One year later... the marathon continues...

I cannot believe I'm approaching one year since my 'big move' to work-at-home mama. The last 12 months have absolutely flown by, and yet I feel as though many more 'aha moments' were captured as a result. It obviously suits our family, as I'm now 26 weeks pregnant with a little man who 'ninja turtles' my belly all day and night, apparently anxious to arrive early and meet his siblings. I've learned so much about myself, my kids and my husband as a result.

First up, let me share my thoughts as the know-it-all at Hummingbird Communications...

One year of freelancing, it feels like a bit of a marathon. No one warned me how difficult freelancing would be! Recall that feeling of beginning a new job and attempting to learn the culture, social norms and communication style of your peers and superiors. It's exhausting right? Well lucky me, I've had to do it about six times over this last year. Ha!

While I shine bright gold on the true colours personality scale, I'm also a strong blue - highly tuned to the emotions of others. As a result, I've often found myself struggling to understand the nuances of emails from clients more so than necessary. As most of my work takes place virtually, it can be difficult to go lengthy periods of time between face-to-face communications. I've learned to ask for clarification and request additional background information in order to best serve my clients.

Freelancing also requires intense discipline. I knew this, but I still struggle to sit down at 8pm to 'work' after 'working' all day with my kids. The most difficult times are on weekends... I have to visualize myself duct-taped to the desk just to meet deadlines... and you would too, if your kiddos were playing spy agents around your PC and screaming and fighting with each other in the same room (or one room above or below you). Ear plugs are my friend.

My relationship with my kids is stronger, and more meaningful than ever. Not to suggest career moms have any less a relationship with their kids - kudos to each and every one of you for balancing both worlds - but for our family, this was the only way. I shudder to think of where we'd be if I hadn't spoken up and had an honest, frank discussion with my hubby. Our family is fiercely loving, enormously joyful and man oh man, we are busy! I feel blessed to see N take giant leaps in his literacy skills right in front of my eyes. I send prayers of thanks for witnessing B's incredible speech development. I LOVE THESE KIDS. And I love being home with them.

Most of all, this last year has taught me that without a doubt, without the tinest second thought, my hubby is the absolute perfect partner and best friend I could ever ask for. He supports my work, my parenting decisions and reminds me when its time to take a break. He lives and breathes for our kids, and his love for me is written all over his face. I love him and couldn't do this without him.

This summer will present challenges for us that we've never experienced... a third child, our first newborn experience without the support of maternity benefits... however I know we're still in the right place, the right space, to make this possible.

"Act, as if everything depended upon you. And pray, as if everything depended upon God."

Off to the races folks...

An Ode to Sleep

Sleep.

Oh sleep.

How I miss thee.

It's been eight days of germs in our house, and as any parent knows, germs equal NO SLEEP. It's been two-and-a-half years since B was born, a new sleep low for me, and four-and-a-half years since N was born, my first dip into the world of sleep deprivation.

I really miss sleep.

Late at night, after providing my kiddos with water/kleenex/chapstick or whatever else they woke me up for, I reminice about the 'good ol' days'. Evenings spent snuggling in bed with my hubby, watching a movie or some ridiculously awful TV series and falling asleep in each other's arms. Sleeping until I woke up because my body was ready and not remembering a single moment of what happened between when my head hit the pillow and the next morning.

All you single, newly married and married-without-kids friends, I AM JEALOUS OF YOU. That's correct, I'll admit it. I would trade my first-born child (and perhaps my second-born to sweeten the deal) just to get a few nights of uninterrupted, solid sleep. Is this why sleepovers were created? Hmm...

I used to think I was losing it when thoughts of booking a hotel room just to sleep for 24 hours crossed my mind. Then a girlfriend with kids the same age as mine reported the same wish. WHEW! If I was losing it, I was going there with someone else, thank goodness. I wonder if the beds are comfy in crazy town?

To complicate things further, my very loving, totally amazing hubby snores. LOUDLY. This means that once I've returned to bed after visiting my not-really-sleeping angels I lay awake in frustration. Often times the poor guy gets a bolt from me, asking unrealistically, to stop the maddness. He'll roll over and, before I'm even settled, be right back to sleep... and snoring...

I'm now 21 weeks pregnant. In first pregnancy language, this is the 'feel well' trimester marked by increased energy and desire to prepare for baby. In second pregnancies this is the 'feel ok' stage where you know you should feel energized and still prepare accordingly for baby. In third pregnancies, well, I'm finding that this trimester is as exhausting as the first, without much time to prepare for baby much less rest up. Thank goodness I'm able to sleep late on weekends, something hubby insists on at every possible opportunity. I'd kiss him for this, if I had the energy.

Sleep is just NOT my friend. And with our third baby on the way, I can only imagine how much worse this is going to get. Hubby and I have decided to bunk the little one with his older brother, secretly hoping that N will lead by example and teach his little brother that sleeping straight through the night is the cool thing to do (when you are healthy). When the boys are sick, it's going to be a certified gong show. I'll be sending Daddy in to 'deal with his boys.' ha!

In the meantime, I just keep plugging away at my mama and work-at-home-mama duties, dark circles under my eyes, hoping to win the sleep lottery. Perhaps someday I'll find the time to relax in bed, not because I'm tired, but because there is simply nothing to do and no-one to care for. I imagine this is part of having a seniors' discount? Seems more attractive all the time...

Oh sleep.

How I miss thee.

Poverty, uniforms and Christmas clothes

Last week our local Catholic School Board passed a motion to bring a standardized dress code (read: uniforms) to all elementary schools, beginning next September. The Policy wording states that their goal is to create a 'unified sense of belonging for all students' and 'equalize all students regardless of a family's socio-economic background.'

I understand the appeal, I went to a high school with uniforms and loved them. I didn't have to consider what I what to wear on any given morning, nor did I worry about whether it had the right label on it or not. Unfortunately, this only counted for tops and bottoms - shoes were still an important designation of 'coolness' as was jewellry, coats, backpacks and the like. Uniforms didn't exactly create a unified school - there were still jocks, geeks and mean girls. student council types, prefects, drama kids and the football team. Regardless of what went on your body, you were judged based on the classes you frequented, the friends you hung out with and whether or not you skipped on 'skip day.' Oh, the pressure.

Fast forward and here I am, a 30-year old parent with two lovely kiddos (and a third on the way). I very much value the Catholic school system as I love that each day my son (in afternoons JK) learns not only his ABCS, but about the role of faith in his every day life. He has made the transition to student with relative ease; making friends, learning without disrupting others and even (gasp) completing homework on occasion.

Ironically, my son is attending the same school as I did many years ago. This school is set in a small corner of a very tight-knit community, touting many blue collar workers and a large variety of families. We consider ourselves 'average', whatever that means. We are not wealthy, but we are able to put food on the table and send our children to swimming lesssons. We are not hung up on brands, however I do prefer to purchase quality children's clothing and shoes. I'll even admit I shop mostly in the USA, as the cost of orthopaedic shoes is less than half the cost as in our neck of the woods. I can easily outfit my children for $10-15 per day, and quality clothes that wash and wear well are only replaced when they no longer fit or are appropriate for the ever-changing seasons.

So why the beef with uniforms? Good question.

Part of me is concerned about the ongoing cost of regulated clothing. I appreciate that the School Board revised the policy to state that certain colours and styles are required, not one brand of embroidered top and bottom. Yet, can I seriously outfit my children at my self-imposed price point, all season long? Inevitably they grow, more often at the most inconvenient times. How often and how many of each item will be required?

I'm also worried about my son's reaction to the news that his favourite fire truck shirts and shoes are no longer welcome at school. Most parents rely on the ability to convince a child it's time to get dressed because there's a flashy (insert fun character here) shirt at hand if they listen the first time and get dressed. How do I explain that his teachers are allowed to wear whatever colour of tops and bottoms they'd like to, while he must sport navy or white tops and navy bottoms regardless of what strikes his fancy that morning. I can't even imagine what his little sister is going to do without the ability to wear pink daily.

Mostly I worry that uniforms are just an excuse, another opportunity to 'mask' the poverty that exists in our school system, in every system. I honestly don't remember the clothes my classmates wore in elementary school, however I do remember the student with elastic bands holding his shoes together, as well as the classmate who smelled so bad no-one would sit near him. This is the side of poverty that uniforms simply cannot unify.

I distinctly remember a child, in my grade three class, who ran around for weeks before Christmas shouting "Christmas clothes! Christmas clothes!" whenever we spoke about the holidays and our pending school Christmas concert. We jeered him I'm sad to say, as he seemed to sing-song it wherever he went. For YEARS this was a commonly used joke in my class, as eventually that student moved away. I'm sure I even taught my brother the sing-song at some point.

What I realize now, as an adult, is that this child only received new clothes at Christmas. But once a year. He was so excited for his 'Christmas Clothes!' because he lived in such poverty that new clothes were out of the question. My heart sinks now when I think of this child, what a life he must have led.

Would uniforms have made his life better or worse? I don't know the answer to that but I do know that if my teachers and perhaps even my parents had really listened and realized the underlying issue in this little school yard joke - we, at age 8, did not understand what poverty was - then perhaps this child would have celebrated without judgement or jeering from his peers.

Poverty exists in our own school, our community and beyond. We need to teach our children what it looks and feels like in order to support their acceptance of others less fortunate than ourselves.

Uniforms or not, my children will understand that while they cannot always change the cycle of poverty, they will be required to support their peers, regardless of whether or not they have new clothes at Christmas time.

Secret exhaustion!

I've fallen off the 'map' so to speak, with more than one of my dearest relationships. Suffice to say it's been an incredible ride these last two months... September and early October brought me two major event-related projects that ate massive amounts of my personal time. Personal time is a bit of a joke as it is, as my decision to be home with my kids was a conscious trade-off of my time for more intimate family time on a daily basis. More kids, less mommy.

My hubby can vouch for me. I've spent more time working away on my computer, as well as away from my kiddies at meetings, than I ever imagined possible in such a short time span. As a work-at-home mother I knew these days would come, I just didn't imagine having to do it with a secret level of exhaustion.

I know this exhaustion well. It's the fall-asleep-while-watching-cartoons-with-the-kids, can't-get-my head-off-the-pillow-in-the-morning, begging-for-a-nap kind of exhaustion. It compounds by the day, then week, then month. It leaves my brain foggy, my eyes rounded with dark circles and my body absolutely terrified to do anything at all but sit still.

I know this exhaustion well because I've done it twice before.

This exhaustion is the most beautiful, blessed kind of suffering.

It's first trimester exhaustion.

Jay, Nolan, Brooklyn and I are VERY EXCITED to announce that we're expecting baby #3 next May!!

Please forgive me if I've fallen off the map these last few months. I gave every last moment of energy to paid projects and let the rest fall away... survival mode I guess...

God has blessed our family in a way I never dreamed was actually possible. My prayers of thanks and tears of joy haven't stopped since the moment we found out we were expecting...

Luckiest. Family. Ever.

Lovely Lovies

I just had to share this video I saw yesterday, I've been thinking about it ever since.

The video is about a little boy who lost his lovey, affectionately named 'Ah-Ah', many years earlier on a camping trip with his family. The video explains how his mother randomly searched for 'blue monkey' three years later and managed, somehow, to discover what appeared to be Ah-Ah. She had it shipped to her and her husband taped their son's reaction to rediscovering something so precious.

I dare you not to cry.

This video reminded me of something I chose to do earlier than most - introduce a lovey - to my infants. As soon as N and B could reach and grasp something they were laid to rest with something to help comfort them in times of need.

N's lovey is named Blue. A bunny of small stature, Blue's a little more brown than blue these days, but he's oh so special to my son. I once searched all over the place for a second Blue (in similar fashion to the mom's story in the video) but I never did find an exact replica. I did overspend on what I thought was a replacement, but sadly N knew it wasn't Blue, so Donny became another 'friend' to sleep with, but not a replacement.

B's lovey is named Ya-Ya. We had initially called her Lolly, a tribute to my favourite lovey growing up. My dear neighbour and long-time family friend bought Ya-Ya for B when she was born simply because it reminded her of my Lolly doll. My neighbour was also so amazing that once she knew B loved her Ya-Ya, she purchased a SECOND one for me. I rotate them out regularly, the second Ya-Ya stays hidden in her closet in case of emergency. Such a great lesson learned the second child around!

Lovies are a quintessential part of childhood, and in our house a part of infancy as well. I know all the warnings and stories about removing toys from infant sleeping areas, but seriously, once a baby can lift its head and hold something, how nice to offer them an instant support tool when they wake up for a midnight feeding or early in the morning.

Here's a photo of B with Ya-Ya and N with Blue.


A photo from our spring 2012 vacation - B doesn't use a soother anymore but Ya-Ya and Blue remain!



Just one more small joy in parenting. Lovely lovies.

Hummingbird makes three, children that is.

It's been an interesting summer.

Apart from my day-to-day life being home with my kids, I've been formalizing my skills into a little business, something more catchy than "I can help" and something less formal than advertisements and networking events.

It all began one night when I explained to my husband that I wanted (and needed) business cards, but that I didn't want to have my gmail address on them. It seemed borderline cheesy to me. "You need to own a URL in order to have a legitimate email address." Huh. A web site? I wasn't really planning to 'go there' just yet, but as with most things in life, a business card became a slippery slope....

I spent weeks agonizing over a name for my business. Having arbitrarily called it PI Creative Solutions, primarily for the purposes of invoicing, I wasn't particularly keen on continuing with such a, well, boring name. I looked to my friends and family for support, but I knew something was still missing.

In my weeks of brainstorming, I dragged a local graphic design artist through the process with me. Poor girl, I must have driven her crazy with my ad-hoc ideas and thoughts, but as yet I had no brand to guide me. After the first few drafts, I felt the need to ask for a hummingbird graphic. A little lost, that poor hummingbird was, until I realized that what my heart was really saying was already in front of me. I'd name the business after my spirit animal, the little bird with the amazing powers. Thus, Hummingbird Communications was born.

I would be remiss if I didn't mention why the hummingbird is so important in my life. I've always loved those little birds, I grew up hoping to see them fly nearby and wondered how they got so lucky to drink sugary water all day. As an adult, a few years ago, I saw a psychic who spoke about spirit guides, animals who help guide us through our day. She explained that the hummingbird was very much a part of my life and that my own personality was very similar. She told me to remember that just like the hummingbird, I also possessed special skills and abilities that were unique to others around me. That just like the hummingbird, which could fly both forwards and backwards, I too was capable of doing things that others could not, and needed to embrace my skills and believe in myself.

I was told to keep a hummingbird nearby, as it would remind me of my talents and keep me focused. The very next week I was at a local craft show and saw a little stained glass green and pink hummingbird. I promptly purchased the little piece of art and brought it home. She's currently hanging out in my laundry room, one of my 'thinking spots' and likely one of the only places in the house no-one looks for me.

Today I ran into a friend of mine who I met through Leadership Niagara last year. I just knew we were meant to meet, but today she really confirmed that for me. We ran into each other through the St. Catharines Early Years program, which toured the local #6 fire hall this morning. We had no idea the other would be there, but the moment she saw me she said she had something for me. She gave me a little square of text, one she'd been keeping in her purse and recently found. It said:

From Jess, the perfect reminder. Thank you.

"Legends say that hummingbirds float free of time, carrying out our hopes for love, joy and celebration. Like a hummingbird, we aspire to hover and savor each moment as it passes, embrace all that life has to offer and to celebrate the joy of everyday. The hummingbird's delicate grace reminds us that life is rich, beauty is everywhere, every personal connection has meaning and that laughter is life's sweetest creation."

Goosebumps yet?

I'm so proud to share my newest, youngest child, with each of you: http://hummingbirdcommunications.ca/

P

PS: Thanks to my incredible husband for believing in my instincts, deciphering html code and most of all for keeping me company late at night when I'm working. Here's hoping my little hummingbird business cards and web site lead to plenty of projects, more late nights and the ability to celebrate every day at home with my kids.

Four life lessons learned from my four year old.

Tomorrow marks a special occasion - my son Nolan's fourth birthday. I'm really struggling with this one, it seems like only yesterday he was my 'little babah', swaddled in my arms, snuggling on my chest. Here we are now, a mere two months away from his first day of junior kindergarten. Seriously, where has the time gone?

Life with Nolan has been nothing short of a roller coaster. From a calm baby to a rambuncious toddler, on to a stubborn preschooler and now, well, I'd suggest he's become quite the negotiator these days. Every question begs for an explanation as to why he should be allowed to (fill-in-the-blank here). He's an eager communicator, chatterbox some say, unless of course his favorite show is on TV. That's about our only quiet time these days :)

As I look back on the last four years, I'd like to think I've taught Nolan a trick or two. How to drink from straw, wash his hands and make his bed. How to ask for help, use his manners and give really great hugs. Funny thing is, as I reflect I realize he's taught me some valuable lessons, too. In honour of his fourth, here's a list of the top four things he's taught me:

Number four:


Cutest. Costume. Ever.

It's fun to play dress-up once in awhile! Nolan is such a free spirit, he often surprises Jay and I by walking into the family room dressed in his giraffe Halloween costume. It's hilarious and he knows it, often leaving our entire family in happy tears on the floor. Just yesterday he received a fantastic knit firefighter hat... he's had it on ever since, even in the summer heat! It didn't matter to him that he looked different, or that it was funny, he was just happy being himself.


Yup, McDonalds. His favorite place. In his new hat.

What a cool kid and a cool idea. I bet on those crappy, cranky days we'd have much better luck making ourselves smile if we wore an ugly tie (I found a few doozies in Jay's wardrobe pre-dating our marriage), a retro coat (think circa 1993 surf-sytle hypercolour popovers) or perhaps just donned a ridiculous goofy hat with ears before paying the bills. Laughter is the best family medicine, thanks to Nolan's lead I'm going to try this more often.

Number three:
Little things mean more! What surprises me most about Nolan is his uncanny ability to appreciate life's little things. It's a bird digging for worms, an airplane's loud engine off in the distance sky, the way he lights up when his sister shares her snack and most of all the way a siren of any kind, at any pitch, can send him screaming 'did you hear that!' wherever we go.


Absolutely nuts for sirens, at his first parade.

Why is it that as adults we lose our ability to appreciate such simple gifts? My mom always says, 'little kids, little problems. Big kids, big problems.' The beauty is that little kids also appreciate all the little joys around them. Everything is a new adventure, every day an exciting new challenge.  My goal is to stop and enjoy these little gifts WITH him, double the joy and fun.

Number two:
Eat your veggies - raw! I've never seen a child eat raw veggies quite like my son. Every colour, shape and size, it doesn't really matter to him. He DEVOURS them. Enjoys every mouthful. Sometimes I swear I can see the vitamins and minerals nourishing his already-healthy complexion even more. I've never been a huge raw veggie eater, however seeing him eat such a naturally healthy, wholesome food reminds me that I can do a better job myself. In this case my son is modelling the way for me.


Plate loaded with veggies at his party!

and the number one thing Nolan has taught me is...

There are a million ways to tell someone you love them! Forget a million, it's likely at a zillion by now. Nolan tells me every day, in every way, that I am loved. From the moment he runs into my room each morning to hug me I know that our love is both deep-rooted and mutal. He holds my hand, cuddles in my lap, begs for me to read him stories and calls for me the moment he's hurt. He shares his accomplishments, demonstrates his new skills and belts out top 40 hits every morning at breakfast while we laugh and dance.

A few weeks ago at bedtime we snuggled into his bed and talked about 'big boy school'. I was telling him how much he was going to love it, how he'd learn so many new things and meet new friends in his class. I told him how proud I was of him, but that I was going to miss him. At that moment he rested his hand on my head, looked me square in the eyes and said, 'I'll still love you when I go to big boy school mama." Talk about love. What a kid.

Happy 4th birthday to my not-so-little Babah, my Noly, my handsome, empathetic son Nolan. Mommy loves you more than you could ever imagine possible.
xo