Snuggles with my baby girl

We're a few weeks into the new school year.

It appears that all of us are suffering, adjusting perhaps, a more appropriate term. The kids come home tired. Exhausted really. Their baby brother won't sleep through the night or nap during the day. I'm back to class and working on two contra projects (in addition to my latest freelance contract).

Seems so pop culture-cool to suggest we're zombies. All five of us. But we are.

It's difficult to be a good mom when I'm tired. When I'm exhausted, I feel like the worst mom in the world (so I'm also more dramatic when I hit the wall). But seriously, I thought losing two kids to full day learning would make my life easier. Turns out, not so much.

Tonight, after a VERY LONG afternoon, and after multiple requests to go to bed early, I found myself in Brooklyn's room. She chose her 'favourite' books, two oldie board style toddler reads for us to snuggle into bed with and read together. We took our time, I asked plenty of questions to practice her new speech therapy goals and when we were all done, I turned her light off and stepped back to her bed to tuck her in.

Then something fabulous happened.

'Mom, stay and snuggle with me.'

Oh, snuggles. I love me some snuggles. Especially with my girl, my built-in friend for life. My immediate reaction was to smile and hop in, but as I found my way to her extra pillow I realized I hadn't snuggled in some time. In fact, I don't remember the last time she and I snuggled at bed time.

The last two and a half weeks had been so busy,  I forgot to snuggle.

I'd been racing. From project to project, from meeting to meeting, from school to home and back again. And I'd forgotten how much I needed a snuggle, how important they were to my relationship with my daughter.

The two of us got all comfy, closed our eyes and then she jumped.

'Wait! I have to kiss you!' she said.

Ok, now she's scoring major bonus points. She proceeded  to grab my hand. One by one, she separated my fingers and kissed them. Gently. Carefully. Then she asked for my other hand and repeated her pattern of kisses.

I was in such awe of her perfection. My four year old little princess. I could feel the tears warming my eyes but I was speechless.

When she was done, she grabbed my face. Kissed my nose, forehead, chin and each cheek. Then she smiled brightly, and laid a giant one on my lips.

She has a way of knowing exactly what mommy needs. And I love her to pieces for it.

I am smitten with this little girl. Her gentle soul. Her crazy laugh. And most of all, her ability to remind me that nothing - not a bad day, week or month - is ever more important than taking time for her snuggles.

I'm not ready

The truth is, I'm not ready.
I don't think I'll ever be ready.

I just tucked in my two oldest, beautiful children. Asked them to please get a great sleep because tomorrow was their first day, first experience as full day students.

We'd already shopped for back to school clothing. Pulled out backpacks. Talked about snacks and lunch and which zipper container to open on their new, very fancy lunch bags.

Reminded them to use their manners. Get to the bathroom before too long. Wash their hands. Listen at circle time. Ask questions. Behave.

I told them how proud I was of each of them. How much I love them. How I will miss them dearly.

Then I said goodnight. Closed the door. And cried.

Cried for my pending loss. Cried for the quietness about the take over my house. Cried because I know life moves too quickly, children grow too fast, and kisses don't fit inside backpacks.

I cried because I love them. Love who they have become, love seeing them grow every single day, love every single ounce of their little bodies and souls. Love who they have moulded me to become as a mom and woman.

This journey, this incredible opportunity to have been home, their stay-at-home, work-at-home mother, has been more demanding and as a result more rewarding then I ever dreamed was possible.

And so, I'm not ready.
To walk them to school. Kiss them goodbye. Turn and walk away.
I'm not ready.

My Nolan. My Brooklyn. Forever my preschoolers, forever my little sidekicks on an adventure with me. Forever my soul mates, partners in crime and snuggle monkeys.

Forever my babies.
And so, I will cry. Over and over again.

Because I have been blessed with the most special gift of all. Being their mother.

xoxo

A letter to my sister

I drove over to my sister-in-law's place Sunday night. Long story short, I missed my Goddaughter's baptism celebration because my wee man was sick. My brother-in-law offered me a beer, not my style anymore (I must be getting old) so I settled for a coke. When I popped open the tab, she asked, 'who are you sharing a coke with?'

I peeked at the side of the can and it said, sister.

Yup, I sure was. And the rest of her gorgeous family. It got me to thinking, we've shared an awful lot these last 13 years...

Her first keg party and my home-hosted event.
Graduations.
Movies.
Slopitch games.
Family vacations.
Blue Jays games.
America's Next Top Model.
Shopping.
Ok, lots of shopping.
Tapas.
Our weddings.
Bridal and baby showers.
Our neighbourhood.
Our neighbourhood school.
Play dates.
So You Think You Can Dance.
Meals.
Baking.
Birthday parties.
Dance parties.
Late night walks.

More importantly, we've shared our journey as mothers.

Two pregnancies in tandem.
Seven beautiful children in total.
Gripes over swollen feet, giant boobs and clothes that didn't fit.
Slurpee, ice cream and candy cravings.
Tears.
Panic over unknown illnesses, bumps on the head and fevers.
Joy in first steps, words and smiles.
Pure exhaustion.
The baby blues.
Money, and the lack of it available to make ends meet.
Discipline.
Disappointment.
Grief.

BBM conversations at nearly every hour of the day and night, about the highs and lows of our day. About our lacking desire to be a mom. About our amazing kids. About the incredible heartache of losing a daughter and niece. About being fully convinced that our children were going to push us to the brink of insanity.

We've laughed as much as we've cried.
We've shared brilliant days and many difficult, if not painful ones.
We've borrowed strength, shared hugs and reminded each other we are never alone.

Last May, two births. One enormous loss. Grief. Rage. Guilt.
This May, one birth. One first birthday on earth, one in heaven. More grief. More guilt.

What a journey.

My sister,

This last year has bonded us in a way most will never fully understand. I will never, ever forget that day. Seeing you walk up my driveway, tears streaming down your face. The following days of waiting, praying, induction, early morning conversation and the moment little Kinsley's photo popped up on my phone. I wanted to run down to that hospital and hold her, hug you and carry your broken heart.

Your boys are my sons. Your daughters, mine too. Your angel in heaven makes her presence known in my home, and she watches over all of our children each and every day. We are one big family.

I love you, my sister. And I want you to know that I couldn't do this thing... this mama thing... without you.

xoxo

End of an era

It happened today.

I set our infant car seat out for garbage, expired and worn.

I really didn't think the garbage man would take it, but I knew it was time to come to terms with not requiring it any longer. So I set it out there.

I was hoping someone would pick it up and take it, even though it was expired. Maybe someone could repurpose it, recycle it, memorialize it for me.

I didn't expect the garbage man to take it.

Then, as the kids and I ate lunch, the garbage truck pulled up.

And he took it.

He took the infant seat. Threw it into the back of his truck and drove off.

Whoa. The tears began flowing. I scared the kids even.

I tried to explain it, how hard it is for mommy to see them grow up so quickly. I tried to tell them I was just sad that time keeps passing and they keep getting bigger.

Then Nolan got it. "Mom, I understand. You are sad because we all sat in that seat right?"

Yup. Cue the tears again.


 Postscript: My nephew used this seat also, between Brooklyn and Ethan, here's a photo

Honouring Kinsley

Today we will remember and honour Kinsley and send our hearts up high.

Today she will celebrate turning one in heaven with Pop and all who have gone before us.

Today we will shed tears, smile at her beautiful photos and hug our family a little tighter.

But today will not unfold like it did this day last year.

Today John and Carly will bring home their beautiful little baby girl.

Today they will snuggle her, kiss her, feed her and welcome her home.

One year ago they lost. And today they will not.

Today they will know that Kinsley is their angel daughter, meant to watch over and protect.

To whisper in their ear and bring on light during difficult times.

We will always remember. We will never forget.

We will love Arabella not only for her own beautiful and perfect self, but for her sister who never had the opportunity to be here with us.

xoxo

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

It won't be long

The last few weeks have been increasingly difficult for me. My mama strength is depleted, leaving me exhausted and low on patience. After a particularly exhausting dinner on Monday, my dear mother pointed out that I should enjoy the insanity as someday the silence would sound deafening. It got me to thinking...

I should embrace the meltdowns at dinner time, because it won't be long before she is too worried about her weight to eat.

I should embrace his face all lit up when he talks about fire trucks, because it won't be long before video games become his favourite pastime.

I should embrace the early morning baby feedings, because it won't be long before our quiet cuddles are replaced with sleepovers away from home.

I should embrace the meltdowns over who gets to wash their hands first, and in which bathroom, because it won't be long before they aren't home at lunch to eat together.

I should embrace the tears over unwelcome meals, broken lego and bedtime, because it won't be long before tears are shed over first loves, first lovers squarrels and first loves lost.

I should embrace the dark circles and puffy eyes from the very little, broken sleep patterns of these early years, because it won't be long before missed curfews and drunken experiments leave crows feet and worry lines.

I should embrace the chaotic sounds of three children talking over one another, because it won't be long before they don't want to talk to each other, or me, at all.

Most of all, I realize I should embrace the now.

I will move from 'should' to 'will' embrace our crazy, chaotic life. I will accept and find peace in knowing my children are smart, confident and loving in every way.

Mom - you always know just what to say.
xo