Balance Is Tiring.

In the last five days I have been a party girl, a mother, a housekeeper, a rocker, an Oscar invite and... tired.

Friday began with the usual fun. 18 loads of laundry followed by 4 sinks full of dishes and 51 bathrooms to clean. (Oh wait, I think my numbers were off... 5 loads of laundry, 2 sinks full of dishes and 1 bathroom to clean.)

But to make up for all that physical labour I was lucky enough to get to celebrate a friend's birthday with some hilarious and gorgeous ladies in a fabulous restaurant followed by dancing ALL NIGHT LONG.

Now DANCING ALL NIGHT LONG is not a normal event for me. I suffer from dance-o-phobia. It's the result of having both rhythm and coordination that refuse to work together. This illness was quickly healed in the presence of an excellent house band and three chicks who danced like they were Jennifer Lopez herself! At one point during the evening as Footloose was blasting through the sound system I am pretty sure I was channeling Kevin Bacon. (Some may argue but let me live in my dream world.)

The only downside was that my body has never been forced to contort like a go-go dancer for any length of time and my morning wake up call was at 7am despite the fact that I only crawled achingly into bed after 3am.

To make up for this MAD behaviour The Hubby and I spent Saturday night curled up in bed with the kiddos watching a movie until we all passed out.

Sunday decided that a break was not going to happen yet and I visited an adorable (but sick) puppy (baby) with a close friend. So sad to see tubes in a little nose. (I think it may have been the cleanest/newest hospital I have ever been in?)

Later that night I attended an Oscar party with a crowd of ladies who knew how to keep me laughing! I also wore some of my CherryApple Art pieces for practice. You may not know it yet but one day I will attend the Oscars AND my pieces will be shown off and the question will be asked: "Who is the designer?" and I will giggle and squeal and possibly faint. In the meantime I am working on my thank you speech.

Uh...

No, the craziness has not finished yet.

I spent Monday morning at a super cool bead store with a friend and our girls and then The Hubby and I hopped off to the MUSE! concert in Toronto.

We stood for hours watching as this stupidly brilliant band made our heads explode! Seriously how is anyone THAT good on guitar?!

I have one complaint though:

Dear Mr. Drunk, Obnoxious, Ignorant 6ft 10ins Man,

You suck. I just thought you should know. I am only 5ft 5ins and you were so intoxicated that every time I politely tapped your shoulder and asked you to MOVE! You said "YEAH YEAH" and then you DID NOT MOVE! I feel obligated to inform you that you smell, your hair was ugly and that girl you kept hitting on THOUGHT YOU WERE A PIG!

Sincerely,

Irritated Short Chick Glaring At You.

Oh, you thought I was finished? Yeah, still no.

Today I met with the owner of a wicked adorable boutique in Toronto called DEW. They only carry the most stunning items you could dream of... and now, THEY CARRY MY STUFF!!! Booo Yeah!!!

Are you as excited as I am? You should be!

I have officially found balance. I had time with my girls, time with The Hubby, time with The Kiddos and did Business-ie things!

Balance takes a lot more work than I'm used to.

Fun, but tiring.

Now I am going to catch up on, um, 5 nights of missed sleep and return to my imbalanced life...rested.

The Blatant Lies We Tell Ourselves.

I was a perfect mother before I had kids.

I was entertaining and cheerful. I was a pro at containing tantrums or bad attitudes. I put all other mothers to shame.

Having my own kids was a wake up call. The wonderful women around me gently and softly told me it would be challenging and tiring but I would find the greatest reward from it.

For the first couple of years I thought they lied.

It was not challenging. It was impossible. It was not simply tiring. It was energy sapping, to the bone draining and impossible to feel coherent for long stretches of time.

I understand that a new mother does not want to be gripped with fear for what life will be like with a newborn and then toddler and then preschooler... That is definitely not my intent here. If you are the kind of woman who gets skittish and uncomfortable with direct honesty... STOP READING.

Inevitably, whether our mothers encourage it or not, every girl has an image of what she will be like.

She will be the perfect business woman, or the perfect teacher, or the perfect wife, and (scary) the perfect mother.

BAH!

I spent years going to mom groups and church and the park telling myself that the other children had just charming mothers. They had a grace for the meltdowns and cooked dinner every night from scratch, and best of all they were meek and mild mannered.

BAH!

I have been very, very blessed to get to know some of these women. I hold them in (realistic) high esteem, and admire their naked truth about mothering and the perils it brings.

See I have often thought that my children would be better off with a kind, soft spoken mother. I am anything but soft spoken and while I can be kind I am not prone to sitting at my kitchen table engaging in craft time or baking cookies with my kids.

I have been a loud individual from a young age. I guess I should have seen the warning signs about my temperament when I poked holes in my sister's water baby because she wouldn't let me use it to pretend I had twins.

For example: this morning I got up and got the kiddos berries and yogurt and began to make an omelet for The Hubby. Coffee was on, almond milk was poured, Auum oils had been taken.

I was super mom. That was until The Princess LAUNCHED her bowl of yogurt ALL OVER THE STICKIN' KITCHEN! And so I did what I do best, I yelled at the wrong child. The Prince got an earful for his brilliance in seeing that I "OBVIOUSLY NEEDED THIS RIGHT NOW!!!" (Insert tears and The Hubby quickly pointing out my mistake and my glaring at The Princess for being such a bratty little girl.)

If I was the mother that exists in my head I would have gently said that it was okay, I have no problem getting on my hands and knees and scrubbing blueberry stain off the maple coloured flooring. I would have let The Prince take his Iron Man to school the first time he asked instead of making him take Daddy's name tag (the show and tell was for the letter N, not the letter I) and I would be heading to the park with The Princess right now to run around smiling for the next 48 minutes.

But I have a mouth that often forgets it is connected to a (somewhat) working brain, and I have arms and legs that move too fast for the perfect mother puppeteer to catch up.

While I would like to believe that I am constantly running towards the prize of balanced parenting, some days I am just too tired to run. So I sit in my PJ's, drink coffee and read magazines while Franklin attends to my children. And on the rare days where I get a whole six hours of sleep and wake up feeling brave enough to tackle errands and playgrounds, make dinner from scratch and rock the white glue and googly eyes at the kitchen table, well those are the days I pray the children remember.

In the meantime I am going to stop the cyclical lie that every other mother is a better mother than me. I figure God made me this way and though I will forever be a work in progress, I am not going to sit around trying to rewrite the blueprint.

And anyone who has an issue with it can take it up with The Big Man Himself.

(Also, I am actually kind of proud of The Princess and her baby carrying skills. She's already learning that perfection bombs.)

P.S.

I am failing at Lent too.

I have decided that since I am low in determination theses days I was okay to take a break from the lack of bread and dairy.

I also ended up at Myrtle's house on Wednesday morning with a few women I think are fabulous . Myrtle put out a delectible spread of cheese and chocolate croissants and french bread and fruit and my willpower was told to take a stroll around the block. Well, it forgot to come back for the last two days but I'm pretty sure I hear it knocking on the front door so maybe I'll let it hang out a while longer before entirely banishing it.

In The Land Of People...

I NEED to be surrounded by people. This baffles my family, but it's true.

There are days where, sitting in PJ's while the kiddos watch endless television, is satisfactory. These are far fewer than the days where I desperately want to escape the confines of the house and walk, and talk and see human beings other than my spawn!

I could be encased in a large mirrored glass box and I would be content simply to see people go past.

I cannot explain this need. It actually makes NO rational sense. I don't go to thrilling places, or even engage in conversation all the time. (Though I have been known to talk to many a stranger. Whether they like it or not) And on most occasions I come home exhausted wondering what I was thinking and thanking God for my walls.

You see there is almost no difference between our family's public behaviour and our private behaviour. Chances are if you have been in a shopping mall and heard toddlers screaming and kicking and a mother snapping that "this is the last time she will ever do this again", THAT was me. Yeah, you, you who live in Cape Breton? THAT WAS MY KID. (The sound of their tantrums travels FAR.)

Halfway through an outing I look either at the individual I am with or at the stranger passing by me with a look that tells them: "yes I am crazy right now, and yes I do recognize the madness."

Now, understand, not all outings are challenging. Some leave me overjoyed and daring to risk it all and pack them in a (now gone forever... RIP Joovy) stroller and strut off to the park. SOMETIMES I come home feeling like the greatest mother who ever existed and my children are angelic creatures who will make me smile for all of time.

But did I emphasize the "sometimes"?

Little as they are they did get a portion of my personality (sorry world) and they love being surrounded by humans other than their mother/disciplinarian/teacher/caregiver/best story reader ever.

I will try to make sure that seeing life beyond meal planning and laundry and dishes is a priority for them too.

That being said, today I embarked on an outing. At moments I wondered why I didn't stay at home (where timeouts in the bedroom are an option) and there were moments where I was grateful I'd had the energy to make it happen. The moment when I realized every ounce of effort was worth it? When Iron Man fell asleep in the back of the car.

9pm. Two sleeping angelic creatures. Mission accomplished.

How I Walk.

March 1st.

I woke up irritable and with a pink eye. Bad news since Mondays are my day at Simcoe Hall and if anyone there catches the dreaded pussy redness it spreads like wildfire and does NOT go away. (Thank goodness there is a homeopathic remedy that usually works super quick on ridding it.)

My parents were already roped into babysitting and the kiddos would not let them off the hook, so I am doing other work today: itemizing and creating an inventory list for Cherryapple Art Accessories. (blah, ick, ugh)

Since I obviously love doing the boring paperwork that must go hand in hand with starting up a business, I thought I would head somewhere more interesting to bore myself. And here I sit in an adorable coffee shop called Hy-Tea complete with linen table cloths, delicate mugs and great music. (When it first opened two years ago I expected to see a small Asian couple owning it. The "Hy" part made me assume, because when I lived in Thornhill everything was called Hy. But lo and behold it is a funny Jamaican lady and two big guys, one of them has dread locks... LOVE IT... way to kill stereotypes!)

It's a short walk to the lake. 9 minutes by myself, 11 pushing a stroller and 6 running (I run with the grace of a duck and as slow as an armadillo, quite a sight to see), but I needed the walk today. I needed fresh air and to feel alive on day one of the dreaded month of March. God gave me an easy start to begin the attitude change. Sunshine and a warm breeze (for March).

Walking here was a reminder of life before marriage and kids.

When I lived in Toronto I walked everywhere. I took the bus and the subway and never took a taxi, no, not even once!

I would pack my (duffel) shoulder bag and stick my favourite Cd into the portable player, squeeze my headphones in and traipse off to the nearest TTC stop. I wore a jean jacket with fake fur lining and lived in my Adidas runners.

Today not much has changed. I pretty much look the same only I wear a leather satin lined jacket and live in my fake Uggs. Oh, and I listen to my iPhone instead of to Cd's.

And Lifehouse is still the music of choice. Their sound has changed since Hanging By A Moment, but it's still Jason Wade(ahhh)'s voice.

In the same way I am still Rebecca, my sound has changed but it's still my voice.

When I walked I thought. Most of the time it was good but we all have our unpleasantnesses. I would either walk myself up, to and through the door of self-assurance or I would beat myself back, step by step into the pit of D-i-sPair (think Princess Bride).

I had NO idea about the future, and I was fearful about the present.

Now I am living a wonderful "future". Better than I would've dreamt for myself. That being said, although there is a set direction it's a fuzzy picture. I know that it takes but a second for the world to fall apart. I don't take the good days for granted.

I like these moments where I see me as me. Not as a role I live. (Daughter, Sister, Wife, Mother, Friend, Responsible Adult.)

I like to see how I walk.

A Woman's Touch - With A Dash Of Saturday Morning Cartoons

I mentioned before that I am very blessed with the friendships I have and looking at it from an outside perspective it might seem that I got lucky.

Not true. Well, not entirely.

I believe the men in our lives play a very important part of forming who we are, as fathers, brothers, friends, boyfriends and husbands. Their words and actions make a mark on us and who we become, good or bad.

But I believe that women can have an impact that reaches a different part of who we are. And I think that the confidence we develop from the relationships with the mothers, sisters, friends, and children in our lives runs deeper. On the flip side, the scars that unhealthy relationships could cause are often more painful because it also hurts a deeper part of who God made us to be.

Yet in our day and age women are hurting each other INTENTIONALLY. We taint the canvas before anything had been drawn on it. Little girls are seeing the pressure to know/show their sexuality before it should even exist. They are learning to carry the weight of both home life and work life long ahead of when their life would have stress. And they are hearing the gossip and verbal attacks that women are so loud about tossing around. We expose them to television that says our worth comes from what men think of us and give them THINGS to fill the void when they are upset.

I was lucky being born into a family where the women are strong and stable and confident. Check one. I made some friends through the school years who were loyal. Check two. And I was also tormented by females.

Teasing, bullying, name calling, sabotage. You name it I have been slapped, been buried in snow, been nailed by spit balls and worse. Much worse. This all happened through high school. It was rotten.

But it didn't define my future. I knew there was plenty of life beyond high school. I knew who I was as a child of God even if I had no idea how I fit in the world. I decided that friendships were going to be important and I was not going to let fear stand in the way. I talked to people, I made coffee dates, I was honest and open about who I was and I decided then that I was going to trust women. Sounds simple enough right? Yeah... no. I would have two conversations at all times. The one happening with the chick I was hanging with and the one in my head. The topic of conversation had no effect on the reel of internal questions like why did I wear this stupid outfit, or is my hair frizzing out, does she think I'm stupid and loudest of all, am I talking too much?

Years later I can say that these "girls" have now become cherished, impacting friends. It took effort. They were patient and saw me through my bumps and pains. I was patient and saw them through their bumps and pains. And most importantly there is a transparency that has taught me that WHO I am is bigger than if my hair frizzes out or if my outfit isn't quite right. Now the only second conversation I have when meeting new people is the repeat, am I talking too much? (Which is actually a very reasonable question because if I am excited I talk a lot, if I'm nervous I talk a lot, and if I'm upset I talk a lot. It's more of a barometer than an insecurity. The Hubby says I really, really need this barometer...)

It's definitely not simple luck. I make the choice/effort to go out. Some women find this hard. I don't. I NEED to get out! So last night I went out to a cafe night at our church. It was mentioned to me by some mothers I chat with and I figured that it would be worth putting myself out there. (And at times it truly is putting yourself out there. I did change my outfit three times and ask The Hubby if it looked okay, but I am still female...) Anyway, so I walked in and saw no one I knew. And no one my age. Thankfully age has never been an issue for me with friendships... I know that though I know what I know, I probably don't know much and I look forward to looking back on this time and realizing how little I knew... I finally saw a couple of ladies I knew and sat and chatted. Slowly more arrived that were familiar. And by the time it ended I had had some much needed laughter and was having a lovely time.

So four of us went out. And over drinks, wings and desserts I learned how amazing these women are. Each has their own story. Be it kids, or not having kids... husbands, work or just their own internal dialogue, I listened. Oh, I talked, don't get me wrong. I needed my own checks to make sure I didn't over talk (which I probably did) but I wanted to soak up the strength and insight that they had. It was refreshing. Not only did we finally leave the restaurant at 1:40am feeling light from laughing and gabbing, I left a little wiser. Because these women were not content to sit and mope. They weren't interested in gossip, and any self depreciating that was going on was in good humour and had more to do with the hilarity of what we do as females, than looking for an ego boost (for example, what on earth drove to me to wear jeans that fit months ago -and should be put away until after Lent- due to the extreme and urgent need to pee that happens the second I sit down in them? Really? They make my bladder the size of a pea.)

Beyond all that I left feeling encouraged and supported. After discussing some of my frustrations of late they decided that this Wednesday morning we were going to get together and "make a plan". MAKE A PLAN?!!! Seriously... why isn't that said more often? It was like hearing that no matter how bad my day might of been, they had the WORLD'S LARGEST BAND AID and I was the ONE DESERVING OF IT.

Why don't we do this more? Why doesn't every woman have the chance to meet other women who also carry over sized heart bandages and give them out willingly? Why do we destroy what is most precious in one another? Why can't we see that our quirky insanities are the stuff that makes friendship great? Why can't we be trusting/trustworthy?... My mother-in-law says "no man can put you our of the will of God." I agree. So what do we really have to lose by sharing with others? I mean, if no one can out you out of the will of God then it doesn't matter if THEY mess up with it. We ARE all human. The benefit of the relationship that blossoms from those transparent moments is worth the risk.

And the only reason I can write any of this is because of Saturday morning cartoons. Oh yes, I believe that television can be my friend. Thank you Sponge Bob Square Pants creators...

Happy Things.

I sincerely hope that I am not the only mother who has crazy mornings. There are days where getting the kiddos up and out the door is like trying to get nursing home residents to perform Cirque Du Soleil.

The Princess decides to boycott diaper changes (and each time this happens I swear I am going to potty train. Yeah, still not happening.), The Prince thinks that it is more important to run laps around the house yelling, than get his underwear on and I cannot drag my butt out of bed fast enough to have breakfast, snacks and bags packed without the "WE HAVE TO BE OUT THE DOOR IN ONE MINUTE" cram.

I am still working on becoming a morning person. Prior to marriage and children I worked at Starbucks and was an opening shift leader. This meant that I woke up in my apartment at 5:15am, brushed my teeth, put on my black outfit, crossed the street and opened the shop where I worked until early afternoon. I would then come home and get ready for the day, or take a nap, or go shopping (my favourite of the options) but any which way, I really only woke up around 3pm. And being under twenty I would then go out (usually to The Hubby's gigs) until the wee hours of the morning just to wake up a short time later and begin it all again. I liked this.

There are things though that make me a better morning person...

Forget just morning, these things just make me a happier person anytime of day!...

Coffee (now black) while reading my daily blogs (oh how I love what these women write. See the ones I follow) and magazines. I am not a hoarder of these glossy, colour-filled pages but I indulge from time to time in their satiny whimsy. When finished window-shopping in the comfort of my home I pass them along, or trade it out with my just as addicted girlfriends.

I like Princesses who appear right in my very kitchen! Though there are days where I would like to put the "princess" attitude out with the garbage, I find the outfits to be fabulous.

Oh Ribbon. Ribbon Roses. Colourful Ribbon Roses on Headbands.

(This should be obvious since I started a business to feed this love of flowery accessories!)But honestly... How stinkin cute is that?!

Toys in their baskets make me giddy with joy!

I know that there are some mothers who patiently enjoy the chaos and mess that comes with children playing. And while I do have moments where it is incredibly satisfying to see them "creatively" decorating the house with their primary coloured blocks and dolls, I LOVE LOVE LOVE a tidy home. Period. It makes me SUPREMELY happy.

(Even if it is short lived.)

This smile.

I do believe I have mentioned, on occasion, that I like shopping?

Well, because I am somewhat responsible and thrifty there are rules to my shopping pleasure.

A) Only shop the sale racks. Strictly.

B) When there is nothing good on the sale racks and you fall in love with a reasonably priced, floral scarf from H&M... buy it!

PIGTAILS! It needs to be yelled! Say it with me now... PIGTAILS!!!!

I have never heard of any woman who does not get glee from an empty kitchen sink. I am fine with dishes in the drying rack... But a clean sink? On days where I keep my sink cleared I feel successful. The rest of the place can be disastrous, but I will know I have beat the BATTLE OF THE DISH.

To The Hubby's dismay I have a passion for all things woolly. Actually it's kind of getting out of control. I hone in to woolly items everywhere. I am more likely to notice if that person walking past had a totally awesome, wicked, woolly sweater than if they had an orange and green mullet. If my craze keeps up, the kids will soon be sleeping under my sweaters instead of their blankets. (And I'm okay with that.)

Since this morning The Princess had no interest in cereal and yogurt, or in cookies or a lollipop, I gave up on the attempt at trying to have a few minutes of peace and instead joined her in "dancing" to the sound of the world's most irritating musical toy. (I don't know why I didn't chuck it a long time ago.)

Sometimes it's more peaceful to give up.

P.S.

Lent...

I am beginning week two of this sacrificial experiment. I am getting used to going without bread and dairy until I see cupcakes. Yep. That seems to be my big weak spot. Cupcakes in all their sugary, creamy, floury glory.

Tonight I am celebrating my dear friend Amanda's Birthday so I will be eating some vegan cake, and though I know there will be some flour involved I figure I am almost entirely sticking to it. And Amanda would never stand for me going without! Happy early Birthday Babe!

Now I must change a poop er. (I am promising myself right now that I am going to potty train this week. HA!)

Lent

On a food side-note I am into my sixth day of no bread or dairy.

Looking back I think I have gone a total of 4 days in my whole life without bread before this.

I am daughter of an Irish mother. I hold my genes responsible.

But I am fine. I am actually, willingly, and coherently reaching for things like bananas and apples and peppers, rather than miniwheats or fresh rye loaf (both of which are haunting my counter top).

I am surprised that I am feeling lighter. (I said "feeling" not "looking") and I have slept slightly better the last few nights.

Tonight though, I will be binge eating blue corn chips and salsa to fill the void that exists simply because The Hubby is tormenting me by leaving a fraction of his Dairy Queen Ice Cream Birthday Cake in the freezer. TORMENTING ME!

Let's hope I make it till tomorrow!