Posts tagged ‘bullshit’

June 15, 2013

everything but the girl

a number of my eldest son’s friends are turning 5 lately and he, overhearing conversations about kindergarten, observing my friends emote at the significance, and intuiting the maturation around him, is well aware that this birthday is not like the others; that it is distinctive, that milestones abound.

not surprisingly, he has begun to look at his own (one day) 5th birthday with idealized regard and now reconciles everything that he covets but that is out of reach- special events, activities, freedoms, repeat opportunities to go on excursions via plane- by saying, albeit unconvincingly, “maybe when i’m five”.

despite the tentative tone, it works and he has somehow been able to manage his lofty expectations with this simple reminder, however inaccurate. unfortunately (for me) his regular wantedness, his daily basis neediness, continues to know no bounds and he starts many common sentences with a demanding: “i want”.

i was washing dishes this morning, early, already feeling desperate after a week of him sick and our life therefore tabled, multiple days restricted to the four walls of our home, when he started in at me: all the things he wanted, how he wanted them done. his father is away, mourning  the life of a relative, and, therefore, it doesn’t matter that it’s saturday. it’s just me here. here with them; their requests.

i didn’t reply, which had no impact on his behaviour but assisted me to feel somewhat grounded, empowered even- such a subtle act of resistance.

not one to back down, he persisted. baby, teething, made his gentle way in to the kitchen from where he played near by. “mum mum mum” he muttered, approaching where i stood, signaling he too had a desire for me to provide any number of things: milk, attention, comfort, entertainment, reprieve.

i found myself looking up at the ceiling and was confronted by it’s unglamourous, entry level appearance- not helpful- and thought briefly of shaking the clawing paws off my ankles, brushing past the talking machine, and making my exit: down the stairs and out the front door, away from all that is expected of me, complete with my yet untouched morning coffee.

instead, i found myself doing what i recall having witnessed my mother do, and with closed eyes, pursed lips, and taught breath, i hush-growled to the white roof: “lord, give me strength”- more of a threat then a prayer.

when i opened my eyes, i hadn’t yet found the courage to turn to my eldest but i bent to retrieve baby, moaning now, and was impressed with just how quickly he settled once stationed on my left hip. so simple, so primary, so generous in his acceptance of what is.

i heard myself think, and then say “we can’t have everything that we want”, mostly in effort to remind myself of the same, it would seem.

“but, look at me momma! i want you to look at me! watch me momma! do you see me?”. it seemed as though my statement was mistaken for participation and he was encouraged…

“do you see me?”, i replied in all seriousness, turning to him, finally. he looked confused. “do you?” i implored.

“of course i do mamma, don’t be silly”, he offered, confused.

the question was lost on him.

he can’t see my master’s degree, begging for completion. he doesn’t see my muscles, screaming for a run. he doesn’t see my brain, dehydrated, thirsty for adult company, conversation, camaraderie. he doesn’t see my skin, itchy for lack of sleep. he doesn’t know the sacrifices that i make and what goes undone on my own list of wants so that he and his brother, both beyond deserving, can have a life complete. he sees his mother, and she’s pretty great, but he just doesn’t see me.

maybe when he’s five?

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June 8, 2013

shameless self promotion and other personality flaws

week 2 of the vancouvermom.ca blogger contest will conclude tomorrow and i have never been more neurotic (don’t worry, i have some perspective, i know that this is no where near true).

though i’ve definitely been nuttier, there is no doubt that having been named as one of vancouver’s top mommy bloggers has had me spinning. afterall, it wasn’t so long ago that i wrote this, which should have served as a warning re my general lack of ego strength as well as my flailing “blogger” identity.

i am floored by the recognition and, albeit confused, am super delighted that someone other then my mom likes what i’ve got going on (no offense little lady) and, admittedly, am excited beyond belief about having been invited into such a cool club of really, really talented women.

this said, i have found myself wondering how this came to be, considering my un-blog ways and all, and have been immersed in near-constant reflection (narcissistic, much?) re the whole she-bang- spending far too much time querying my my writing style, the intent and possible purpose of my writing, the direction of my writing, the perhaps goal of my writing, the am i even good enough aspects of my writing. so many ridiculously unimportant questions in the larger scheme of things.

needless to say, the sane person in me has been begging to be let out of this brain.

and then, a sign from the universe:

the mike robbins, well-respected author and motivational speaker, started following me on twitter. i have no idea how or why this transpired but i’ll take it. previously aware of him via work, i’m a fan, you see, as his message centers on emotional intelligence, overcoming personal fear, moving forward with confidence, and living in line with your individual and authentic truth.

you see what i see? yah, that’s right. i’m considering the timing of this to be more then ironic. i’m gonna go ahead and name it a little spirit nudge.

thank you cosmic intervention, i needed that.

i also need you. there are just a couple days left of this comp and with my new found self-assuredness, i think it might be fun to try and be a contender.

if you haven’t already, please send a vote my way and peer pressure your friends to do the same.

vote here:

VM-Button_Blue-01

as for the rest of you, many, many thanks for generously promoting me, voting for me, and encouraging others to do the same. i’m truly flattered.

peace, hh.

November 8, 2012

false advertising

ever seen the children’s show “olive the ostrich”? no, probably not- your life is likely more interesting then mine. i, however, have a frantic cluster feeding newborn and a (neglected) preschooler and, therefore, have seen this show, as knowledge kids is on sometimes (read: more often then it should be). anyways, point is, olive: whattabitch.

why? the show’s jingle actually introduces olive’s mother to us stating that “olive’s mother enjoys pushing out HUGE eggs” and then demonstrates, complete with dopey animated smile on said ostrich mother’s face. i kid you not, this is not a sleep deprived fabrication. i saw it with my own puffy eyes! what bullshit.

olive’s ridiculous mother probably also ‘enjoys’ the sound of her newborn, who lacks self soothing skills (that’s right, 2 for 2), completely lose his shit  instead of cringing, cursing, and engaging in escapist blogging behaviour.

fack, i think i’ll take it one step further and put my own head in the sand.

November 5, 2012

labor is for suckers

so, here we are then. it’s monday, and it’s day 1 of being on my own with our two boys. it would appear, for all intents and purposes, that we are emerging from the haze of epic labor and delivery efforts as well as prolonged separation and related mother-absence anxiety and things are well, overall. it’s sunny and crisp today, the fall colours are glorious, it is warm in our home, we are all healthy, the sons are thriving, my body is recovering, and all of our spirits are stabilizing. oh, and at this moment, they are both napping simultaneously (winning!).

unfortunately, my attitude regarding labor and delivery appears to be permanently jaded. i can’t help it. i’ve done it twice now and after recent baby bonanza, i have it on good authority that labor is a shitty time. birth too, frankly.

first l&d, i was glowy-shiny-happy-blissful about it all and i even suggested (out-loud, at that) that i loved it so much that, despite the horror show, i would consider being a surrogate, because there was nothing more beautiful than pregnancy and nothing more profound or amazing then giving life. though this remains truth (conceiving, carrying, and giving life is nothing short of a miracle), i am not so enamored this round. not so much at all. this labor and birth did a number on me and my dignity, this whole pregnancy did, actually, and as you may be aware, it is for this reason that i expect to be showered in diamond decor this christmas with which to adorn my amazing life-giving parts, or what is left of them.

fortunately, as i have now had a couple of post partum combo baby / hoo-ha check ups, i am a tad less bleak and feel as though i can speak with some confidence that we will make it- we being, me, my hoo-ha, and neighbouring communities. i wasn’t so sure this time around.

there is one thing i am sure of, though. j’ai fini.

now, look. don’t be silly. i am not taking for granted, nor will i ever take for granted, how blessed i am to have had the opportunity to meet my children, hold their fresh little souls against my chest, and have them be healthy, at that. and, i am not so foolish to reduce this blessing to a complaint. this said, let it be known that never, ever, again will i subject my body, and mind, to such sport.

also, if i ever do become pregnant again (accidentally!), i am following the hollywood example and i will pre-book a section with a combo lipo / tummy tuck for good measure. i know, it’s true, i used to be a woman who scoffed at the mention of such a premeditated and what i then considered removed approach to child-birth but, now, i realise i was wrong to judge. those rich missys are on to something.

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March 7, 2012

those be fighting words

i just couldn’t put my kids in a daycare / i think it’s my responsibility to parent my own children / i just don’t know how you do it / your son goes to daycare? poor baby! / how much time do you get with him? / when do you sleep? / if you have plans with friends this weekend, when will you spend time with your boy? / daycare just seems like a waste of money! / you must be a superwoman / how do you know you can trust the childcare provider? / don’t you just wish you could stay home with him? /you choose your career over you son? / i stay at home to give my children the best / i just don’t know how you do it, don’t you miss him when you’re at work? / how do you juggle it all? / my job title is mother now / i didn’t go back to work until my children were old enough to manage without me / i just don’t want to miss any of their growing up, they are only young once / it’s not just the cost of daycare, but the cost of my children not having me around / how are you okay with the fact that you don’t know what he does in a day? /  all those different priorities! for me, it’s easy: my family comes first / it just seems so unnatural to give them to someone else to take care of / i would worry too much about mine / i just can’t justify paying someone to raise my children / my family is my work now / i just find with taking care of my kids well, there isn’t enough time to work / we can’t really afford for me to be at home, but it’s the right thing to do, so we get by / i sometimes don’t want to be at home but it seems so selfish to work / i’m just not comfortable handing my children to a stranger / i’m a full time mom / i guess if i had a career it would be different, maybe. i can’t imagine anything being as important as them / does he spend more time with them then with you? / he’s so young still, he must miss you / are you sure you’re okay? you look really tired.

believe it or not, this is what you sound like. not all of you, god knows (shout out to my super cool stay at home mom friends), but some of you do. and, for the record, it’s eff’n awful.  i hear it over, and over, and over again. i keep hoping it will stop but, so far, no luck.

i was lucky, however, to once read a terrible chick lit book (that i thoroughly enjoyed, ha!) that described this phenomenon, suggesting that stay at home mothers have a certain script that they need to say to themselves (and to others, apparently) to help justify their lives and that, similarly, working mothers do too.

it resonated, and since reading said tid bit of insight i always reflect on it when stay at home mothers, or former stay at home mothers even, ask about my life as a working mom only to proceed without genuine interest and comment with a combo infusion of shock and pity, on my life, my needs, my choices, our deal.

i try to remember the concept when the dialogue inevitably shifts to why they are or were stay at home. i try to remain curious about our differences when i feel as though i am being patronized, judged, or used as an example of how not to be. i try to be patient, assume that the conversation has nothing to do with me, and hope that you are simply defending your script.  i hold my head up and try not to get rattled by what i think you might be saying about me and what kind of person and mother i am.

i try not to get worked up.  i often don’t know how to back down but in this case, i don’t even rise up. i am tired and i’m not going to waste any time or energy on debate.  i mother my business. i never ask you why you are a stay at home mom. i don’t tell you all the reasons i am not. i don’t care to find retaliations to the statements you make about me and my family’s experience. i don’t go ahead and expose what i may perceive some of the stay at home flaws to be.  i don’t play the game and compete when it comes to who had the busiest, most tiring, most stressful or demanding day. i don’t think i invite these conversations, and i can’t remember starting any of them. i know i don’t engage all that readily, and i know that i try to ignore them into submission and hope they go away.

i try to be considerate of how personal, and frankly, political, our differences are and for the sake of not offending you, i just don’t go there. i wish you would do the same. i’m happy, most of the time, and my son almost always is. i hope you and yours are too. that should be enough.

it’s hard out there in mom land and i could use your help. it would make it easier on me if you’d just drop the value interview masked in friendly conversation that i didn’t sign up for. we, as individuals, spouses, and parents, are flawed. relatedly, our life set ups are too.   i respect yours. i also respect mine.

i work and, overall, it works. that’s all.  i don’t feel pressured to stand in defence of my script… we’re cool. okay? let’s be done.

peace.

“there is a special place in hell for women who do not help other women”- madeleine k. albright.