Archive for June, 2013

June 24, 2013

i’d like to think it’s true


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June 23, 2013

“where the light falls”

june 21st was the longest day of the year and for me, it (almost) was. my body sore from a run the night before i felt tired, worn, and defeated: i was such a beginner again. not quite starting over, but kind of: the relapse in to not running and the bilateral sprains were both slowing me down, both causing me grief.

it didn’t help that my baby had woken up at four a.m. and despite nursing him and loving him he did not return to slumber; waking his brother and keeping me from sleep, as well. two tired boys and a beyond tired mother a good day does not make.

it’s not just that. it has felt long lately in other ways: the time inside our home less and less enjoyable, for reasons i cannot name and that may not actually even exist. my boys are delightful, my man is a miracle, and my life is bountiful but I have, for whatever reason, felt fraught-wrought with inner dissatisfaction, frustration, sourness – none of which i want to feel and all of which are taking me further from the kind of person / woman / mother that i aspire to be.

as it were, amidst my eldest’s preschool graduation, all-consuming efforts to ensure my boys became rested, and the general monotony of being at home, i overlooked that it was solstice. evidence, entirely, that i had lost sight of the light.

fortunately, saturday brought with it my spouse’s company, encouragement, and support. “yes, of course” he replied when i asked if i could go to yoga, “take some momma time”.

yoga is an activity that i practice for both physical and emotional fitness, you see. my body loves me for attending class, for taking the time to stretch it, strengthen it, and heal it. so does my mind. i always learn something from class, not just about my body, but of myself. it is a place where I can’t talk, and that’s good for me, and, instead, i hear the teacher, i hear my body, i hear my heart, and i actually listen.

instead of my usual digs, i showed up at a studio i hadn’t tried before, lahari yoga in north delta, b.c. the teacher, kim, was welcoming, warm, bright, and accessible and she facilitated a lovely flow class that did me (really) good.

in addition, she prefaced the class by acknowledging the meaning and value of the longest day, the one that i had felt but had forgotten. thank goodness she did. she discussed the role solstice has played across time and across civilization: ritual; ceremony; shrines, and highlighted that man had built a number of structures positioned, purposefully, to maximize exposure to the sun.

of course, this day is immediately followed by a shortening; a subtle dimming that sneaks up on us, finding us surprised come fall, come winter, when the sun is virtually hidden. this turn was also worthy of mention, she, presenting the concept of a half-year opportunity: to identify goals, focus on intention, and manifest resolutions for the next half of 2013.

i heard her. i heard her say half. i heard her at the beginning and i heard her throughout the class. the class that my funky mood so desperately, desperately needed. and, interestingly, everything she said, every instruction and every pose correction, made me think of running and where running would take me in the remaining year’s time.

this side of the solstice, we will begin the actual half marathon training. this side of solstice, i will run my first half marathon, right before my maternity leave comes to a close, a grand celebration of effort (in more ways than one). this side of solstice i will be better, for me and for them.

this side of solstice, i will run; i will chase the light.

June 21, 2013

wham, bam, thank you ‘glam’: secrets of a top 30 mommy blogger

i’m not one to kiss and tell but the rumours are true: i, trusted friends, have taken a lover.

first, i was showered with attention. then, i was courted both with flattery and the promise of good things to come. finally, i was taken out for a night on the town.

believe it or not, this momma’s still got game. i got gussied up, made my way to a sexy venue, and just like any first date i felt it all: the anticipation, the awkwardness, the curiosity, the pressure, the romance, the hope. the unknown, the unfamiliar, the possibilities… i was reeling.

the date was a GLAM one, a party to celebrate the top 30 mommy bloggers of 2013, and was hosted by christine pilkington, ceo of crisp media and founder of i was wined and dined, made to feel special, showered with chocolate, accessories, and swag.  it was many things among them it was loud, fast, hot.

admittedly, i was overwhelmed and left confused, not knowing quite where i stood and questioning what it all meant. but, like any good relationship tale, the meat of the matter is in the morning after. and let me tell you, it’s been good.

i can tell it’s going to be a keeper, this new relationship with blog land. good thing too, i’m head over heels.

June 20, 2013

milestones, minus the bellinis

my son graduates from pre-school tomorrow and, not surprisingly, i am overwhelmed with feeling.

in short form:

* wonder.amazement.pride.

* anxious (the performance anxiety kind): following the graduation there is a potluck. don’t know why this matters to me? a little history on my inadequacy can be found here.

* vain: what should i wear? i know it’s not about me though it kind of is, no?

* the tired: oh wait, that’s everyday.

* thankful: he has learned so, so much.

* terror: nevermind wondering how i will keep him engaged, excited, entertained, and enthusiastic without the thrice weekly adorableness, i’m concerned that we both might not make it out alive.

* hope: my big little boy… so curious, so bright, so intuitive, so intense, so sensitive, so wise, so spirited, so special, so unwritten.

* relaxed: no more getting out-the-door battles. winnnnnnnnnnnn.

* rich: a little extra money in the bank never hurt anyone.

* grief: how is it that my first baby, made by my dreams for the future and born red-faced and birdlike, held in my arms and at my breast, has become this little man, and so quickly?

* horror: there is a 100% guarantee that i will weep in front of all the other mothers (the normal ones, who can bake). shizer.

* trust: he will continue to mature and i likely will too (right?).

June 19, 2013

it’s a boy! (with a teenage girl living inside)

the first time i was pregnant i confessed that i was apprehensive of having a boy. “i feel like i have the politics to raise a solid woman” i would say, “but, what do i know about making a man?”. my doubt was always countered, multiple little boy moms assuring me that raising a boy was an amazing, tender experience, and that you raise a good man just as you would raise a good woman.

it seemed as though i was the only one amongst those who knew me who wondered; most were beyond confident that my destiny included sons. “i can’t see you with a daughter” my oldest friend asserted, “you are meant to raise boys”.

as i approached my due date, i had come around and when my first son was born, i, admittedly, breathed a sigh of relief: all stereotypes and preconceived notions about gender aside, i thought that, if nothing else, by raising an ‘xy’ i would be spared the teen years with a daughter who, if anything like me, would resist and rage against any strong female figures in her life, create a tempest, just because she could, and inflict emotional pain and strife like it was a competitor sport (sorry mom).

with my second pregnancy, it was the opposite: i was scared to admit just how much i hoped for another male. ‘i’m just not cut out to raise girls’, i often thought; “what if it’s a girl?” i would say, begging my spouse, parents, and friends for reassurance that i could be mom enough.

the people in my life tried to assure me that i had it all, that any girl would be fortunate to be raised by me, that i could be more of me, or less of me, to support her to be her best.

but, i was unconvinced.  the young ones, with their pink and their pouts… i worried i would ruin her with my intolerance. the teens, with the attitude and the melodrama… i feared i would bring out the worst in her.

fortunately for me, my second son was born, our family made complete, and my role of raising boys undisturbed. i was prepared for this.

what i wasn’t prepared for was that my eldest, soon after he turned three, would begin to emulate the worst of what i had to offer my parents when i was an adolescent: oppositional and insolent complete with deep sighs, eye rolls, back talk, door slamming, and a whole host of other personality disordered behaviour.

don’t laugh, it’s no joke.

one day he was a momma lovin’, good listening, harmony seeking, and amicable little man. the next day, boom! the threenager.


stay tuned, i’m gonna muster up some courage and break down the good, bad, and ugly for you (if my therapist thinks i’m ready!).