After Hours: Letting Go

He stands at the door, crying.  You know he is in good hands, and you won’t be gone long, but to him, an hour seems like eternity.  He waits for you, and cries.  You try not to let it hurt too much as you turn to walk away.  You know he is in good hands, but you worry just the same because what if it hurts him too, to see you go?  What if he really doesn’t know if you’ll be back for him?  It’s hard for him to understand, and to know just how you feel because he is a toddler.  And it’s hard for you too, because you are his mother. 

You want the very best for him; you want him to trust you; you want him to know you will always be there for him, and that sometimes being there means learning how to let go.  But that doesn’t mean you love him any less; that you ever stop loving him as he grows.  And one day he will know that you left him in good hands, and you weren’t gone long, and it wasn’t an eternity, and you did miss him, and you did come back for him, and it was all okay.  And that he understands. 

You stand at the door, crying.  You know he is in good hands, and he won’t be gone long, but to not know how long exactly, seems like an eternity.  You watch him go, and cry.  You try not to let it hurt too much as he turns to walk away.  You know he is in good hands, but you worry just the same because what if it hurts him too, to go?  What if you really don’t know if he’ll be back?  It’s hard for him to understand, and to know just how you feel because he is a young man.  And it’s hard for you too, because you are his mother. 

You want the very best for him; you want him to trust you; you want him to know you will always be there for him, and that sometimes being there means learning how to let go.  But that doesn’t mean you love him any less; that you ever stop loving him as he grows.  And one day you will know that he is in good hands, and he won’t be gone long, and it won’t be an eternity, and he did miss you, and he did come back, and it was all okay.  And that he understands.

Letting go is a process and it starts off slow and small and gradual.  In the beginning it is hard to do, and there are tears and fear and anxiety.  Letting go takes time, but eventually it does get easier, and it will be better.  All you have to do is trust the process.  All you have to do is trust you.  All you have to do is let go.   

February, the Final Frontier

This is how it all went down…I had just given birth and because my son was 11 pounds, I delivered my dignity along with him leaving me disabled for weeks, unless heavily medicated. It was a preschool morning and I somehow managed to get dressed, as well as the kids, and then made my sore ass and their cute butts down the stairs, out the door, and into the car. We even made it there on time. It was amazing.
 
Unfortunately, there, after all this effort, instead of a cheer squad ready set to celebrate my achievement with high-fives, was the parent sign-up sheet for the Halloween party that was scheduled for the following week. This is not the stuff that dreams are made of. I fail miserably as a cute mom. The very mention of Pinterest gives me anxiety and, on occasion, makes me hostile (you have been warned). I began to sweat, but fortunately was quickly pulled from my place of fear by my unreasonably competitive spirit (thanks,mom). Damned if I'm gonna opt out like some flake, my inner monologue asserted,and I approached the sheet, handwritten in perfect preschool printing, with my head held high.I scanned the options (cupcakes, cookies and other things that require skill) and then relieved, my eyes zeroed in on the cheese and cracker platter. It was a cop-out, but it was a deal. We always have cheese, we have a pantry full of crackers and I felt that regardless of my current state (i.e. inability to perform basic bodily functions) I should at least be able to manage that. No one will even think less of me, I thought, considering it was pretty obvious I had bigger issues to contend with (as evidenced by full brief adult diapers visible above the waist of my sweatpants).

As it turns out, I managed to forget that I had committed myself to the easiest contribution and on the day-of I noticed on the calendar that I had scribbled: "Be cute for preschool," in what looked like a menacing, drunken script. With minutes to spare I mad-frantic hacked up some cheddar and threw it in, of all things, a Ziplock bag, complete with a paper plate (admittedly, weak choices) and a bag of Stone Wheat Thins. Not quite what I had envisioned providing for the merriment of my son's first preschool celebration, but I assumed it would be good enough. Needless to say, whilst funneling into the classroom I couldn't help, but observe the amazing spread of wholesome and delectable treats making there way in, held proudly above the makers shoulders as they unzipped the coats of their children with one hand. I cringed, my entire body shrunk, when I saw the other mother's cheese platter complete with a variety of fromage choices cut out in seasonal shapes and figures (we're talking about pumpkins and acorns here people) with a wide selection of cracker pairings attractively displayed on a carved wooden serving dish.

Head down, I slinked to the food table, infant car seat bumping along my shin as I shuffled my pathetic remains forward. I casually placed my offering on the table providing no eye contact and no conversation, so not to draw attention to myself and in hope of it all going unnoticed. I left embarrassed and upon return home, I debriefed with my father, who had arrived for his shift as assigned support person, present to intervene should I fatigue, hemorrhage, or melt down to the point of being unable to parent. Another mother failure, I reported. Sucked it up hard at today's cute mom attempt, I confessed. Patiently, he heard my ridiculousness and shallow musings about the mom race.

Fortunately, by pick up time, I had snapped out of it. Eff it, I had decided. In the classroom I confidently collected my child and scanned the food table to see if any leftovers required gathering. There it was… my 'effort', untouched. Even the children knew it was a flop. I shrugged it off and then marched over, scooped it up, and made our way to the car. My father having accompanied me for the ride was still in the car with baby. He wisely remained silent as I wrestled my sugar-high boy into his car seat and then collapsed into the driver's side with a whine- rejected snack in lap.A few minutes later he broke the silence. "So..." he began, tentatively, "It all came back."

Just then before I could reply, the big boy asked for a snack. "Well, looky here son," I replied, "I happen to have some crackers and cheese ready, just for you." My dad and I, delirious, laughed the ride home.And then: Valentine's Day. You'd think that months later I would be healed from the ego wounds I suffered so many months ago. Well perhaps I have. This said, the depths of my vanity are profound and I have been waiting for months to redeem myself. And now that I am content, can walk with some grace, and generally function like a regular woman, I did. I participated in some role-play and put on the ol' apron. I read and re-read the recipe. I measured, mixed, and swore. I created havoc, and cookies. I dressed myself nicely, walked my son in proudly, and placed the platter down whilst engaging as many people as possible. I returned, sure that my treats would have been well appreciated. And they were.

P.S. I realized that my cookies looked like Pinterest cookies after they made friends with the blender. Whatever. The point is I baked something, all by myself, the end product resembled a Valentine's cookie, and they were full of sugar. The good moms might scorn me behind my back for not making something with whole grains or a super food, but the kids apparently liked them and I got a story out of it. Frankly, this adventure turned out better than the last vanity fuelled activity I shamefully participated in. i.e. forcing my engagement and wedding band on my sausage of a ring finger trying to prove to myself that I had lost enough baby weight to get away with it. In the end, my finger went numb, purple, and swelled up until it looked like an angry penis. The rings had to be cut off. No word of a lie.

Heather is a married mother of two and an allied health professional living in the greater Vancouver area. She is the author of motheryourbusiness.com and writes because words make her happy.

Children Teach Us Many Things

My love of writing started in my early teens via two vessels: Judy Blume’s "Are you there God, it’s me Margaret" and Salt N Pepa’s "Very Necessary" cassette tape.  I pretended to be a music journalist and wrote an "album review" for the latter in my diary!  My thirsting desire for written matter whether it be poetry or biographies has led me to this; my first post here on UrbanBaby & Toddler. New beginnings are always exciting.  A fresh clean slate. With motherhood, I find that there is always a new beginning, from your child's first tooth, to the first day of Kindergarten.  As a former Salsa Babies and Salsa Tots instructor, I have been blessed to witness many beginnings; from newborns snuggled in the baby carriers to these same newborns coming with their Moms to Salsa Tots as toddlers!   

One of my favourite quotes is "The days are long, but the years are short."  Being a mother to a child who in a span of 6 years went from a bald baby to an energetic curly haired boy, well nothing else makes that quote more undeniable. As for myself, well 6 years ago, I had no clue where the baby aisle was in the grocery store, let alone could explain to you what lactating meant.
With new beginnings, comes change.  Last summer, the playgrounds were replaced by the skateboard park.  Bye bye monkey bars and see saws, hello skate board ramps, rails, and polysporin.  How many times were we there last summer? A lot. So much so that when we arrived one afternoon, this kid got up from my "spot" because he knew that's where I sat.

 As a mother, there is nothing more heartwarming than witnessing my son smile when he's accomplished something he once had difficulty in. He had moments where he kept falling, but the next day there he was, band aid in place, attempting it again with the same hunger as the previous day. Children are so resilient, no?  As I found myself mesmerized with his tenacity, I discovered that there are life lessons to be found while watching children at the skate park.

1. When you fall down, get back up and try again.
2. You can still get hurt even when you protect yourself.
3. Acknowledge those you admire (i.e. "Dude, that was awesome!")
4. If you don't ask for help, you won't get help.
5. When going uphill, push hard. When you get to the top, it's alright to exclaim "I knew I could do that!"
6. You'll never know until you try.
7. If you don't make it up that hill today, there's always tomorrow.
8. Don't cut people off.
9. Be patient.
10. Savour each moment.

Looking back on last year, you can either regret not doing things or you can think, "I still want to accomplish that!"  Are you longing for a career change or thinking of taking up a new hobby? As for me, it has always been a goal of mine to return to boxing, but feared that my years away from it had left me rusty. But when my gym started offering classes, I took it as a sign and I seized the opportunity.  Now I can't imagine my week without it!

Here's to our children. As much as we are raising them, they are raising us. Let's follow their lead and zest for life and keep on getting back up every time we fall down.

To a year full of moments well lived!
With Love & Gratitude,
Joan

Real Acts of Caring (RAC) in the Tri-Cities Grows

Staff and students at Maple Creek in Port Coquitlam are making great efforts to spread kindness in their community. Students have requested the week of February 10 to 16^th, 2013, to be proclaimed as RAC Week.  The communities which have passed proclamations in the Tri-cities are Port Coquitlam, Anmore, Belcarra and Port Moody.  Coquitlam (who doesn’t pass proclamations) is also very supportive of RAC.  Students from local schools (Maple Creek, Kwayhquitlum, Harbour View, Scott Creek, Panorama, Anmore and Mountain Meadows) made presentations to the local city and village councils. The idea is to spread RAC around the community and to have people thinking about doing kind things for others and not to expect anything back in return.  The goal is to make RAC a part of people's everyday life and not just a week within the year. 

RAC was started by a group of grade 4/5 students at Central Elementary, along with their counsellor, Harriette Chang in 2005.  It was originally called RAK (Random Acts of Kindness) but this name was copyrighted so students decided to change it to Real Acts of Caring.  These students are now in grade 11 and 12 and are still working hard to spread RAC around the community.  Students and classes around the district will be participating in RAC activities during February 10^th-16^th. 

It is amazing how the idea of doing something kind for others quickly spreads and the past seven years have presented many opportunities for the students to experience the domino effect of kindness. After students randomly bought strangers coffee they were very surprised to see what happened. “We saw adults start to buy coffee for each other and many donated back to the class so that we could RAC more people,” exclaimed Shayla Turner, a student at Maple Creek. “It made me feel really good to see it passed on and I felt like my job was done.”

This year Maple Creek students are doing an all day RAC field trip, which includes going to Glen Pine Seniors Centre on February 14th to sing songs and bring cards and flowers to the seniors. On the 15th the students will be starting off at Starbucks where they have raised over $200 per class, of their own money to buy strangers coffee. They will be doing crafts with Kindergarten students at Meadowbrook and Glen Elementary and then the students will be going out into the community to RAC fire stations, police stations, city halls, schools, hospitals, the mall, street corners and whatever comes to mind! “I believe the most important thing that I can teach a child is to be a caring, kind and compassionate individual,” says Melissa Burdock, a grade 6/7 French Immersion teacher at Maple Creek. “This field trip has them doing exactly that and they get to experience firsthand how wonderful it feels.”

For more information on RAC please contact:

Melissa Burdock mburdock@sd43.bc.ca 604-464-8581
Harriette Chang hchang@sd43.bc.ca or 604-464-8581

Children Are Miracles

Most people reading this are parents, I'm sure. However, parent or not, chances are you've heard the overused phrase "children are miracles". I have been told this time and time again, but I don't think it ever really sank in until recently.

I found myself unexpectedly pregnant young, but after the initial shock wore off, excitement set in and I remembered thinking, wow, I am growing a baby. How cool? After our first daughter was born we felt "blessed" and had a sense of being complete. We then went on to have our second daughter who then made these feelings multiply and grow stronger. It's easy to take the whole getting pregnant, nine months of growing a child, labor, birth and baby routine for granted because the process is so natural and happens hundreds of thousands of times a day all over the world. It's especially easy to take your children for granted once they're born and along comes an endless amount of crying and tantrums, and once they're older; attitude and defiance. For myself anyway, the miracle aspect of having children didn't come to mind until my situation wasn't so "normal" and easy anymore. It's so unbelievably heartbreaking to know how many people have such difficulties having children.

On October 5th, 2012 I was in a hospital room on what had started out as one of the happiest days of my life. Laying there, exhausted and sore after a long nine months of a hard pregnancy and a super long natural labor. Holding my baby boy, I was in a trance, staring at the clock on the wall, with blurry tear filled eyes for what seemed like an eternity. The sight of it, now burned into my memory, I remember focusing on the slow ticking hand that was almost taunting me as I counted minute by minute how long it had been since my son was born, and how long it had been since he took his last breath.  I couldn't stop thinking about how badly I wanted to rip the clock off the wall and manually change the hands back to when he was alive as if that would change the outcome, but the logical side of my brain (a very small part at this time) kept telling me it wasn't possible.

During the months that have followed is when I have most heard the phrase "children are miracles". We have been given no answers or even the slightest guess as to what happened to our "perfect and normal son". The doctors, midwives and coroner have all explained that sometimes, "these things just happen with no explanation," chalked up as a mystery and everyone then goes on to tell me everything that has to take place from conception to birth and what has to come together perfectly for a baby to thrive, as if being given this information would somehow lessen my grief. I am not sharing my story to scare anyone, but more as encouragement for the difficulties that come as being a parent. It's so easy to get wrapped up in the exhaustion from the sleepless nights, the picky eaters, and from the little tornadoes that make a clean house utterly impossible.

The countless frustrations of the terrible twos (and threes, and fours, and fives ... my oldest is five so I don't know what happens after this.), the talking back, little bodies full of attitude and the meltdowns from not being allowed a play date every waking moment of every day. I have learned that children are absolutely 100% a miracle to be thankful for no matter what their mood. Their existence is a phenomenon and their being is obviously so meant to be, with a plan and a purpose. Life is so busy and it is so easy to be consumed by stress, money, your job and everything else that comes up in our lives, but I encourage you today to slow down. Count your blessings, think about what's really important and hold your babies tight while they still let you.

By Jen Stewart mother of three, Bremmy, Vienna and Lincoln 10/2012 our angelwww.myhappilyeverafterstewartedition.wordpress.com

The Importance of “Me Time”

Before writing my first blog post, I thought I would take a moment to introduce myself. My name is Shianne and I am a 25 year old, single mother, to a beautiful, happy, full of energy, six month old boy, named Kaiden . He has completely changed my world and no matter how many dirty diapers I have to change, how many times I get pooped on, peed on or puked on, I wouldn’t change motherhood for anything.

I consider myself to be a young mom. Most of my friends are still immature, partying on the weekends and trying to remember who, or what they did the night before. They are nowhere near being ready to settle down, or even think about bringing a baby into this world. There are times that I wish my days could go unplanned. That I didn’t have to schedule doctor appointments, play dates and mom’s groups a week in advance. I wish I could sleep in until noon, wake up, decide I want to hit the slopes and then go for dinner and see a late movie, calling it a night at 4am. I wish I could still have “me time.”

For the first four months of my son’s life, the concept of “me time” was nonexistent. I literally spent every waking second with my son. I had zero balance in my life and at the end of those four months, I had driven myself crazy. So crazy I probably could have been committed. I could not go anywhere without him, I could not enjoy my night when he went to sleep at 7pm because I had to check on him every five minutes, and I had a hard time sleeping once I put him in his crib in his own room. I was insane. The idea of having five minutes to myself was ridiculous. I had a laundry pile as high as Mount Everest waiting for me, the floors had to be scrubbed of fallen food, spit up, and the waterfall of drool my son left behind, and the toys had to be put away before I slipped, fell down the stairs and broke my leg. Spare time did not exist in my life.
 

I had a lot of hobbies during my pregnancy. One of them being scrap booking. One day, while Kaiden was peacefully asleep in his crib, and I was finally able to enjoy five minutes before he telepathically read my mind that mommy was going to do something for herself and start crying, I pulled out an unfinished scrap book from my travels the year prior. All of a sudden, the urge to reflect on my adventures and complete the project, overwhelmed me. I slowly started to get back the passion for the “me time” I once had. Kaiden is now six months old, and I have finally found the balance I need, and am able to enjoy the “me time” I so desperately need. Although my motherly duties are never finished, I make sure I take time out of my day, everyday, to do something that I enjoy. Whether it is a nice relaxing bath when he goes for a nap, or reading a few pages of my book when he’s in his Exersaucer, or whether it is watching a movie with a big bag of popcorn, in the dark, alone on my couch when he goes down for the night. Having that time to myself each day makes me feel more balanced and makes me an overall happy person.

So to all you moms out there who think that you are “too busy” to spare a few minutes each day to enjoy some “me time,” I give you permission to put down the pile of laundry, stop cleaning, and stop putting everyone else’s needs ahead of your own, even if it is just for five minutes, and do something that YOU enjoy. Go on, I dare you...