Archives for April 2011

A-Z and Back to Bed*

April 25, 2011 by Farewell Stranger ·

So I’m trolling around the Interwebs today and I come across this meme. I normally don’t do memes, but I kind of like this one. (*Note that you have to be Canadian for the title to rhyme, so just humour me and read it that way.)

To give credit where credit is due, I stole this from Just Plain Jayne who stole it from The Sweetest who found it at Mean Girl Garage. She stole it from Lex at Lex in the City who stole it from Jen O. from My Tornado Alley who stole it from Bored Mommy who found it at… Oh, forget it. I love following a trail but I suspect this one could go on forever.

A. Age: I always have to think when people ask me this question. I’m going to go with 36. I think.

B. Bed size: King, but lately I mostly sleep in a double in my sanctuary room.

C. Chore you dislike: Cleaning tubs and showers. Floors. Except vacuuming. I love vacuuming.

D. Dogs: We have a 5 year old Wheaten Terrier named Finley. He’s totally a daddy’s dog, but sometimes he comes and cuddles with me. Puppy therapy is the best.

E. Essential start to your day: Brushing my teeth and checking email and Twitter, which I now do before eating breakfast. Most unusual.

Alphabet on Sand by Stephen Rees

F. Favorite color: Used to be blue, but now it’s red. A really deep red.

G. Gold or silver: White gold. Or silver. But I don’t do yellow gold.

H. Height: 5’9”, most of which is in my legs making it a giant pain to find pants that are long enough.

I. Instruments you play(ed): I took piano and flute lessons when I was younger and then I think my mom accepted that being musical is not one of my many talents. <sarcasm> I think I also played the recorder for a bit. Oh, and I played the triangle for a school concert once. That was truly a high point in my musical career.

J. Job title: Internal communications director. Mama.

K. Kids: One feisty almost-three-year-old. There’s another one lurking in the metaphorical wings if I can ever kick this PPD crap.

L. Live: Is this “live” as in “live life”? Or “live” as in “Live from New York, it’s Saturday Night!” Either way, I like to live life when I’m not battling something that makes me not want to. And I’m not really big on live shows. Plays, yes. Concerts, not so much.

M. Mom’s name: Mom. Mama. Momita. Grandma (which used to be Gandala).

N. Nicknames: Robs. Bobbin. Mama. Daddy. (Sometimes he gets confused.)

O. Overnight hospital stays: Two. Appendix when I was about 11. C-section when C was born. How come I get all the horrible abdominal stuff?

P. Pet peeves: People who chew with their mouth open. People who pay no attention to anyone around them and stop suddenly right in front of you. People who hit “reply all” to emails when it’s really not warranted.

Q. Quote from a movie: “Carpe diem. Seize the day, boys. Make your lives extraordinary.” – Dead Poets Society

R. Righty or Lefty: Righty. Except when I’m shuffling cards.

S. Siblings: Brother and 2 sisters. I’m the oldest. 2 half sibs also (older than I).

T. Time you wake up: Whatever time the toddler tells me to wake up. Except lately because I’m all doped up on sedatives and am finding it incredibly easy to sleep until past noon. And then want to go to sleep some more.

U. Underwear: I do wear them, but my son’s insistence on going commando makes me wonder if underwear is overrated.

V. Vegetables you don’t like: Um. Hmm. I like most of them so let’s go with the old standby: Brussels sprouts.

W. What makes you run late: The kid. Apathy. Losing my car keys. Always forgetting that traffic on a certain part of my route is ridiculous and there’s nothing I can do about it because I don’t own a car that can drive over all the others.

X. X-rays you’ve had: Teeth. Hands. Broken toes. I’m sure there are others… I tend to be clumsy.

Y. Yummy food you make: Good curries. Pretty good chili. I’d love to make more soup (yum) but my husband doesn’t eat soup. I know. He’s a freak.

Z. Zoo Animal Favorites: Giraffes. When I saw the petite lap giraffes and realized they weren’t real, a part of me died.

Filed Under: Happy things · Tagged With: blogging, lists

Versatile Blogger Award

April 24, 2011 by Farewell Stranger ·

Awards season is in full swing here at Farewell, Stranger. The lovely – and very brave – Naomi from Confessions of a Momaholic has awarded me the Versatile Blogger Award.

According to the rules, I’m supposed to tell you 7 things about myself. I already had to do this when I got the Stylish Blogger Award so now have to think of 7 more that will make me sound interesting. Here goes:

I have 3 siblings and 2 half siblings. I didn’t grow up with those 2, but my whole sense of what family is about is due to having had a big family growing up. There’s no way I could ever have 4 kids, but it makes me a little sad that Connor’s childhood will be different – and somehow less – because his won’t be like mine was.
I hate licorice.
I was vegetarian for a few years when I was in university but chicken brought me back.
I only drink black tea. Never met an herbal tea I could get down.
I really like the Muppets (I even incorporate them into presentations I do for my work) and we used “Somebody’s getting married” as one of our wedding songs.
We considered naming Connor Jackson but then realized since we intended to use Michael as his middle name that would be sort of…unfortunate.
I watched the movie “Annie” countless times when I was in about grade 4. I counted how many times I’d seen it but lost track after 27.

Now that I’ve revealed all this nerdy stuff about me, it’s my pleasure to pass this award on to 15 other bloggers. (Yes, 15. That seems crazy but I don’t make the rules.)

The award goes to:

Leighann from The Endless Rant of a Multitasking Mumma, who started blogging at the same time I did. She writes honestly about her PPD but she’s also funny and frequently very good when you’re looking for a touching post about babyhood.
Denelle from Caitlin’s Concepts. Denelle doesn’t hide her crazy, but she’s got a stare-life-in-the-face attitude that comes through in her posts. Plus she’s funny. Plus she rocks responses to The Red Dress Club writing prompts.
James from James & Jax. She’s another in the PPD army, but wow, is she ever versatile. Beyond PPD, she writes about her goals, her thoughts in response to Thought-Provoking Thursday questions and everyday-life stuff with her little guy. Her appreciation for things really comes through in her posts.
If you haven’t checked out this blog before you really need to. The 21st Century Mrs is hysterical. And she draws. She even drew a giraffe just for me because one day I needed one. Before that she drew bears and after that she drew a stabby meat cleaver. That’s versatility, people.
If you visit Mommy is in timeout! you will find Elena writing about taking time to have fun with her two boys on Crazy Mommy Mondays, recipes, and all kinds of other things in addition to her timeout reading suggestions, which I’m honoured to have been featured in three times.
One day I caught a tweet about wishing more people would comment on blogs. I got in to a conversation with Tonya from Letters for Lucas about it and we ended up being comment buddies for a bit. Somewhere along the way hers has become one of the blogs I always read. I love her stories – about her son, her parents’ deaths, the ways she takes time for herself. She reflects on things and then describes them so others know just what she means. Plus she’s become one of my biggest supporters, and for that I just love her. (I am aware that she’s received this award before, but I am choosing to give it to her again.)
Wanna see how a web-savvy chick who’s new to blogging gets her blogging ball rolling? Check out Bluebird’s Nest. She has a wee babe and a tweenager, she’s smart, she’s determined and she’s adventurous. (She’s also a friend and colleague.) Robin’s currently getting ready for the trip of a lifetime and I’m looking forward to reading all about it.
I stick to one style of writing, more or less, but Jenna (or Frelle, as she is known) doesn’t. Poetry, narrative, memoir – doesn’t matter. It’s all poetic. No matter what she’s writing about, she puts her soul on every page and I think it’s beautiful
Some people start blogging and seem to immediately get it. Mama Track is one of those blogs. She went from Harvard lawyer to work at home mom, which makes for some great blog. I can’t even remember how I found her, but I’m so glad I did. She reads all my stuff and is so supportive – one of those people I’d love to meet in real life. (While I was putting together this post, someone else gave her this same award. Can you believe it?! The nerve. But I love her so I refuse to take her off my list.)
Someone else I connected with via Twitter is Liz from NorthShoreMommy. After tweeting with her and reading her blog for a while, I want to move in next door and establish a mutual support society. Except she’s moving. So her adventure will continue in a different way and I’ll still follow along.
Some blogs are all “my kids are so cute!” and “look how perfect my life is”. (I think. I don’t read those blogs.) Not Jayne’s. She’s another one of those beautifully honest writers who manages to still be funny.
Pamela strikes me as a totally funky person. Unfortunately for her, she’s riding the same PPD rollercoaster I am, but she always manages to bring it on her blog.
When I first saw Carrie’s blog, The Sweetest, I was totally drawn in by her blog design. I won’t lie – I want it. If she ever decides to redesign her site, I’m calling dibs on that design. But that’s not why I think she deserves this award – take a look at her categories. From the kitchen. Lifestyle. Marriage. Parenting. Versatile, baby.
A good friend of mine tells me I inspired her to blog. For some people starting a blog takes but a click. For others, it’s part of a process of determining who you want to be and how you want to express yourself. I think Kim’s doing it beautifully, so head on over and show her some new-blogger love.
The last – and not least, of course – is Devan from Accustomed Chaos. If you haven’t visited Devan, you really need to. She survived 10 miscarriages and instead of wallowing she set up a site to support others following miscarriage, stillbirth and neonatal loss. On her own blog, she covers all sots of topics including gentle parenting and gluten free living. I haven’t met her in person, but I’d be willing to bet she’s one of the kindest people I would ever have the privilege to meet.

So that’s it – 15 women who inspire me, support me and demonstrate why all this bloggy-ness matters.

There’s more to come from the (virtual) red carpet. The amazing Multitasking Mumma has given me the Stylish Blogger Award (again! She clearly hasn’t seen my sweat pant collection). Over the next while I’ll be pondering on whom to bestow this next honour. Are you stylish? Want an award? Let me know – I’m accepting nominations (self or otherwise).

Thanks again to Naomi!

Filed Under: Happy things · Tagged With: blogging, community, gratitude, spreading the love

We Danced

April 23, 2011 by Farewell Stranger ·

“Will you dance with me, mama?”

So many of his questions are hard and ask more of me than I feel I can give.

“Will you play with me?” breaks my heart when I’m in a low moment and playing takes more mama energy than I have.

“I want to go downstairs,” at 6 a.m. brings out the why-can’t-you and if-only questions that are asked so many times when you have a small child and don’t get to sleep in. And, for me, it feels like the time I’ll be on duty is longer than I’m able to entertain him.

“Can I have milk?” is a ticking bomb when it’s not time for milk and I know the required “no” response will instigate a meltdown. That meltdown (his) will cause a spike in anxiety (mine) and a fight-or-flight response – neither option an appropriate one when dealing with a 2-year-old who simply wants milk.

But when he asks me to dance? This I can do. I turn up my song, which is fast becoming his song.

He’s on his feet as soon as he hears the first notes.

Right right, turn off the lights
We gonna lose our minds tonight
What’s the dealio?

He bounces like he’s on one of those mini trampolines, smile at full wattage.

I love when it’s all too much
5 AM turn the radio up
Where’s the rock and roll?

Not at 5 a.m. but we did turn this up early one morning and danced to it in bed. When I peeked down the hall my husband had the pillow over his head.

Party crasher, panty snatcher
Call me up if you are gangsta’
Don’t be fancy
Just get dancey
Why so serious?

Fancy is not a word my little man worries about. “Just get dancey” is a suggestion he doesn’t have to hear twice.

And then the best part, where he kicks the strut in his stuff up a notch.

So raise your glass if you are wrong
In all the right ways
All my underdogs, we will never be, never be
Anything but loud
And nitty gritty dirty little freaks
Won’t you come on, and come on, and
Raise your glass
Just come on and come and
Raise Your Glass!

I watch him he bounces. As he twirls. At one point he stops and shakes his bum.

Dancing with him I laugh.

He stops for a moment and comes to me, arms in the air. I pick him up and he rests his cheek on mine.

“I love you,” he says.

I say it back as he kisses me on the mouth. The he slithers down and we’re dancing again.

In this moment something in me pauses and I can see so clearly what it’s about. Being a mother is not about worrying whether you’re good enough. It’s not about giving in to the anxiety when it hovers, telling you the hours until bedtime will feel like a nightmare-filled eternity.

It’s about saying yes when your child asks you to dance.

So we dance.

And when the song ends, we do it again. Because when you have an opportunity to dance with your child, you Raise Your Glass to that opportunity and dance.

Filed Under: Happy things, Motherhood · Tagged With: favourite activities, living life, moments

On Death and Doubt: A Letter to My Darkest Fear

April 22, 2011 by Farewell Stranger ·

When I embraced motherhood, I accepted fear as part of the role. I feared being a mother would be hard, that something would happen to my child, that, with all I have to give, it wouldn’t be enough.

For a while I was succeeding at pushing these fears away. Then, suddenly and without invitation, on a day when it all felt like too much, you appeared – a deeper, darker fear.

Like a true villain, you waited until I was alone in the house – alone and feeling vulnerable – and then you came in. You entered silently and with no warning. And you attacked.

You stood in front of me and told me it was too hard. That I, in fact, can’t do it. That I will never be able to.

You closed the blinds and sucked the oxygen from the air. You became a physical presence and, momentarily at least, a part of me. With your hand on your hip and your finger in my face you told me I’d never be able to handle this role and there was only one way out.

For the briefest of moments, I thought you were right.

But you are not right, and you are not a part of me.

And you did not win.

The temptation was not nearly enough.

The effects on others would have been far too great.

I have revealed your presence to others and I’m no longer alone with you. The bottles of pills have been removed. Your suggested path to peace is not an option I will choose.

And yet you’re still here. I feel you dancing around my consciousness as I go about my day. In the quietness of the evenings I see you sitting in the chair in the corner, and when I wake up in the mornings I see you there still. You barely move, as though to suggest that overwhelming me takes little effort. You merely flick your barbs at me, each tiny movement filled with contempt.

You’re never going to get better.

Deep down, you don’t want this life and you know it.

You’re ruining him. He sees you as weak.

Run away. Find an apartment where you can live alone and not have to deal with any of this anymore.

You’re going to have to make a choice. This bubble of support is going to burst soon and you’re going to be left alone in a heap on the floor.

You want this fixed? You want it to all go away?! Just take the easy way out and it will be done.

You put all my fears into one tidy package labeled “the way out” and you threw it at me. When I let it fall to the floor you didn’t retreat. You attacked again, telling me my choice meant I’d be stuck with a life I can’t handle.

How dare you? You think the easy way out is something I’d ever choose? You dare to assert that I can’t do this role? And do it well?

I’m here to tell you that you underestimated me. You underestimated all of us, for I am not alone in this. There is another option. A different path. A way out.

The only way out is through.

See that door? I’ve gone through it and I’ve locked it behind me.

Your path, your presence, is not an option. You are not welcome to stay with me any longer.

Do you hear me? I’ve rejected you. So consider me gone and move on.

____________________

This post is non-fiction and written in response to a prompt from The Red Dress Club: “Write a letter to your deepest, darkest fear.

This is the story that has been waiting to come out – constructive criticism is welcome, but please be kind 😉

Filed Under: Postpartum depression · Tagged With: admissions, call for back-up, meltdown, telling the truth

Fledgling Friday – April 22 Easter edition

April 22, 2011 by Farewell Stranger ·

Happy Good Friday, Fledglings!

If you’re a new blogger – less than a year – please choose a post you’d like to share and link up below. This is about discovering new blogs and sharing some comment love, so please visit your fellow newbies. If you’re not new, we love your support too!