Sigh . . . Time to Turn the Clocks Back

Once a year we get the infamous 'do over'. A chance to turn back the clock one hour and start over. I used to live for this day. 

When I was a teenager, this day represented an opportunity to get a much needed extra hour of sleep - meaning my Mom had to wait an extra hour before nagging me to get up and get busy. I cherished this day, and looked forward to it all year long.

As a younger adult, this day represented an extra hour before closing time at the bar. I'd get to listen to 'Closing Time' not once, but twice. What a great night!

As a parent with a young daughter, daylight savings time always afforded me the chance to arrive somewhere either an hour early, or more likely, have children arrive at my house an hour early because their parents forgot to turn the clocks back. Either that, or they just wanted to get rid of their kids early and feigned ignorance about the time change. 

Now, as a parent with three young children who have a knack for waking up at 6 a.m. no matter what time they go to bed, I dread the 'do over' day. Because they will be up at 5. Instead of an extra hour of sleep, I get an extra hour of whining, crying, fighting, and misery fun because we kept them up late the night before in the hopes that they would sleep in. One would think that we would know better by now - I mean they are 8 and 5 years old - it's not like we haven't walked this road before. Yet foolishly, we hold out hope every year.

This got me to thinking . . . if we are going to get to 'do over' hour, why couldn't it have been at 5:30 yesterday when we went to that awful Chinese Food restaurant and I gorged on ginger beef and spring rolls? I could have saved myself some misery. Or at 9:00 two Thursdays ago when I arrived at the Kindergarten class AFTER everyone had left on the field trip.

Sigh . . . oh well. Maybe I can get the kids to go to sleep at 6:30 tonight. At least it will be dark out.




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The Day After

Last night was the best night of my kids' life - or so they told me. While they were eating candy for breakfast. I forced them to eat something healthy along with all that sugar.

"You don't take care of us very well" they said. 

"Oh, and if I did, what would that look like?" I asked.

"You would let us eat candy ALL the time and drink pop for breakfast" I was informed. 

"I can't afford the dentist bill so I guess you'll have to suffer" I replied. They didn't appreciate my logic.

I sent them off to school. I contemplated sending an apology note to their teachers, but I was distracted by the piles of sugar in my kitchen.

For the rest of the morning I did everything I could to ignore the bowl of chocolate bars and skittles sitting on my counter. I ate raspberries. I defrosted the freezer. I cleaned and cleaned and cleaned. The more I ignored them, the louder those darn chocolate bars screamed. Then they started whining. Gah . . . I can't handle whining!!!

I relented. I gave in. I had one. It was sooooo good. I told myself "no more". I went back to work trying to distract myself.

As soon as the kids walked in the door, they immediately went to their candy bags. They are trying to take it easy on me by not letting me see what's inside. But I know what's in there - and it is calling me. 

One of them brought me a half eaten Aero bar. I said no, I can't eat that. No one else wanted it so my son walked over to throw it in the garbage can!

"Nooooooooooo" I yelled as I dove across the counter to rescue that delicious chocolate. I shoved it in my mouth as fast as I could, and then looked around the kitchen with wild eyes, searching for more. There were half eaten chocolate bars everywhere! Something inside me snapped.

I'm not exactly clear on what happened next, but I'm hoping my kids don't have nightmares after seeing me headfirst in their candy bags and hissing at them whenever they came within 5 feet of me. I'm assuming they went to bed while I was binging. Either that or they ran away.  

When my husband finally gets home tonight he may be surprised to find me sitting in the living room half dressed and stroking a ring pop repeating "My Precious".  All I know is he better not come near me unless he has chocolate . . . .



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Escape to Mom Island

This week is Mental Health Awareness week. In an effort to create ongoing discussion and awareness of Mental Health throughout the month of May, my sister over at Champions for Community Wellness has created a blog challenge called #Blog4MH, and I have decided to participate. I wrote this post three years ago; however it continues to be relevant to me (and I believe other parents) today. How does it relate to Mental Health? I believe parenting is one of the most challenging adventures we can embark upon - and I believe supporting one another through the struggles, successes, and difficult days is critical to our own mental health. A girly drink doesn't hurt either ;) 

Escape to Mom Island

I love my children . . . they are kind, considerate, well mannered, and thoughtful little beings that genuinely love and care for others. Then they come home. And turn into demons. I'm not sure why, but sometimes I feel having me as a mother might have something to do with it.

These past few weeks have resulted in a full on desire to take a Mommy Vacation. Please don't misunderstand - it isn't that I don't want to be around my kids. I just want a short break from the responsibility of the day to day joy of raising them. Time to reflect on who I am as a person, who I want to be as a wife and mother, and for goodness sake, just get some sleep already!

The other day I got a text from my friend asking if I was at home. My response was something like this:

Sadly, I am. I would prefer to be relaxing poolside being served some yummy girly drinks by cute dudes in towels; however I am here instead.

Image from Shoeboxblog.com

And I was. Making Kraft Dinner and hot dogs for the third time that week. Listening to the kids fight about who used the markers last and let them all dry out, whining about why they were given a particular kind of juice box in their lunch, and complaining that their Dad wasn't home - you know, because I'm so mean.






Yes, on Mom Island (thanks for this term @FoodieandFamily), things will be different. Someone will be cooking for me - and Kraft Dinner, hot dogs, and fish sticks will NOT be on the menu. Someone will be serving me a beverage of my choice. I can lay by the pool in my bikini (ha! you're welcome for THAT visual!), read a book or drift off for a nap. When I return to my room, it will be clean and there will be little chocolates (wrapped of course) on my pillow to snack on while I indulge in some reality tv that is too inappropriate for my children to see.

The best part of all? It's Mom Island. There's a ton of other Mom's there to talk to, share experiences with, laugh, and embrace the joys of being a mother. We will celebrate our children, and the gifts they give us. We will express our thanks to our husbands/parents/friends for taking on the responsibility of caring for our children and making it possible for our little escape.

We will talk about our hopes, our dreams, our interests, our experiences. We will celebrate being women, our resilience, and our tenacity. We will renew friendships, and cultivate relationships with others who we have never met before. We will laugh, we will cry, and yes, we will miss our children a great deal. They are, after all, a huge part of our world.

And then, I will return home. Refreshed, refuelled, and ready to take on the next round of "Who Used That Marker Anyways?". Confident in my ability as a woman, wife, and mother. Secure in the knowledge that I am not alone on this journey - even though at times I may feel like it. And hopefully, the kids will have missed me - even if it is only just a little bit. Because I know I will have missed them to the moon and back.

Having the opportunity to be a Mom to my kids is the greatest gift I have ever been given. I am so very thankful each and every day that I was chosen to be their mother. It is my responsibility to be as healthy as I can be - both physically and emotionally - so I can be worthy of the honour of being their mother. Because a tired, stressed out, crabby mother is not the kind of woman I want to be - nor is it a woman they deserve.

I'm going to start planning a trip to Mommy Island soon. It probably won't turn out exactly like I have envisioned, but I'm ok with that - as long as hot dogs aren't on the menu. Anyone care to join me? I promise, I won't wear my bikini ;)



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Super Stealth Mode

We've all been there - driving home after spending an afternoon somewhere, anxious to get the kids bathed and to bed. There's really no time for stopping - the sooner we get there, the sooner the evening routine can get started. Of course, this is more for our benefit than the kids most times but it's not like I'm keeping score.

Tonight was one of those nights. We were leaving Grandma & Grandpa's - I reminded the kids to please use the washroom before we left. They were all adamant they did not have to go. We piled into the truck and started on our 15 minute long journey.  Five minutes into our trek and the wails of "I have to go to the bathroom" began.  Of course he couldn't hold it. That bladder was like a water balloon on the edge - one wrong bump and well, someone was gonna get soaked.

And so began 'Operation Stealth Mode'. You know, when you stop in at a place of business just to do 'your' business, not wanting to take advantage of anything they might have to offer - like coffee, or donuts. I always feel guilty doing this. 

Of course, by the time we got to 'the place', another of our children was going to die if she didn't go pee RIGHT NOW. I looked at them with my 'dumb look' and asked why on earth they didn't go before we left Grandma & Grandpa's? I was hit with "Well, I didn't know I had to go", "I thought I could make it home", and spoken quite sanctimoniously, "well, I don't need to go - I'm good" (This last comment changed when he saw his brother and sister getting out of the truck. Apparently kids getting out of a truck will stimulate bladder activity in the one left behind).

I reminded them to just go in, use the washroom, and come out - keeping quiet so as not to draw attention to themselves. Then I sent my husband with them. I get to do things like this all the time - I figured he might as well get to have some fun for a change. You know, because I'm thoughtful like that.

The boys were quick and back out to the truck within a minute. I'm pretty sure they didn't wash their hands, but as they pointed out, I never told them they had to. I saw my husband waiting by the washroom door for my daughter. Several minutes went by and they finally got back in the truck.

Once we were on our way home, my husband relayed that the entire time our daughter was in the bathroom, she entertained the restaurant patrons with a stunning acoustic version of "Little Bunny Foo Foo" at the top of her lungs. She then ran out of the bathroom and to the window where our truck was parked and began banging on it and screaming "Hey Mommy! Mom!" Every patron of the restaurant was staring at them as they walked outside. 

Apparently, she will not do well with covert operations unless she has further training. I think I'll let her father take care of that.



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Favorite Quotes - Weekend Wrap Up

It's been a bit crazy around my house of late - well, let's be honest - a lot crazier than usual. I haven't checked outside, but I'm sure there must be a full moon either happening right now or just around the corner. If there isn`t, I might just be screwed.

And whenever it gets crazier, you can be sure there are some gems thrown out that need to be remembered forever.

Some of my favorites this week were:

"Mom, what did you do to your mouth? It smells so good today!" I smiled until the rest of the sentence came out - "usually it smells like fart". Nice.

"Mom, why don't you EVER make us something good to eat?" In all fairness to me, I was serving roast beef, mashed potatos, and corn - not of the popping type. Someday, when my kids are a bit older, I am going to take them to a food bank and/or shelter so they can better empathize with people who really do not have a choice about what to eat. In the meantime, it's tempting to just serve popcorn every night and see how long it takes them to get sick of it.

When admonishing one of my children for picking something, and subsequently eating it (ewwwwww!), I was informed that "Hey, at least I can have a snack wherever I go!" Sigh. He does kind of have a point I guess.

Two of my children got into a fight, resulting in one biting the other. When I was talking with Captain Cruncher, he informed me that he hadn't actually bit his sister, he had simply "scraped her with my teeth." Not gonna lie - it was kind of hard to keep a straight face on that one.

Tucking my son into bed the other night, he said to me "Mommy, you are beautiful . . . just not really in a pretty sort of way". Hmmmmm . . . this kind of talk does not bode well for future relationships.

There were of course several more - but several a few rounds of Gin & Tonic have unfortunately erased them from my memory. Oh well, I`m sure there will be more to come in the future - after all, my kids are brilliant when it comes to this stuff.

Have a great weekend everyone!

A Long Night

Last night I had a very realistic dream that I was brushing my youngest daughters hair and found the dreaded 'L' word. 

When I woke up, I grabbed the flashlight and headed upstairs to check her. No sign of anything. Breathing a sigh of relief, I crawled back into bed and thanked the big guy upstairs for not giving me more than I could handle.

Then my head started to itch. And itch. And ITCH. I jumped up, ran to the bathroom and began obsessively checking every inch of my head that I could see. A few times I would see something suspicious, and my heart stopped dead in it's tracks - but thankfully those things were only little flakes of dandruff. I've never been so grateful for dandruff.

I repeated this process several times throughout the night as no matter what I did, my head continued to itch. And my husband wonders why I'm tired all the time.

Let's just say, I can hardly wait for the letter informing me 'that someone in the class has lice' to come home from the school. 

Bet your head is kinda itchy now too, hey? You're welcome for that.


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Your Opinion Please?

Today was an interesting day. 

Today I learned about a website/blog that basically calls people out for "oversharing". It's an interesting, and obviously very popular, concept. Regular people like you and me can send in Facebook Statuses/Twitter/social media submissions written by other people who have 'overshared' with respect to their parenting. They are then, often times unbeknownst to the original author, posted on the website along with a commentary about why this stuff shouldn't be shared. The purpose is to make parents aware that the general population does not need to know everything about what is happening in your family/day and therefore prevent future breaches of self restraint.  Every effort is made to remove any identifying information in order to maintain some anonymity.

This is big - the creator of the blog had remained anonymous for a number of years; however revealed herself as she's recently gotten a book deal. The site gets a crazy number of views per day, and from what I understand, people are constantly sending in new material.  And, let's be real - there is a great deal of 'oversharing' going on - not just with parenting, but with other situations that are best left private too. I've looked at the blog. I've read a number of posts. There are some really funny things that people post (and totally gross things too, ewwww). People like to read this stuff - otherwise the blog wouldn't be as popular as it is.

Why is it that we feel we can share our (or our children's) most intimate moments with everyone? I'm guilty of this - I can look back on my blog and identify a few posts that probably should not have been published. I think sometimes, I might see the situation as quite funny  - whereas other people may not really appreciate the humor. I would hope that if they found it to be too much, they would talk to me directly vs. send a link or email to a website where my silliness can be shared with 1.5 million people.

I think that in the age of social media it is sometimes too easy to forget that I shouldn't post anything that I wouldn't actually say (or show) to my friends. Those who know me are aware that I often make light of the strange situations I encounter with my children on a regular basis - it's my way of trying to stay somewhat sane as a parent. Yes, in our house, we do sometimes get excited about things that come out of our bodies - and I do sometimes tell people about it. If you have the misfortune of being in our house at one of these times (sorry Mom!), I do actually feel bad for you. That being said, for any parent who has a child who has struggled and struggled and struggled to have clean underwear, you will know how important these celebrations are. Not to us - but to our children. I'm hoping I didn't post anything on Facebook - but I might have - and if I did, I apologize. 

In addition, I think a lot of times I post things on Facebook, Twitter, or write on my blog in a simple effort to try and engage with my friends/family. Yes, I talk to my friends. Yes, I see my family. Yes, I get out of my house and do things with other people. But on a crazy day, when I can't even see which way is up, and the kids have turned into weapons of mass destruction that are defeating me faster than a stealth bomber, and all my friends and family are at work and/or busy, my social media accounts are all I have. Is this right? Probably not. It certainly isn't engaging in a meaningful interaction with someone - like an adult ;) But it does allow me to temporarily disengage from what is happening in my house and feel like someone else cares (even though they probably don't). It allows me to step back, try to find the humor in the situation, and then go on with my day, children intact. If this bothers you, please tell me - don't copy and paste my stuff into an e-mail and send it to a website for all to see.

There are two things that bother me about the premise of this website:

I don't believe that it is respectful to post someone else's stuff (even if it is disturbing, gross, or just plain weird) without their knowledge. The posts that end up on the website in question are sent in by fans - sometimes those who are 'friends' with the perpetrator of oversharing on Facebook or Twitter. I suppose some random stuff can be found on the internet too - I haven't taken the time to google it specifically, but judging from other things I've seen, it does exist. This bothers me greatly. Why oh why, if you are someone's friend, would you violate their privacy for the sake of a laugh? Is it that important to have them called out on their inappropriateness? Do you really think that by pointing out their post to millions of people is really going to help them share less - especially when they aren't aware of it? Or help the readers of the blog share less? Realistically, probably not. Wouldn't there be greater success by actually communicating with your friend about what is bothering you?  I have tried my best to make it my personal policy to not post any material that is going to be demeaning for my children later on. I've probably not been entirely successful with this - but the intention is there nonetheless.  If I'm choosing to write about my older daughter, or plan to include something from someone else, I first ask permission. I wouldn't want someone to open my blog and find out that I have written about something funny they have done or said - it's kind of like a virtual 'stab in the back', and I don't want to be a part of it. Perhaps if they contacted the author prior to posting it might be different. Yeah, a lot of people would probably say no way - but dollars to donuts, many more would say yes. At least then the owner of the content would be aware of and have consented to public ridicule.  Yes, it's fine to say that if the owner requests that content be removed then it will be removed - but what if the owner doesn't even know it's there?

Which leads me to the next thing that leaves a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. There is A LOT of funny stuff on this website. I look at the stuff that people share, and I think to myself, why? Why would you say/do/share that? I don't know the person - I likely never will, so I can't take it in the context of their personality. I don't know whether they had to wait for years and years and years to have a child, and are so struck as parents that they wish to share everything! I don't know if the person writing is a teenager - because if they are, well, we all know what comes out of a teenagers brain. I don't know how many 'friends' they have on Facebook - or what their privacy settings are. I don't know these people. What I do know is this . . . the more I read the blog - particularly the Woe is Mom section, the more I felt like I was back in Junior High, snickering at the 'new kid' while they tried to get their books opened. Or whispering to my friends in the bathroom, mocking how so and so couldn't even do a cartwheel right. Or gossiping about how person A slept with person B while they were dating person C and so on and so forth. Or being the one in the bathroom stall and hearing what everyone else was saying about me. And I couldn't read anymore. It just isn't a fit for me. And it doesn't have to be. That's the beauty of being able to choose.

So even though this isn't a website for me, I will give it props for offering up some pretty clear examples of what I should and should not be writing about. And please - if something I write bothers you, I would prefer you let me know rather than stop reading my stuff, hiding my status updates, unfriending me, or offering it up to the internet gods. If you feel it is that necessary to show people how crazy I am, send them to my blog. They'll get the point. And I'll get the page views - it's a win-win.

What are your thoughts? Sound off below to tell me what you think.