Being Grateful For A Husband Who Does Not Have To Work Miles and Miles From Home

    My husband is a funeral director.  He works for a small family run funeral home (there are very few of the family run ones anymore).  He is on call 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.  There have been many times that we have been going out as a family, everyone dressed, coats and shoes on when his cell phone rings ... "Sorry guys you will have to go without me."  The kids are upset, I'm upset, but that is our life.  There are weeks that I barely see Christopher because work is so busy.  There are nights that I have had the kids from the time that they woke in the morning until their little eyes are shut, and they have not seen their daddy.  Those are the days that I fall into bed exhausted near tears, wishing that my husband had another job.  When I complain to him he calmly reminds me "We knew this when I took the job."  He's right and after working with the same company for 11 years, you would think it would have sunk in.
    I thought I had it rough because "sometimes" my husband is not around to help.  Most times he is around, most times his loose schedule allows him to help take the kids to school, to be there for their school assemblies, sports... for our life.  I often feel very hard done to by Christopher's lack of a real schedule, it makes my life harder.  Lately I have been really re-thinking my thinking.  Over the last year I have gotten to know a really great group of ladies.  Of the five ladies that I have been enjoying coffees with, only two of us have husbands that work in our area.  Only two of us have husbands that sleep in our beds with us 7 days a week.  All of us are in loving committed relationships, all happily married.  Three of the ladies have husbands who have had to find work that takes them far away from home.
    The more I think about it, the more I can think of people I know who are either "the" husband or have husbands that have jobs that take them away from their families for extended periods of time.   I know of a few people who have had to leave our area and move out West so that they could find gainful employment to support their families.  It seems grossly unfair.  It seems unfair that for a family to survive, one of the family members must be ripped away.  It seems unfair that a woman must be a single parent, when she is happily married.  I don't pretend to know anything about the economy, or economics, I just know that it seems unfair.   When we all said our marriage vows I think we all rosily thought about our future.  In that future we fell asleep in our new husbands arms, and woke to his face looking back on the other pillow.  I wonder if any of my coffee ladies had any idea what was in store for them?
    Here is what I know, I am thankful that my husband has the job that he has.  Yes, it stinks when we are about to sit down to a movie and he gets called out.   It stinks when I hear his cell phone ring in the middle of the night and he crawls out of the bed letting in the cold.  It stinks when he is out on the roads in terrible conditions and I am worried sick that I will get "that" call.  There are a lot of things about his job that stink, but he has a job in our small town.  He has a job that allows me to share a bed with my husband 7 days a week.  He has a job that allows us to co-parent.   My kids see their daddy pretty much every single day.  I am lucky that in this economy my husband even has a job, and that his job keeps him in our small town.
    Tonight when Christopher and I have "both" finished tucking in the kids, and we collapse  together on the couch and do absolutely nothing but watch mindless television, I will be grateful.  Tonight when I finish reading the chapter of my book and look over at my husband who is both drooling and snoring (and perhaps farting), I will be grateful.  I need to look at what is right, and try to soften my response to what is wrong.  I am lucky to have a husband who is able to live with me, to support our family from our small town.  I am lucky and sometimes I need a little reminder of that.
  

19 years of marriage.

    This day 19 years ago I married my best friend, no that's not true.  19 years ago I married the man who would become my best friend.  Ours was not a Disney fairy tale.  Our love story was more like a wrestling match, hard sweaty work.  I can in all honesty say that I am deeply in love with my husband... now.

I say that we have been married for 19 years, that is more technically true.  Technically we were married on August 21, 1993.  The more accurate years of marriage are more complicated.  We were married for two years and then we separated.  At the time we had a 6 month old son.  We reunited 5 years after we had separated.  Through those 5 years we were still very much connected.  We had Gabe.

  We married at 22.  We were young and foolish.  I knew that I had to get on with my life, and Christopher went along for the ride, afraid to loose me.  Like everything else in my life up until that point I was in a big rush to grow up.  The best thing that ever happened to me was marrying Christopher Donald Lindsay, and the best thing that ever happened to me was separating from him.  It was because I had to be a single mother that I smartened up and became independent.  I had gone from living with my parents, to living with a group of kids my own age, to living with Christopher.  I had never learned how to live with me.
    Although we were separated we still were in constant contact with each other.  Many people commented that we were the most civil separated couple that they had ever seen.  We loved Gabe more than anything else in the world, and he was a part of both of us.  If we were terrible to each other it would only affect Gabe, and if we loved him, and he was our world, why would we do anything that might hurt him?  It was that fact that we were kinder to each other when we were separated than we ever where when we were married was what brought us back together in the end.
    In  the 12 years that we have been back together there were a few times that we almost didn't make it.  The ghosts of our former selves would often make reappearances.  We weathered the stress of having twins, but only barely.  The most devastating nightmare, the death of our Gabe, was what in the end brought us the closest.  We clung to each other.  We took turns carrying each other in those first most fragile days.  After  the death of a child most couples divorce, for us we became stronger.  We have been happily married for 7 years.  I am married to my best friend.  When my husband enters a room, I get butterflies in my stomach, like I did when we were first dating.  I am deeply in love with my husband... now.
    We still have fights, but now we don't go for blood.  Now when we fight we try to make the other understand why we are upset, and what we are upset about.  We know that there is nothing worse than what we have already come through, everything else is not a storm, but just a light rain.   

"Good Parent" Role Reversal

    I had a very interesting realization this morning as I lay in bed listening to Christopher getting the kids ready for school, I like being the "good" parent.  For the last week (since my surgery) I have been the "secondary" parent in this house.  Christopher has been the heavy.  He has been the disciplinarian, the one who makes lunches, does chores, shuttles the kids around.... I may not trade back.  I like speaking to the kids in a serene loving voice all of the time.  I am enjoying doling out my attention, hugs and snuggles, it's pretty nice.
    In normal life I am the "main" parent.  Often with Christopher's schedule, or lack there of (he's a funeral director who works for a family business and is on call 24 hours a day, 7 days a week) I feel like a single parent.  I am the parent who gets them ready for school in the morning, he has to get himself ready for work.  I am the one who disciplines them.  I am the one who shuttles them around to doctors appointments, sporting events, friends houses, who the teachers call to help on class trips and activities.  I am the one who makes treats to take for class.  In other words I run this house, sometimes with an iron fist to make sure that things run smoothly.  As I lay in bed and did some calculations, on an average week Christopher spends approximately 32 waking hours a week with the kids.  That breaks down to 3 hours a day on school days, 17 hours on week-ends.  On the school schedule I spend 59 waking hours a week with the big kids.  On holidays and in the summer that turns into 84 waking hours a week (84 hours a week is what I spend with Elly).  This number does not count for injuries or sickness and then that number gets higher.
    Christopher is the "good guy".  He is the one who gives airplane rides.  He give shoulder rides.  He is the guy who does tag team wrestling.  He is the fun guy.   When the kids see him walking home they drop what they are doing and run to him screaming "DADDY".  I can only imagine what this would to for my self esteem.  Riley asked me one day "Would it hurt your feelings if Daddy was my favourite?" ahh yes, yes it would was what my brain said, my mouth said "no".  I then, being me countered it with "Would it hurt your feelings if I told you that Rowan was my favourite?"......"MOM!"  At our house Daddy is the favourite, and honestly why wouldn't he be?  There was a time (it seems like eons ago) that I was a working mom.  When I got home from work I did not want to discipline Gabe, I hadn't seen him all day, I felt guilty that I was not there, and more than anything else, I didn't have the energy.  I let him away with quite a bit when I was working.  I also know that it feels much better to be "The Favourite", and it's easier to let the other parent be the heavy.
    There are many times that the childish me wants to yell at them "BUT I'm the one who sacrifices everything for you!"  "I'm the one who would walk through fire for you, I would give my life for you!"  "Who do you want when you're sick or hurt?  Who do you want when you're sad?  Who is the one that all the kids in your class say that they wish was their mom?"  "Who is the parent that you wanted to deal with the bull teacher?  It wasn't Daddy, no you wanted you tiger mother to make him cry!"
I say none of this.  I think one day they will see it.... I hope that one day they will see and appreciate the sacrifices that I make for them.
    I know how important it is for them to have a strong male role model.  In some ways a strong male role model effects their emotional well being as an adult more than a loving mother does.  Rowan needs to have role model.  He needs to learn how to behave as a man.  Christopher is an excellent father.  He is loving and patient and fun.  I want Rowan to grow up to be like his father, if he grows up to be like his father he will be a good man.  I want my girls to see how their father treats me, treats them.  He is a good provider.  He is a physically strong man, he is an emotionally strong man, and at the same time gentle and kind.  If my girls use their father as a role model when they pick husbands, they will have happy marriages, happy lives.  I know all of this.  I just want to share the love sometimes.
    For the time being I will bask in the warm sunshine of "the good" parent.  I will sit back and enjoy being the person who is not in charge of discipline. For the next week, I am only in charge of hugs and snuggles.  For the next week I do not need to raise my voice, I will not get frustrated with them.  I can use the kind and gentle voice that I always feel, and wish I could always use.  In other words I will treasure this vacation.

Renewing Our Vows

Look at those two kids, so in love.  I'm glad we couldn't see what the future held.

    This August 21, Christopher and I will have been married 19 years.  Well kind of.  We lasted two years, split up for 5 years, and found each other again.  I mean we have technically been married for 18 years.  Even when we were not together we were always in close contact.  Gabe was 6 months old when we split.  We always put him first.  We never ever spoke a harsh word about each other in front of him.  Christopher was kind enough to come to our house (Gabe and mine) for his visitation, and I always served him a hot dinner and made him feel welcome (even when I didn't really like him very much).  We spoke on the phone a couple of times a week so that I could share what Gabe was doing.  I think that the kindness we showed each other in separation was what helped us find each other again after 5 years.  We split for lots of reason's, but really it was immaturity.  It was not because we married young (22), but because neither of us were ready to put someone else ahead of our own needs.  He was too selfish, I was too needy.  We needed time to grow up, before we could grow together.
    Gabe was 5 when we got back together.  I think that every child of divorce prays that their parents will get back together.  Most of them don't get their deep desire.  I remember Gabe's face when we told him that Daddy was moving in.  He said "This is my dream come true".  We were back together, but it still wasn't always easy.  We have been through more in our 18 years than anyone should ever have to.  So many marriages can't deal with the strain the death of a child puts on them.  We came out stronger.  Don't get me wrong, it wasn't easy.  There were times we really rethought our decision to be together.  Today we are more deeply in love than we were when we first started dating.  Dating love is infatuation.  Ours is strength. We know that together there is nothing that we cannot withstand.
    From the time that we got back together we talked about renewing our vows.  At first it felt like it might be too soon, then came Grace.  Then came bills, then the twins.  There never seemed to be enough money to do it the way we wanted.  Then the unthinkable, we lost Gabe.  How could we rejoice in each other, when we hurt so much?  We needed time to heal.  Anytime we considered it, something else came up.  Well this time we are putting our feet down!  Next August 21 we celebrate anniversary number 20.  We are renewing our vows DAMN IT!  I booked the hall two months ago.  There's no going back now.
    Now for the fun part, planning a wedding.  My girlfriends are all already excited.  Keep in mind for those of us who are married, we have been married a long time.  For those not married (o.k. it's my best friend), she gets to live vicariously through me.  I have so much to do.  I'll admit it, it's fun.  Maybe I will even splurge on some wedding magazines, who knows.  What I do know, is that this will be a time of joy.  We will celebrate, because I think we've earned it.

p.s. please feel free to pass along any "beach themed" ideas, I might need all the help that I can get.

Canada Blooms - aka My New Wish List

    As I shared yesterday (and the day before) my wonderful husband whisked me off to the Royal York and to Canada Blooms Sunday.  I LOVE Canada Blooms.  I walk around and wistfully dream of having that for my garden.  We have been once before, I think two years ago when it was at the convention centre  I think.  It was in two separate spaces.  One space had the landscaped gardens.  I am not sure how it is that the landscape artists can pull this together in such a short time.  I can't even pull something small together in my yard in the entire summer.  The other separate space was a market.  There were hundred of vendors.  It was like eye candy.

    This year Canada Blooms was held at the Direct Energy Centre at The Exhibition Place downtown.  They combined it with the National Home Show, so that you got two shows for one price.  I thought this was marvelous until I went.  I was so disappointed in this year's show.  Granted some of that was because it was so very busy.  This one poor woman was pushing an elderly woman in a wheelchair.  She tried to push this elderly lady, but no one would move, everyone kept refilling the space where other's had just been.  I know this because I stood to the side to let them pass, and was shocked at people's complete rudeness.  By the time the poor woman was able to push the wheelchair through she was so harassed that you know she would be hard pressed to enjoy the rest of the show.  I was so glad that it was just Christopher and I, and not only because it was alone time.  I cannot imagine trying to walk the children around that space with such terrible people.  In crowd like that someone inevitably hits one of my children in the face with their huge purse, and does not even stop to notice.  The other thing that I did not like was the Canada Blooms part was a hodge podge.  The show gardens were all mingled in with the vendors.  I do not like this flow!  Having said all of this criticism, I did find some beautiful gardens to fantasize about.

    I believe the star plant of the show was the Medinilla from the Philippines.  It was absolutely beautiful.  Every second person you saw was carrying one.  I was disappointed that for all of it's beauty it had not smell.  As beautiful as it is, I know that this is not the plant for me.  It's a tropical plant, which means that when I leave it out and the frost gets it (which inevitably it will), it will die.  I can barely keep hardy plants alive, never mind something that might be sensitive.

    This Canada flag garden really caught my attention.  Here is the back story to it...

Every summer the Belleville Garden Club (I'm sorry if any of you are a part of this group and I have screwed up the name of your group), plant a huge Canada flag garden on the big hill that faces the 401.  Growing up, every time I would pass that garden I would beg mom and dad to plant a Canada flag garden on our big hill.  That never happened.  I then vowed to my 10 year old self that when I grew up I would plant myself a Canada flag garden.  That 10 year old former self tapped me on the shoulder at Canada Blooms and reminded me of that promise.  Christopher and I turned to each other and wondered if we could pull it off.  We do really love Canada Day...

    This garden inspired me.  I saw it and could only think of the wonderful possibilities.  I could grow this on my deck.  For salads I would just have to go onto the deck and pick the ingredients.  I'm not sure if Christopher knows about his building plans this summer yet.

    I loved this water feature.  It is so whimsical.  This I would install under my beloved Manitoba Maple in the back yard.  I think I would also include the adorable lighted trees that were in this garden.  Maybe this fantasy will have to wait until I am a rich grown up, I looked at the price.

    This garden inspires me to think of what could be.  My back yard could really use some sprucing up...   That is the beauty of Canada Blooms.  It inspires you.  No it is not as good as the last time we went, but it was still good.  If you find yourself downtown Toronto with a couple of hours to spare the show runs from March 16 - March 25.  There really are lots of beautiful gardens to inspire you and make you dream about the summer, the weather is already doing it's part for the fantasy.

The Royal York - Recharging My Batteries

    I have discovered the most amazing thing... my shoulders are not actually anatomically attached to my ears, who knew?  I have been going so long with them at my ears I had forgotten what it felt like for them to be relaxed.  Here is the problem.  I spend my life looking after everyone else, and I always put myself last.  I understand that may of us mother's suffer from this insidious disease.  I work a 24 / 7 day.  Tell me who else would work a 24/ 7 job for zero dollars!
    Lately I had been finding myself a little less patient than I would like to be.  The calm mommy left the building very quickly to be replaced with her crazy evil twin.  Part of the problem is that I have been working on very little sleep.  You would think that when you had a 10 year old, two seven year olds and a three year old, everyone would sleep through the night.  There have been many nights that we have had all three of them up, God bless you Grace!  I'm pretty sure that sleep deprivation has been a contributing factor.  The main contributor is the stress involved with being me, and never having 5 minutes to myself.  I can't even go to the bathroom in peace.  I completely acknowledge what you all already know, I can't cry too hard about this, because I have pretty much created the situation that I am in.  I really do need to demand some personal time... but I don't.
    Enter my wonderful husband.  He had heard a radio program about the Royal York, and a promotion that they were running.  Essentially the promotion consisted of an insanely cheap rate and tickets to Canada Blooms.  Did I mention that my husband and I have been married for 18 years, and of the 17 years that we have been parents we have been away from the kids for a grand total of 3 times?  We were due.  We sent the big kids off to Grandma's in Acton, and Elly stayed with Nana and Popa.  Sadly the thing that I was most looking forward to about the trip was a full night's sleep.
    The other sad part of this story is that the mini-vacation came about because about two years ago Elly head bunted me and broke my nose.  I could not even go to the hospital, because at the time my husband was in agony with his stomach, which we discovered shortly after was appendicitis that nearly ended with a ruptured appendix (if we did not have bad luck we'd have no luck at all).  As a consequence of the broken nose I can no longer properly breath through my nose, and my nose looks a little like the letter "C".  I was refereed to a really nice ear nose and throat doctor in Peterborough, who took one look and knew it was beyond him.  He then refereed me to a really nice nose specialist (I'm pretty sure that is not his official title) who also happens to be a plastic surgeon. I saw him a few months back and it was decided that surgery was in order.  I had to come back March 19 to make the final surgical arrangements before the actual surgery in May.  Long story short, this wonderful, magical mini-vacation came into existence because Elly broke my nose.
    So Sunday afternoon we found ourselves in the BIG city.  I love Toronto.  Everything is so BIG, and so energetic.  I feel completely alive when I visit.  We registered, and went up to our room.  I would like to say that my fantasies about the Royal York did not steer me wrong.  As a York University student all those years ago, traveling to Union Station to catch my train back home to Tweed, I would look over at that grand structure that is the Royal York.  It harkened back to times when people cared about workmanship.  It was so elegant.  I would imagine myself as a rich woman walking through the revolving doors with the gold handles.  My dreams came true, well not the rich woman part.

    The best word to describe the Royal York is opulent.  It is stunning.  Here's a little something for your history books, The Royal York began construction in 1927, and opened it's doors in 1929.  At that time it was the tallest building in the British Commonwealth.  It's hard to look at that majestic building that is stunted by the huge buildings surrounding it, not to mention the CN Tower, and think that it was once the largest.  It has been visited by celebrities and most notably Queen Elizabeth and Prince Philip.

    We dumped our things in our beautiful room, and then caught a taxi to Canada Blooms (I'll share that tomorrow).  When we had seen everything at Canada Blooms, we caught a street car back to the hotel.  We explored the hotel a little and just vegged in our room until we were bored and hungry.  We  walked down to The Old Spaghetti Factory.  It is one of my favourite restaurants.  We sat and carried on an entire conversation, interrupted only by our waiter.  I ate a hot meal, so hot in fact that I burned my mouth.  I can't remember the last hot meal prior to this that I ate.   We smiled, we laughed.  It was at that point that I notice my shoulders.  I notice that they felt, relaxed.  I also notice that my forehead was not furrowed.  I was de-stressing.  We walked back up to the hotel, hand in hand.  The night was beautiful, the city at night was breath taking.  It was as if we left a little bit of stress behind us with each step we took.

    The moral of this story is ... to be a good mother and wife, you need to be a little selfish sometimes.  On the way home from picking up the three big kids I was able to recognize the extra patience.  There were times that they were fighting with each other that I would have screamed at them two days before.  This time I calmly reminded them to play nicely.  Maybe it's not really selfish to recharge your batteries.

 

My Cinderella Moment ... and not the awesome one!

I had already started cleaning when I took this picture.

   You know that part in Cinderella where she has just had the most wonderful night of her life, and is sighing deeply looking into the eyes of Prince Charming.  For her the world cannot get any better.  Then she hears that stupid clock chime midnight and she knows she has to haul it.  She takes off at break neck speed.  She is hauling it so fast that she does not even know that she lost a shoe!  There is a point when she looks down at her bare feet standing in stinking pumpkins guts, mice are running everywhere and she wonders if it was really worth it.
    I had a not so dissimilar moment this morning as I ventured into my kitchen.  Last night until 9:30 p.m. ( apparently my Fairy Godmother has a curfew) I was the good Cinderella, the one where she's a princess.  Yesterday was so wonderful.  Coffee and danish to greet me.  Dinner was lovingly prepared by my husband.  My parents came, we laughed until I was cried.  I was showered with gifts.  "Don't touch anything, it's your birthday" my husband firmly insisted as I got up to clean up.  My parents came, we all laughed until I cried.  Life was good.  After Mom and Dad left and the kids were tucked in bed, it was our time.  I should say my time, because Christopher fell asleep on the couch at 9:30 p.m.  I sat and watched mindless t.v., then shuffled off to bed.  At no point did I look into the kitchen.
    When I got up this morning and walked into the kitchen, or should I say municipal dump, my jaw dropped.  There was no a single uncovered area.  The dishes were piled a foot everywhere.  The left overs were still on the stove.  It looked like a dirty bomb went off, literally.  Let me take a moment here to qualify that I am by no means a good housekeeper.  I would rather do pretty much anything else but to clean.  I like to sew, to craft, to cook, to cut my own arm off, o.k. maybe the arm being cut off is a little over dramatic, but I am no Martha Stewart.  Anyone who has been to my house will be all too happy to testify to this fact.  However, having said that, it does not usually look like you could expect a rat to scuttle out at any time.
    So I began cleaning dishes, making piles, swearing under my breath.  I now wonder if it was worth it.  I mean I got pretty spoiled rotten yesterday, but.......... I'll let you know after I clean the pumpkin guts off my bare feet.

Happy Birthday To ME!

    This is what I saw when I walked into my living room this morning.  I think my sweetheart of a husband must have stayed up until 2:00 a.m. doing this.  I did a little stumble back when I saw it.  When you see something like this, you can't help but to feel loved.  It reminds me just how very blessed I am.  I always know that I am blessed, but sometimes I forget "just" how very blessed I am.

Rowan had left is DS open on my chair, and this is what it said.

    As you may have guessed, birthdays are a big deal at our house.  Who am I kidding, everything is a big deal at our house.  When someone has a birthday, it becomes like a holiday.  It is nice to be on the receiving end of it.
    Here's the thing about my birthday, I forgot that it was my birthday.  As a kid I had it counted down to the minutes.  When anyone asked my age, I would tell them in months and sometimes even into the minutes.  Now, it's not really a big deal.  I do not dread it, it doesn't matter because I'm going to gain that year whether I like it or not.  Like so many things in my life, it simply is.  The kids were amazed yesterday when they were talking about my birthday and I told them that I had forgotten it.  "How could you forget your own birthday?"  They asked with disgust.  I would never forget anyone else's birthday because it involves work for me, I have to keep things organized.  I have been so busy this week with other commitments that it just slipped my mind, precisely because I did not have to anything to prepare for my own birthday, I just had to wake up.
    So to sum this all up, I have not received any physical gifts yet today, but the best and biggest gift was the gift of love ( I know I sound sappy and your are holding back a mouth barf right now).  I make it my job to make sure that everyone in my family is well cared for.  I do extra little things for them to remind them of my love.  I am not going to be humble on this one, I work really hard at being a mom (and a I work a bit at being a good wife).  I really put my back into it, so to speak.  When I wake up and have a big fuss made over me, it tells me that they notice my sacrifice.  I hope that you are all good and jealous!

My Crazy Family

My Crazy Family...
    My two girls did their speeches for school this week.  They did an amazing job!  I was so proud of them.  Our oldest daughter did her speech about her "crazy family".  She talked about our daily life and our family traditions.  At first I thought it was a funny topic for her to pick.  I didn't think we did things all that differently, and then I thought about it.  Maybe we are a bit different.
    Gracie wrote about "Best and Worse".  At our house we usually eat dinner at the kitchen table.  We go around the table and everyone shares what was the "best" thing that happened to them that day, and the "worst" thing about their day.  We started this tradition because when our oldest son, Gabe first started school I would ask him about his day.  Inevitably he would answer me "nothing much".  No matter how many times I would hound him I got nothing.  Then we started "best" and "worst".  From this I learned about his day, and he shared it willingly.  The funny thing is that now when the kid's friend's come over for dinner they ask "are we not doing best and worse?"  It gives us a glimpse into their day when I am not there.
    The other dinner tradition we have is "The Clean Plate Club".  Many a guest has been taken aback at our house after finishing their dinner.  To be a "Clean Plate Club Member" you have to finish your dinner.  No one "has" to finish their dinner, but if they want the song they do.  The song begins with my husband making the sound of a siren (it gets old quickly), then I begin clapping and the kids join in. "Gracie is a member of the clean plate club, the clean plate club, the clean plate club, Gracie is a member of the clean plate club, yeah for her!  Yeah Gracie!"  I am pretty sure I would think we were crazy if I witnessed it, but the kids love it.  We began the "Clean Plate Club" because when the twins were little they would run away from the table.  I always worried that they would get malnutrition.  Our family doctor assured me they were getting enough, I wasn't sure.  I also wanted them to learn how to sit at the table, and enjoy their family's company.  The funny thing is that when we began the tradition the twins began eating more, not a lot more, but they liked the song, so they sometimes finished their dinners.
    So maybe Gracie is right, maybe we are crazy, but that's o.k., we're making memories (and maybe the kid's will need a psychiatrist when they are older to help them forget those memories).

One of Those Days!

One of those days...

    I started my morning with that dreadful shock that comes from realizing that you have over slept.  I jumped out of bed in a dirty panic, dressed and was out the door.  The morning only progressed after that.  I had an early morning doctors appointment in Belleville (forty-five minutes away).  Although I did not receive bad news, it was irritating news.  I drove home to see my son's little face pressed against the picture window, I stupidly thought he was lovingly watching for me, but turns out he was just impatient for me to get home.  I was met at the door by my husband all dressed for work, and in a panic, because his boss had called him in early, and he was now a half hour late (even though I had told my husband what time my doctor's appointment was and had told him the earliest time I could be home, and had beaten that time by half an hour).  He then rushed out the door.  The kids were late for school, but I was pleased to see that they were all dressed and ready, until I saw what they were wearing.  Rowan had on camo pants that were too short and ripped at the knee with a stripped polo shirt that was slightly too short.  Grace was wearing pants that were too small and stained.  I walked into the living room to a sea of game pieces and scattered puzzles.  You can imagine how it went after that.  By the time I had dropped the kids off I was so wound up I was nearly shaking.  I kept telling myself what a dreadful morning it had been.  The more I thought about it the worse it became, in other words I was escalating.  Then I started into my poor me routine, "I do everything for all of them, and this is how they treat me!", along with my other inner running dialogues.  The recurring thought was "how could they treat me this way?"  I then started with the absolute thinking that "this day was going to STINK!!!!!"
    I had to stop on the way home at the bakery and buy some bread.  I stopped the car outside of the bakery and opened the back door to get Elly out.  I unbuckled her, and as I was getting her out of her seat, she wrapped her little arms around my neck, with her little face beaming she said "I love you!"  In that very second my anger and hurt feelings melted.  I guess we all need to feel loved, especially in times when we have forgotten that we are.  Thank you Elly for reminding me.

    The fine print to this story is that a certain little sweetheart got her choice of treat at the bakery.

Ahhhhhhh Coffee Time

Coffee Time...
    My New Year's resolution this year was to have more patience.  Patience is something that I am in low supply of, and yet it is the thing that I most beat myself up for it's lack of.  I want my children when they look back on their childhood to smile.  I am o.k. with them discussing amongst themselves that I was a loon, or over the top.  I do not want them to look back and say she really did a lot for us, but we paid the price with her biting words.  It is really difficult to find that strength to take a deep breath and bite that tongue when you have been asked by the third child for the fourth time to help them find something (homework, knapsack, boots, library book...).
    What I have found is that I have more patience when I take a half hour for myself in the morning.  I have a crazy morning getting the big kids off to school, and the biggest kid off to work.  I kiss everyone good bye, and then pour my cup of coffee, and exhale for the first time that day.  I put on Mickey Mouse Club House (Elly's current favourite program) and either just sit in my chair, or check my email.  The days that I don't do this, I really notice my lack of patience for the day. On week-ends and after dinner, the kids know that "coffee time" means you leave Mommy and Daddy in peace in their chairs (in the summer we have "coffee on the deck") for half an hour.  Coffee time is our time to connect.  It is our time to talk to each other and really be heard.  If we don't take "coffee time", we inevitably feel that disconnect.    "Coffee Time" is really just a name for regeneration/ self-love.
    I often feel guilty for taking this time, when there are so many other things that need my attention.  I regularly need to remind myself, that taking time to nurture myself will make me a better mother/ wife,  that if my husband and I don't take a tiny bit of time together, there may not be an "us".  It is important to remind the kids that they are the most important people in our lives, but that Mommy and Daddy are important too.
    All of the pregnancy/ baby books tell new mothers to make sure that they nap when their babies nap, the idea behind this is to catch up on sleep.  What they should also say is how important it is to just have time to yourself, to remember who you were before you became a "mother".  That if you don't take time for yourself, you won't have the same energy for everyone else.