What about your friends?

I recently met up with some old friends from high school and we made concrete plans to meet-up again and agreed to get together more often. One of those “get togethers” is going to the NKOTB Main Event concert with special guests TLC and Nelly. So this weekend I took a little trip down memory lane and listened to some TLC. One of my favorite songs was/is “What about your friends” and it really got me thinking.

Not to be overly dramatic but the past 3 years have been really difficult for me. I had people in my life that I thought were friends for life basically disappear on me and when I was in their presence treat me like the I had the plague. I had a nightmarish pregnancy due to HG (Hyperemesis Gravidarum), and then my life drastically changed when I became a mom and while I was trying to figure it all out I faced serious financial struggles due to government red tape that left me with little to no maternity leave pay. It was 3 years filled with rumours, lies, hurt, physical pain, emotional struggles and anger.

But if all of that taught me anything it taught me that my true friends never left me. People who I may not have seen or really spoke to in almost 20 years were there to support me; friends I neglected to make time for other people not only showed up, but held me up. Friends who saw me struggling reached out to make sure I knew that I wasn’t alone and that all the crap that was surrounding me was just that…crap. They made me stop doubting my worth, or who I was and that the reason they were still there was BECAUSE of who I was. And all the crap, especially the friend crap came into perspective and I can’t thank those people enough for it. Continue reading

Backseat Parenting: advice/comments that cross the line

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Have you ever been in a situation where someone began to parent your kid in front of you and their style of parenting was not in line with yours? Or what about people who are constantly telling you how to raise your child? Or telling you it’s time to transition your child from breast to bottle? How about informing you that it’s high time you began potty training or *gasp* cross the line and implement their “recommendations” after you have repeatedly and politely declined wanting to do “insert task/advise” at this time (or ever)? I think this has happened to many of us (if not all) and the bigger problem is: How do you handle it?

One of the many things I love about my daycare provider is that she asks what we are doing at home so we can all be on the same page – she works with us to maintain consistency in Henry’s life – which almost everyone can agree is what is best for any child. I know that while I am at work if Henry throws a toy at another person or breaks down the baby gate to implement his escape plan that starts with traversing the stairs (yes, that actually happened) he will get a time-out or the toy taken from him. That’s what we discussed and that’s how I would handle it at home. I can see that these efforts at both daycare and home are working because Henry is “getting it”. He knows that if he does something at home or daycare there is a warning (depending on the offense) and that warning is “If you do that again you will get a time-out. Do you want a time-out?” and when he’s home the answer is a very emphatic “No Mama. No time-out.”

But there have been times when I am with friends or family members who may have had children or not and they have taken it upon themselves to step in and start “parenting”. Henry will start to act up/throw a tantrum and I will begin to handle it in our parenting style, which is a cross between a lot of different methods. I am firm and let him know I am there but I don’t coddle him or give into him. I want him to understand that he can’t always have what he wants when he wants it and if he does want something that the way to get it (if it’s appropriate) is by using his words/actions positively not by throwing a fit. But I have friends/family members undermine me by giving him what he wants or baby talking/coddling him when I am trying to parent him. It’s frustrating, yes, but it’s not going to turn him into a serial killer. So instead of creating a bigger issue I let it go. Continue reading

Diary of a Working Mom: My life as a working Mom

10933942_10155080870255321_4007292640116676330_nMy alarm goes off every weekday at 6:15am, but I don’t need it. I have already been up since 5:45am, like clockwork because since pregnancy that has been my “pee time”. No matter when I have my last glass of liquid or how many times I pee before bed that is the time my bladder decides that it needs to relieve itself.

I groggily make my way to the bathroom to shower, brush my teeth, get dressed and do my hair and make-up. By 7am I hear my husband’s alarm go off and I am ready to go – but I can’t just walk out the door and head off to work and start my day because there is another sound I have been faintly hearing for the last 10 minutes. It’s the sound of my son babbling in his bedroom ready and waiting for me to burst into his room with a big smile and a very cheery “Good Morning!”

No matter how crappy I feel, no matter how tired I am, no matter how deep the hole from which I just crawled out from, I always want to make sure he starts his day with a smile and a cheery Good Morning from his Mama. Some mornings he’s just as cheery, and some he too is tired and groggy but our day still has to begin. I scoop him up and give him the biggest hug I have been dying to give him for the last 12 hours, because as much as I do enjoy the few quiet moments I have after he goes to bed and all the “chores” are done, I still miss him and want to go and snuggle him and play with him. It makes me feel a little bi-polar sometimes, this yearning for “me” time, but this need/want to always be with him. I ask him how he slept, I am not sure of his answer. He’s only just over a year and a half and let’s face it, even if I think he has a vast vocabulary for his age he’s still “baby talking” a lot of the time or merging a bunch of nonsensical words together, like this morning “Pouch peanut butter Elmo moo cow. Yes, snow. Oooo Paw Patrol bum No Odd Squad cuddle”. He must be my kid because even though it makes no sense he talks a mile a minute. Continue reading