Party on! It's potty time!

Okay, so I know I promised I would never blog about potty training...but I say a lot of things that I later regret. And the reason I have to write about this is that I'm not actually potty training...at least I wasn't until today.

For the past few weeks, "Buddy" my son's bestie at daycare, has been starting to use the potty. Naturally, if Buddy's doing it, my son is intrigued. So any time the other little guy would go do his business in the bathroom, it was "me too" for my son. He experimented for awhile, sitting down, getting a feel for having the porcelain breeze under his bum. But he never did anything. Every time his daycare teacher would report this to me, I would ask if we should start doing anything at home. She said no, that he wasn't really ready yet. So I did nothing. And I mean nothing.

Sure, I bought all the paraphernalia months ago. I have two potties (one which sings and flushes), a sticker chart and a boatload of stickers, two different Elmo potty books and of course, Elmo's Potty Time DVD. I have have a book about potty training in Greek! You know, just in case he didn't understand in English. While the books and DVD have been explored and the potties have been sat upon and test driven, I never once actually tried to start officially training my son. I figured when the time was right, we would start.

The thing is, I've been dreading it a bit. Of course I don't love changing diapers, especially the stinky ones, but I must admit that I enjoy the relative freedom that comes with diapers. It's just so easy and effortless. Plus everyone always says that boys are slow to potty train and that he could even be 3 years old before it happens. So we have been in no rush to actually start.

Well, that all changed today because the daycare told me that he used the potty. Twice! Woohoo, it's potty time!

Part of me is ecstatic that he did it, and on his own, to boot. The other part of me dreading what comes next. Lots of wet clothes, venturing into public washrooms with him, the unpredictability of when he will need to go and where will we be? We have a road trip next weekend...what do I do about that?!

The other thing that's freaking me out is that I have no idea how to do this. I'm a planner. I like to read up on how to do things and prepare mentally. I have read nothing on the subject of potty training. In my state of denial, I blindly procrastinated about reading how to potty train. Maybe it's for the best though... Reading about how to do things never once helped me before. Certainly not when it came to sleep training! Maybe I'm not the best at following instructions anyway.

And what about Pull Ups? Some say yes to them, others say no... I don't even know why!

So many questions, my head is spinning. Wish me luck, it's time for me to start Googling "potty training."

 

You know you have a two-year-old son when…

As a kid, I was a girly-girl. I loved Barbies, Cabbage Patch Kids, Strawberry Shortcake, Care Bears and My Little Ponies. I did not like sports. Or any physical activity, really. I would play in my pink bedroom and pretend to be a mother, or draw pictures of princesses or imagine myself in a glamorous career, like becoming a fashion designer.

I’m still a bit of a girly-girl to this day, although I have since dropped the Barbies and I never really pursued my dream of being a fashion designer. And despite loving dressing in my mother’s high heels as a kid, I have a secret hatred of heels now (but it doesn’t stop me from wearing them).

So needless to say, when I found out that I was pregnant with a boy, I was a little concerned about raising a son and all the “boy stuff” that comes with it. I couldn’t help but think, ugh, this means a lifetime of hockey and Transformers, and playing with trucks and dirt and other yucky stuff. I was a bit disappointed that shopping for clothes would be more boring and that I would be missing out on the fun of having a little girly-girl of my own.

I got over those initial, admittedly shallow, thoughts pretty quickly. Everyone reassured me that boys are wonderful because they love their mommies and that while boys can be a handful as children they are way easier as teenagers. Yes, yes, I know they just were trying to make me feel better, but it worked.

Lately I came to realize, all that “boy stuff” is starting to grow on me… Here are a few signs that you know you have a two-year-old son:

- You get excited when you see a school bus or any kind of truck on the road…the holy grail of these sightings is the elusive fire truck, which does not make an appearance that often. Bonus points if its sirens are wailing. Double bonus points (for mommy) if the firemen are cute. Deduct points if you’re driving and you see a school bus and want to point it out to someone…but you’re alone in the car.

- When you get into your car and start the engine, the radio is usually blaring the Raffi CD your son insisted on making you play (that’s code for whined until you gave in).

- You eagerly plan a weekend getaway 3 months from now to a tiny town in the middle of nowhere 4 hours away because you know that Thomas the Tank Engine will be making an appearance there. Okay, maybe because there are outlet malls nearby as well.

- The theme song to Handy Manny plays in your head, night and day.

- You have matchbox cars in the bottom of your purse at any given time.

- You consider the Mr. Clean Magic Eraser to be the greatest invention of all time.

- You have perfected the art of imitating all animals that roar, like lions, tigers and bears (oh my!) Also in my son’s case, sharks. Because he thinks they roar.

- You chuckle along with your son’s burgeoning sense of toilet humour when he laughs after letting out a burp and announcing it to you.

- You no longer sigh longingly at all the adorable dresses and cute girl clothes in kids’ stores. Okay, maybe just for a second. Fortunately I have several nieces to buy presents for.

Yeah, maybe having a boy is not such a gross, snot-filled adventure after all…. And my son has let me release my inner tomboy in ways I never knew existed. Wouldn’t you know, I kinda like that inner tomboy!

Separation Anxiety

As I write this, I’m sitting in my hotel room in one of the most beautiful and scenic places I’ve ever been, Lake Louise in Alberta. Surrounded by the beautiful Rocky Mountains, fresh clean air and yes, I’m gloriously alone. You would think that this mother of a vivacious two-year-old boy would welcome the time away from home, the opportunity to sleep through the night uninterrupted and to have some precious alone time in a beautiful location (albeit while travelling for business). But all I feel is a little pang of sadness in my chest. I miss my son.

I’m not worried about him and I’m not stressed about how my husband is managing at home.  Of course all that is totally fine. When my husband has travelled on business, I was just fine too. Considering that I don’t get a moment alone at home, that I can’t even go to the bathroom without an audience, you would think that I would relish this time away.

But I miss my son’s laugh, his hugs and kisses, his funny little sayings and actions. I am seeing other toddlers with their parents and the things they are saying and doing remind me of my little guy. Although I have loved my son since the day he was born, I sometimes feel like I love him a little more every day. Except during those moments where he makes me want to scream and put him into a straight-jacket or cover his mouth with duct tape. Which happens pretty often. But the rest of the time, as he grows from the baby that he was into a little person, he makes me laugh and it fills my chest with sparkling champagne bubbles of joy.  

My husband and I decided to organize a last-minute weekend getaway to New York City next weekend and some people have asked us if we are leaving our son at home (not alone, obviously!) But we are not ready to go away without him. Yes, he drives us crazy sometimes, and let’s face it, a six-hour car ride with a two-year old does not promise to be much fun. But we don’t want a getaway from him; we want a getaway with him.  We spend enough time apart during the week when we are a

t work and he’s at daycare.

The hardest part of this week’s travel away from home was being on a four and a half hour flight and not being able to communicate with my husband or talk to my son. As the plane landed, I was like a junkie who needed a fix as I dialled home. Just in time, too, as my little guy was just about to go to bed.

While I’ve left him overnight, I don’t think I’ve ever been further away alone than a two-hour drive from home since he was born, so I guess this is a milestone I have to get through. But when I get home Sunday morning, you can bet that I will be happy to see that little guy again!

No matter what your full-time job is....you're a great Mom

Not long ago, I shared a picture on Facebook that I found amusing. The picture features two women having coffee and one says “I hear you. Raising kids and running a house keeps me busy too. I also have this little gig on the side called a full-time job."

A few days later, I got a message from a friend who is a stay-at-home mom. She has a great sense of humour and is definitely not the kind of person who is sensitive or easily offended. But in her message, she very eloquently told me that she was bothered by the image because the joke draws a line in the sand about something she felt moms need to stop fighting about. I guess that something is “who has it harder – moms who work outside of the home, or stay at home moms?”

I found her message very enlightening and realized that it was a pretty insensitive thing to post. I’m pretty new to this whole mom gig, so I didn’t realize that moms actually competed or fought about this question. The fact is that I actually think being a stay-at-home mom is way harder!

I hope my friend won’t mind my paraphrasing but what she said was that she thinks both ways are hard. Most of the time, it’s not really a choice but a reflection of the way things are in our lives. 

For example, where I live in Quebec, daycare is extremely affordable but salaries are generally lower. So it makes it difficult financially for one parent to stay home with their children. In other parts of Canada and in the US, daycare costs are exorbitant; so many mothers have to stay home with their children. Another friend of mine once told me that if she were to go back to work and send her children to daycare, she would essentially be working to pay for daycare. At that point, why bother sending kids to daycare when you can provide them the best possible care yourself?

Then there are those of who have worked for a long time to advance our careers before having kids. There are feelings of fear associated with staying home with pre-school aged children. How will five years (minimum) out of the workforce hold me back from advancing my career? Will I still be employable after that time? Will my networks dry up? Will people forget about me? I admit that I like the idea of being a stay at home mom and while the main reason I work is financial, I would hate to lose everything I have worked for in my career so far. There is still a lot I want to do, and I definitely fear putting my career on hold for more than a typical maternity leave.

Sometimes I feel like by working outside the home full-time, I’m missing out on spending time with my son. When I first returned to work from maternity leave, I found it so hard to focus on working. I was too used to focusing on being a mother 24/7 and had a hard time remembering that anything else is important. But that’s the kind of job mothering is – full time with very few breaks. After a few months, I grew accustomed to this new schedule and I must admit - I thoroughly enjoy dropping my son off in the morning and picking him up at the end of the day. Talking to adults for the rest of the day is infinitely easier!

Juggling motherhood, a home and a career is hard work. Trust me, and read any of my previous posts. It’s not easy. I am definitely struggling with it. But I can assure you that I think focusing on motherhood and a home full-time is just as hard, if not harder.

So why are we competing with each other? Why do women feel the need to fight and one-up each other all the time? When did the realm of motherhood become this way? As my friend pointed out, whether you stay home with your children or leave the home to work, we're alike in the feelings of guilt and doubt that we allow ourselves to feel. These are the modern day results of feminism making us feel like we have to do it all instead of it all being about choices opened up for us. I suspect that even if you have a full-time nanny, housekeeper and a part-time career, chances are if you are a woman you will find something to feel guilty about.

Ladies, we are all Supermoms, no matter how we do it. On that note, I will be sure to think twice before posting that kind of picture again!

Hurricane Mom

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When I was much younger and just starting out in my career, I had a colleague that I would refer to secretly as “The Hurricane Mom.” She was a bright, intelligent, talented and hard-working woman but she had a full-time career, two young children and always seemed to be completely harried. As a young, unmarried, childless woman, I vowed never to let myself become a Hurricane Mom myself. I was so naïve.

More than ten years later, my life (and outlook) has changed significantly. I am now married with a young child, and I have an established career that makes me literally sleep with my BlackBerry. I love my life, but I understand now that it’s not easy. Stress can creep up on you from every angle and make your chest hurt in the middle of the night if you let it.

I’m usually awake before 6 am every day and before leaving the house at 8 am, have to get myself and my son ready, prep breakfast for all of us, send my husband off with his coffee and newspaper and yes, cook tonight’s dinner. If I’m lucky, I can get a chance to empty the dishwasher so the evening’s cleanup is not so painful. While all that is going on, I have one eye trained on the BlackBerry to see if the blinking red light is signalling anything urgent.

Does this routine sound familiar to you? I’m sure it does.

But wait – not only is managing the day-to-day stuff challenging enough on its own. Then there’s the extra stuff that I feel like I need to do to ensure that I am keeping up with super-mom status… if I ever get to it, which is rare. For example, making the annual calendar of photos of my son to add to this year’s Christmas gifts. Preparing little Christmas gifts for my son’s daycare friends. Baking…okay, maybe baking is a stretch. I blame Martha Stewart and Pinterest for making me feel like I need to go above and beyond making sure my family is properly fed and clothed.

You might be asking yourself – where is your husband in all of this? Surely you’re not alone in managing everything. Fair question. I am not alone, it’s true. My husband is right beside me, helping with meals, cleanup, bedtime, etc… but when it comes to Martha Stewart ambitions, he looks at me like I’m crazy and implores me to take a break.

So what’s my point in all this ranting? My point is that lately, I’m starting to realize that it’s all too much. This constant pressure to go, go, go is going straight to the place inside my head that makes me crazy. And tired. And anxious. I’m teetering on the verge of becoming Hurricane Mom. And I only have one kid! How do people with more manage it?

In doing some talking with people much smarter than I, the solution it seems lies in making more time for myself. Trying to do things every day that relax me. That doesn’t mean passing out, glassy-eyed, in front of the television at 9 pm. It means do some yoga, go for a run, get a massage, read a book, meditate, chill out.

The first thing I do when I’m told to take more time for myself is give an internal snort. Really?! More time? Where am I supposed to find said time? But the reality is that I can’t take care of others properly if I don’t take care of myself. I know this much is true.

Moms, we cannot let stress make us sick. I know that I’m not alone in this. If my friends’ Facebook posts and Tweets are any indication of how we’re feeling inside, we need to take a break. I don’t want to burn out and be useless. Worse, I don’t want to die of a heart attack before I turn 40.

So I’m asking you – how do you fight stress? What do you do that is just for you? Does it work? Make a cup of coffee, put your feet up and let’s discuss.

A quiet moment

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A few years ago, I used to travel for business fairly regularly. These days I don’t have the opportunity to travel as often, which is appealing to me as the mother of a 17-month-old child. Life is less complicated when you don’t have to leave the house at 7 am to catch an early flight from Montreal to Toronto. Today, I took my first business trip since returning to work from maternity leave. Until last night, I wasn’t too stressed about it. After all, it’s just a day trip for some meetings in Toronto, something I’ve done millions of times.

My own preparation for the trip involved absolutely nothing.  In fact, less than for a normal day at work, since I had no lunch or gym bag to pack, no errands to plan for on the way into the office. I simply needed my purse, my laptop and my boarding pass. At the last minute I threw a 3 month old issue of Today’s Parent into my bag in case I found myself with time to read on the plane.

But suddenly last night I remembered my son. Oops. My trip meant that my mother would have to come over early to babysit, I couldn’t prepare his lunch and snacks for the day in the morning like I normally do – and since I would be arriving home later than usual, what the heck was the plan for tonight’s dinner? So I scrambled to get it all done last night after coming home from doing groceries after dinner while my husband looked after putting my son to bed.  

But I’m not complaining. It’s par for the course. Business travel when you have kids requires a little extra planning. No biggie.

What I found disorienting today was the fact that I had forgotten how much time you spend waiting around when you travel. As the mom of a toddler, I just don’t spend time waiting around anymore. I have to-do lists and I am always trying to accomplish something, whether I’m working or I’m home. Idle time is normally planned and scheduled. In other words, if I sit down to watch TV for two hours at night, it’s on purpose.

Even with my blackberry and laptop on me and meetings planned for the day, I still underestimated how much time I found myself with at the airport and on the plane. The kind of time that in the past did not seem to go by as slowly. These days, I am amazed at what I can accomplish in an hour. I can zip through items on a to-do list and multitask like nobody’s business. So once I had accomplished whatever work I could possibly complete, read an entire magazine while chatting about vacation plans with the colleague who was travelling with me, I thought, what the heck am I going to do on the flight home? Especially when I found myself seated next to an empty seat (yes!).

I briefly contemplated taking a nap, which would have been so gratifying. But I’m not a pretty sleeper. I am the person whose head rolls around the seat, mouth open with a trail of drool running down my chin. Since I would like my professional integrity to remain intact for a little longer, I opted against the nap.

There was no in-flight entertainment, since I was travelling aboard a small regional jet on a short flight.

I suppose I could have sat alone with my thoughts for the hour and stared peacefully out the window at the view below, but that would have inevitably led to the abovementioned nap, so that wouldn’t have been a good idea.

So I’m blogging. And as I write this I’m truly amazed by the speed at which I now operate. How many things do I cram into my time now? How hard is it for me to disconnect, really? My mind is constantly racing, thinking, planning, plotting, working. Thinking about projects, assignments, the office, my job, my son, my home, my husband, our plans, our upcoming vacation, what we have do at home, what’s for dinner, what’s planned for the weekend,  finding time to go to the gym, what I’m going to write about in my blog, when I’m going to find the time to write my blog, what’s happening on Facebook, when will I read this month’s book club selection, and oh, I have to remember to fill in my son’s forms for daycare before August 6^th.

Whew. I’m exhausted. Maybe I will take that nap after all.

Is this really all we talk about anymore?

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My husband and I are pretty gaga over our 16-month old son. I think that’s pretty obvious to anyone who reads this blog on a regular basis. But we really try hard not to be those overbearing people who will talk about their children non-stop with others, especially at the office. We each have a few colleagues with children the same age as ours that we can secretly engage in toddler chat with, but aside from that we make a concerted effort not to be “those people”.

So when he calls me on his lunch break or while stuck in traffic on the way home, the first thing we start talking about is our son. “How was he today?” “My mom said he napped for an hour and a half this afternoon!” “He really needs a new pair of shoes; we should go pick them up tonight.” “He threw his food all over the floor today at lunch.”

Or better yet, when we’re really feeling mushy, it’s “remember how cute it was when he laughed this morning?” or “He’s so funny when he imitates trucks.”

Last week, as I was finishing some story about how our son had banged on the window and waved at some strangers walking down the street, my husband interrupted me and said “Is this really all we talk about anymore?” I paused, thought for a moment and replied “Yup.”

And it’s true; we really don’t talk about much of anything else anymore. Come to think of it, what did we talk about before he was born? I really don’t remember…

If I think about where we were and what we were talking about a year ago at this time, I very clearly remember being obsessed with my lack of sleep. Since I was on maternity leave and my son was still young and relatively quiet (i.e. not the rambunctious toddler he is today), I would spend hours reading books and blogs about baby sleep habits, baby development milestones, learning about introducing solids, taking pictures of everything and scrutinizing his diapers.

Today, being the busy working mom that I am, when I’m at work, I’m thinking about work. When I’m not at work, I’m mentally running through to-do lists, schedules, and meal plans. But who wants to talk about any of that stuff? It stresses me enough just thinking about it, I don’t need to verbalize it all too.

Plus my son is at a really fun age, where he does funny things, is trying out new skills and slowly working on learning to speak. He can be really frustrating sometimes, but he’s also really amazing to observe as he becomes a little person. He’s not a baby anymore and it’s amazing to watch the transition. Since most days, we’re not home all day with him to enjoy it all it stands to reason that we want to talk about it, right?

Or at least that’s how I justify it to myself…

But just the same, we now try to inject our conversations with at least some non-work-related, non-child-related items. Sometimes it’s just about the weather, but at least we can tell ourselves that we’re not “those people” at home either.

PS – I fully enjoy being one of those people, by the way, so if you’re not annoyed by it, let me know and I’ll keep talking!

Fitness Funk

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Like many women, I’m carrying around a few extra pounds that I gain and lose every few years, depending on what’s going on my life. I’m a classic yo-yo dieter. Just before getting pregnant two years ago, I lost 15 pounds by committing to exercising four times a week and really healthy eating. It was one of the first times in my life that I wasn’t on a “diet” to lose weight but through sheer motivation and willpower, stuck to a healthy way of life and benefitted.

Then I got pregnant and well, turned into a heifer. Fifty-five pounds later, my son was born. Eeesh. The thing is - it was easy to lose the baby weight. Between breastfeeding, not having time to eat, and not sitting at a desk all day for a year, I went right back down to my pre-baby weight and even lower. I was so proud of myself and thought, hey - that was easy! Running around after a baby turned out to be a pretty good way to get back in shape. 

Since returning to work, I’ve spent most of my days sitting down at a computer screen and the rest of the time passed out on my couch in sheer exhaustion. I easily packed back on 20 pounds in the past four months. But until recently, I couldn’t find the time to exercise. Having a toddler pretty much saps your free time. I’m usually up at 6 am, running around until I get to work at 8:30, picking up my son by 5 pm, making dinner, feeding / bathing him, getting him ready for his 7 pm bedtime. After 7, it’s my time to catch up on cleanup, prep for the next day and then hopefully two merciful hours of couch time before bed. So when on earth am I supposed to find time to exercise?

Thank goodness I work for a company that has an amazing setup for work-life balance, including a gym on site and fitness classes at lunchtime. So I've been trying to do the lunch thing. But even then, when work is busy, there’s just not much time.  Pre-baby, I used to be one of those annoying people who would preach that you have to make time to exercise. Post-baby, I’m exasperated and frustrated and feeling like there’s not enough time in the day to take care of myself and get back to a happy weight. I now fully understand mothers who say that 24 hours in a day just isn’t enough.

So moms, I am asking you now – do you find (or “make”) time for exercise? How do you do it? Any tips for a fellow mommy who wants to get back on the fitness train?

PS – I used to be an avid reader of those fitness magazines like Women’s Health that would motivate me to move my behind. Now they just depress me. I will admit, I’m in a fitness funk and I want out!

Working hard...or hardly working?

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It's been a hectic month at work. The kind that keeps me in meetings all day, and when not in meetings I'm scrambling to be productive, meet deadlines, answer e-mails and try hard not to ignore my to-do list. In the old days (pre-baby) I would have just gone into the office earlier or worked later if I needed to catch up. But now that I have a toddler that I only see for about 4 hours on the average weekday, extending my office hours just aren't an option. I know lots of other parents at work who simply leave the office at 5 pm, go home to their kids, feed/bathe/play with/ and put them to bed, then log on to their laptops and work from 9 - 11 pm. I wish I could do that, but quite frankly, most nights my husband and I are both passed out on the couch by 9 pm.

Last week my mother (who babysits my son) had an appointment that required me to stay home with my son and spend the morning working from home. I knew it could either go really well or really badly. I had a few conference calls that I knew I could manage while watching him play and then I figured I could be productive while he napped. On a good day, this is sometimes possible. I've done it and it's worked. But last week, my son had other plans. He was not in the mood to cooperate with my ideas. I guess he was excited to be spending the morning with mommy, so why on earth would he want to nap? So he didn't. And I spent more time that morning trying to make him nap than getting any work done. And the more time I spent trying to get him to nap, the more frustrated I got. My mind was on my inbox and my projects. I was not in the mood to read Mr. Brown Can Moo, Can You for the fifth time that morning. He was in the mood to buzz around the kitchen and bang on pots and pans. I snapped at him several times. It wasn't pretty. 

So when I dropped him off at my mother's and finally got back to the office that afternoon, I was actually happy to have a cup of coffee and sit at my desk in (relative) peace. But by the end of the afternoon, I was feeling awfully guilty about the way I'd behaved with my son. Poor kid was just excited to have some extra time with me, and I spent most of it losing my temper. I probably should have just cut my losses and spent my morning with him and one eye on my blackberry.

When I picked him up at the end of the day, I gave him a huge hug and covered his face in kisses. I've said it before and I'll say it again - being a working mom is not easy. Thank goodness my son forgives easily! If I've learned one thing since becoming a mother, it's that everything takes longer when you have a toddler. Working from home is just another one of those things. So am I working hard, or hardly working? Both, I guess!  

Mom Mentors Wanted!

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In my social and family circles, we are in the thick of a baby boom.  I fall into the 30 – 35 age range, and this is prime time for baby-making. Seems like every few months, there’s a baby shower to attend or a new baby to visit. I’m not complaining – I love it! It’s a blast having friends and family with children of the same age group and it has opened up a whole new world of social activities, discussions, issues, etc… I even find that I have more in common with colleagues at work now that I have a child. There’s no ice-breaker like trading war stories from the parenting trenches.

Not only am I surrounded by other young, first or second time parents, but I’ve come to realize there’s another tier of fellow parents in my life… those with children aged between 8 and 18 years. These are the parents who have been there, done that, and have the scars to prove it. They are still busy parents but they’ve survived the sleepless nights, potty training, daycare dramas and living through everything for the first time. Thank goodness for these parents. They’re the ones who give the best advice and support because they’re not so far beyond parenting young children that they’ve forgotten what it’s like. I love my parents and in-laws but 30 years later, they don’t remember much about raising little ones. They’re probably still trying to recover from the trauma of raising teenagers and paying for weddings, but I digress.

The mid-stage parents, as I like to call them, are the ones who can listen, offer encouragement and tell you “don’t worry, it gets easier.” They have assured me that while I may never sleep the way I did before I had children, one day I will regain some independence. One day, I won’t have to do every single thing for my child. One day, I will be able to go to the bathroom in peace, or find time to exercise or maybe even take up a hobby. They’re the ones with the awesome recipes that kids love, or the great family-friendly vacation ideas and the strategies for dealing with public temper tantrums. Best of all, they’re the ones who don’t try to tell you how to be a parent; they just smile and say “just do whatever it takes to stay sane.”

It got me thinking – wouldn’t it great if there was a “Mom Mentoring” program, a buddy system of sorts? That would be awesome. There’s probably some kind of money to be made in that idea but heaven knows I’m in no position to start up a business now. It could be like Big Brothers and Big Sisters, but for grown-ups with babies! There’s no handbook on parenting (just a lot of overpriced volumes that usually provide useless advice) but a Mom Mentor would be a great thing. Then, once you’ve passed into a comfort zone with your children, you could become a Mom Mentor yourself! 

I could name a handful of mothers that I know that are amazing role models and “super-women”… wonder if any one of them wants to be my Mom Mentor?

Has motherhood become my hobby?



Source: annetaintor.com via Leticia on Pinterest



Before becoming a mother, I have to admit I didn’t have any crazy hobbies or special interests. I liked to read, travel, cook, shop, and socialize with friends and family… nothing especially noteworthy but I was okay with that. Since becoming a mother, my interests haven’t changed much, although I definitely have changed up what I read, cook, shop for, where I travel and who I socialize with. Because let’s face it, everything has become about my son. The word “family” has taken on a new meaning in my life. It no longer only refers to my parents, siblings, in-laws, etc… Now I apply that label to my own house. I never really thought of my husband and I as family, but now that we’re parents, here we are.

A few weeks after my return to work, I had a business lunch with a consultant whose passion in life are her dogs. In fact, she and her husband train their dogs in the sport of agility (Google it – fascinating!). It was the first time I met this consultant face-to-face so there was a lot of personal chit-chat and so when she asked me what my hobbies and interests were, I was suddenly a little speechless. What, after all, have I done in the past year besides raise my son? And I’m not discrediting that because it’s a full-time job and one that has brought me much joy and pleasure (among other things). It just got me thinking… has motherhood become my hobby?

I returned to the office after lunch and looked around at my colleagues… it should be said that I work in an organization of highly motivated and intelligent people so of course, why would their interests and hobbies be anything less than exceptional? Everywhere I turned, I was surrounded by marathon runners, snowboarders, jazz-choir singers, amateur gourmet chefs, semi-professional cupcake bakers… There are people who spend their vacations volunteering in Tanzania and others who rescue dogs from puppy mills. My boss is an amazing photographer whose photos are visual masterpieces. One of my colleagues is a Martha Stewart-esque master of all things domestic goddess related. Not to mention she has excellent taste in shoes.

Suddenly I felt very ordinary and I started questioning what defines me outside of my work and home life. In fact, I even learned that one colleague asked another colleague to describe me and was told that I am very proud of my Greek heritage. Which is very true, but is that who I am? I know that’s not all there is to me. I’m a blogger… I have a book club… I have a secret wish to one day write a novel. But not everyone knows these things about me.

After mulling over this and having a few conversations with other parents, here’s what I discovered. Being a new parent is an all-consuming job but it’s also an amazing phase of life where you are learning new things every day and navigating uncharted territory on a regular basis. For a few years, it’s normal that life is all about being a parent. Sure, it’s important to have hobbies. It’s definitely essential to feel like there’s something in your life that’s just for you. But maybe now is not the time to focus my energies on that. I’m not saying I won’t make any “me” time in my schedule or do anything for my own personal enjoyment. But if my family is my current hobby, I think that’s pretty healthy too. And if being a mother right now is what defines me, then that’s a label I’m very happy to wear.

When I have more than one child and they’re older and no longer physically dependent on me, I will find some crazy hobby that’s just for me. I, too, will be a superstar who runs marathons while baking cupcakes. But for now, I want to spend all my free time with the loves of my life. My husband and son.

Moms, do you have any special interests? Is motherhood your hobby too? What are your thoughts on how you define yourself outside work and home?

Eight things I learned in one year

Source: 1stwishes.com via Christina on Pinterest

Last week, my son turned one year old. I can’t believe it. The passage of time is so much more striking when you’re watching a child grow. As fully-grown adults, we could go years without really noticing ourselves age. I know I’ve looked at pictures of myself from ten years ago and passively thought “Huh, I looked younger then.”  But babies grow so fast that it’s astonishing how much they change from one month to the next, let alone in a year!

Celebrating my son’s birthday really got me thinking about how much I’ve learned this past year. If there was one year in which I’ve learned a lot, it’s this one! Here’s a very short list of my key learnings in the first year of being a mom:

1.   No matter how many books you read, nothing can truly prepare you for the journey of parenthood. The Baby Whisperer can tell you What to Expect and how to have the Happiest Baby on the Block with the No-Cry Sleep Solution but your baby’s the boss. It is entirely possible that at 3 am, you will be sitting in the dark, mentally composing hate mail to the Baby Whisperer because your baby just doesn’t want to do what she thinks is right.

2.   All babies are different... and yet, they are all the same. File this one under the WTF file. This is the reason that mothers sit around and compare notes on what their babies did that week. This is what sends us into paroxysms of anxiety when our five month-old still hasn’t rolled over but our neighbour’s six month-old is playing pat-a-cake.

3.   Everyone has an opinion about everything. If only I had a dollar for every time someone said “Maybe he’s hungry,” or “He looks ready for a nap,” or my all-time favourite: “If you put him to bed later, maybe he would wake up later/sleep through the night.” But hey, many’s the time I caught myself giving the same kind of advice to others, so as frustrating as it is, I have learned to accept it.

4.   It’s amazing how much time mothers spend thinking about, analyzing, and discussing poop. As one of the only indicators of health in a child who can’t speak, poop is the thing to watch. And sniff. And scrutinize.

5.   The human body has an amazing capacity to function on very little sleep. It doesn’t mean we’ll be nice about it, but we can make it by fairly well on just a few broken hours of shut-eye. But just because we can, doesn’t mean we should!

6.   Anyone who is able to “sleep when the baby sleeps” should be given an award. As the mother of a really lousy sleeper, I barely had time to pee when my baby slept, let alone try to squeeze in a nap. I admire those who are able to do it.

7.   You can really only TRULY appreciate your own mother when you become a mother yourself.  Not only do you gain a newfound respect for everything your mother has done, but grandmothers are an amazing source of help and support. They are a shoulder to cry on when you’ve had a rough day and if you’re lucky, they’ll fold your laundry so you can take a nap. And of course, not many other people will happily spend time sitting and listening to you go on about how amazing your child is. My mother and I shamelessly go on to each other about how wonderful and adorable my son is because, quite frankly, we can. And we know that we can’t do it with anyone else so it’s our own little guilty pleasure.

8.   All things pass in time. Take the most horrible, sleep-deprived, spit-up covered, poop exploding diaper day and file it away in the banks of your memory because those days will be gone before you can say “Pampers.” When you’re cursing your decision to become a parent, and you’re looking up the phone number of the nearest orphanage, just remember that whatever terrible phase you’re going through will pass. You will forget until your children are 30 years old with children of their own. And when they ask you “Was I like this as a baby?” you have two choices. You can rub it in their face that yes, they were indeed terrible children who never let you sleep. Or you can claim selective memory and let the past become a blur while you tell them, “You know, I just don’t remember having any sleepless nights with you.” I know I intend to remind my son of every torturous thing he did to me as a baby.

I could go on and on, but I’ll stop here. The one thing that I can honestly say is that my life feels so much more complete now that my son is in it. I’m also more exhausted than I’ve ever been, with more gray hair and some stretch marks that will never go away. But it’s worth it because there is no feeling in the world like the love you feel for your child. And even though I have no idea what the heck I’m doing, he seems to be growing up just fine! Here’s to another great year filled with more amazing experiences...  

Fever Pitch

Baby boy is sick. His first fever hit this week like a ton of bricks and it's no fun for anyone. I'd like to say that my mother's intuition kicked in the second I felt his hot little forehead burning up, but I'm not gonna lie. When it comes to my sick baby, I have no idea what I'm doing!

When to see a doctor? Give him Tempra? Cold compresses? Strip him down or cover him up? Use a humidifier in his room? How to get him to sleep when he seems too uncomfortable? How to get him to eat when he's refusing food? And oh my God, he just pooped when I stuck a thermometer up his bum!

The poor thing doesn't seem to know what he wants either - other than to be in my arms. So we're a confused pair this week, just cuddling our way through this illness.

Thank goodness for mommies. And I don't mean myself, but my own mommy, who came to my rescue today to help me out. She took turns holding Mr. I Just Want Hugs, gave me advice, made us lunch and dinner and kept me company. She also diagnosed him with a stomach flu, after he refused to eat, drink and produced a few nasty diapers.

I've said it before but it bears repeating: I have a newfound appreciation for my mother since becoming one myself. Not only is this the hardest job in the world (and yes, the most rewarding) but when I'm taking care of my baby, she's still there to take care of hers - me.

It may not be Mother's Day but today I'm showing mine all my appreciation. And I know that one day I will follow in her footsteps and be there for my babies, no matter how old they are.

Go outside and play, Mom!

Source: ohbabylondon.com via Christina on Pinterest

New motherhood can be an isolating experience. Yes, it’s true that you’re now joined at the hip with another human being, but until they can talk, the early days of maternity leave can be lonely and boring. Don’t get me wrong, in the beginning there were days when I hardly had time to brush my teeth between feedings, diaper changes, doctors’ appointments, having my washing machine repaired (yet again) and trying to catch a nap after a long, sleepless night. In fact, the first few months of my baby’s life, I calculated that I spent an average of six to eight hours a day breastfeeding, especially during growth spurts. But there came a day when feedings became shorter, diaper changes fewer and further between and I realized there was simply no way that my baby would nap for stretches longer than 30 minutes at a time. Suddenly I had more free time on my hands and I wanted to get out of the house!

I’m fortunate that I had a few other new mother friends and family members that I could call on for company (and those numbers are growing – yay!) but I’m a social butterfly and I needed more. So here are some of the things that I found in my neighbourhood that helped me cope and still do, to this day…

Hit the gym

Before baby, I used to be pretty religious about working out and going to the gym at least four times a week. I even did prenatal aquafit and yoga when I was pregnant (not that it stopped me from gaining 55 pounds, but I digress). So one of the first things I did when I could was sign up for stroller aerobics twice a week at the YMCA. It was a great way to help shed the baby weight, not to mention getting out and meeting other mommies.

Now that baby is bigger, we’re also doing something (also at the Y) called Aqua Parent and Baby. It's basically an aquafit class where your baby joins you in the pool, floating around in a little “boat” made of heavy Styrofoam… okay, that might sound dangerous, but it’s completely safe and there are least three lifeguards on duty, I promise. Plus, the instructor, Loretta, has seven children of her own (and grandchildren)... need I say more?

Take some classes

One of my favourite spots in Pointe-Claire is a centre called Belles Mamans. It’s a pregnancy and parenting centre that offers classes, workshops, informational support, playgroups and yes, coffee. They offer everything from fitness classes (mom and baby yoga or salsa, anyone?) to workshops on subjects like introducing solids, baby massage, infant CPR, etc… Just last week, baby and I attended a fun afternoon there making handprints and footprints…something I might have attempted to do at home, but in this case, someone else provided the art supplies and did the cleanup! We also take a music class there once a week, which both my son and I love attending. I think this a pretty unique place and I love it. It would be great if more resources like this existed for moms everywhere. If you live in Montreal, I highly recommend visiting Belles Mamans.

Catch a flick

Once a week, Cineplex theatres show movies for mommies with their Stars and Strollers offering. Parents and babies can hit up their local Cineplex theatre to catch a movie in a baby friendly environment, including stroller parking and a change table. It can get a little noisy in there when the baby orchestra gets going (why is it that when one baby cries, all the others want to join them?) but as parents, I’m pretty sure we’re capable of drowning out a little noise as we escape with the latest Brad Pitt movie!

Those are some of my favourite playtime activities… what are yours, moms?

PS – I wasn’t compensated by any of the abovementioned companies for endorsement. I just like 'em!

My first lesson in parenting

As mentioned in my intro post, I had warm and fuzzy visions of myself blogging from the beginning of my baby's life, talking about all the ups and downs of new motherhood while he napped happily in his crib for 3 hours at a time. I would be sipping a cappuccino in my spotless kitchen and tapping away on my laptop with beautifully manicured nails... Ahem, sorry, daydreaming again. Needless to say, that hasn't happened yet!

However, in my last long and boring weeks of pregnancy, I did start writing, so I may as well share the one and only blog post I wrote during that time. Here it is... enjoy and feel free to laugh at me. I know I'm laughing at myself today! Shoulda known that would have been my last full night of sleep - be careful what you wish for!

February 11, 2011 - My First Lesson in Parenting
As I write this, I’m 41 weeks pregnant… a full week past my baby’s due date, and just one of a majority of women who learn the hard way that 75% of babies make their way into the world late.

As a general rule, I’m a very organized and always punctual person. I almost hate myself for always obnoxiously arriving everywhere early – even when I try to be fashionably late, I can only manage to get there five minutes late. I don’t do it on purpose; I was just wired that way. Possibly, it has something to do with my own birth, which was scheduled early on September 28th, very reasonably so that I would be accepted into school right before the deadline of October 1st.

I’m not just perpetually early; I’m also compulsively efficient and like to get things done quickly. There is a reason for that – I hate the feeling of letting a task or responsibility go unfinished for too long, because it will inevitably fall to the bottom of the priority list and either never get done or will be done in a half-arsed way. All that means is that I would disappoint the person who is waiting for me to deliver whatever it is that needs to be done. Do I have issues? Yes. Am I type A? Absolutely.

Despite my need for speed, control and punctuality, I’m still a pretty reasonable person and I get that things just don’t always happen as planned. So when I got pregnant, I spent a significant amount of time preparing myself mentally for the fact that many, many things would be out of control. Will I be a slave to a tiny infant? Yup. Will my house be a mess and my laundry basket ever-overflowing? Definitely. Can I handle it? With a few deep breaths and a supportive husband, yes, I assured myself that I could handle it.
 
I even knew that most babies go past their due date. In fact, I kind of hoped that I would have a nice, drama-free, scheduled induction, so I could arrive at the hospital, stress-free and ready to give birth at a pre-determined date and time. What I didn’t know is that my hospital insists on waiting 11 days past the due date to induce babies.

I stopped working two weeks before my due date for a number of reasons. I wanted a clean break from work, time to rest, to mentally check out from the office and get any last-minute stuff done before baby’s arrival. I also wanted to give myself a buffer, in case the baby should somehow decide to arrive early.

Week one was a breeze – I kept busy, wrote thank you notes for all the lovely baby presents I’d received, visited my parents, and just tried to enjoy my last little bit of freedom. The second week was a bit longer… my house had never been cleaner, every scrap of laundry done, the freezer full of home-cooked meals for post-baby arrival. So I napped and started baking. I reasoned that surely we would have many visitors the following week (when baby was here) and wouldn’t it be nice to serve home-made biscotti with coffee? I would dazzle friends and family with my domestic prowess and my well-rested, cool, calm and collected approach to new motherhood! Bonus!

When week two passed and my due date came and went, my doctor informed me that we would schedule an induction no earlier than February 16th. What!? Why so late? Why not anytime after the due date? She responded it was hospital policy, limiting what they call “social inductions,” wanting the baby to come on its own, blah, blah, blah…

“Believe me,” she said, obviously having heard it all before. “If I could schedule all my patients to deliver at a convenient time, my life would be a lot less crazy.”

Heavy with disappointment, I delivered the news to my husband and began doing everything possible to try to induce labour. Raspberry leaf tea, scrubbing floors, Chinese food, etc… nothing worked. Every morning for the past week, I’ve glared at my packed suitcase which has stared back mockingly from its spot by the door. I started regretting leaving work so early. When I complained to my parents, my father laughed at me.

You’ve just learned the first and most important lesson in parenting,” he told me. “You’re not in charge anymore – your child is.”

I realized that he was right and added my own two cents: patience is a virtue. Because, really, in the grand scheme of things, what will a few extra days change in my life? So what if I have to answer a zillion well-meaning e-mails, phone calls and Facebook wall postings saying “Nope, no baby yet!”

When my little guy finally makes his appearance, I will probably appreciate this time and laugh at myself for being so impatient. After all, there are so many more important things to worry about. And I should be thanking my lucky stars that he’s not premature and will be a big, beautiful, healthy baby. Who knows, maybe he’ll teach me not to be such a stickler for punctuality either.

As a final note, it turned out this extra time was a really good thing, because on my due date, I came down with the worst cold I’ve ever had! I’m talking the kind of cold that keeps you in bed, coughing, sneezing and generally wanting to die. Since pregnant women can’t self-medicate with those delightfully effective cold medications, I just had to suck it up and rest it off. It was a small comfort to me to know that baby was in no rush to leave my womb while I was feeling so miserable. The last thing I’d want is to sneeze all over my newborn!

But now the cold is gone, a week has passed and I simply have to tell myself that, at the most, I only have to wait four or five more days for my baby. And then I will embark on the adventure of a lifetime – motherhood. Hold on tight, it’s gonna be a wild ride!