Do you ever get the feeling that being a mother is like the longest babysitting job you ever had and you’ve just fallen asleep on the couch and the REAL parents are going to walk in any minute and give you your $1.75/hour (yes, I am THAT old)?...
My kids look like their father, they have the same gestures that he does and their carnivorous nature they definitely did not get from me. It’s clear that they are his and I know deep down in the memories of pain that I had a part in bringing them into this world, but some days I honestly wonder how they got here.
Don’t get me wrong - we bonded, we nursed, we laughed, we cried. Or rather, the babies laughed and I cried, but who is this person I’ve become with a new name and a new list (or a list of books with lists) of responsibilities and expectations?
I was never one of those people that always dreamed of having children, imagining what my offspring would look like paired with this guy or that guy. No, my life goal was actually to join a convent – I was looking into the whole Catholic thing when I met my husband to be, and well, you know what they say about the best laid plans…
Needless to say, we married and came to that moment when we had to choose if it was to be us, or a sleepier, poorer us. We are definitely sleepy and poor but happy so I guess we chose wisely.
The kiddlings look at me some days like they’ve figured me out, like they KNOW that I’m not quite cut out for this mothering gig and that maybe, just maybe someone else should really be in charge.
I’ve blinked and pinched myself and dunked my head in cold water and I’m still here and well they’re still here too, so looks like we’re all here to stay. So I should probably get around to admitting to myself that I wasn’t just yo-yo dieting for three years, that smell on my sweater really is spit up and that mommy definitely isn’t the worst name that I’ve been called.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Saturday, March 27, 2010
TODAY I AM MOTHER
Today I am Mother. Actually, this morning I was Rotarian and this evening I will be Wife, but in between, I am Mother. Yesterday I was salesman, secretary, PR Director, Vice President, friend, sister and for a very brief moment while drinking a beautiful latte, I was just Chantelle. But today I am Mother and today is a good day. Today I am also princess (actually I get to be Snow White – you know the scene where the 7 dwarves discover her in their beds and they are all ready to chop her up with their axes and picks, yep, that’s the scene we recreate!) and pirate and recently I am fisherman (I even get to hold the fishing rod every once in a while). I am the big fisherman and the boys are little fishermen and surprise, we catch fish. It’s fun because it’s always exciting to them. Like the 1,000th time it is still exciting! (I’m also excited about the number 1,000 because my 3¾ year old just learned to count to 1,000.)
Some days it is harder and takes more effort to stir up energy, but not today. Today the sun is shining and I can FEEL spring coming. And not just spring, but the hope and the joy and the warmth that it brings. Today my boys are at 75% hugs and 25% hits – it’s a very good day. We usually average about 50/50 so when hugs and helps outnumber hits and pushes, all is good.
Today it is not about me, and sorry, it’s not about you either. It is not even about the house or the to-do lists. Today is about them - it is about the two cheeky monkeys who have turned my living room into a farm, my bedroom into a jumping pillow pile, my kitchen into Rice Krispie central, and the balcony into a fishing boat.
Today is about explaining, while keeping a serious face, why aiming the fishing rod INTO little brother’s face, really actually isn’t a good idea and is also about wishing there was some way I could effectively sneak vegetables into Rice Krispie squares.
By the grace and strength I’ve been given to be Mother for today I am extremely grateful, and so I must complete the work of fishing and feeding and snuggling. What a good day.
Some days it is harder and takes more effort to stir up energy, but not today. Today the sun is shining and I can FEEL spring coming. And not just spring, but the hope and the joy and the warmth that it brings. Today my boys are at 75% hugs and 25% hits – it’s a very good day. We usually average about 50/50 so when hugs and helps outnumber hits and pushes, all is good.
Today it is not about me, and sorry, it’s not about you either. It is not even about the house or the to-do lists. Today is about them - it is about the two cheeky monkeys who have turned my living room into a farm, my bedroom into a jumping pillow pile, my kitchen into Rice Krispie central, and the balcony into a fishing boat.
Today is about explaining, while keeping a serious face, why aiming the fishing rod INTO little brother’s face, really actually isn’t a good idea and is also about wishing there was some way I could effectively sneak vegetables into Rice Krispie squares.
By the grace and strength I’ve been given to be Mother for today I am extremely grateful, and so I must complete the work of fishing and feeding and snuggling. What a good day.
Friday, February 19, 2010
PEOPLE'S STARES
Shopping with children can be many things. When the children are boys ages 2 and 3¾ (the ¾ being a VERY important distinction to when he was only JUST 3) it mostly ranges from very painful to semi-painless, and seems to fluctuate in respect to how many snacks I’ve packed. Now, the rare times my husband joins us for a ‘family shopping moment’, he seems to think that the looks the other people are giving him in the store, when our kids are acting up or lying down in the middle of the isle, are ones of love for little children and how cute and adorable they are. He’s probably right. When HE is with the boys. He has that “good guy” look that makes you like him instantly, and the boys look just like him, so something about the daddy and mini-me combination just makes other people “ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, isn’t that cute”.
Now when I am at the store with the boys, and they are yelling or running down the isle in front of other people’s carts (this is all hypothetical of course), I believe I get very different looks. Are you ever tempted to pretend to be the babysitter and say really loudly: “If you don’t sit still I’m going to tell your mother what you did.”? Sigh. I would if I could get away with it.
I have a Scottish friend (who happens to have very light coloured hair) who married a man from South Africa, and they have a beautiful daughter who happens to be the spitting imagine of her very dark father. One day when my friend’s daughter was young, she gave a full-fledged screaming, arms-flailing tantrum in the middle of the shopping mall. Now THEN, if I was my Scottish friend, I would be saying to other bystanders “I don’t know where that girl’s mother is, but she needs to come deal with this child” – and then fade away into the background.
The hardest part for me is that when my kids are acting up, for the most part I find them extremely entertaining, especially when they sing loudly (some might call it screaming, actually most people would call it screaming) and make each other laugh – even in public. So, should you come across my two little blondies running and yelling through the store, my apologies, but gosh, that’s just funny stuff.
Now when I am at the store with the boys, and they are yelling or running down the isle in front of other people’s carts (this is all hypothetical of course), I believe I get very different looks. Are you ever tempted to pretend to be the babysitter and say really loudly: “If you don’t sit still I’m going to tell your mother what you did.”? Sigh. I would if I could get away with it.
I have a Scottish friend (who happens to have very light coloured hair) who married a man from South Africa, and they have a beautiful daughter who happens to be the spitting imagine of her very dark father. One day when my friend’s daughter was young, she gave a full-fledged screaming, arms-flailing tantrum in the middle of the shopping mall. Now THEN, if I was my Scottish friend, I would be saying to other bystanders “I don’t know where that girl’s mother is, but she needs to come deal with this child” – and then fade away into the background.
The hardest part for me is that when my kids are acting up, for the most part I find them extremely entertaining, especially when they sing loudly (some might call it screaming, actually most people would call it screaming) and make each other laugh – even in public. So, should you come across my two little blondies running and yelling through the store, my apologies, but gosh, that’s just funny stuff.
Monday, February 8, 2010
THE KIDS ARE NAKED AGAIN
They love skin – their skin and my skin – especially the nice easy to grab bit around my waist, sigh.
So we’re at my friend’s house and the kids – my 3.5 year old boy and her 3.5 year old daughter, who is actually 5 weeks older than my kid and the 2 year old. They are playing tea party that soon turned into naked party! I wasn’t quite ready for them to play “you show me yours and I’ll show you mine” but, well, we’re here now so let’s deal with it. Except that it’s just my guy who’s buck naked. And then the story comes out. Little naked’s father told him that no, he could not have more water for their pretend tea party, if you want more water go have a bath. So, the boy did what any rational person would do – check out to see if little Miss Natalie had any good bath toys. Obviously she did so off went the clothes and into the tub he was going too. Oh dear. Well, I think that might be the only time when Natalie’s dad will laugh at my son being naked in his daughter’s bedroom...
So we’re at my friend’s house and the kids – my 3.5 year old boy and her 3.5 year old daughter, who is actually 5 weeks older than my kid and the 2 year old. They are playing tea party that soon turned into naked party! I wasn’t quite ready for them to play “you show me yours and I’ll show you mine” but, well, we’re here now so let’s deal with it. Except that it’s just my guy who’s buck naked. And then the story comes out. Little naked’s father told him that no, he could not have more water for their pretend tea party, if you want more water go have a bath. So, the boy did what any rational person would do – check out to see if little Miss Natalie had any good bath toys. Obviously she did so off went the clothes and into the tub he was going too. Oh dear. Well, I think that might be the only time when Natalie’s dad will laugh at my son being naked in his daughter’s bedroom...
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Nutrition 101
Nutrition will, I believe, always be a challenge for anyone who feeds a family. My little family has a number of strikes against us.
(1) I am the primary food provider and I don’t like to cook. Bake yes. Cook no. What this means is that my kids eat a great breakfast and a wonderful muffin for snack and the rest is a bit sketchy.
(2) I am a vegetarian. The rest are not. Meat, even when cooked yucks me out. I’m working on this.
(3) The 3 year old is in the very picky stage and the only fruit he will eat is raspberries – not MIXED berries, no no no, only raspberries. Oh ya, and pasta – with ketchup only. The other will eat most of anything. Mostly. But rarely will all 3 (son #1, son #2, dad) eat the same thing on the same night. Sigh.
(4) Did I mention that cooking does nothing for my joy of life? (do I sound winey yet?)
So I went to a seminar for “nutrition” – which was really a plug for Juice+Plus supplements. Good idea. Costly. Not sure if I could even get them to eat that. I’ll check into it - it HAS to be better than gummy bear vitamins…
So, I plan my menu every week now – try to get at least yogurt and raspberries and brown rice down their throats every week and try not to count the number of cinnamon toast sandwiches we’ve had in one day! (Is Mr. Christy a food group???) I’ve done all the tricks – added veggies to pasta sauce, cut up healthy stuff using fun shaped cookie cutters – bribed them with, well, unhealthy food (oops – that one back fired). Anyways, the moral of the story is. We’re not doing so bad and I think I’m just encouraging one of them to pursue a career as a chef, even if it’s just for the survival of family.
They’ll always love my French toast…
(1) I am the primary food provider and I don’t like to cook. Bake yes. Cook no. What this means is that my kids eat a great breakfast and a wonderful muffin for snack and the rest is a bit sketchy.
(2) I am a vegetarian. The rest are not. Meat, even when cooked yucks me out. I’m working on this.
(3) The 3 year old is in the very picky stage and the only fruit he will eat is raspberries – not MIXED berries, no no no, only raspberries. Oh ya, and pasta – with ketchup only. The other will eat most of anything. Mostly. But rarely will all 3 (son #1, son #2, dad) eat the same thing on the same night. Sigh.
(4) Did I mention that cooking does nothing for my joy of life? (do I sound winey yet?)
So I went to a seminar for “nutrition” – which was really a plug for Juice+Plus supplements. Good idea. Costly. Not sure if I could even get them to eat that. I’ll check into it - it HAS to be better than gummy bear vitamins…
So, I plan my menu every week now – try to get at least yogurt and raspberries and brown rice down their throats every week and try not to count the number of cinnamon toast sandwiches we’ve had in one day! (Is Mr. Christy a food group???) I’ve done all the tricks – added veggies to pasta sauce, cut up healthy stuff using fun shaped cookie cutters – bribed them with, well, unhealthy food (oops – that one back fired). Anyways, the moral of the story is. We’re not doing so bad and I think I’m just encouraging one of them to pursue a career as a chef, even if it’s just for the survival of family.
They’ll always love my French toast…
Friday, January 15, 2010
OFFICIALLY OLD ENOUGH
It has dawned on me over the last week that I am officially old enough.
Officially old enough to not be considered “young” anymore to anyone.
Officially old enough to write my own autobiography.
And officially old enough to know better.
It hit me when I was driving to an event through some pretty thick fog. Good thing the roads in my community don’t have street lights or road shoulders or even markers where the road drops off 20 feet down the right side. Anyways. I realized that in my years of driving that I had rarely driven through fog. And then came the “hit me” part. I’ve been driving for 20 years.
And then; I’ve been working for 20 years! Apparently my 16th year was very significant for me.
(Please don’t make me do the math for you about how old I am now...)
20 years is a long time.
I am just working through an 8 week “course” from Darren Hardy that is about setting life goals. It starts with taking an account of your life, taking an account of your blessings and values and desires and THEN moves onto goal setting once the foundation has been set.
In the last 20 years I have gotten to know myself, found I don’t know myself at all, driven through snow and ice and nice weather, travelled, married, given birth, nursed my children, opened a new business, gotten to know myself again, cried and laughed with many good deep friends, cried and laughed at myself, set goals, accomplished goals, failed, succeeded, ran, slept and admired beauty. I’ve read a thousand books and have a thousand more I want to read. It’s been a good 20 years. Thank you to my 16 year old self for starting somewhere – even if was only a drive to 7-11. Thank you for getting off your ass and getting it done. Cheers sweety, I love you.
Officially old enough to not be considered “young” anymore to anyone.
Officially old enough to write my own autobiography.
And officially old enough to know better.
It hit me when I was driving to an event through some pretty thick fog. Good thing the roads in my community don’t have street lights or road shoulders or even markers where the road drops off 20 feet down the right side. Anyways. I realized that in my years of driving that I had rarely driven through fog. And then came the “hit me” part. I’ve been driving for 20 years.
And then; I’ve been working for 20 years! Apparently my 16th year was very significant for me.
(Please don’t make me do the math for you about how old I am now...)
20 years is a long time.
I am just working through an 8 week “course” from Darren Hardy that is about setting life goals. It starts with taking an account of your life, taking an account of your blessings and values and desires and THEN moves onto goal setting once the foundation has been set.
In the last 20 years I have gotten to know myself, found I don’t know myself at all, driven through snow and ice and nice weather, travelled, married, given birth, nursed my children, opened a new business, gotten to know myself again, cried and laughed with many good deep friends, cried and laughed at myself, set goals, accomplished goals, failed, succeeded, ran, slept and admired beauty. I’ve read a thousand books and have a thousand more I want to read. It’s been a good 20 years. Thank you to my 16 year old self for starting somewhere – even if was only a drive to 7-11. Thank you for getting off your ass and getting it done. Cheers sweety, I love you.
Saturday, January 9, 2010
THE DAY MY SON TURNED 2
I believe that my youngest son can read for the day my second son turned 2 years old, I swear he picked up my parenting book and read that two year olds have tantrums and assert their independence. Overnight he cries over things he never used to care about and gets angry, oh so angry at something that is not attainable or has been given the “no no”.
On the other hand, his mind can see patterns now. Not just the immediate need, but how to get what he wants and even if what he wants is three or four steps away from the step he is on. His face changed overnight and he is coming into his own.
He is my actor – he will say and do anything to get a laugh. And he has an uncanny sense of what is funny. He also has the most priceless pout I have ever seen.
He is strong – physically and mentally. He is quick witted and tenacious.
He is sweet – the face of a cherub and the most beautiful blue eyes, he makes you feel like everything is going to be okay and all is good in the world.
He is adventurous – he climbs, he jumps, he holds nothing back – with everything it is all in – all his being to make it happen – no fear. And he can do it too, great sense of balance and quick learning and strength.
He is my Tristan – the namesake of his grandfathers and my ode to Camelot. My Tristan – a Knight of the round table, the love is Isolde, all depends which novel you read – he is history.
He is a reader – always a book around.
Dearest child, happy birthday – embrace your newfound independence and sense of self and I will let go too and pray all the more as my heart leaps for joy at your smile and leaps into my stomache when you jump off the Christmas tree…
On the other hand, his mind can see patterns now. Not just the immediate need, but how to get what he wants and even if what he wants is three or four steps away from the step he is on. His face changed overnight and he is coming into his own.
He is my actor – he will say and do anything to get a laugh. And he has an uncanny sense of what is funny. He also has the most priceless pout I have ever seen.
He is strong – physically and mentally. He is quick witted and tenacious.
He is sweet – the face of a cherub and the most beautiful blue eyes, he makes you feel like everything is going to be okay and all is good in the world.
He is adventurous – he climbs, he jumps, he holds nothing back – with everything it is all in – all his being to make it happen – no fear. And he can do it too, great sense of balance and quick learning and strength.
He is my Tristan – the namesake of his grandfathers and my ode to Camelot. My Tristan – a Knight of the round table, the love is Isolde, all depends which novel you read – he is history.
He is a reader – always a book around.
Dearest child, happy birthday – embrace your newfound independence and sense of self and I will let go too and pray all the more as my heart leaps for joy at your smile and leaps into my stomache when you jump off the Christmas tree…
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