The good still lives here

The good still lives here

Even when the news isn't what we hoped.
When there's more appointments ahead.

Good still lives here.

Even when our bodies are weary, worn and aching for rest.

Good still lives here.

Even when it's hard.
When tears of frustration become a normal part of every day.

Good still lives here.

Even when we are low.
Defeated and frustrated and depleted.

Good still lives here.

Even when the only constant is change.
And nothing surprises us anymore.

Good still lives here.

It's the 'feel better' notes.
The long, steady hugs.
The dance parties we are 'forced' to take part in.
The puppy cuddles.
The sweet messages from friends.
The distanced help from ‘ride or die’ family.

Proof that the good still lives here.

It’s looking in the eyes of your partner and knowing that,
while we ask aloud,
what else could possibly go wrong,
we are grateful because we know it could be worse.

Now is the simultaneous existence of
present moment awareness,
complete exhaustion and anxious thought.

It’s life.

And the good still lives here.

This race called life

Sometimes it takes a whole year to realize how far you've come.

The last twelve months began like a sprint, then politely dropped into a cross country race.

Slow and unwavering.

Eyes on the path.

Steady pace.

Able to speak, yet completely out of breath.

Capable of continuation, however yearning to quit.

Heart pumping, chest thumping.

I don't know alot about running, but I gather there are three ways to get through a race.

The first is to isolate.

Run alone.

Listen only to the voices in your head.

Ego, its name.

Risking its accuracy and truth.

Forever being your own cheerleader.

The second is to compare.

The runner ahead is faster than me, so obviously better than I am.

The runner behind me can't keep up, they must be in really awful shape.

I am doing better than some, worse than others.

Rank-ordering pain and therefore outcomes.

The third is to belong.

I am a runner in this race called life.

So too, are these companions on the journey.

We are all struggling for breath.

We have our great races, and our really difficult ones.

But we all suffer and celebrate, together.

Sometimes we choose to isolate. Exhaustion and depression are often the result.

Sometimes we choose to compare. Fear and anxiety are often the result.

But when we choose to belong, we hit the sweet spot.

Whether it is my daughter's cancer.

Your husband's unusual illness.

Her mother's death.

His traumatic childhood.

If we belong, we are strong.

Our hearts fill with love and we say,

Me too.

I understand.
Your pain is my pain.

And the divine presence above us shines light on our souls and says, thank you.

This was your lesson to learn.

<3 <3 <3 

Not all wandering means we are lost

I got asked this question earlier in the week:

"Can you let me know some differences (good and bad) about having 2 vs 3 kids?"

Hmm.
I did blog a little about this in the past, however I find the question so much more powerful and reflective, now that Brooklyn and our family have endured such a fresh journey.

Why did we choose to have three children?
Hmm.

The truth is, we really only 'planned' our first two. To be embarrassingly honest Ethan is quite the love child. No really, he was a thought in our minds, but he was not at all planned for and discussed in advance the way our first two kids were.

To most people, we had 'the million dollar family' already. Two children, one of each sex.
To the logical brain, we 'had it all'.

But here's the thing.

'Having it all' to me meant I needed one more child on the dock, in that classic photo I blogged about back in 2013.

To one friend it meant one little man and absolutely no more.
To another, it meant adopting four gorgeous little ones.
To a third, it meant two, but with a large gap in between.

The thing that ties us all together is this:
We listened to our hearts more, and our heads less.

Yes, having two children means life is more expensive.
Tables are more difficult to come by at a restaurant,
Post-secondary tuition will be outrageous.

But life will always be expensive.
And you can live with less.
Trust me on this one.

Restaurants are overpriced.
Food is too salty when you don't make it yourself.
And the best meals are always inspired by little helpers with big hearts.

And lastly, our children will never come out of school debt-free.
Its an impossibility, as I see it.
So we'll save, and we'll help. But they will also be responsible for their education and their future.

We listened to our hearts.
Not our conditioned minds, ego voices trying to 'protect us' from its perception of danger.

Having two children is 'easier' in many ways.
Less laundry, lunches to make and hands to hold when crossing the street.

But for my heart to truly be full, to feel complete in this stage of my life, I needed my wee man.

Perhaps because his bum shaking made me laugh when his sister was sick.
Maybe it's because his "I love you mommy"s watered my withering heart.
It's certainly because his presence, as loud and crazy as it is, kept our entire family alert and moving when all we wanted to do was hide under our covers and cry.

He was meant to be.
Three was meant to be.

And so, for any family. Any couple. Any single adult pondering these important questions.
The question of if, or how many children to have can most certainly be answered logically by crunching incomes, counting bedrooms and looking to social norms.

But the real answer lies deep inside the heart.
In the quiet before bedtime.
The alone time on the drive to work.
While out for an early morning jog.

"If you want to know where your heart is, look where your mind goes when it wanders."

Happiness is felt in the heart.
Not all wandering means we are lost.

Coping

Brooklyn has finally completed the last of the required tests.
Her only scheduled appointment next week is a surgical follow up from her biopsy.

Now we wait.
Wait for a diagnosis. A treatment plan. A timeline.

It's the scariest feeling ever, to know something so important rides entirely on others. Highly intelligent and well trained others, but still the lack of control takes my breath away more than once a day.

I feel sad.
Empty.
Anxious.
Shaky.
Weak.
I've really pulled into myself, the way a turtle crowds it's shell during times of danger.

I worry about my boys and the trauma this has caused each of them.

E has endured nightmares. He needs to know where I am going and when I'll be back. He asks lots of questions about where his siblings are, and he was so angry last week when we made it clear he wasn't allow to hug his sister because of her boo-boos. He cried the most gigantic, most heartbreaking tears last weekend as he spontaiously told me how hard it was to go from the babysitter's house to his grandparents' house and back. His entire routine was disrupted, despite our best efforts.

N is sullen, at times unable to decipher what he's feeling. He made a feeling picture with the Child Life Specialists yesterday, of our faces before B got sick and since B has been in the hospital.

Left - before B became sick . Right - after B became sick

This image brought me to tears. He is right and its hard to know he's hurting as much as we are, despite our attempts to be as warm and normal as possible. He is a feeler, a deeply emotional child, and he knows that this is serious.

When my mind wanders, I sometimes think about the worst case scenario.
Chemo. Hair loss. Extended hospital stays.
A daughter with self esteem issues... her first set of incisions really upset her.

And then sometimes I focus on the beautiful party we will have when this is all over with.
The music. The jumpy castle. The cold drinks and big hugs.
Tears of joy.
A chance to thank everyone for their support.

The entire next week is out of our hands, all there is left to do is pray that hope becomes reality.
I find myself too tired to pray these last few days, and so I am grateful for all of your spiritual dedication to my family.
xo

#TeamBrookie #WarriorPrincess

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.

Enjoying the sweetness along the way

Two years of freelancing and it's become apparent to me, it's all in the transitions.

You see, life as a work at home parent is much more complicated than when I worked full time. It used to be drop off kids - 8 to 10 hours of work - pick up kids from day care. Hard, yes, but hindsight now highlights the straightforwardness of that lifestyle.

In my world, a 'work day' is more like 13 to 18 hours...

Kids to drop off.
Race to a meeting.
Kids to pick up two hours later.
Lunch.
Prep dinner.
Nurse baby.
Get to class. Teach all afternoon.
Home.
Kids to keep busy.
Dinner.
Bath.
Bed.
Work.
Calm crying child.
Work.
Listen to snoring husband.
Work.
Bed.

Throw a couple of loads of laundry in there, maybe a few nursing sessions and even the odd unannounced neighbour visit and I'm telling ya, life is waaayyy busier than I ever imagined.

The most difficult part of any given day is transitioning from mom to teacher to professional to mom to wife to mom again. Sometimes, in just one hour, I am expected to pick up two kids with the baby in tow, get lunch on the table, eat, nurse a baby, prep the crockpot for dinner, make myself up to look appropriate for the classroom and get out the door without losing my mind. I'm not going to lie, it's a certified gong show most days.

Then I remember the hummingbird. The beautiful, free flying bird who is different than most. Able to fly forwards and backwards, that little beauty works hard, stays focused and enjoys sweetness along the way.

I am grounded.
This is my path.
Each day is meant to be.
Each challenge a lesson.
Hugs, kisses and cuddles are my sweetness to be enjoyed.
I am a hummingbird.

I'm very proud to celebrate two years of this exhausting, yet incredibly satisfying lifestyle as a freelance work-at-home parent of three gorgeous little people. Truth is, without my village I'd never have made it. To all my supportive family members and friends, thank you. Thank you for cheering me on, putting my dirty dishes in the sink, making me laugh, letting me cry and most of all, for loving me and my children every single day of the last two years.

And to you, my dear husband. I love you.
And your snoring.
Every single day for the rest of our lives.
This last year has made us stronger, a little chubbier and most of all grateful for each other's loving arms and snuggles.
I wouldn't... no couldn't, do this with anyone else.
xoxo