The Year of Celebration

It's New Year's Eve.
How did that happen?

As I reflect on this last 12 months, I am profoundly grateful.

My children are healthy.
My husband and I are madly in love.
My mother is recovering like a champ from surgery.

I've grown closer to many relatives and in-laws.
Strengthened friendships with beautiful and strong women.
Unconditionally loved an animal despite its flaws.

I'm writing more often.
Meditating regularly.
Walking through my house daily with a greater appreciation for its character and nuances.

I worry less.
I choose my words more carefully.
I choose gratitude over anger.

I've begun a deep dive into my newest writing project, My Journey to Worthy.

For all these discoveries I have become a more mentally healthy woman. I feel as though my soul shines more clearly around my body, that those who I surround myself with have been privy to my most authentic self to date.

Yup, I really feel that way.
And its awesome.

I am very much looking forward to 2016, as it will mark some major milestones... 'big' birthdays, anniversaries and life stages which deserve celebration.

The kind of celebration which leaves you smiling ear to ear.
Where you heart bursts out of your chest with joy.
And your eyes fill with tears of excitement and love.

Bring it, 2016.
You are my Year of Celebration.

A lesson in kindness

This December, our family tried something new.

We designed, then followed an Acts of Kindness calendar from December 1st to 24th, acting out one simple thing daily that was kind, caring and thoughtful. The acts were not centered around social justice issues, but chosen to reflect opportunities for our young children to easily make their friends, family and neighbours happier in the month of December.

While we couldn't include everyone in our Acts of Kindness, we did our best to include as many people as we could. Some days were easier to complete than others and some days required all children to participate while on other days only one child had something to check off their list. Buying snacks at school for a friend, delivering artwork to a neighbour and donating food to the school food drive were examples of their daily tasks.

The calendar was hung on our fridge, to remind us of our daily tasks
 

It was my hope that my oldest children - Nolan (7) and Brooklyn (5) would find inspiration in the sensation of making others happy. My youngest, Ethan (2), was along really just along for the ride, but surprised me in his ability to take part and enjoy this new daily ritual.

I thought it would be fun to ask the kids a few questions, to see what they learned. Here are their answers, verbatim:

Question One: Why did we complete Acts of Kindness in December?
N - I don't know.
B - Cause that was a countdown to Christmas.

Question Two: What was your favourite Act of Kindness we completed? Why?
N - Telling jokes to Nana and Nanna. Why? I don't know.
B - Um, giving the movie to Kyleigh because that was a random act of kindness.

Question Three: How did you feel when completing an Act of Kindness?
N - Good.
B - Happy.

Question Four: Can you come up with one new Act of Kindness for next year?
N - We have to do it again next year? Isn't one year enough?
B - Make someone's bed.

Question Five: What did you learn about our family?
N - No, same as always.
B - That we have to work together.

Funny how you can raise your kids the same way, but they grow into entirely different human beings :) The truth is Nolan struggled through most of the tasks. He acted as if it was an inconvenience at times, which admittedly hurt my heart now and again. To his defence, though, Nolan is an incredibly private boy who never wishes to be in the spotlight. Asking him to 'perform' tasks did give him some anxiety, depending on how public it was.

Brooklyn, on the other hand, loved every moment of it. She couldn't wait to hear about our task each day, and was always asking ahead a few days to prepare herself for what was to come. She smiled when talking about it, loved to share stories about the outcomes each day and often found additional ways to 'help others' and 'show kindness'.

It was a fun way to focus on family and giving in December. It was also a waaaay better tool for counting down to Christmas than any overpriced advent calendar on the market. I highly recommend families try it next December and consider taking a 'theme' appropriate and relevant to your family.

Perhaps the results will be mixed, but the experience of working together as a family is entirely worth the effort <3.

A letter to my kids

Dear Nolan, Brooklyn and Ethan,

It's been a pretty great year, hasn't it? I wanted to take some time to share with you a few things I learned in 2015, now that it's coming to a close. I hope that someday you'll read this and find some comfort in these lessons.

First Lesson
The first lesson that's really stuck with me this year is the importance of taking care of my heart and soul, my spiritual self. You see, when you all came into my life, my focus really shifted from being Pam to being your mom. In doing so, I naturally put my needs at the bottom of my priority list. Slowly but surely I lost myself, my interests and hobbies, my personal passions, and began to carry around guilt any time I prioritized my own well being. Leaving my full time career further resulted in less time for self, and while I have been incredibly blessed to be your full time caregiver and mama, somewhere in the last four years I lost myself as a woman and spiritual being.

The big lesson I've discovered is this: I am a much better mother when I take time for myself each and every week, aiming for daily whenever possible. This might be a simple guided meditation, reading, creative writing or even putting you all in front of the TV so I can cook alone in the kitchen. I have discovered that dedication to self is not selfish, but one of the most outwardly beneficial choices I have made for our family. Remember this, as you juggle and prioritize in the future.

Second Lesson
Believe it or not, I learned a lot about hair this year. Weird, right?

One of my newest friends, a dance mama met at Brooklyn's dance studio, taught me that hair should be embraced, regardless of what it looks like. She lost hers during her battle with breast cancer, and as she fought her butt off this last year to kick cancer to the curb, her determination to be well really struck me. I used to spend so much time complaining about my 'boring straight hair', yet she was without any at all. As this year went on, Brookie and I decided to grow and donate ours, as a way to honour our awesome new friend. Of course Brooklyn had no problem at all cutting 12 inches off and rocking an adorable bob, but here I am, still growing it (almost 10 inches now) and every single time I want to cut it off because its driving me nuts, every time I see a shiny little grey staring back at me in the mirror, I think of my new friend. Her determination to be well. Her passionate zest for life.

You see, hair will grow, be cut, grey and maybe even recede over time, but in the grand scheme of things, embracing it in whatever shape, form or length you are given will remind you to focus on the great gifts in your life, not vanity in the mirror. Remember that even without an ounce of hair on your head you will be loved, honoured and cherished in every way.

Third Lesson
Remember when we decided to adopt Mae earlier this year? Remember how excited we all were and how much we instantly fell in love with her? Well guess what? Daddy and I struggled every single day for the first two months after bringing her home. Accidents in the house. Biting incidents. One food challenge with Moe resulting in curled lips and scary growls. Midnight barking fits begging to go outside because she ate something she shouldn't have earlier in the night.

Adopting an animal is NOT EASY. Let me repeat this. Adopting a pet is INSANELY DIFFICULT. The emotional toll of integrating animals into a family home is not an experience to be taken lightly. Having said that, as an adult, not all of your decisions will have everyone standing behind you in agreement. Sometimes you must go with your gut instinct, find the tools you need to make your instinct a reality and let the rest go. It's really tough, but remember that when you are faced with a decision, make it a quickly as possible and then forget it. The moment of absolute certainty never arrives.

Now, six months later, I feel in my heart that little miss Mae was brought into our lives to teach all three of you a lesson in unconditional love. What it looks like, how difficult it can be, and (hopefully) the pay off when you put your heart and soul into making something's life better than it ever imagined was possible.

Fourth Lesson
Lastly, and most importantly, this year your Daddy and I learned an enormous lesson about our relationship. You likely never noticed, but this year was incredibly difficult for us. There was a very long, three month period of time when I wasn't working. This meant we lived on one income, which paid our bills just fine but left us without a single extra cent for anything else. Our savings filled the gap for the first seven weeks or so, but after that your Daddy and I were overcome with worry, anxiety and the feeling of intense failure.

Here's the cool part; in the face of very negative circumstances, we were rock solid. We didn't fight, hold grudges or blame each other. In fact the opposite occurred. We held each other tighter, cried together and worked hand in hand to make significant changes to our financial future. In hindsight, we were gifted this challenge to show us the depth of our relationship and love for one another. Your Daddy is my best friend, and I pray each of you will meet someone equally wonderful someday down the road.

So there you have it kiddos, Mommy sure has learned a lot this year. Life continues to supply its challenges but when I choose radical acceptance of the situation I have discovered an ability to more calmly and assertively respond to any challenge set before me.

You three are my obsession.
My every moment is consumed with my love for each one of you.
It is my daily prayer that you will each grow in love of self, our family and of your very blessed life.
I pray your spirituality will also grow in whichever way you feel called.
And my goal as your mom is to continuously show you that kindness, compassion and grace will always lead you down the righteous path.

All my love, forever and always.
xoxo
Mommy

Three children, three reasons

Today is a PA day for my oldest two kiddos, aged seven and five. Both excitedly counted down for their 'home day' and both begged for a jammie party morning of kids cartoons and lego. But they are not the only two kiddos in this house. My wee man, aged two, makes three.

Three kids.
One family.
One mom.
One dad.

As I enjoy listening to my three kids playing this afternoon, I thought I would share three great reasons to have three kids. After all, I am asked the question at least once a week :)

Here goes:

1. The three to one ratio: at any given moment, there are three little opinions about what to make for supper, which songs to sing and what to watch on movie night. Three opinions, but only one choice to make. This creates a constant need for my kids to negotiate, listen, empathize and sometimes flat out compromise with their siblings. While I will admit this can be a challenge, the truth is these are incredible transferable skills for a lifetime of relationships, both personal and professional.

2. Helping hands, kind hearts: our day to day life is chalk full of opportunities to extend help to one another. Older siblings helping younger ones with shoes, zippers and snack time. Younger siblings helping older ones to clean up, set the table and grab blankets for snuggling. Its wonderful to see my youngest 'beam' with smiles when his sister and brother proudly hold his hands on the way into the grocery store. It's even more exciting to observe my oldest two in a teaching moment - be it how to shoot hoops, wash toes in the tub or pet dogs safely while out for a walk. Had we stopped at two, my middle child would never have been given this delightful experience.

3. The pact mentality: research suggests dogs in groups of three or more become packs. They form a hierarchy, move with purpose and become fiercely protective. I find this very similar with my three kids. They have their own special pack bond between them which makes it impossible for any one of them to be away from the others for too long. They NEED each other to feel safe, happy and content. In having three children, I have ensured a built-in safety net for each of them. A safe place.

The truth is, having three kids is difficult. Forget that, it's darn near insane most days. My husband and I are on zone defense ALL THE TIME, we are outnumbered and so we must strategize about things families of two or less likely don't blink an eye at - bedtimes, bath times, extra curricular demands and of course ensuring we each get quality one-on-one time with each child regularly.

In having three kids, I've also been given an amazing lesson in letting go. LIG, as my husband often reminds me. When you have three children at home, its impossible to make everyone happy at the same time. To help dress, provide homework support and potty train all at once. I've tried, trust me, I've tried. But in letting go of doing everything for every one of them something miraculous happened.

My kids found themselves more powerful.
More capable.
More able.

They discovered that they can help themselves. They can help their siblings. And sometimes, on the best days, they can be a big help to mommy and daddy as well.

Three kids.
One family.
One GIANT love.

The gift of mindfulness

On my way to bed tonight, I found myself tidying my home. Three kids, two dogs and two adults in one backsplit inevitably means something is out of place by the end of the night.

I tidied the closet and shut the door, acutely aware of the cute little jackets hanging inside.

I locked the door and slid the deadbolt in place, feeling grateful for my safe and secure home.

I walked up the stairs, into the bathroom to brush my teeth. My toothbrush was touching my husband's brush, and my immediate thought was how lucky I felt for the gift of his love each and every day.

Gratitude strikes me in unique moments;

When my oldest shows off his latest Lego creation, I watch his long eyelashes bounce around as he excitedly recalls the moment he found the missing piece he needed for completion.

As I settle into my daughter's bed for story time, I am drawn to her little fingers as they methodically move from word to word, page to page, determined to read to me, and not the other way around.

When my wee man, hot from crying, asks for a hug, I am overcome with joy that even a two year old realizes the value of human touch.

This is the gift of mindfulness.

It feels very much like gazing at a cherished photograph, perhaps a milestone moment, which instantly transports your body to a place of warm hearts and wide smiles. This gift, mindfulness, has released me from many of my daily fears, strengthened my soul in times of difficulty and, above all, has filled my spirit with deep affection for those most important to me.

“In mindfulness one is not only restful and happy, but alert and awake.
Meditation is not evasion; it is a serene encounter with reality.”   - Thích Nhất Hạnh

Try tuning in to your surroundings, to the mundane and busy moments that fill our every day lives. Notice the smells, noises, little eyes and careful notes left by your family, peers and mentors. Mindfulness will refocus your eyes on the love, hope and acceptance readily available to all of us.

xo

We can do hard things

As most of you know, its been a wild and crazy year both personally and professionally. I've struggled to feel grounded, worried late into many evenings and have sat in the same room as my kids, yet completely disconnected from them, more times than I am willing to admit.

Here's what I've learned.

Sometimes, despite our best efforts, we simply cannot control our life.
Sometimes, regardless of our deep desire for change, it's simply not possible.
Sometimes, even with the greatest regard for prayer and reflection, we wake up feeling exactly the same way as the day prior.

Sometimes we just need to be reminded:

We can do hard things

To my mom, fighting a mean autoimmune blood disorder that isn't responding to treatment:
You can do hard things.

To my girlfriends, struggling with wee little bebes who doesn't sleep, mothers gone to heaven and blended families:
You can do hard things.

To my BFFs, struggling with bad news, transition and life's uncertain path:
You can do hard things.

We can do hard things.

We can.
And we will.
For we possess love, grace and beauty.
And we have been given the gift of each other.

The Broken Elastic

I don't really know how to explain it.
I don't really know how to describe it.
I don't really know why it happened.
I don't really know.

The only explanation I have is this:

I knew it was bad when, in late July, I balled my face off, in front of my kids, at 9 o'clock in the morning. Over a broken hair elastic.

Yup.
You read that right.

I managed to get the dogs walked, shower, help the kids dress and eat, kiss my husband goodbye, pack up some bags for our morning jaunt and get the kids in the van.

I sat down in the driver's seat and pulled an elastic out of my pocket. My hair was wet and unkept, so I was opting for the usual mom look - the ever popular, high messy bun.

I stretched the elastic around my hair once, twice and SNAP. It broke.
And I sobbed.

Deep, breathless sobs.
The kind you cannot hide. Cannot quiet. Cannot stop in their tracks.

The kids just stared at me, silent. They knew I wasn't ok, but they didn't dare interrupt.

It took me many minutes of deep breathing (thank you meditation) to recover. My mind kept repeating - its ok, you are going to be ok - and my heart slowly settled and my tears stopped.

This has been my entire summer.
A series of broken elastic moments.

I do not feel depressed.
I do not feel anxious.
I do, however, feel entirely outside of myself.
I feel exhausted, burnt out and weak in managing life's every day moments.

Please do not take my absence as a lack of caring.
Do not take my forgetfulness as spiteful.
We all struggle, now and again.
Right now, I just happen to be a broken elastic. <3

The Bandaid

Last night I fed the boys supper earlier than usual. Their sister was off enjoying some time with family, so I made an easy meal and set them up to eat on our small counter height table in the kitchen. Somewhere between placing their food on the table and starting the dishes, I realized I had cut my foot.

No big deal. Right?
By the time I looked down, the blood was running off the top of my foot onto the floor.
Opps.

I looked down, surprised, and said out loud that I didn't realize it was bleeding. Nolan, who's always been interested in cuts and blood immediately hopped out of his chair and knelt down over my foot.

"It's bad mom. You need a Band-Aid!"

Off he scurried to the upstairs bathroom to grab one on my behalf. I knew he'd have to climb on the counter to reach the medicine cabinet, but I let him do it anyways. I knew he was capable (and his siblings weren't there to learn his trick).

He came running down the stairs and the most curious event happened.

He ripped off the paper cover.
Peeled the sticky edges.
Then placed the Band-Aid over my cut.
Talk about a role reversal.

I was in total awe. My six year old acted calmly, swiftly and with great compassion.
I leaned over to kiss his forehead, and thanked him for his kindness.

His reply?
"I love you mommy."

And then my heart melted.

Missing you, little angel

I'm not really sure how this is going to sound, but I am going to attempt it anyways. My heart has been increasingly heavy this week and it's going to explode if I don't allow the penetrating feelings to come out my fingertips.

It's been two years since I lost my niece. And two years (less a day) that my son was born.
One of the worst weeks of my adult life. One of the best moments of my adult life.

I don't talk much, about those few days, but I relive them in my head quite frequently. There are some pretty intense memories floating around....

The moment my sister-in-law walked up my driveway in tears. The subsequent moment she told me that her baby girl had died in her womb. My heart breaking into pieces. My eyes holding back tears so as not to scare my children. The look of utter horror on my devastated sister-in-law's face.

The night she went into labour. Staring at my phone to check for messages of her progress. Dozing between conversations. Feeling insanely hopeless. Angry. Overwhelmingly sad.

The moment I first laid eyes on her. Little Kinsley. A simple photograph shared by cell phone, an intimate look at the beautiful little angel who was born still. Feeling the need to scream. Or throw my phone. Or run away. Heavy, deep grief.

The phone call from a distraught relative. The words - you tell that baby of yours not to come, this is not his time. He better stay in there for now - which seared my heart so deeply I nearly fell to the floor.

Labour pains. Frantic tears. Terrifying conversations about the possibility of having a child so close to such loss. Prayers begging for mercy, for a reprieve from labour for just a few more days.

The ultrasound. Confirmation of a breech, 8 day overdue child. Panic in my midwife's voice.

Laying on a hospital bed, wondering if my sister-in-law had been in the same room. Preparing for an ECV, nerves frayed and mentally exhausted. Looking up at my husband, tears flowing down his face as the midwife offered him a package of infant loss materials for his sister while I laid in reverse position in an effort to flip our child.

The pain. The excruciating pain of knowing our child was alive in my belly.
The guilt. The take-your-breath away guilt of knowing we'd meet our son that day.

Then, the rush. Of clothes being removed, needles being inserted, questions being asked. The shaking of my entire body as they rushed me into the OR for an emergency C-section. The tears. The inability to stop them from falling down my face.

Then, there was Ethan.
Loud, alive and healthy.

More tears.
Heart pounding guilt.
Shame.

Two years ago, and less than 30 hours apart, two children were born into our family. They were suppose to be best friends. Go to school together. Play together. Grow up side by side. But the story we had written did not meet the reality of our life.

Two years later, the guilt has become tolerable though still overwhelming at times. I cannot help but wonder to myself, would she be as tall as he? Would she love his favourite show? Play ball with him?

Why is he here? Why is she not?

When he hugs my sister-in-law, is his hug filled with divine purpose, a greater gift from his angel cousin? Does he love his aunt so intensely because he is loving her not just as himself, but as his cousin, too?

He is, in many ways, greater than the sum of one child. I cannot help but wonder if in some small way a little piece of his spirit is connected to the spirit of my little angel niece. That a smile from Ethan is, in a way, a little glimpse of heavenly love as well.

Happy birthday baby girl, we miss you and think of you every day.
xo

On Mother's Day

Even after the most heart-wrenching, exhausting and emotional days, the ones where I find myself saying:

'If I could just run away'
'Maybe the kids are better off without me'
'If another little human touches me in any way'
'Maybe I should I change my name'
'I didn't sign up for this'

I know I am meant to be a mom.

My heart loves more.
My spirit endures.
My eyes see the beauty.

There is no greater gift than being a mother.

Today, I selfishly celebrate this gift. This amazing opportunity to mold and motivate little minds with big hearts, little hands with incredible dreams and little feet with many miles to travel. For they are my biggest accomplishment.

They call me mom.
xo


Happy Mother's Day to my incredible Mom and Aunt, my loving in-laws, grandmothers and all my incredible friends playing the role of Mama, Stepmama, Godmama, Furbaby Mama and daughter missing their mama. Sending all my love.

Birthdays in Heaven

I'm struggling to detail my thoughts, my heart full of feelings. I know that tomorrow is Miller's first birthday in heaven, and I wish it were here, with us. That little pooch, my first fur baby, he is still missed an incredible amount in our home. My heart still has an unoccupied, empty space which used to hold his physical presence. His skinny body. His furry ears. His relentless quest for snuggles.

Tomorrow is Miller's birthday. And his mommy can't be there to spoil him.

It's funny, how kids just know, just sense what adults need. Tonight, B asked me to read her 'Somewhere Over the Rainbow Bridge', the gorgeous book which describes a dog's journey to heaven along a connected rainbow beginning on earth. It was hard to read, but I found comfort in the following passage:

Just as they did in life,
dogs want to make their
loved ones happy, to tell them,
"Everything is all right.
It's beautiful over there.
And we are not done -
not by a long shot.
I'll always be here for you."

Happy Birthday my Miller boy, I hope Gram feeds you Pizza Hut crusts and Pop takes you fishing. Maybe Babcia will even slip a cheese slice into your dinner. You are well-cared for, no doubt, but please know you are so special that the kids, Daddy and I still talk about you every single week.

Love, Mommy

On his last day, so sick but still one of my favourite photos. I can see deep into his soul through those eyes.