Step Away From the Keyboard

So I thought I'd change things up a bit and do a political post, and share my views on the remaining nominees. And then I thought, no. No I won't.

Then I've been thinking a lot about music and how my tastes and preferences have changed over the years, and how some of them haven't at all. I still love me some Howard Jones. I still don't have any love for country music. Music makes me so happy. Or more specifically, my music, loud, while I'm alone in my car, singing like I know how, makes me happy. Lately in my cd player, you'd find either Sarah Bareilles, Kelly Clarkson, Adele, Coldplay, Colbie Caillat, or today most likely Jessie J (the clean album, don't call my Bishop). And then "Who's Laughing Now?" came on and I was singing along and no longer contemplating blog posts.

This week I've been so tired, baby has been absolutely horridly awake every night of late. And I have thought about drinking 3 or 4 Five Hour Energy's, in part to keep me standing upright, and in part to see what kind of blog post would come out of an over tired but hopped up on caffeine Wendy. That may still be forthcoming. But I couldn't get to the store today.

So here we are. It's 6:30 pm and I am dressed, but never got my hair done today. I need to exercise, but am only interested in exercise I could do while laying face down on the floor. I need to see my chiropractor. And my phone is busted. No more blogging while blotto. Sorry.

Re-finding Me

If I have ever offended you, I do apologize. There are very few instances where my intent has been to offend someone, but I'm sure I have done it more than those few times I meant to. I've gotten much better at keeping my mouth shut over the years, which isn't always a good thing, but is a necessary, if not slightly unfortunate part of growing up and maturing.

I used to pretty much say whatever was on my mind. If I thought it, I said it (though this did not apply to anything that was potentially embarrassing, incriminating or personal for me). There were times I know I made my parents or siblings cringe and have to resist covering my mouth and escorting me out of the room. But, as my Mum recounts, there were also times I spoke up and said what no one else would say, and was dead on in my assessment of the situation. Some adults would be appalled, but I didn't always get a talking to like people sometimes thought I should.

I started university in a place that was like another planet compared to where I grew up. People didn't always appreciate my blunt, forthright, no-nonsense way of talking. So I learned to clam up, and keep some of my opinions and thoughts to myself. At times, I felt like a cartoon, turning several colours, shaking, steam coming out of my ears- just trying to be polite and quiet. But with practice, I got better at it.

What was an accomplishment in my college days, I now see as a weakness, even a fault. I've realized recently, that I'm not as much myself. One of the reasons for that is that I am polite bordering on demure in some instances, and it feels like I'm playing some character who is altogether foreign to me. I'm all for manners, believe me, we're big on that over here. But sometimes, things need to be said. My opinions might actually be helpful, not offensive. Occasionally a few truthful, loving, blunt words are exactly what are needed. I have had 3 separate occasions now where someone has said something to me that on the surface seemed really rude or inappropriate, but in truth was the exact thing I needed to hear, and said in the only way I could hear it in that moment. That's a gift.

I don't plan on going all mean and cruel, but I am going to speak up more. I think, in hindsight, that truth telling, blunt side of me was actually a gift and talent that needed some fine tuning, not a personality flaw to be squashed out of existence. Again, I hope to not offend. Besides, generally if I mean to offend, there is little question that that is the case. But I would hope more often, since I am a grown up (apparently), that my speaking my mind and seeking the right and truthful thing will be good and helpful, to me and to others. Somewhere along the way, parts of me have gotten lost, and I'm starting backwards down a road in hopes of finding them again.

Be afraid, people. Be very afraid.

That's A Wrap

My last pregnancy was rough. Fifteen weeks of mind bending nausea (I never threw up, but wished I would for just a moment of relief), a 2 month bout with walking pneumonia, a screwy hip that made it excruciatingly painful to walk or even stand for about the last 4-5 months, plus the usual aches, pains, worries (a little miscarriage scare, anyone?) and unbelievable fatigue. My body was telling me it was done. It felt like it was falling apart beneath me.

So that's it. No more pregnancies. Instead of celebrating never having to do that again, I'm sad. There is nothing more amazing I will ever do in my life, and I plan on doing some pretty great things. But growing a person, feeling them move, giving birth, seeing each little face for the first time... there is nothing that can ever top any of that for me. It seems many women are so relieved to be done, and then can't wait for all their kids to be in school, but I guess I'm just weird. I'm in no rush. There are so many phases and days and moments I would pause if I could. If I felt like I could physically manage it, I would have more- at least one, and maybe 2 or 3. But I know I can't.

I didn't expect to feel this way.

I am not ungrateful. I realize, I know the blessing it is that I got to have my five. Something many women long for but can't do for a multitude of reasons, I got to do. And it was incredible. So leaving this phase behind is hard. From pregnancy to newborns to my midwife to miracles that happened along the way, it's hard to imagine life without any of that. I can't even begin to list the things I have learned and become from this phase of my life.

But now, I will never not be a mother. That is the joyful note I choose to keep playing. It's my bit of heaven on earth. Yes, even on the days that are a wee bit, um, challenging. I sometimes find it hard to believe that I could really be this lucky. These kids? The best people I know. I tell them all the time, "I am the luckiest Mum because I got you. Nobody else got you."

But for the moment, I'm allowing myself to feel a little bit sad. End of an era, folks. End of an era.

Kickin' It With the Stay-At-Homies

I have rules. There are limits. These kids have regular bedtimes and mealtimes, are not allowed much sugary or processed food, and have limits on their screens. I realize I can't protect them from everything as a parent, but the things I can control, for their safety and well-being, I do. So much so that I was once called 'anal' by my mother-in-law, and I took it as the highest compliment. (That one came because I wouldn't allow my kids to ride around in her truck, through a small town, on snow covered roads without any car seats or boosters).

We have almost as many channels blocked on the tv as we have available. These kids have never seen MTV or VH1 or any such thing. They know the channels that are the ok kid channels, and they stick to them.

So you'll excuse my mouth dropping open, quickly followed by near-painful laughter upon hearing the following:

Grey was laying on my bed, fussing, while I was in the bathroom attempting to get ready for the day. Duncan comes running in and announces,

"I'll take care of him, Mum!"

Duncan makes faces, does voices and hands over toy after toy.

Graham still fusses.

"Grey, it's ok!"

Grey fusses louder.

"Dude! I'm RIGHT HERE."

Grey starts to cry.

"Grey! I'm HERE for you, YO?!"

Graham wails.

Defeated: "Duuude."


My 5-year-old. He both entertains and terrifies me. Word.

Me: Also Available In Happy.

Spent, drained, worried, concerned, relieved, grateful, sad, stressed, exhausted, sorry, sympathetic, overwhelmed, wound up, scattered, confused, frustrated... these are some of the options available currently.

The Happy Wendy appears to be out of stock or on back order. Perhaps some refurbishing going on. If you don't like this version, you can always try back in a few days or so.

It has been a rough week. There is no way to avoid the way a week like this sort of tears me to shreds while I'm busy dealing with crises, and then vanishes, leaving me with a giant mess of built up thoughts and emotions to sort through. Today I've begun sorting.

It's not fun.

35 seizures in just over 7 hours. My boy. My poor, sweet, innocent, doesn't-he-already-have-enough-to-deal-with boy. I steal extra kisses, say extra I love you's, because for a while there, there's no way to know if it might be my last chance. I place my hand on his back or just under his nose to make sure he is still breathing. I do it a ridiculous number of times.

How much can one little body take? I absolutely hope to never discover the answer to that question.

He's coming around. Talking a bit. Today he was able to pick up and hold a cup again, and get it to his mouth. He could stand and walk without crumpling to the floor. And with each little bit that he is restored, so am I. My heart always seems to be the last thing.

Soon my boy will be back, with his mischievous laugh and Cheshire cat grin. And I will be laughing with him, though he almost never lets me in on the joke.

For now? Still sorting. I know that Happy has got to be around here somewhere...