Another Failure Success Story

I attempted to take Gideon to his swim class on Sunday. It was a big fail. I should have known better, really. He has never liked swimming, and the pool usually freaks him out (he likes lakes better, but even so, he doesn't like going in the water he just likes playing on the beach). I think all the noise bothers him. Even in the change room he was screaming like I was ripping off his toe nails or something. Simply because he didn't like his socks being off. I remember a time when he refused to wear socks, when he was little. Then last winter something flipped a switch in his head and he realized socks = warm, and ever since then he has been very pro-socks. Now to the point where he will not go sockless, even in bed he MUST have socks on (and the world ends if one of his socks gets twisted!). I also realized when we were in the change room that Gideon was not going to be able to take his Blankie in the pool (duh), and that was probably going to be an issue too.

I was really patient and super gentle and tried to coax him into letting me put his swim suit on him. No dice. So then I just started doing it, I had sacrificed my sleep and got up early and got him ready and out on time (despite daylight savings!), so I wanted to at least try. But it was just bad. I took him out and let him see the pool (with his Blankie), I thought maybe he would change his mind, but no, he didn't want to be near there at all. He even calmed down for a while and looked out over the pool, and I pointed out the kids having fun, and the toys, and how he could splash and play. He paused for a moment and thought about it, then calmly said "No, I want to go back to the van." I knew it would be a bad idea to force him, so we just went back and got changed and left.

He was very happy to get his socks back on, and then he was good to go! I took him to the observation area by the pool, and we watched the kids swim and play, and even watched his own class for a while, but he still DID NOT want to go in there. So I guess that's that. I really really should have known, I feel kind of stupid now. That's a total waste of $44. I think I just signed him up because I felt bad that Judith has been to so many classes, and even Ruthie has been to swimming classes with me, but he never has. Obviously there is a reason I never took him!

I have taken him swimming at the pool a couple times with Judith (before and while I was pregnant with Ruthie), and he didn't scream those times, but he did cling to me. I guess now that he's older he can fight me a bit more, and before I could nurse him in the pool, but of course now he's more attached to Blankie, who can't come too. Maybe he would be ok if Judith was there, but obviously she can't come to his class.

The only thing I am really upset about is the money. I know it was an honest mistake, and I'm trying to learn to embrace failure as an opportunity to learn, but I don't like when it costs us financially. I will call and cancel if I can, but I doubt I will get any money back. I really do want to do something special with Gideon, I feel like he gets shafted a lot. I just wish I would have been smart enough to sign him up for a music class or something instead. Something sock-friendly.

Anyway, after our big ordeal, we left the pool. I was super calm the whole time, I'm surprised that I didn't get angry or frustrated at all despite my lack of sleep the night before. I think it's just that I understand Gideon, I just finished reading The Highly Sensitive Child, and it not only helped me with Gideon, but also showed me so much about myself, as I am definitely highly sensitive too. It really validated me, and also reaffirmed what I have been doing with Gideon all along instinctively. I don't feel guilty about "coddling" him anymore, I am just being sensitive to his sensitivity. Hopefully I can teach him to manage his intense emotions and navigate through all of the overwhelming things in life instead of just shutting down all the time like I do.

I knew it was the best decision, even though I was upset with myself for wasting money. I didn't really want to leave, though, since it took so much work to get there. Then I remembered that there are always a lot of school buses parked out back, so we went and checked those out. Gideon was really excited. We have been watching episodes of The Magic School Bus from the library, and Gideon has started to notice and love school buses when we are out. He was thrilled to run up to a big bus, the wheel was bigger than him!

After that we went to a park and he played for a little while. He really wanted to go on the big slide, but had to go across these "treacherous" steps to get there. He wanted to give up right away (like me when I have to try something new), but I held his hand, and he did it! Then he went down the slide and loved it, and climbed back up with confidence, but then when he got to the top of the slide the second time I think he realized how high it was, and he started to freak out. I couldn't reach him, he was too high, so I put my hand up and coaxed him to sit and come down the slide. He had to push off before he would reach my hand, so it took some courage, but he did it! He caught my hand as he was sliding (it was a super slow slide, and he had done it before just fine, but his feelings of fear were valid and I wasn't going to belittle him), and then he was so proud of himself! That was definitely a better lesson for him than if I would have forced him into the pool. If I would have forced him in the water, it probably would have done a lot more damage than good. Not to mention how difficult his screaming would have been for me and annoying for everyone else. I honestly don't really care what the other parents thought of me, even in the change room when he was apparently dying. But still, I wasn't going to push it. I'm really proud of myself for staying calm, trying my best, and then making a wise decision.

Failure

So... normally I am really good at keeping my word and doing what I set out to do, once I make the effort to set out, of course. It's that initial effort I usually lack. Anyway, I have been excellent with my fasts. I haven't touched facebook in a week, and I don't even miss it. I like focusing on the everyday life of my family, without everyone else I know's lives on top of that (no offense). We are also doing really well with the gluten-free diet. We decided not to fast sugar completely, I need honey in my coffee, but to limit it and only use natural sugars (you know, besides the box of chocolate covered almonds I ate the other day, but it was for a good cause! And gluten-free!). When we do our re-introduction-to-gluten test we will not consume any sugar, as to not interfere with the possible symptoms.

Everything else has basically failed. It seems like I am better at giving up stuff, than actually doing stuff. Well, I've kept up with my laundry as usual, as if I even needed to say that. And some of my cleaning. Just not the floors, STILL. I actually plan on doing that today, though. I managed to get the kitchen clean yesterday, so hopefully that momentum will carry on to today. This morning when I looked out the window it was snowing, so that means it's a great day for staying in. =) I heard it was supposed to turn to rain, which would be wonderful. I've been craving rain lately. I don't normally like the rain, unless it's in Australia, so that's kind of odd. But maybe I am just so sick of the snow that other forms of precipitation would be most welcome. It would wash the snow away, and bring that wonderful Spring smell! Judith and I have been counting down the sleeps until it is officially Spring! You know the winter has been rough when even Judith, my snow-lover, can't wait for it to be over!

I haven't done the Shred or the Purge since I last posted. I think I might just start over with those. At day 4 or whatever I was at. I've got lots of time I guess, Lent is more than 30 days anyway. I'd rather start over than give up completely!

On a semi-related note, I have been reading The Continuum Concept, which has been really eye-opening. I find I often read books at just the right time in my life, and I really do feel like God had this one for me right now. I know my problem with cleaning, and everything in general that I struggle with, stems from emotional issues. Like really, how hard would it be to just clean up? Ok, I have 3 kids age 5 and under, so it's pretty hard to keep up, but still. I seem to have all of these hurdles in my head. The book is helping me a lot to understand some of these hurdles. It's actually kind of a tough read emotionally. It's hard to start to see why our culture is the way it is, and it breaks my heart for everyone. I see the same issues in my kids, which I have always known deep down were "wrong", but were told that they were normal. It's hard not to feel guilty, I feel like I should, but really I don't. And I'm not interested in blaming anyone either. I'm just satisfied in having some information that backs up what I have felt instinctively all along. And THAT gives me hope. I know if my instincts are still intact, and merely just buried under all of the social intellectual garbage I have been fed, that they can be resurrected in me and our society. I feel like I have a lot of de-cluttering to do in my heart and my head, as well as my house. I also recently read Hold on to Your Kids, The Highly Sensitive Child, In the Realm of Hungry Ghosts, The Mood Cure, and Unconditional Parenting. All of these had the same effect. I feel like God is giving me these tools so I can piece together the roots of the issues I struggle with, so I can heal and move on. I read all of these books in the hope that I could help others, especially my kids. But in reality, it has helped me with myself the most. I highly recommend these books to everyone, they have been a really helpful part of my personal journey. At the same time, I think part of my problem is that with this new information has come a season of grieving for me. But I know that is important and necessary. Once those emotions are purged, I will be able to move on with more clarity and intention than before. Just as my life will hopefully be a lot smoother and more organized once I have purged the clutter from my house.

I really didn't intend to write that last paragraph, but it just kind of came to me, and I'm glad I got it out! I love writing, it helps me so much. I need to start writing more (you know, besides all of the huge comments I always leave on Facebook and in forums!). I will keep everyone posted with my progress, I intend to start Shredding and Purging today!

Also - Don't forget to check out my new blog http://cyclopschicken.blogspot.com I can't get it to import to Facebook until I am back on Facebook at the end of April, so you will have to actually GO THERE to check out what hilarity the kids are up to. I also made the kids new tickers for that site and I love them!

Motherhood - The New Oppression (A Response)

I read this article today, and really feel the need to respond and address it.

http://www.theglobeandmail.com/news/opinions/motherhood-the-new-oppression/article1618807/

Oh man, where do I begin? I agree with some things, like that mothers today ARE a little too over-protective, competitive, and constantly hounded from all angles about everything, constantly being judged. But I think the solution to all that is simply GET OVER IT. Sheesh. Who cares what everyone else thinks? Who are we trying to impress?

It seems like this writer isn't a mother herself (I just looked up some stuff about her, and didn't find any info about her having kids), and although I respect her observations, I'm not sure if I can take her all that seriously, because she hasn't been there herself.

Also, I totally disagree with this:

"Once upon a time, the conveniences of modern life (processed foods, Lysol spray, disposable diapers, clothes dryers, polyester sheets) liberated women like my mother from their chains. But now, their granddaughters are clamouring to clap the shackles on again. Someone’s got to mash the organic applesauce, hang the diapers out to dry, and breastfeed the kid. No matter how enlightened the parental units, that someone will generally be Mom.

"It seems to me that if you had deliberately devised a plot to oppress women, it couldn’t get more diabolical than this. Highly educated, progressive and enlightened mothers don’t need men to oppress them. They’re perfectly capable of oppressing themselves!"

So, what if it's actually ME that doesn't want the so-called conveniences of modern life? What if I choose to do these things for MYSELF and not because I feel like I'm "supposed to" for my kids? These things are NOT shackles to me! I don't see compromising my own health, my children's health, and the health of everything that lives in our environment, for the sake of convenience, as a good thing! I'm not a saint, I'm protecting my own butt here! I love my family, so naturally I want to do what's best for them too. What is wrong with this? My kids are not forcing me to do anything I don't want to do. And guess what, I actually enjoy hanging my diapers out and having a child attached to my boob, how unfathomable! I'm not going to let anyone else dictate what I like and don't like. THAT is oppression! I can't believe that the author starts out by saying that we shouldn't be forced to follow societal expectations and just relax already (which I agree with, I totally don't think I need to adhere to someone else's “demanding standards” of the “moral requirements of modern motherhood”), and then turn around and make this kind of statement! This kind of ludicrous assumption.

It's funny, because to me feminism and women's liberation means that we now have CHOICES. Not that we have gone from being forced into one thing (being a housewife), to being forced into another (having a career, which is, apparently, the only option for “enlightened women”). That is just as oppressive! I have made the CHOICE to stay home and be a mom to my children. That doesn't make me any better or worse than women who work and have children, or who don't have children. This is just what I have chosen to do! And guess what? I'm happy with my choice! This is what works for me and makes me HAPPY and SATISFIED. Get over it already people. I don't think motherhood is for all women, and that's great. If you don't want kids, don't have them, what's the big deal here? You aren't less of a woman because you don't have kids! If society makes you feel that way, screw them, who cares! Just like I don't care when people think it's awful that I'm a young stay-at-home mom with "so many" kids. Like it matters what they think. I love my life, and I hope they love theirs. Now lets just peacefully co-exist already.

Motherhood has done nothing but empower me. Sure, it's hard. Harder than anything else I will ever do. But that makes it all the more worthwhile, for me. I like to be challenged, because it makes me grow. Not because it makes me superior to others, it's just the best for me. I chose to give birth naturally, breastfeed, cloth diaper, avoid chemicals, eat organic and local etc, because I WANT to. No one is oppressing me or forcing me into this. Motherhood has helped me to grow up, make my own decisions, and STOP letting people push me around and tell me what to do. And I'm not going to go and force my ideals on other people either.

I think that's what bothers me the most about this article, and all the other ones like it. Why do we feel that we have the right to impose our ideas and preferences on other people? I think that mothers (and all women in general) are intelligent enough to make their own educated decisions, and I will respect those decisions. Society seems to think, and seems to want all of us to think, that people are stupid and therefore need to be told what to do and controlled. And that those who are educated and “enlightened” ought to be the ones in charge, for the greater good of course. I disagree. I do think that people are easily manipulated, and can be capable of atrocious things, but are also capable of being independent and responsible and kind if given the freedom to be so. But that's a WHOLE other topic.

Epidurals are not for losers, they are a valid pain relief option, with pros and cons, that every woman has the option to use, or refuse. Same with everything. And I wouldn't have these fabulous thighs if it weren't for all the ice cream I ate while I was pregnant! Why does there have to be so much guilt and emotional baggage with everything? Yes, these can be big and important things, with implications, but what someone else chooses is none of my business. I'm not going to judge a mom I see feeding her newborn formula on the street, or an acquaintance I hear talking about giving their baby every vaccine available, I don't know their story or their reasons.

All I can do is put the info out there that I find relevant and informative (I do A LOT of that, and I don't mind putting it right in people's faces, but it is not my responsibility to make them act), and allow parents to make their own decisions. If they ask my opinion, of course I will give it, but the decision is theirs, and they will deal with the consequences of that decision either way. It's different if they are doing something that directly affects me, or are outright abusing their children, then I might do something about it, but that generally isn't the case with parenting.

It scares me when people start trying to force other people into things, even if it's just through guilt and manipulation, coercion, or even marketing or pop culture. No one is benefitting from this (except the people gaining power and money when you comply). Of course everyone wants the best for their children, and they will get the info they are interested in. What is unfortunate, though, is that medical establishments often do not provide expectant and new mothers with accurate information, but we are slowly learning to do our own research and weigh the options for ourselves. Professionals are great resources, and need to be respected, but they are not gods. I think when we start forcibly imposing things on others, even with good intentions, we start treading on dangerous ground.

Obviously a lot of things have changed, simply because we know better. We know that smoking is bad for our health now, so we can change our actions accordingly. Same with breastfeeding, there is so much research documenting the benefits now that they didn't have before. That doesn't mean our grandparents (or parents) were awful people. And it doesn't mean they did a bad job. It's just different now, and that's ok. We can't change the past, even uninformed decisions we have made ourselves, and carrying that burden of guilt won't fix anything. All we can do is make better decisions next time if possible.

Yeah, there is a lot of stuff you can panic about as a parent, but you don't have to. You can choose to make informed decisions, and then reject all of the fear that society throws at you. The government, media, corporations and society all want us to live in fear and wait to be rescued, because it serves their purposes. But we don't have to live like that. We can stand up and take responsibility, and authority, over ourselves and our families. We are grown-ups and are fully capable of being in control of ourselves (and I also believe the only control people are entitled to is self-control). We are also capable of dealing with our own consequences, even if they suck.

At the same time, no one can control everything. Bad things happen sometimes, it's true. It may not fit in our utopian worldview, but it's there and we have to deal with it. Some things are preventable, and I'm sure everyone would agree that we should try and prevent tragedies whenever possible. But we also need to be able to accept reality when it happens.

Why do people care about silly things so much, and feel the need to get involved with everyone else's business? Their own insecurity, I think. If you made a decision about parenting, that's your decision! Don't be afraid to talk about it, and don't let people push you around about it. It's your decision and that's that, you don't have to feel guilty when you have made an informed decision. Whatever your reasons are, I'm sure they're valid. If you find new information that makes you change your mind, then CHANGE! Do what you need to do, that is nothing but applaudable. Move on.

We all have room for improvement. I AM NOT PERFECT. YOU ARE NOT PERFECT. And we never will be. Is that not liberating? Oh, you're scared that ceasing to strive for perfection will make you quit caring altogether? I disagree. I believe that in striving for perfection, which is unattainable, we are always met with perceived failure, and THAT is what causes people to stop caring. If we can throw out this idea of needing to be perfect, of “all or nothing”, then maybe we can actually just live. And maybe, we will even enjoy it. Then maybe we can put our differences aside, or even have healthy discussions, but still appreciate each other. Just because everything isn't perfect, doesn't mean it can't be great. We seem to be programmed to aspire for a utopia that will never exist. We have to be perfect or die. But that's a lie. All we can do is try our best with what we have. We will fail! Children are pretty resilient, as long as you don't intentionally hurt them, they will probably be ok. Guilt helps no one, except to prompt you to change. So change according to your conscience and the info you find, then let the guilt go and move on, it's ok.

Guilt and this feeling of failure only encourages us to give up, and I think that is the only wrong answer. To quit trying. I'm not saying kill yourself trying to be the best. Be reasonable. You can be a great parent, and enjoy it at the same time. Your lifestyle has to work for everyone, not just you, not just your kids. This isn't rocket science. Just live life, and deal with situations as they arise, make the decisions that are right for you (and that don't hurt anyone else), own up to your decisions, have confidence in yourself, and don't worry about what anyone else thinks. I find when I adopt this approach, motherhood comes easy to me, too.

This rant isn't just what I think about this article, but it's actually the lesson I have learned myself in the past year. I find it interesting that I am writing this on my birthday. A year ago I was still so insecure. But I have come a long way. This philosophy carries over into my spiritual and political beliefs as well. If you have any questions, feel free to ask. I'd love to get a discussion going. I'm always open to discuss and engage with other ideas and opinions. I'm not afraid to stand up for myself anymore, and even change if need be. I feel like I've finally grown up.

Thoughts, Please! About Our Generation...

There's something that has been on my mind for a while, and I'm still thinking about it, but would like to hear other people's input.

I've noticed, in talking to my peers, that often our parents have a hard time letting us, their adult kids, "go". They mean well, and it's nice that they want to help, but it seems hard for them to accept that we are adults, and in charge of our own lives now. It's not a horrible thing, but I wonder if this is relatively new? Am I wrong in thinking that a couple generations ago, this wasn't the case? I know a lot of things have changed in the last 2-3 generations.

Is it because our generation is more independent-minded than in the past? And that we don't grow up and stay in the same community our whole lives anymore? Some grandparents have a less active role in their grandkids lives for a variety of reasons, so they try to get whatever control and influence they can?

Is it because there is so much new, and often conflicting, information out there about parenting? What was done a generation or two ago is no longer acceptable, which could be hard for them to accept. There is also a wide range of current "acceptable" parenting styles, and opinions on these styles. A few generations ago, I don't think parenting choices caused this much of a headache. You just did what you did, and it was generally the same thing your parents did. So it's understandable that our parents could be a little hurt or offended that we do things differently than they did, even though we are basing our decisions on research, and not meaning to be hurtful through our decisions. We do it because we think that is the best for our kids, we are not resentful about the way we were raised.

Is it because our parents were the first to have access to birth control, and therefore having children was a choice, something they did for themselves, as opposed to something that just happened as a result of marriage? In the past people had kids because that's just what people did, it was expected, and maybe even was considered a contribution to society and the future. Obviously this is no longer true, today having children is a serious and profound decision, and not necessarily right for everyone. This is the point I have been contemplating the most. Our parents, in general (everyone has their own individual story, of course) were able to have children for their own fulfillment, and had a lot of control over their family size (and many other aspects of family life). So when we grow up and move away, there is a huge void there, their source of fulfillment is gone.

Is it because the world wasn't as "safe" when we grew up as in past generations, so our parents were more involved in our lives, overlooking and controlling much more than past generations? Having fewer kids makes it easier to micro-manage as well. I find with myself, the more kids I have, the more "free-range" I become. In the past, when families were bigger, it was just impossible to be involved with every aspect of your childrens' lives. Also, we have so many modern conveniences today, that we actually have enough "free time" to spend with our kids that past generations didn't have.

Is it because we have been "protected" and "coddled" so much our whole lives that we are afraid/refuse to be responsible for ourselves, and thus look to our parents/the government/other people to take care of us and our kids? Our whole culture in general has been trying to pawn off any personal responsibility since World War 2 it seems.

Is it a mix of all of these reasons? Other things I haven't thought of yet?

These are just some thoughts that have been running through my head, I'm not trying to come to any solid conclusions. And I'm NOT complaining, just observing, and thinking out loud. Maybe I am totally off in thinking that this is a relatively new concept. But I would love to hear your thoughts on this too! Do you think it is different for young parents today who are starting out vs when our grandparents were new parents? Obviously it's different in many ways, but I'm thinking as far as how much, and in what ways, grandparents are involved in the raising of their grandkids, and how easily/readily they can "let go" of control over their adult children. Also, what other reasons could there be for these changes? Do you think it's a positive or nagative change, or simply just humanity evolving with our circumstanes in life?

Thanks! I look forward to hearing from you.

Thoughts From a Disenchanted Homemaker

Oh man, I am so tired. Exhausted. I haven't been online very much lately, I've just been busy trying to get things done around the house. And trying to get things done is really frustrating. Everything always takes a million years longer than I think it will. Then when I do finally get something done, it's undone almost immediately. This is why I find it futile to actually try most of the time. Whenever I am at the computer I always have that annoying nagging voice in my head telling me that everything would be better and I'd get so much more done if I wasn't on the computer, but that is a big fat lie. Remember the time I went 46 days without the internet? Yeah, still couldn't keep up with everything. And I tried so hard! The house was never perfect. The dishes went undone. I didn't spend as much time with the kids as I'd hoped. I was busy on my feet from the moment I got up until I passed out exhausted at the end of the day. And to top it off I felt lonely and disconnected. At least now when that nagging voice starts on me, I have evidence to say HA! YOU'RE WRONG.

Obviously it would be a problem if all I did all day was sit at the computer, but that's impossible. I do obviously have responsibilities that I have to maintain, and I do. Sometimes I just do the bare minimum, because I know no one cares, and honestly neither do I. Maybe that makes me a bad mom/wife. Really, I'm just a bad housekeeper, I always have been, and for now I'm ok with that. In the end this doesn't matter. My relationships do. Obviously I will do what I need to do at home to get by, like make meals, do my weekly clean, keep up with laundry and the dishwasher (those things right there are a full-time job!). I do need to get a handle on the clutter, and could be a little more motivated to tidy up, but it's not urgent.

To be perfectly honest, I have no desire for a perfectly clean house. I feel uncomfortable in houses where everything is in order, especially when kids live there. I know for some women that's just their thing, and it comes naturally to them (P.S. I hate you, haha), and they care a lot about it and get a lot of satisfaction out of having a nice house. Good for them, seriously. Sometimes I wish I had a better heart to serve my family that way. Like, it's not like I don't serve my family, I DO hold everything together here, and it IS a lot of work. And I like to think that I'm a great cook, and I spoil my family with good food. But for some reason, I like things to get really dirty before I clean them. I guess I just like watching the transformation. I like taking something that is nasty and making it clean. I don't like maintenance cleaning, where is the fun in that? And I hate picking up after other people all the time. So for the most part I just don't.

What I am most guilty of, though, is letting the pots and pans pile up (thank God for my dishwasher who does the rest!). It's not uncommon for me to not do the dishes for a week or more at a time. It's not even that I don't want to, because honestly I HATE that my counters are covered in dirty dishes. But it's my least favourite thing to do. Really, I usually spend at least an hour making supper, do I really want to just turn around and wash all of those dishes? No. I want to sit and eat and then relax for an hour before taking on the impossible task which is bedtime. Then, once that's done, I'm kind of tired from the day, and would rather hang out with Dave and watch Start Trek or a movie, or go online, or fold laundry, or go to bed. I can't seem to figure out a good time of day to do dishes. I guess there's never a good time. It's my least favourite thing to do, so it always gets pushed to the bottom of my list, and of course I never get time to actually finish my to do lists.

Often I end up just washing the dishes as I need them. I do always rinse out my pots & pans before leaving them on the counter, so they're not gross or growing things, but they still look awful, taking up all of my precious counter space. I really want to start making bread, but I haven't because I never have the space. Then when I do take an afternoon and do up the dishes, by the time I'm done, there's no time for making bread or anything. And by the time I do have time, the kitchen is a mess again... In our old place the kitchen wasn't big enough for 2 people, so Dave never had to help (and it's not like he would do the dishes himself!). But now it's plenty big. Even if he could dry them for me, it would be a huge help! It's so annoying having to wash a sink full, then dry it and put it away so I can wash more. Plus I tend to get distracted by other urgencies, so then later when I finally get back to it, the water is cold and yucky. It would be great if we could get into a routine where we just did them together every night or something. We could have some "couple" time at the same time. I think it's a great idea! Hopefully Dave will agree. I know it will be hard when he goes back to work and is tired, but hey, I'm always tired, I just don't have a choice!

So, all that just to say I've been really busy lately working hard on house stuff, and it seems really futile. I think for some women, homemaking is just their thing, and they can rock it, and that's awesome. I really respect that and look up to them. But I don't think that is really what I was meant to do. I do think I was meant to be a mother, and taking care of the house is just a necessary evil that goes with it. Only when I resist this evil, it doesn't flee. Maybe some day I will get the hang of it. Probably just in time for us to take off to another country again, or maybe we will be able to buy a bus and live in it and travel North America. That would be awesome! Or move to a country where most of the living is done outside.

Lately I've been getting so tired of our culture. As a mom I feel like I'm expected to strive for the American dream. Like if I have any other ideas, it's negligent towards my children. But since when do cars and big (clean) houses and toys mean anything? It's easy to get caught up in the superficial things. I honestly hate it all. Maybe that's part of my problem with cleaning, I hate this culture so I am rebelling against it in my own way.

I find I honestly identify better with poor people (probably because I am kind of poor too, although I never "feel" poor because I know in reality I am very rich compared to the rest of the world, and I never take that for granted). I feel much more comfortable in a redneck's house than in the suburbs. I'd rather live around dead animals and junk than a clean house and a fake smile. I think I just like messy people (physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritally, etc). And I honestly am one, myself. If I walk into someone's house and it's a mess, I actually feel really comfortable, and like I can trust them. Like they might be able to understand and accept me. Creative people tend to be messy. I like messy.

So, there is my deep, philisophical thought for the day. And my excuse du jour for being a lousy housekeeper (although lately I have honestly been trying to not allow myself any excuses!). I know a lot of you hear me on this, so I want you to know that you're not alone. And that it's ok that you're on facebook right now instead of washing the dishes, ha!

Cute Video

I hope Judith comes up with fun stories like this some day.


Once upon a time... from Capucha on Vimeo.


Judith does like to make up stories with her toys, but usually it's only one or two scenarios that she plays over and over... And she often just copies scenes from her favourite shows, which makes me cringe. I read an article in the latest Mothering magazine about preschools in Europe that are completely outdoors, no matter what the weather, and how the kids have a better true creative ability when they are able to play in the forest all day as opposed to watching videos and being bombarded with familiar characters all the time. It breaks my heart because I can see that it's true. But it's so hard in our culture to avoid it. The tv is almost always on in my house, and it's usually for Judith. We have a small apartment, and sometimes it's all I can do for my sanity. Judith doesn't seem to be able to just play on her own.

I wish we at least had a back yard where she could play outside. We go to the park, but it's hard for me to hold Gideon and try to play with her, and also to simply keep her away from the roads. I go because Judith needs it, but it is stressful for me and takes a lot of effort. I grew up out in the country surrounded by forest, and I did have a wonderful imagination. Not that you HAVE to have a forest to be creative, but honestly it helps. Any little tidbit of nature helps, I think. I used to play outside a lot. I wish I could give my children that same kind of environment to grow up in...

My Breastfeeding Experience

Breastfeeding is something I always assumed I would do. I was breastfed as a baby, and it just made sense. What everyone failed to inform me, however, was how difficult it could be.

My daughter was born after a 43.5 hour labour. I was completely exhausted and suffering from a second degree tear, but that did not seem to interfere with the intense feeling of euphoria that flooded my body. I wanted to start breastfeeding right away. There was a shift change in the hospital right after the birth, and my wonderful midwife was replaced with one that was not so gracious. The baby's head was shoved on to my breast, and I was left to basically figure it out on my own.

I had no idea how much it was going to hurt. After a few hours the euphoria was gone and the exhaustion and pain I was experiencing was overwhelming. I couldn't sleep. I was overflowing with hormones and emotions that I was not prepared to deal with. The baby kept crying, but I couldn't figure out how to feed her, and was too weak to pick her up or hold her very long. In the morning a new midwife came and showed me some compassion, but didn't have time to stay with me and help. She told me that breastfeeding was going to hurt me more than most women because I was so fair and had flat nipples. But that I could do it just as well as anyone else. I was frustrated and by then my nipples were completely destroyed. I had no help, and was getting no rest. Every time the baby cried my heart sank through the floor at the thought of having to endure a feeding. I wasn't sure if I could keep doing it. The thought of nursing for a whole year, 6 months, or even 3 months was too overwhelming to think about. I couldn't believe other women could actually do this, it was so hard.

We ended up leaving the hospital early and then spent a day or so in a birthing centre where there were no other patients and the midwives were able to give me their full attention. Finally, after many tears and having two midwives constantly at my side for what seemed like an eternity trying and trying and trying to get the baby to cooperate, she finally figured out how to latch properly. She had become a very fussy baby, undoubtedly just as frustrated as me with the whole breastfeeding thing.

I was relieved to be able to go home, although things remained extremely difficult. My nipples had been torn up and bleeding for three days, and even though my daughter finally figured out how to latch properly and was not causing any more damage, the healing process was long and painful. A midwife came to my home every day for a week to check on the baby and I and help with breastfeeding. My daughter lost a lot of weight in the first three days, was running a fever, and was still not feeding well, so I ended up having to go visit my doctor. Fortunately, my doctor, midwives and everyone around me was very supportive of breastfeeding and switching to formula was never suggested, even though I secretly wished I could just give up and be done with it. After about 10 days she finally gained a llittle bit of weight. She wasn't back up to her birth weight, but she had at least gained some, so my doctor was satisfied with that and just urged me to continue on. I was also surrounded by a wonderful community that believed in me and encouraged me to persevere. My husband and I were living in Australia at the time, and our families were back in Canada, so I don't know what we would have done without our amazing friends. I learned to take it one feeding at a time, and not worry about anything else. Breastfeeding was now my more-than-full-time job.

It took 3 weeks for my nipples to finally heal, and considering that I had to feed 8-10 times a day, around the clock, it was the longest 3 weeks of my life. My nipples were still quite sensitive, even though the wounds were gone. I dreaded every feed. Every time she latched on I would scream and curl my toes. Shortly after the sores and scabs had disappeared, I suffered a short bout of mastitis. I thought I was going to die. But I continued to nurse through it, and after about 24 hours, I started to feel better. My breasts still hurt for several days though. Then just to ensure I had the full spectrum of the painful nursing experience, I got thrush when my daughter was about a month old. It came in association with the constant yeast infections I had which hindered my postpartum healing and made sitting extremely painful, and also horrible fungal infections in my finger and toe nails, which made holding anything and walking painful as well. I was in an extremely rough shape. Not to mention the overwhelming feelings of rejection by my daughter and failure as a mother. I was a physical and an emotional wreck.

My daughter was experiencing her own pain as well, it turns out. She was always fussy at the breast. She would eagerly latch on at first, but shortly after the letdown she would arch her back, pull off and scream. The rest of the feeding would consist of me trying to squirt milk down her throat as she screamed. It was so frustrating for both of us. I was devastated that breastfeeding was a battle rather than a bonding experience. I can recall a few nights in the first couple of weeks where neither of us slept, and we both just cried and cried. She wouldn't sleep all day either. It was very hot. We were both exhausted. She was constantly hungry. She was not a happy baby whatsoever, and never smiled. During the day I would try to feed her for an hour, and then give myself a break for an hour, just holding her while she screamed. Once the sun went down she would normally sleep for a few hours at a time, and accept the breast a little more willingly since we weren't sweating on each other as much.

Three weeks after the birth a mama in our church heard my daughter cry and informed me that she had 'the reflux cry'. Her own two daughters had reflux as babies, and she knew the sound of the distinct cry. She showed us how to hold her upright with a hand firmly on her tummy to ease the pain, and even came to our house and helped us prop up the bassinet so our daughter could sleep as vertical as possible. This helped immensely. We finally got more sleep at night, and were able to help her cope during the day. Nursing was still quite the ordeal, but we were getting used to it. Knowing that my daughter was also in pain helped me to be more compassionate. We were in this together.

Breastfeeding hurt me for the first 4 months of my daughter's life. The reflux affected her ability to nurse and keep food down for 6 or 7 months. But eventually we found our groove. I finally felt like I could breathe again. I had an excellent milk supply thanks to my hour-on-hour-off feeding schedule in the early days. My daughter gained weight, slowly but surely. She was always skinny, but healthy. Eventually she began to smile, and around 6 months after she was born I was rewarded with her first giggle. When we moved back to Canada we were occasionally urged to give her formula, but by then there was no way. We had worked too hard. I was extremely confident in my decision to breastfeed. I realized that this whole experience was indeed a bonding one. We had persevered together despite everything, and in doing so we were bonded together much more solidly than we would have been if breastfeeding had gone smoothly.

Breastfeeding became a big part of who I was, I did a lot of research on it, and decided that I would nurse as long as I could. I discovered attachment parenting, and found a community that supported me. At one point I even considered becoming a lactation consultant.

My daughter ended up nursing for 19 months. Around 18 months of age, she started becoming less interested in the breast and not asking for it much. When I would offer her the breast and she wasn't interested she would bite me, so I quickly stopped trying. Eventually she stopped asking completely. It was totally natural and I didn't experience any pain as a result of weaning. My breastfeeding experience was in like a lion, out like a lamb. I was kind of sad in a way that she weaned so early, I wanted to nurse her until she was at least 2, and had dreams of tandem nursing her and her sibling that we were trying to conceive. But I was completely satisfied. I know I did the right thing, and my daughter and I had a wonderful relationship. I proved to her that I would never give up on her no matter what. I felt like a champion. I was so proud of myself. I can totally understand why many moms choose not to breastfeed or stop breastfeeding, it is definitely not easy. But for us it was worth it. My sense of failure at first had now become a very satisfying sense of accomplishment.

At first breastfeeding was awful, but my daughter and I persevered together, and honestly it taught me so much. I learned to be patient and selfless, and discovered that motherhood was HARD and often painful, but so worth it. Breastfeeding broke me as a person more than anything in my entire life, but like a seed, in doing so made room for much personal growth. It eventually built me up, stronger, wiser, and more determined than ever. It taught me what I needed to know deep in my heart, lessons that cannot be explained in words, and made me into the mother I would need to be for my children. It humbled me, and also empowered me. I think all mothers probably experience this no matter how they feed their babies, but for me the trials (and eventually triumphs) of breastfeeding was my 'make AND break' experience of motherhood. Breastfeeding was so much more than just nourishing my baby, even more than bonding as well. Breastfeeding laid the foundation of motherhood for me.

*****

I am currently breastfeeding my son, who is 6 months old. My experience with him has been completely different. It was hard at first, again, as it took him 2 weeks to figure out how to latch properly, and to be able to handle my powerful letdowns. I would pump a little at first until the flow wasn't as forceful, attempt to nurse him, and then I would pump more and feed him my breastmilk with a small cup. But it didn't hurt at all, thank God. The worst part was having to wash the pump in the middle of the night. After a couple of weeks he figured it out, and we have been going strong ever since. He is such a wonderful baby! He seriously brings so much joy to my life. He has been smiling and giggling from day one, and loves to cuddle. He nurses like a champ, even in public, which has made my life pretty easy. He nurses every 3-4 hours during the day, and every 2-3 hours at night. But he sleeps and naps well, and is just so darn cute and happy, so I don't mind his frequent feeds. At 6 months he is 23 pounds, and no one has suggested giving him formula, haha.



My two breastfeeding experiences were vastly different, but both equally as rewarding. I would encourage any new or expecting mama to stick it out, no matter how hard it is at first. Surround yourself with people that love you and support exclusive breastfeeding. Don't allow yourself the option of giving up (unless absolutely medically necessary, of course). Accept it as a new essential part of life, like breathing, eating, and going to the bathroom, and it won't seem like such a burden. Don't treat it like a chore, or it will become one. It is not easy, but it is worth it. If you can make it through the first few weeks, it gets much better. Persevere, and you will be rewarded in the end. Most of all, cherish the nursing experience with your baby, no matter how much it hurts or frustrates you, because some day you will miss those intimate times.

Sweet and Sour Freedom

Last night I went grocery shopping by myself.

Normally I go on Monday mornings with the kids, but the carseats were not in the van (we had put them in the truck when we weren't sure what was going on with the brakes), and I couldn't find my house keys, so we didn't go. I thought it might be nice for me to be able to go by myself for once, so I waited until Dave got home and we ate dinner, then Daddy got to babysit while I set out into the night.

Going out with both kids is such a huge, overwhelming ordeal sometimes. The prospect of having some FREEDOM for once was quite alluring.

But I was wrong.

I felt really lonely the whole time. It was weird. It was quiet. But not quiet in the soothing, refreshing way. More in the eerie, uneasy way. I didn't feel like 'myself'. I reverted back to the old shy, extremely self-conscious Kelly. It took an hour and fifteen minutes instead of my usual two hours, but it felt like much longer. I didn't feel as present and 'in control' as I do when the kids are with me.

Maybe the extra time and effort required to take the kids out with me is worth it.

It's true that sometimes my kids bring out the worst in me, but I'm beginning to realize that they also bring out the best.

Gross? What Does That Even Mean Anymore?

This morning as I wiped the snot from Gideon's nose with my sleeve, I realized that becoming a mother has brought me a long way as far as my tolerance for all things "gross".

This morning I also threw the diapers in the wash, grabbing handful after handful of wet and soiled cloths with my bare hand, no problem. Poop washes off.

I get spit up on every day, most of the time I don't even bother changing anymore. Barf stains are the new black for me.

Gideon is a boy. I get peed on sometimes when I change him (although not as much anymore). It happens. Not a big deal.

Potty training Judith involved being peed on, handling soiled clothing, and cleaning up accidents on the floor. I got over it.

I pick at Gideon's cradle cap. All the time. It's addictive.

Some nights when I get up to feed Gideon I realize that my side of the bed is saturated in breastmilk. Then I go back to sleep in it. Like I care what I will smell like in the morning. And the need for sleep outweighs the risk of drowning.

Judith. Spills. Everything. EVERYTHING. You wouldn't believe the towels I go through in a week cleaning up after her. Her face is always dirty and her hands always sticky. But she still deserves hugs and kisses and the hand prints on the walls and my pants don't bother me too much anymore.

Judith often eats off the floor. She drops her food there, and we don't like to waste. Sometimes I cringe because the floors aren't always so clean (because of all the food dropping, it's a vicious cycle). Other times I do it too. I discourage this practice in public places, however.

My kitchen is often starved for attention. We live in a basement apartment, so food starts to bring forth new life after being left out for about 10 seconds. Changing the garbage was agony when I was pregnant. But I've since gotten over it. Mold schmold.

I admit I do intervene when Judith finds something on the ground and immediately puts it in her mouth (candies, straws, popsicle sticks, etc). I take it away of course and try to get it through her head that WE DON'T DO THAT! But she hasn't died yet... or even gotten sick.

I kiss boo boos. Dirty, bloody gross boo boos. Nothing heals and consoles like mama's kisses.

I could probably think of more, but Judith just dumped her potty full of pee all over the bathroom floor... again. Gotta go!

The Mommy Paradox

I find it interesting that the number of kids I want fluctuates with my mood.

For example, last night Gideon was up at least every hour. Sometimes I didn't even get a chance to doze off and he was crying again. And he didn't do his usual 2-5 minute power feed and pass out again. No, he just wanted to nurse all night. He'd go 20+ minutes, and even then I would have to pry him off when I couldn't take it anymore. Only to do it again within the hour. Needless to say I was extremely tired and dehydrated this morning. While he was nursing all I could think of was "What ever possessed me to want to be a mom!"

Then this morning when he woke up and it woke Judith up (which means there will be no going back to bed), I grudgingly looked over to him, hoping that he could see the pain and exhaustion in my eyes and magically go back to sleep and take his sister with him. But no, instead he looked up at me and broke out in a huge, sweet smile, and reached his arms out for me. Suddenly I was all "Awwww! Ok, I'll have 6 more. No problem."

Psychotic.

When I think about it though, in the long run I think I would be happier with a bigger family. It's obviously hard when our kids are babies, but that's really nothing compared to the privilege of bringing LIFE into the world. When I look at my kids and see how amazing they are, and think that I was the one honoured enough to give birth to them and raise them, it is very humbling. My present convenience pales in comparison.