Tag: mom

Now you are three.

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It’s hard to believe how fast this past year with you flew by.  It seems like only yesterday we were blowing out the candles on your cake together as we geared up for your very first visit to the cottage.

So many firsts.  So many blurred memories.  So much learned.

Our first family all-inclusive beach vacation.  You LOVED playing in the ocean waves and chasing your dear friend Quincy around everywhere.

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Your first monster jam truck rally.  It was a life altering experience for you, and all you wanted to do was re-create the event again and again on the living room floor every night.

Your first full sentences.  The first time you made me REALLY laugh because you “told a joke” (even though you didn’t necessary realize it was a joke); the first time you paid me a compliment (“mom, I really like your earrings today”), the first time you offered me some criticism (“mom, your hair looks like butter; I don’t like the strings”)

The first time you peed all by yourself, after a solid week of me doubting myself about this whole potty-training thing: had we pushed you to potty train too soon? Will I seriously have to give you stickers every single time you make a bowel movement until I send you off to college?

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Your first day of preschool.  You didn’t shed a tear or miss a beat and you were SO excited for your routine, new friends, new TOYS.  I was so proud of you.

Your first cousin.

Our first totally public, totally confined epic toddler melt down (inside an airplane, for approximately 20 minutes).

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The longest time you and I have been apart in 3 years, and the longest distance by thousands of miles.  That was a long 9 days away from you and Dubai is a very very far ways away.

Your first time requesting a specific song to be played (Footloose.  It’s always Footloose)

The first time you sang…..like REALLY SANG…a full song in its entirety!  You started with ABC and as we moved through your second year, row row row your boat, the Robo Car Poli theme song (thanks, Netflix), and Twinkle Twinkle, have all been added to your rotation.

Your first time truly saying good-bye, to our amazing nanny, Amber.

The first time you saw that I was crying, and recognized and understood that I was upset, when a dear friends’ daughter left this world way too soon.  I struggled to find a simple way of explaining the tragedy to you.

Your first time sleeping in a “big boy bed”.

Your first time taking off your shoes, socks, hat, and coat…all by yourself.

Your first time becoming our in-home barista, mastering the art of the Nespresso Coffee.

Your first organized sport, playing soccer with Little kickers.

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Your first sleepover, which involved actually sleeping in the SAME ROOM as another toddler!  Winning!

The first time you demanded independence.

The first time you refused to hold my hand.

The first time you negotiated with us.

The first time you tried to articulate your feelings with words.

The first time you “read” (memorized) a book.  First favorite = The Giving Tree

The first time you swam in Clear Lake.

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Your first ice cream, scooter ride, balance bike-ride, ride in an excavator and flight outside of North America.

And yet, within a flurry of firsts, there were also so many last times….these I find so hard to pinpoint.  When was the last time I picked you up without worrying about my back?  When did you stop calling me ‘mama’ and instead start calling me “mum”?   When did I stop singing the “good morning” song to you each day?  The past year is starting to melt together with the year prior.  Those small, precious memories are already slipping into the back of my memory bank — this is the most difficult part about accepting that you are now another year older.

But, do you want to know something?  It keeps getting better.  That first year with you….boy…..I wasn’t so sure.

I wasn’t sure it was ever going to get better.  There were some tough days, weeks and months.

But, now you are 3.

I love the boy that you are becoming.  I love to laugh with you, play with you and sing with you.  I love to watch your curious mind working at 5,000 miles an hour.  I love to sneak in and tuck you in and give you a kiss good-night before resting my head on the pillow after a long day.  I love reading to you…your attention span is unbelievable.

I love to watch you grow.

I love you more today than yesterday.  But not as much as tomorrow.

Happy Birthday, my love.

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My Post-Partum Fitness Journey.

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Yesterday marked day 21 of the 21 Day Fix challenge that I began on Feb 8th.  21 Day Fix is a workout and nutrition plan that was created by my latest girl crush, Autumn Calabrese.  It’s part of the Beach Body Fitness programs (you might have heard of P90x or Insanity?  Same company!).

Reflecting upon the past three weeks allowed me to realize that I have done something solely for ME every single day for the past 21 days.  Forget the program. Forget the results.  As a relatively new mom, now THAT’S something to celebrate!

But let’s back up for a few minutes, because I wasn’t ready for this a few months ago.  It took me some time to get here.

Fitness has pretty much always been a part of my life.  I started working out at the gym in high school, when a handsome neighbor from my graduating class suggested we lift weights together at the gym.  He seemed to have it all figured out, somehow managing to simultaneously rock both football and musical theatre like a character straight out of Glee.  I immediately enjoyed feeling strong and started learning my way around a gym.  Fast-forward to my university days when I became a varsity cheerleader.  Being part of a competitive team allowed me to see fitness in a different light.  I further developed my weight-lifting knowledge, competed in national competitions, rode in the back of an ambulance with an injured teammate, and threw-up after the dreaded “hill runs” during practice.  I loved every minute of it.

After university my fitness journey continued:  Body Pump classes at Goodlife, completing my first 10K running race and two half-marathons, and beginning personalized work-out plans created by my now husband, Christian.  Boot camps, ballet based dance classes, spinning, cross-fit, hot yoga…you name it, I was up for trying it all.  On my wedding day, my shoulders and triceps looked pretty darned awesome, if I do say so myself.

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Once married life settled down and the home renovations took over our lives, fitness started to drop down the priority list.  My husband and I slowly started adding on a pound here and there….we just couldn’t seem to bump fitness and health back up to the top of the priority list.

The year before I got pregnant, I knew I wasn’t feeling (or looking) my best, but just wasn’t motivated enough to make serious changes.  I mean, what was the point if I was just going to “undo” all my hard work during pregnancy anyway?

By the time my due-date approached, I had gained nearly 50 pounds.  I didn’t beat myself up about it — let’s be honest: I grew a human!  In fact, it was kind of liberating!

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Fortunately, Baby H took to breast feeding (which happens to be an excellent calorie burn). Between that and walking walking walking and walking some more the pounds started to fall off.  Slow and steady.

In the late summer, Christian decided that he was going to break the “dad-bod” stereotype and do the aforementioned P90x.  I resented him for it.  Fall was by far my hardest stretch post-partum and I resented the fact that he had the drive, energy, will-power, physical ability and desire to commit to this program.  I just wasn’t there, and I took it out on him.  Big time.

By late fall, I was starting to crave fitness for myself again.  I joined a mommy-baby Ironcore class and a spin studio.  I enjoyed feeling the sweat and burn, but my post-partum body was completely different than the one I had been working out with for 30 years prior.  Balancing baby and home and a part-time return to work, it was hard to make it to class more than once or twice a week.  The number on the scale told a “great” story but the mirror told me otherwise; I seriously missed my muscles and my abs were a distant memory.  I told myself that I “looked great for a new mom” but I knew that I wanted more.  If I truly prioritized it, I could look AND feel great. Period. No “for a new mom” qualifiers needed.

And then fate stepped in.  At a January get-together among friends, I caught up with Heidi.  She had been running some clean eating and fitness challenge groups on Facebook and I had read about her own fitness journey a few months prior.  The program is simple: regular 30 minute workouts that you do at home, alongside a balanced nutrition plan.

With a young baby and a nap schedule to work with, I knew that in-home workouts would be the best way for me to prioritize fitness for real this time.  I signed up for the 21 Day Fix program as a part of Heidi’s challenge group the very next day.

So here we are, 21 days later.  I feel like my fitness journey has just re-ignited again and I am so thrilled.  In three weeks I have lost 5 lbs and 5 inches….but most importantly, I feel amazing.  I have so. much. energy.

The best part is that I’m just getting going.  Through this experience, I have learned two key things:

  1. Becoming a mom does not have to push you to the bottom of the priority list.  Prioritize yourself.  I am a better mother and wife because of this.
  2. I am extremely motivated when I am motivating and encouraging others.  For this reason, I have become a Beach Body Coach, which means I want to help YOU reach YOUR fitness goals.  Yep, I surprised myself when I signed up, but here we are.

My next 21 day fitness challenge begins on March 14th, 2016.

Will you join me!?  Drop me your info and let’s do this together.

 

 

It takes a village to raise a mother.

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I remember first hearing the term “the village” back in my mid 20s when I was working in corporate sales for the first time.  A colleague of mine, who had twin girls around 6 years old, used to joke about how she would be lost without her “village”: mothers, fathers, caregivers, friends who lived in her community that all contributed in some way to the upbringing of her children.  I didn’t fully understand what that meant at the time, but it always stuck with me.

Fast forward nearly 10 years later and here I am, planning for my return to work after spending 10 months off with baby H.  I have just started part-time work, easing into full time by early May.  I’m so excited to get back into it, however, this past month has been overwhelming and stressful as I research, interview and learn as much as I can about childcare options in Toronto (more on this in a future post!).

It slowly dawned on me yesterday:  Christian and I are only starting to build Harrison’s village now.  This year has been about building MY village as a new mother.  And let me tell you, it takes a VILLAGE to raise a mother.

Last week, I enjoyed a night out with 7 amazing women.  As I sipped my wine and looked around the table, I realized that I did not know anyone sitting with me just one short year ago.  They were strangers on my street, nameless neighbors that I might pass by en route home after a long day at work or nod to while driving by on an errand.  Now, they are part of my village, and I call them my friends.

It would take me thousands of words to honor each member of my village…but I would like to at least try to illustrate the diversity of people who have touched my life throughout my motherhood journey so far.  The most incredible part, to me, is that support and encouragement can come from everywhere: you just need to accept it.

It’s the new mom across the street who, although I barely knew her, gave me confidence right before I was reluctantly induced into labor as she shared her birth story with me.  We were basically strangers.  Now we get together at least once a week for coffee chats and walks.  She constantly brings us food and goodies.  I recently attended her daughters first birthday and felt like an extension of her family.

It’s my uber-prepared friend who researched EVERYTHING to do with pregnancy, baby, child-rearing, car seat safety, weaning, airplane travel and RESPs.  She had her baby first, and then passed down each and every tid-bit of information (and baby stuff!) she could possibly think of.  She has been and continues to be an amazing resource, and is the reason that we made the decision to put H in cloth diapers (when I vowed I would NEVER use cloth diapers.  Never say never).

It’s my own mum, who flew from Vancouver one week after Harrison was born and moved in with us for an entire MONTH.  My husband was a bit skeptical about having his mother-in-law move in for that long, but we were all sad to see her leave by the end.  She was amazing at keeping me on track and helping me figure out a routine.  Every morning by 10am she would say to me (in her precious Irish accent): “Right…what’s for dinner tonight?”.  Dinner!?  I haven’t even showered yet!  But she helped start a habit that has since evolved into regular weekly meal planning for our family.

It’s the free-spirited woman down the street who was out walking with her daughter, saw me walking Harrison at barely a month old, and literally doubled back out of her way to introduce herself.  Although she claims to be an introvert, she made the first move to say “hi” and we’ve had many a play date ever since.  Her daughter has a grin that makes my heart melt.

Through her I met another amazing woman, who makes the best darned macchiato anyone could ask for.  And let’s be serious: coffee IS the way to a mothers heart.  The first time we got together we talked and talked like old friends. She is kind and generous and makes me LAUGH.

It’s my mother-in-law, who will drive 1.5 hours just to spend an afternoon with her grandson.  We have had many a lunch date, cups of tea, chats and great visits – I will miss this quality time with “nana” once I’m back to work full-time!  Her texts, emails and words of encouragement have helped to build up my confidence as a mom.

It’s my husbands’ cousin, who I now know at such a more meaningful level than I ever did before.  She is a mother of two and is in the process of building a coaching business targeted towards new mothers.  Her wisdom, encouragement, and ability to challenge has forced me to continue to carve out time to be MELISSA.  Not mother. Not wife.  Not employee. ME.

There’s the woman with school-aged kids who runs a part-time home daycare down the street.  Her 6-year old daughter loves children so much you just know she got it from her mom!  There is something so comforting about knowing that just down the street you have someone who will take care of your child as though they were her own.  She currently looks after Harrison one day a week while I begin my transition back to work.

And across the street, another mother of two who has boundless stories and tips to share.  She has loaned me books on baby-led weaning, sent me links, recipes, left zucchini chocolate cake on my doorstep when I had a rough day (yes!  on my doorstep!).  And she has this incredible aura that I can’t describe: I feel calm when I’m around her.

It’s my “Innovation Girls” who I met at a conference a few years ago.  6 weeks post-partum, they arrived at our home, took over our kitchen, and made us the most glorious home-made pasta dish.  It was the BEST gift.  (Ok, so maybe coffee AND pasta are the way to a mothers heart).

It’s my father-in-law and “Bonus mom” (as I refer to his partner!) – they have stepped into the grandparent role with so much zeal.  Finding excuses to pop by, bring gifts, food, get together’s, babysitting…anything for more quality time with H!   The joy that they show when they see him is nothing short of heart-warming.  If we haven’t seen them in a few weeks, I can expect a call or email asking for the next “Harrison fix”.

It’s my bonus-mom’s co-worker, whom I have NEVER met, who offered us all the hand-me-downs from her children.  My in-laws literally showed up with bins upon bins of clothes for H.  He’s set until age 2.

It’s my friend who is a mother of two and trained sleep coach, who worked with me in the summer to move baby H towards a regular daytime and nighttime sleep schedule.  She has incredible advice and is extremely passionate about constantly evolving as a mother – she researches, attends workshops, and does all she can to continually improve – it’s very inspiring.  (More on sleep training in a future post as well – I owe this woman my mental sanity).

It’s my sister, who visited in the summer to spend a week with her new nephew.  She sang, and sang and sang and sang some more.  He loved to listen to her sing.  Kokamo has become an instant classic in our home after her visit.

It’s my hometown mom friends: I may not see them often, but our messenger chat group is constant: support, frustrations, questions, bitching, hilarious photos, videos and comics.  I’m so thankful for these virtual touch points.  And there is power in threes!  If one of us is having a rough day, chances are at least 1 out of the other 2 is having a good day and can help offer encouragement.  Or at least a virtual photo of a glass of wine.

It’s my church: the overwhelming support, love, messages, cards, gifts and advice.  So much mom and family wisdom in my church community.  I’m basically covered until H heads to college.

Finally: my husband. Of course he’s part of my village.  Having a child together changed our marriage more than we could ever have imagined.  We had our ups and downs.  And believe me, there were moments when we wanted to kick each other OUT of the village all together.  But we didn’t.  We figured it out together.  Christian has encouraged me and supported me as best as he could while concurrently determining his “new normal” as a husband and father.

And it doesn’t end there.  I could go on and on and on.  The smiles. The encouragement.  The freezer meals. The sharing.  The texts. The advice. The gifts. The support.  How incredibly lucky am I to have been building my own village on top of such a rock-solid foundation.

Whether your village is 2 people or 20, young or old, near or far, it doesn’t matter.  Build it.  Because becoming a mother is crazy journey, and you’re going to need all the help you can get.  It takes a village to raise a mother.

Thank you to my village.

[Photo credit: Sweet Grace Photography]

Out the door make-up

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If there is one thing that I have truly mastered since having Baby H, it’s having a sliding-scale of “I look presentable” beauty regimes.

There’s the “I just need to get out the door a find coffee” look.  And the other extreme is “I have been looking forward to this girls night for a month and have been primping for 2 hours straight” look.

My personal fave: the 3 minute face (aka: the “I can already hear Harrison awake on the baby monitor and I am still in my pyjamas” look). We’ve all heard of the 5 minute face, but I challenge you to make it 3!

Here are my go-to essentials for looking bright-eyed and bushy tailed any day of the week:

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Moisturizer: Kiehl’s Ultra Facial Creme.  I cannot live without moisturizer.  Seriously, if I could only pick one thing from this must-have list, this would be it.  I switched to Kiehl’s two years ago and absolutely love it.  The $60 price tag hurt at first but I seriously can make the 125ml jar last close to a year.  It is hands-down the best moisturizer I have ever used.

Foundation: it’s not quite foundation, it’s CC creme and is lighter coverage.  Pictured here is Oil of Olay Pore Minimizing CC Creme. I haven’t tried many formulas and using an all-in-one was new to me post-baby (hello, we are on a 3-minute time line here). So far so good.  I have a hard time paying $35 when all you’re getting is a standard “grocery store” brand product, so I will continue my search, but for now, this works.

Highlighter: Hi-Beam Liquid Face Highlighter by Benefit.  This would be #2 on my “can’t live without list”, just behind my moisturizer.  I have used this product for years and have tried many highlighters.  At over $30, it’s not cheap, but this bottle lasts me close to a year and it truly makes your skin glow.  I apply it on my cheeks and brow bone just about every day.

MAC eye-shadow: I love MAC eye shadow.  This particular color is Jest, but Woodwinked is my top choice for every day. $19 each.  The bonus?  Their “Back to MAC” program, where 6 empties gets you a FREE eye shadow or lipstick.  Everyone wins.

Blush: Mary Kay “Shy Blush”.  It’s a beautiful shimmery pink.  I always said I didn’t wear pink and then I was encouraged to try this at a Mary Kay party and I was sold.  That was 4 years ago and here we are. $13.00

Concealer: “Fake Up” by Benefit. Yes, they win two awards from me.  I literally went to Sephora in my last week of pregnancy and said “I need time savers that make me look awake”.  Voila.  Concealer and moisturizer in one with good coverage: $33.00

Mascara: Cover Girl Volum’ Express.  Again, I think I have used this mascara for 5+ years.  I try others intermittently but this one is my fave.  $10 @ Shoppers/ Wal-Mart etc.

Lip Gloss: Mary Kay in “Fancy Nancy” – it’s a nice light shimmery colour.  Perfect for those “oh I just threw this on” every day outings.  $18.00

So there you have it: my new and improved 3-minute face!  Do you have 3 minutes?  I bet you do 🙂

Melissa.

 

A Good Mother.

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This is not exactly my typical type of post, but I needed to get something off my chest.  That’s what blogging is about, right?

Today marked a milestone in my life as a mother. Nope, not a tooth or a first food. Not a birthday or a first step. Not a smile or a word.

Today was the first time I experienced extreme judgement from a complete stranger, all because of the actions of a child.

It’s Friday afternoon and a dear friend and I got together for lunch. It’s dreary, it’s January. It’s miserable. We had both had tough weeks with our little ones. We enjoyed coffee and a chat and fed our babies lunch. Words such as “we’re surviving” and “its fine” came up.   It was refreshing to get together and discuss the good, bad and ugly. And besides, we made it to Friday, so it can’t be all that bad, right?

As we started packing up to go, my friends’ little one starting fussing. The fussing turned into crying, and by the time he was strapped into his stroller, the crying had escalated into full-on screaming.

We soldier on and make a hasty dash towards the exit. We are both holding our breath as we take those last few steps to the freedom of open air where the screams don’t seem quite as loud.

And at that very moment, that “I-just-need-to-make-it-to-the-door” final push, a miserable-looking woman stares my friend straight in the eye and says:

“You’re a terrible mother. You should have never had children. My children never cried like that”.

You’re. A. Terrible. Mother.

Read that sentence one more time. Do it.

It took every ounce of self-restraint in me to not march back in there, stand up for my friend, and retaliate. But do you know what? It wouldn’t have made any difference. That woman had made her judgement as soon as that little guy started crying, and no explanation or reasoning would have changed her mind.

So what is it that makes a mother so terrible that a complete stranger would feel compelled to say such a thing?

I don’t have the answer. But I do know that I’ve been thinking a lot about this recently, especially as I round the bend of my maternity leave. My days are filled with researching full time childcare options for my son.

I’m leaving my son in the care of someone else, 5 days a week, so that I can further my career.

Does that make me a terrible mother?

My husband and I had our first overnight away from our son in December. It was a big milestone for us, for our son, and for nana and papa who looked after him. Many friends suggested that I “try not to miss him too much”.

I didn’t miss him. I enjoyed every minute of it and look forward to booking the next night away.

Does that make me a terrible mother?

We made the decision to sleep train. Early. Like, before 3 months old, early. Our son has slept soundly for 12 hours a night since he was 3 months old. He has slept in his crib in the nursery starting at week 2.

Does that make me a terrible mother?

I let him fall. I let him shove too much food in his mouth. I had to perform the Heimlich maneuver a few weeks ago because of said food. I let anyone and everyone hold him. I don’t pick him up as soon as he cries. I breastfeed him pretty much anywhere. I let him watch TV and play with my iPhone. I started him on solids at four months old. I give him baby formula rather than breast milk when I go out because I am sick of pumping. I throw my hands up in the air in the middle of Starbucks and proclaim: “I have no idea why you are crying!!!”

Does that make me a terrible mother?

NO.

I am a GOOD mother. I am AMAZING mother. I am SUPER-FRICKIN-woman.  And I will remind myself of this every. single. day.

Every day that my son looks at me with his huge smile and love in his eyes and I give him the same love back.  That’s all it takes to be a good mother: love.  Love is all you need.

So I challenge you: remind yourself how awesome you are. Look that screaming child of yours in the eye and tell him how much you love him. Look at your tear-streaked face in the mirror and tell yourself how amazing you are. Look at the other mothers in your community and tell them they are GOOD MOTHERS and that they are doing an AMAZING JOB.

Say those words to someone today. Because we don’t always know how long it takes for the sting of negative words to wear off.

YOU are an amazing mother.  YOU are LOVED.

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Photo Credit: Little SugarPlum Photography, Vancouver