What they said

I love reading novels especially when it's clear that the author has been profoundly affected by parenthood. Skilled writers just know how to say things we all feel in a way that when we read something their characters say or feel, we are left with that feeling of ahhhh, I'm not the only one or yeah, I've been there. Jodi Picoult and Thrity Umrigar have touched me in this way.

Without sounding like a broken record again, I think I've said a few times that Naveen is not a talented sleeper yet. I'm exhausted most days. I thought that I could stomach trying the crying-it-out method but I was wrong. So we're back to co-sleeping which really isn't working. He can never sleep for longer than a forty minute stretch. Yada, yada, yada.

Despite this I'm constantly amazed at how motherhood gifts us with this special perspective. Even without a full hour of sleep most nights, I fall deeper and deeper in love with Naveen every day. With almost no effort I can elicit the most wonderful toothless grins. Grins that leave me smiling to myself like a fool, grins that warm me from my toes all the way up. And I'm not sure who I will ever convince to watch the reels of video I've taken this past week of him almost rolling over but to this mother, these small feats are glorious accomplishments.

Umrigar said through one of her characters about feeding her hungry child, it was as if you were being filled up yourself. I've felt this. On days when I can get a well balanced nutritious meal into Deaglan, it's as if I've been nourished myself. Those days are few with my picky eater.

And Picoult in one of her novels said that we spend much of our lives looking for our true loves in a partner only to realize that our real true loves are our children.

It's hard not to feel like I'm truly home when I look at my two boys.

Who's running this show anyways?

Isn't it amazing how life just happens anyway even when it isn't on your to-do list?

Here's what I mean.

My goal was to start taking the task of potty training Deaglan seriously in the last six months of my maternity leave. I figured that by then Naveen might be sleeping a bit through the night and I would have the energy to roll-up my sleeves and really focus on reaching this milestone.

But life had other plans for me.

Deaglan developed this crazy diaper rash a few weeks ago - the first one that wasn't related to teething. We went to the doctor twice about it, coming home with a different remedy each time. Both times we were instructed to let him go commando around the house as often as possible to let his skin breathe. Although we did instruct Deaglan to let us know if he had to go, planning to hustle him to the potty each time, we had no idea that within a few days he would potty train himself. Yesterday he ran into the living room and said Mommy come and see what I did. Gulp! I thought I was going to be lead to the kitchen with the entire contents of the fridge on the floor or something disastrous like that but instead he lead me to the potty where he had peed perfectly within the confines of the vessel.

I think you all know where I'm going with this. There may be sleep in my future!

No one cares what you look like - you're a parent!

That's what Shaune said to me when I hesitated before putting on sneakers and white socks with my jersey top and leggings. We were in Toronto on the weekend for a mini vacation and as you can see from this picture Shaune took from Centre Island, it was cold and wet, not conducive to barefeet in sandals.

We hadn't taken any time away yet this year, since we were busy preparing for and welcoming Naveen into our lives. Shaune had originally asked me if I wanted to go to Toronto several weeks ago but I just couldn't bring myself to go to that place where Matthew had been last.

But then I remembered that it was Matt who was excited last summer about Deaglan being old enough to take to Centre Island, an amusement park mostly for toddlers.

So we booked a room and created a kid-friendly itinerary and headed toward the big city with little thought to Hurricane Earl and how he might impact our trip. It was cold, windy and rainy but we stuck to our schedule.

Naveen slept throughout most of the two days. But Deaglan had a blast. We told him that we would be riding on a boat and trains and boy was he stoked. Here he is with Shaune on the ferry over to the Island.

The second day we bought a day pass for the subway and gave him a good dose of train riding. Every time we were ground level, he wanted to know where the trains went. Shaune and I took turns of honing our explanation skills about how the subway is under the ground - under the ground we were walking on right then.

In the morning while I was feeding and changing Naveen, Shaune and Deaglan went outside to explore downtown Toronto. Apparently a truck broke down in front of a streetcar and there was a bit of a kerfuffle. When they returned to the hotel room, Deaglan excitedly told me about the blue truck that was stuck in front of the choo-choo train (he wouldn't make the fine distinction between streetcars and trains despite our constant reminder). He continued to talk about this all day and when we were home last night and I asked him about his favourite part of the trip he again told me all about the blue truck being stuck in front of the choo-choo train.

No mention of the expensive hotel room we stayed in, or the meals, or even the trains we rode around for no reason other than his entertainment.

I thought about my brother almost every minute of our trip. I didn't know him at all in that environment, his environment. I looked out into the water where he had his final moments. It left me sad and lonely. And I passed by a constant stream of Starbucks wondering each time if it was the one he got his morning coffee before heading into work each morning. I let myself cry when we passed an open market downtown, not sure if I just wanted to imagine that he might have done some shopping there on a Saturday morning or if he might have told me he did.

I mourned that we would never take our boys there to visit their Uncle.

It was one of those trips that might be more fun to remember. Four people in a hotel room when one of them is an infant who only sleeps during the day, a toddler who suddenly developed a high fever, a mother who usually prides herself on being prepared for anything but not prepared for that and a father who was almost asleep when woken and told to go find a pharmacy to buy children's tylenol.

And on the drive home, I went back to what Shaune said about people seeing me only as a parent now. I couldn't decide if it upset me or not. I did the mental checklist:

• Two kids
• Snacks and kleenex in my purse
• Raffi playing on cd player
• Minivan
• Getting excited to ride the subway just because your toddler son is crazy about trains

Of all the things people could see me as, well, it could be worse I guess.

Blogging

Every few weeks I run into someone who says hey, I read your blog. It surprises me a little but not too much. I've made a link to it from my facebook page, and I also have pockets of people in the different parts of my life who have always read it and sometimes send the link on to their friends and family.

What does surprise me though is how strongly they feel about certain aspects of it. Strongly enough to make suggestions or backhanded critiques as if I am writing it as part of a job and they know how I can do that job better.
A blog is such a weird thing when you think about it. I mean I've always written in a journal, probably all of my adult life and most of my teen years. But a blog takes journalling to a whole new dimension. It's no longer something that might accidentally be read by a snooping parent or partner. Suddenly your life is out there for people to read, to judge, to agree or disagree. It's this aspect that is tough to take as the writer. It forces you to censor yourself, leave out parts of your life that would make for good material and it behoves you to consider your readers.

Mostly I write for the joy of writing and seeing my thoughts - well my life in that writing. I've learned a few things about myself so far in this lifetime. I need to excercise regularly, my house needs to be clean most of the time and I need to write almost everyday. These three things are what I need to feel healthy, that my day-to-day life is thriving.

Blogging isn't about writing meticulously - it's not an essay for university or college, or a business memo for work or even a book report. It's supposed to be informal and relatable and hopefully interesting to some people. My style on this blog is very matter-of-fact and as someone pointed out to me recently - conversational. I've just found that the blogs that keep my attention are a good combination of personal mixed with informational and they have to be written so that it's fun and easy to read them.

I try to write about what's going on in my life at that moment. Sometimes I've crossed the line into being preachy, or complaining, and often I've been repetitive. I figure that it's my blog, my choice of content. I'm happy when people get anything out of it but I'll keep writing even if they don't.

Shaune says he reads my blog at work almost daily and it thrills him to see a new post. See what I mean about censoring? Imagine the posts I could write if he weren't reading!

This is a picture of Deaglan and his three paternal aunts (Katie, Tanis and Chrissy) last Christmas.

Churning

Most of the time when I write a post here, I have something on my mind I want to express. Most of the time it's about parenting and family life. But that's not the only thing that preoccupies me - parenting I mean.

There is a lot on my mind these days. A lot of it has to do with my childhood. Since Matthew's death some of the more difficult parts of my growing up years won't leave me alone. Events and experiences I thought I'd made peace with have resurfaced and I'm re-evaluating.

Sometimes I'm shocked - and actually Shaune just this morning echoed the same feeling - truly shocked that I'm not more screwed up than I am. I'm certain that it's the reason I didn't have children till my late thirties, that I needed the extra time to process all those years in my family home.

I know all the right things to do and think. Accept it all and move on. Recognize that everyone did their best. Leave the past there. Live for today. Yada, yada, yada.

A tragedy challenges those well known axioms. A terrible beast of a thing like suicide stops you cold and forces you to be authentic with yourself. It gives you a knowing look when you try to say certain comforting things like ahhh but there was nothing I could have done.

The truth is that there was a lot many of us could have done and didn't do. We got too comfortable in our own lives. We preferred to ignore signs. We wanted to believe that the perfect circumstance would snap him out of it. We convinced ourselves that we were powerless over it. We wanted to talk about family and love and togetherness when it felt good but when ugliness showed up we decided it was best to let each person take care of themselves.

Lately when I dream about Deaglan or get an image of him in my mind, he always has Matthew's face at that same age. He was so funny at Deaglan's age - outspoken, wonderous and hilarious with a freckled nose.

Mommy can I?

There were a lot of kids in my family. It's not that we were poor, we always had enough to eat, lived in some nice homes, had decent clothes and went on vacations when it was feasible. But there were some aspects of being a part of a large clan that always bothered me. Like when we went out to eat whether it was to McDonald's or somewhere fancier, we usually never got our own meals. My mother would read over the menu and let us know who was sharing what.

When we weren't camping in a tent on our vacations, we were all eight of us crammed into a tiny motel or hotel room. As a kid I was always embarrassed by these features of big family life with a limited budget. There were other circumstances in my family that also made outings in general something I dreaded, but that's a whole other post.

When I dreamed of having my own family, I knew that I would have a small one. I wanted my children to look forward to things and get excited over time spent with family. I dreamed of vacations and outings filled with fun and a bit of indulgence.

And now that I am here, with a small boy who is quickly learning the ways of the world (Mommy can I is by far the most common phrase lately), I find it is a very fine line Shaune and I must walk. For instance, one day last week we were on our way home from the splash pad, it was hot and humid outside and the last thing I wanted to do was figure out lunch. Deaglan seeing the Golden Arches said Mommy can we go to Old McDonald's? I'm hungry.

We did but then the next day when we were passing by the same place even though we had already eaten lunch at home, Deaglan asked the same thing.

Often Shaune and I buy Deaglan things because we're so excited for him to have them. He's at such a great age, talking a mile a minute, telling jokes, appreciating his surroundings - put simply, he's captivating - that we can easily get carried away. Two weeks ago on an outing, Shaune scoped out aquariums and called me to get my agreement to buy one for Deaglan's room. It wasn't his birthday or Christmas. I easily agreed because I too had been wanting to get some fish for his room.

Lately though, we've noticed that every time we go out somewhere Deaglan will ask us what he can have as if he should have a gift or treat whenever we are out. Worried we are on our way to spoiling him, Shaune and I decided to start making a point of saying no to his requests more often.

As much as I disliked some of the inevitabilities of being part of such a large family, I do remember the thrill of a treat once in a while. I only ever had one Barbie who I played with for years and years. Most of my clothes until I had my own money were hand-me downs. I didn't have my own room until I was in university.

It's one of those challenges of parenting that we are facing right now. Wanting to give your children what you didn't have but at the same time wanting them to appreciate the niceties the way you did.

I love you today.

I've been trying to figure out what to say to you today.

Something meaningful and true. Because I'll be honest, you didn't have me at hello and I've never felt that you completed me. I didn't need you to save me, have never pictured you on a white horse or been after your money.

I'm pretty sure you weren't looking for some arm candy or a way to climb a corporate ladder. And you most likely haven't stuck around because of my domestic skills.

So maybe we wouldn't be considered the great American romance. People might not look at us and wish they had what we did.

But here's what I know.

Everyday I'm happier when you're home. I'm so grateful you are the father of our boys. Any victory I've earned is made sweeter when I can share it with you. I can't think of anyone I would like to get better at bickering with or share a funny story with.

And even though I didn't begin planning our wedding day in my head the day we met, I alwayys picture growing old with you. Even through these labour-intensive, sleep-deprived, grumpy days and nights, I would rather have you by my side than anyone else.

Happy Anniversary honey!