On why I haven't written lately

I took a break from blogging. Sometimes I feel vulnerable that I share so much about my life here. At these times it helps me to keep quiet.

I often feel torn between wanting to write deeply personal things and keeping it light. Mostly it comes down to my fear of what people will think about me.

But if I look at that fear, I see that it is what keeps us all so separate and alone. Perhaps sharing our humanity is the healthier thing.

The break did me good anyway. I thought about this strange hobby I've grown to love. I realized it's when I share a particularly personal story that I feel a bit less lonely in this world.

In my last life I was starving

After settling Deaglan down for the night, I came downstairs and while crawling around the living room floor picking up toys strewn everywhere, I glanced into the kitchen at this scene. Shaune busy chopping and sauteeing, laptop open to his cooking blog, recreating an invention he came up with just a few weeks ago.

Cilantro, citrus and spicy peanut sauce worked their way into my welcoming olfactory and were met with a rumble from my tummy below.

You're most likely rolling your eyes and wondering what the hell I ever did to deserve being married to this culinary wizard. I can only shrug with a sheepish grin. I don't know either but I ain't complaining.

We don't eat like this every evening though. A few nights a week Shaune works late and it's my job to prepare dinner. On these nights it's a simpler fare. We usually have some curries, pasta sauces and most likely a hearty chili, homecooked ahead of time and then portioned and frozen for my nights 'cooking'. From there, all I have to do is throw together a salad or make rice or pasta and voila.

When I picked Deaglan up from daycare today, his teacher Ms. Angie recounted snack time earlier that afternoon. It was vanilla yogurt mixed with cut up canned peaches. Did he eat it? I asked excitedly. Yes, after he spit out every last piece of peach.

Again I implore the universe, how did two such enthusiastic eaters create such a finicky difficult-to-nourish little punk???

Breaking taboos

I know it's sort of an unwritten taboo to talk about pregnancy until the end of the first trimester but tired of following silly rules, I've decided to share my thoughts with you. I'm trying to get pregnant and it's not as easy this time around.

A thousand anxieties and fears run through my mind everyday. First of all I want to talk about the fact that in my mind's eye we are a family of four. And the knowing of that creates a feeling of limbo that I could never have imagined back in my somewhat carefree single days. I'm cognizant of all the things I should be thinking - I'm so blessed to have Shaune and Deaglan, a comfortable house to live in, a decent job, supportive family and friends. And of course I am grateful for all of it.

But there is this part of me, which until recently lay dormant, and at first whispered softly - you need to have one more baby NOW and is slowly becoming louder and more demanding. Our plan had been to wait until the end of the summer to start trying. This way Deaglan would be older, we would feel satisfied knowing he had us all to himself for an appropriate length of time - all of those kinds of considerations that run through parents' minds.

However, the minute we began trying, that other part of me began to take over. By the end of each cycle, it would convince me that I was pregnant. I looked for feelings of nausea, was sure that wanting mayonnaise and fries was a 'craving', felt the cramps that often come in the first few weeks of conception indicating that the fertilized egg was attaching to the uterine wall. But then much to my great disappointment, evidence to the contrary would show up and prove me wrong every time.

This has been a difficult way to live.

Combined with this anxiety is the fear of being pregnant and having a toddler to take care of. I had nausea around the clock for the first four months with Deaglan. Doing the absolute necessities like going to work and showing up for my midwife appointments left me spent and exhausted. My back pain was unbearable at times and for the last few months I had to sleep on the couch downstairs. I think about all of this and worry about Deaglan. We have so much one-on-one time together. I pick him up all the time just because I want to nuzzle his neck or give him a kiss. And we have our routines.

I've spoken to lots of friends who have a second and third and even fourth child and they all tell me the same types of things. It will all work out. The relationship between he and I won't change, it may need to be reorganized and tweaked a bit.

And then there is also a part of me that wants to kick my own butt and say enjoy today, don't worry so much, things will all work out the way they are supposed to. But sadly this has never been my way.

So these days I'm trying not to analyze every small tingle or tiny cramp I feel. I'm telling myself that whenever it happens will be the right time and just because I'm 38.5 doesn't mean I don't still have enough time. I'm telling myself to live in the moment, enjoy my time with Deaglan while he's still an only child. I'm telling myself all of these things and almost believing them.

Droning mommy blogger

I've noticed that some of my favourite bloggers are either thinking about or have already decided to throw in the towel. I'll miss reading them. I understand though. It's not always easy to fit it in when life is also happening. Some weeks I have nothing to say. I've learned it's better not to say anything at those times.

I like writing. It seems to keep me grateful. I'm enjoying writing about my son. I hope he reads this stuff someday and gets a kick out of it.

I've also been thinking about something a friend of mine said the other day. She confided that sometimes she just doesn't want to play with her kids. It bores her. She asked me if I ever felt that way. Heck ya! I told her.

Sometimes when I get home from work I feel like my brain is fried. I only have enough energy to cuddle with Deaglan, make him dinner and watch a program. Getting down on the floor and playing with trains or dinosaurs just takes too much effort on those days. It doesn't make us bad parents. But it's easy to feel that way. I think parenting can be isolating if it's not discussed with other parents.

I read something that rubbed me the wrong way a few days ago. A popular blogger referred to herself as sounding like one of those 'droning mommy bloggers'. She said it as if most of the time she's not but the post she had written (where she was explaining how wonderful life was since her second child had joined their family) that day made her sound like one of those 'droning mommy bloggers'. I think it bugged me because it seemed derogatory. Who cares right? I'm a mommy and I'm a blogger and most of the time I do drone on about my kid.

That's all I have.

Too much calcium?

I have a hard time saying goodbye to each phase of this kid's life. I could have easily fallen to my knees and wept the first day I had to leave him at the daycare and don't even get me started on weaning him. So it shouldn't come as surprising that I've had my challenges when it comes to cutting his hair.

I love his hair long. But it is quickly proving to be impractical. It was only about two months ago that I took him down the street to the kids' hair salon. I know, I know, what kind of a mother pays for her toddler's hair cuts. Believe me, I went down that other road and it wasn't a success. I wrote about it here. So last week when a woman said your daughter is just lovely I thought maybe it was time to go a bit shorter.

I didn't know if I would like it short. I didn't want to lose any of his baby-ness. But then I looked at him after she was done.
And I fell madly in love with him all over again.

The unnatural

I was thinking about work today on my way home. Not about my workload or the politics or my paycheck.

Just about the idea of going to a place for most of your waking time, away from your family, where you are expected to be on your best behaviour, be productive, dress half decent, sit in a chair for hours and hours, and get along with all the people around you.

I'm not knocking my job - it's where I am right now with the amount of education I was willing to pursue.

I saw a documentary on Google a while ago. It focused on what it was like to be an employee for the company. Admittedly it looked and sounded incredible. They offer things like free food, bringing your pet to work, financial planning classes, a gym, $12,000 a year education allowance and an awesome retirement savings plan.

I found this quote on Google about Google:

“The goal is to strip away everything that gets in our employees’ way. We provide a standard package of fringe benefits, but on top of that are first-class dining facilities, gyms, laundry rooms, massage rooms, haircuts, carwashes, dry cleaning, commuting buses – just about anything a hardworking employee might want. Let’s face it: programmers want to program, they don’t want to do their laundry. So we make it easy for them to do both.”
Eric Schmidt, CEO Google

It made me wonder what the ideal working conditions really are. When I first went back to work I was devastated to leave Deaglan. I felt sick all the time as if by being away from him, I was not fulfilling my life's purpose. I cringed thinking about how his needs were most likely going unmet all day at the daycare.

But slowly, week-by-week, I adapted. I found myself enjoying the freedom to finish a meal, go to the washroom by myself, have hours at a time where my clothes were snot-free. And then I got back into the swing of the business and it felt good to be productive in another way if you know what I mean.

Still, I wonder if it's natural. Being somewhere else for most of your waking hours. Sitting at a desk. Wearing an underwire bra and heels. Away from your family. Stifling emotions that easily peak in this place. Getting along.

Thou shalt not always need to tell the truth

I vow to you here and now that the next time and most likely every time after, a new or newish mom tells me her child is doing something worrisome like not sleeping or refusing to eat vegetables or slapping the daylights out of the other parent, I will smile reassuringly and tell her that it is absolutely normal and it will pass.

And in instances where an eager young parent tells me that her little monkey is walking far earlier than developmentally expected or speaking fluently when other children the same age are barely grunting mama, I will shake my head in wonder and amazement, and say sincerely something like - clearly you gave birth to a genius.

Because I will tell you this: We new parents WANT to hear this. We NEED the reassurance that our kid is normal or exceptional. When I tell you that my little sweetheart is smacking his daddy, and you furrow your brow, frown and worriedly ask Really??? you might just as well have said You know, scientific evidence strongly correlates hitting as a toddler with becoming an axe murderer as an adult.

Here's the thing. When someone like me is telling you something like that, I need you to stretch yourself outside of your own experience. Just because your little buttercup didn't go through a hitting phase doesn't mean that mine going through one is abnormal or rare.

And if you need to tell me that boys develop slower than girls can you please at least throw in something like but Deaglan seems to be the exception to this rule or sheesh, I can't believe he's already doing that!

Because unless I come to you and say something like Deaglan just sprouted horns and a tail and is insisting on carrying this pitchfork around I really only want you to tell me that he's normal and this phase will pass.