Disturbing.

This morning I was really excited to share pics off my new app from my iPhone and write about girlie sleepovers filled with wine, movies, comfy pillows and painting nails with my sister. It felt like a flash forward from preteen nights when we would wait till our parents went to bed and watch the movies that we secretly

rented but weren't allowed to see (Austin Powers being one of them).

But I can't write about that. I'm too upset.
I wanted to write about a little girl who has become obsessed with OOA-t-ameal these days and would like to eat it till she turned into a goat. (Do goats eat oats?) Either way it doesn't matter, I can't think about goats and oats and little girls who have forgotten all other food groups. I'm crying.
It would be fun to talk about silly bath time in the Mac house and how every night the kiddos race madly up the stairs to see who can get under the running water first. That's just not going to happen because my hands are still shaky and every 5 seconds I am backspacing to fix a spelling error. (And I'm a poor typer to begin with. I do that two finger home row fake out with the double thumb space bar tap.)

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All because of this.

The Hubby took the kids to McDonald's to burn off some energy while I went for coffee with a friend. They love the play place and spend many cold/wet/gross days expending hyperness there, all to help bedtime come a tinsie bit faster.

The Prince loves making new friends.

The other day we were in the mall walking past a pet store and he asked if he could go say hi. I said yes and rather than walking up to the windows of puppies he walked up to a group of kids standing in the entrance and said "HI!" with a big smile on his face.

He loves people. Which is a part of the reason why we watch him constantly when we're in public. Stranger Danger is a hard concept for him. Why would anyone do anything to hurt him?

And you know what? I've wondered that myself. But I am an adult and I know what other adults are capable of. I read the news. Sadly. And I know what some kids are capable of. I went to school. (Sadly.)

Today was different.

My Husband was watching the kids. He had eyes on them and was within earshot the whole time they were climbing in and out of the jungle gym. He even stepped in when two older (10?) girls started pushing around The Prince. But McDonald's is slightly stupid. They make OPAQUE coloured tubes that we stick our kids in and trust that other kids are just there to play.

Not so.

As far as we CAN understand (because The Prince doesn't always realize when other kids are being mean or rude or cruel) these girls purposefully scratched up his back for shits and giggles.

THEY DIDN'T LIKE HIM.

Now I know that The Prince himself is not an angel and I have on occasion been the parent apologizing to the other parent who is justifiably upset. Only, The Prince is different than most other kids. He isn't yet able to verbally solve a problem every time. And when he gets overwhelmed he can get physical. Which is why WE ARE THERE.

Then there's the fact that kids will be kids and in our society we have swung from the extreme overprotective parenting style to the free range parenting style. I GET that The Prince will be a boy. Trust me, I have cleaned up scrapped knees and put arnica on random bruises and iced goose eggs. I know he needs to learn some things for himself.

THIS WAS NOT A LESSON I WANTED HIM TO EVER LEARN. (Especially not at FOUR.)

Some parents think that ten is the new fourteen. That two girls can go into a play place unsupervised and "squish like a pancake" my son and SCRATCH THEIR NAILS INTO HIS BACK! NO, I DON'T THINK SO.

It is cruel beyond belief and when he got into the bathtub tonight to play with his new boat, I saw those marks and I cried. I apologized to him for not seeing what earlier I had thought was a small scratch probably from the slide. I told him that Daddy and I were there to protect him and that I wish I had.

And you know what? He told me it was "Okay Mommy."

I may joke about mothering. About the crazy moments that I can flunk and bomb and flat on my face fail, but the parents of these girls hit rock bottom.

LESSON ONE: BE KIND UNTO OTHERS.

Lesson stinkin' one.

I tucked this sweet (and sometimes bratty) boy into bed and I kissed him, and his boo boos and I prayed that Jesus would heal any pain, physical or otherwise, and I prayed that He would protect The Prince when I couldn't because it is taking everything in me not to bubble wrap him and stick him in an armed safe.

(And you bet your ass I went to that McDonald's and will be picking up the surveillance tape tomorrow. Then what? I track down the girls and make them say sorry. Maybe.)

See? Disturbing.

Vanishing.

Occasionally there are days that feel like they are over in one long blink.

Though I say occasionally, I can't remember the last time I had one of those blink-away days.

Today was packed...

Beach Friday for The Prince, Princess crankiness and giggles, time with (Auntie) Emma, errands, work, driving and family movie night.

Today was anything but wasted.

But I blinked.

And here I sit.

It was a rich day.

I learned a little bit more about me:

• I learned that I am lousy when it comes to beach theme planning.(I sent a life jacket but forgot to send a towel. END OF THE WORLD.)
• I still love shoes. And I have missed them greatly after living in boots for the last few months. (My toes crave air, even if it requires burning my feet with the heater in the car to make it feel like summer.)
• I noticed that my Gran had sticky tac behind her frames holding them straight in her apartment so I copied her. Copying her always works in my favour.
• I panic when doing anything business management related. An invoice almost sent me to the edge of an anxiety attack. I don't know why. If I knew why I would take care of it. So instead I raged all kinds of expletives at the laptop and let Emma distract The Kiddos while I looked for a paper bag. (Joking... sort of...)
• I am figuring out who I am through my business. (You try walking into a boutique looking put together after receiving a disappointing/realistic first checklist for your child in JK. More nerve racking than my final grades in high school. It was called acting and I think I am heading straight down the red carpet baby!)
• I learned that The Prince thinks Mommy is mean when she yells at THAT STUPID DRIVER WHO DECIDED THAT MERGING LANES MEANT (almost) STEERING INTO MY CAR!!! And that Mommy's should say they're sorry to THAT STUPID DRIVER.
• I learned that Nickelodeon has pretty great movie choices on Friday nights.
• And I learned that 7 pieces of pizza cause excruciating heartburn almost immediately.

Oh, maybe this is where I should mention that Lent is over for me. Like I said I'm Irish. Carbs and dairy are in my blood. I was doomed from the start.

Epic Fail.

(I am now going to avoid thinking about this food related cop out and go to bed.)

Today has vanished.

Kind Of Feels Like A Pebble Stuck In Your Roller Blade. You Can't Move As Fast.

The Hubby and I woke up to this today.

My first reaction was a minor moment of panic and frustration.

We're back here.

For the last few months things had been stable. Behaviour had leveled out and the bumps were minor.

But the last two weeks have seen The Prince stumble backwards, quickly.

I'm not foolish. I am well aware that there are the good days and the bad days. It's just that the last four years had been like childbirth. You know, where you look back on the agony of those hours of labour and rather than feeling the pains and exhaustion you simply remember the moment those little eyes stared back at yours for the very first time.

When life is calm I can forget the fighting and the concern and the confusion of dealing with the unknown. My brain refuses to go there.

And yet, like childbirth, it only takes a small trigger (like cramps) to remember why it's called labour.

This morning, walking downstairs to lined up Tupperware and paper plates was my trigger for pain.

We're not through this yet. Will we ever be?

Alas, in spite of the doom and gloom in my head, the sun did shine and I trotted off with The Kiddos to spend a couple of hours running around in the fresh air, having a much needed gab with some friends in between pushing The Princess on the swing set and making sure The Prince didn't jump off the nine foot tall jungle gym.

Today I needed that. To feel like I can breathe, because some days are harder than others.

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.