her Bad Mother from Mama Tulip for a truly inpsiring writing assignment.

There are so many causes I am passionate about (each word is it's own link there).   I certainly can't say that it's hard to get me fired up.  I often take on ideas and run with them.  Fueled by an intense feeling that something has to be addressed right here, right now.  Picking just one to write about was not easy, but writing about the one I've chosen will be.  In light of recent events, I don't think you'll be surprised.

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When I close my eyes, I can bring myself back to the dark ultrasound room.  It was late February 2001.  My midwives had suggested I have an ultrasound because my fundal measurements were a full 10 weeks ahead of my actual weeks in pregnancy.  Suspecting I had way more amniotic fluid than I needed, they booked me in for a cold February morning.  Until that point, everything was going smoothly.  Yes, I did have too much fluid, but the baby seemed healthy and happy.  So far nothing that required immediate attention.  I felt relieved and resigned to continue with this pregnancy the way I wanted to.

I breathed a bit easier, expecting to be dismissed by the technician when she asked "Do you want to know the sex?  I have a perfect shot right here.  A 'glass floor' shot, we call it."

I looked at John and he looked at me and we shrugged.  "Sure. Why not?"  I said.

"Did you say you have two girls at home? Well, invest in Tylenol, Dad.  Girl Number 3 is on the way."   To this day her statement about Tylenol baffles me, but we'll move on because I'm not sure now is that time for that rant.

"Holy Shit!"  I yelped out.  Up until that point that I was having a girl was only a feeling. A nagging little something in the back of my head.  "Three girls!  I'm going to have three girls. John, THREE GIRLS!"

For the rest of my pregnancy I rolled that fact around in my head like a marble.  Excited and terrified that sometime that May or June, I would have three daughters in my charge.  Why I was excited is more than likely pretty obvious, but terrified?  Why?  That's hard to explain without opening up many age old debates, but I'll simplify.

I wanted to do my best to raise confident, intelligent, fearless and amazing females.

And here I am.  Mom to 4.  Three of whom are girls. Three of whom will (sooner than I think) be women.

As their Mother, I am the first example of womanhood.  The one they look up to for guidance and support.  I can see it.  They watch me intently.  Any cues they have as to how to be an adult woman, a spouse, a mother, they get from me.  When I think back to my own formative years I remember the one thing that made me feel the way I want to raise my girls to be.  Confident, fearless, fun, amazing.   Being active. 

While running I feel alive and challenged, alone with my thoughts. I push my abilities.  If I am participating in a team sport I feel important and relied upon.  As though the game could not go on without me  or each and every member of that group.  As individuals we are strong.  As a team, we are unstoppable.  Prone to depression, being active in sport keeps that at bay.  Notoriously absent minded I find my ability to focus is stronger when I'm physically fit.  Knowing that my perfomance depends on my body, I eat better and I'm more aware of the foods I choose. 

There are so many benefits to being active, whether individually or team sports. I've always felt strongly that I should pass this passion on to my daughters.  The advancement of women in sport is very important to me.

When my girls see me leave the house for a run, they see my face light up.  They ask me how far I plan to go.  How long do I think it will take?  Can they wait for me on the porch?   When I return they cheer me on and offer me water.  They feed me and fuel me and their pride intensifies my resolve for them to continue seeing their mother as an active person.   Often they attend my soccer games and cheer my whole team from the sidelines.   They hear me encourage and support my teammates.  They witness me treating opponents with respect and mutual admiration.

As much as  I lead by example, I encourage them to play a role as well.  From a young age Kristyn has shown an interest in sport, particularly soccer and basketball.  I remember driving with her in the van past a girls soccer game, most likely a U15 team.  She yelled out  "SOCCER! Me play Soccer!"  As soon as she was eligible she wanted to play  and we enrolled her.  Despite being one of the only girls on that tiny team, she didn't hold back.  It was pretty clear this kid has passion and some natural ability.   

Since those early days I've been involved on some level.  This year committing myself in a way that, because of much younger siblings, I couldn't before.  I was her head coach.   A team of 10 year old girls to myself was a bit daunting, but easily one of the most rewarding things I've ever done.  Throughout the season they got better and better.  Eager to learn and improve with me leading them.   At their End Of Year Cup Tournament I experienced girls in sports like I never have before.   Through five intense games over a three day period they never took their focus off the potential result.   They let nothing stop them, played hard but remained respectful and polite throughout some grueling moments.   Had they not won the final game, they still would have been champions to me, because they came out and they tried.  One parent made my heart soar just by saying "How do you feel? You brought them here!"

Erin is not much different.  She possesses a natural athletic ability that baffles me.  I feel like I've always had to try hard and work just a bit more.  In her first year out of soccer school on a female team she dominated and was a force to come up against.   All the while maintaining grace and compusure that I'm reasonably sure you have to be born with.   While she truly is talented at soccer, she consistently excels in dance.  As does Meghan, her younger sister and our third girl.   They move so confidently.  Like each foot just knows where to go.  In 15 minutes they can choreograph a dance and not move out of step once.

Both Erin and Meghan are on competitive dance teams at a local studio. Though not considered so by some, dance is a sport as well as art.  The term "team" is taken very seriously.  There are weekly practices and meetings.  A lot of time is spent preparing for competitions where the girls are taught to behave as representatives of their school.  They wear the uniform with pride, knowing that many other people are depending on them to try their best.  The life of a dance team Mom is not a quiet one.  Each event requires preparation, promotion and a lot of time. I doubt I would change any of it.

As long as all of my girls are as thrilled to be as involved as they are now, I will continue to support and provide what is required.  I can often be heard encouraging other mothers to do so as well (in a not pushy, informative way!).  Through sport we are all learning time management, planning skills and how to be dependable.  We've all made many new friends and formed bonds. There has been a chance to see groups of women at their best.  Our bodies feel good.  Our minds are clearer.  When I look around at the faces of other women on my team and at the faces of the girls on my daughters' teams I am truly proud to have been born as one of them.  A woman. Fearless. Active. Confident. Unstoppable.

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There are so many places to learn more about the advancement of women and girls in sport. You can be involved as much as you feel the need.  Not every girl needs to be a cleat toting soccer force or an award winning dancer.   Go with your daughter's interests and abilities.  I also want to point out that being the most competitive or most successful is not always key.  Fun is. Keep it fun and enjoyable.  That being said the status of women in sport has never been better.  Young girls have amazing opportunities to be involved on many levels, in tonnes of sports!

Here are some of my favourite sites for more information:

• Canadian Asociation For The Advancement Of Women And Sport And Physical Activity
• Mothers In Motion
• Girls And Sports
• Buy A Girl A Ball Not A Doll
• Women's Hockey In Canada
• Go Big Red, Canada's Women's Soccer Team
• Dance Canada

Blog Posts of my own referring to sports, both regarding myself and my daughters:

• I'm A Dance Team Mom And Proud Of It!
• Let Me Tell You A Story About One Of My Daughters
• A Good Day
• Connecting
• A Whole Category Dedicated To Running and Soccer

I did all their laundry on Sunday

...and this is what they brought me when I asked for their laundry baskets.

Did you know my family started wiping their asses with their clothes?  Cause I can't think of any other explanation.  At least we'll save money on toilet paper.

I need a drink.

Up and Down, Story of a Mom's life, right?

My day is  a roller coaster of moods and feelings.   This life is one that brings with it intense highs and incredible lows.  I find it hard to catch myself in between.  Maybe the only time that is in between is when I'm sleeping?

I wake up, look outside and think; I'm so lucky to wake up to this beautiful scenery every morning.  I'm high, ready to greet the day.

"Mommy, Alex just went poop and needs you to wipe his bum. And oh yeah, he peed on the floor."  Christ, can I get a chance to wake up without having to clean someone else's crap?

I pour the coffee and revel in the sound of my favourite beverage hitting the cup. Take my first sip and all is forgiven to whatever woke me up and instantly threw me into being needed.  A muffin would do nicely, but fuck, someone ate the last muffin?  Do I need to start leaving notes that warn anyone who dares touch that muffin to think twice?

Alex walks in the room, so precocious and innocent looking.  I'm so in love with this kid.   "Can I play Gamecube now?"  When I answer that no, he cannot play games just yet, he yells at me, tells me he doesn't like me and heads to his bed for the first time of the many this day will bring.  Setting limits blows. Why am I the bad guy all the time?

It's a gorgeous day, we should head out somewhere.  Run some errands, which for the longest time Erin thought were "Erins".  That always makes me smile.  I'll just clean the kitchen before we head out.  A process that leads me into four rooms, cleaning furiously and swearing in two different languages.  Throw in some laundry because I have no clean underwear.  It's either wear the ones with holes, or my bathing suit. Why can't I keep it together like everyone else? It's just laundry. What's the big deal?

Call for the kids to please get their shoes on.  For once, they listen.  They're excited to go out and do something. Maybe we'll get Timbits.  Get into the truck and they start arguing.  Who has to tie Alex in?  Who gets to play with the leftover Barbie head found under the seat?  Just shut up and sit the fuck down so I can drive and not get us killed!  Why do I bother? I yell, I feel bad, they feel bad.

While I drive, I remember that I have a soccer game that night. 90 minutes of peace. We're playing a really tough team.  Shit, if we lose, it's all my fault. They won't ask me back next year. Why did I agree to play Masters?  I don't belong there.  Sure I do. Who cares?  I get to drink beer afterward.

Preparing lunch later, the kids play outside and they're being adorable.  I'm making a healthy lunch, full of fruit and vegetables.  The kids will love this and three of them do. Except Meghan. Of course. What's wrong with being a bit agreeable and just trying?  I said try it!  Stop whining about it, I just want you to try it.  Fine. Then don't eat! I know I'll end up making her a peanut butter and jam sandwich.

I love summer. I'm so fortunate that I can sit here and read while the kids swim.  They want me to watch them.  All four at once.  They're calling my name, competing with each other and getting pissed off when I say "Okay go!" to anyone but them.  One is so upset she gets out of the pool and refuses to get back in because I didn't want to watch her water dance. There is only one of me.  Cut me some slack here!  I'm trying.  I'm doing the best I can!

While everyone is quiet, watching a movie, I decide now is a nice time to devote to my own personal hygeine.  A shower sounds blissful.  I'm not in there five seconds when someone comes in and opens the shower door!  This one is fighting with that one. The other one wants to have pretzels.  Give me a freaking break! I'm trying to shower here.  Get lost you little buggers. Is this going to be my life forever?  Never being truly alone? I can't even get naked and wash myself off without being needed.

By bedtime, I'm so grateful for the chance to just relax.  Read blogs, write emails, reconnect. Some night John is demanding my attention too.  He wants me to sit and watch TV, right next to him.  Why can't I sit on the other couch and surf while I watch? I can still talk to you.  Do we have to be on top of each other?

I lay in bed some nights and go over all of the lows in my head.  I know it's not that bad,  but I can usually pick up three of four times where I felt just a little bit hopeless and sad.  I find it exhilerating, valuing and suffocating to be this needed by so many people.  Their lives depend solely on my actions and reactions to their needs.  That can really suck sometimes.  Other times, I daresay even most times, it's just fine. It's what I signed up for.  Still, part of me really likes that they all turn off at a certain hour of the day so I can stay up too late reading or daydreaming that I live alone and have a really glamorous life.