Trip Down Memory Lane

Some girlfriends of mine (from IRL) posted these prompts on their Facebooks and were supposed to give whomever commented an age to fill in the prompts. I used age 20 as that was the age they all started with, I was given 26 as my age to write about, and then added my current age range.  Just some silliness for a Monday.

At age 20

I dated:  Steve
I drove:  Nothing. Got around by bus or walking.
I worked:  Part time at a medical non-profit, while going to university full time.
Feared:  Failure
Wanted to be:  A fundraiser.

At age 26

I dated:  My soon-to-be husband
I drove:  A 4-door Honda Civic…miss that car!
I worked:  Full time at a medical non-profit
Feared:  Failure
Wanted to be:  A fundraiser, which I was so all was good.

Now, in my late 30s

I date:  My wonderful man, and am happily divorced.
I drive:  A schmexy green station wagon.
I work:  Full time SAHM, Autism advocate, and am a blogger too.
I fear:  Someone hurting my kids, something happening to me so I can’t look after my children, letting my children down, not being able to support them in achieving whatever goals they have in life.
Want to be:  Happy

I am finally learning…

The Bloggy Dare writing prompt I’m writing about today is “I am finally learning…”

I am finally learning the wonders of wearing yoga pants. Yup, my conversion to 100% SAHM is almost complete…I LOVE my yoga pants! I should clarify that, at this time of year where we are experiencing 30+˚Celsius weather (approx 90+˚Farenheit), plus humidity, I’m not wearing yoga pants per say, they are more like yoga capris. They truly are the easiest thing to throw on in the morning, and they are comfy all day long.  When I have meetings to attend, I will put some more effort into my clothing by wearing “respectable” capris (with heels if I’m not having to chase after the kids too) but otherwise, my morning choice is “which pair of black yoga capris am I going to wear today?”.

I realized the other morning that I ONLY have black yoga capris…no other colour, and as a result, I’m pretty much always wearing a black fitted t-shirt too. I have EIGHT black fitted t-shirts, all with different necklines and of different sizes but nevertheless, I have EIGHT of them!  People are probably starting to think I only have one outfit that I keep wearing every single day.  Ugh.

The question is, what am I going to do about it?  I could donate all my yoga capris  to get them out of my home and then they aren’t even an option in the morning, but I won’t. I could “report myself” to TLC’s What Not To Wear, but I won’t. I could buy entirely new wardrobe but, I won’t.

So, until then, I’m just going to happily wear my yoga capris. If only wearing yoga pants would motivate me to actually do yoga more often than once every couple of months…

 

Day 18 – The person you wish you could be

Simply, I don’t wish that I was someone else.  I am who I am now because of everything I have gone through, whether good or bad.  Don’t get me wrong, there are things I would change about myself, characteristics I wish I could tweak, but overall, my kids are happy, we have a great network of understanding friends and family, and my daughter even tells me regularly that she thinks I’m “the best mom EVER” (only time will tell if she still thinks that when she’s a teenager).

Having said that, I wish I was someone who was more rested, always had a clean sink, caught up on laundry, etc.  Alas, my kids and I live in our home.  So there will be days when there is less carpet than the “carpet” of toys around, I’m sick of not having a dishwasher, and one day both my kids will be potty trained so hopefully there won’t be as much laundry.  Hmmm…so basically, I’m wishing for the day when my kids don’t live at home anymore, but considering my daughter informed me the other day that when she’s “a grown up, and have babies, we’ll live with you mommy, and we can still be one big, happy family”. Love it!  Deal!

 

The Shoes Make The Woman

I read the blog posted last night by The Clothespring Adventures of a WAHM entitled “Shoes I Wish I Could Rock”.  My ex-husband is 2” shorter than me, so I was always conscious of how much taller I was than him, especially when the occasion required high heels.  I visited dear friends in Vancouver, and had an eye-opening discussion with a very wise friend, who stated that a woman is never completely “finished” unless she has fantastic shoes. (For the record, this wise friend is a heterosexual male friend).  I then started noticing that certain outfits “required” a certain height of heel and style of shoe.

I don’t have a shoe obsession…I own less than 20 pairs of shoes (not bad for a female, if I may say!), but I do have very specific heels, none of which are lower than 2.5”.  Ok, I may have had a “ceremony” getting rid of any heels I owned that were lower than that after my ex and I split…tee hee.

Now that I’m a SAHM though, I hardly ever have the opportunity to wear anything other than my Crocs, because then I can still chase the kids:

 

 But I REALLY miss wearing these shoes that I bought a few months ago, with the tallest heels I’ve bought so far:

 

I’m thinking I need a Girls Night Out, and SOON!

 

I never know what to say

Moving to a new town means a new home, new surroundings, new experiences, new schedules and meeting new people (or reconnecting with childhood friends like I am since we moved back to my hometown).  I’m not a shy person (by far!) so I have no problem striking up a conversation with someone.  Eventually though, the dreaded question is asked… “So, what do you do for a living?”. 

 

As a former career-girl, I’m still quite tongue-tied by this question.  I proudly use to say that I had to find a man who was willing and able to be the stay at home dad because I was going back to work as soon as I could after giving birth.  My career was my focus, and I was proud of it.  Having children changed everything!  When I HAD to go back to work when my twins were 3 months old because I didn’t have benefits (in Canada, we can take up to a year) so my (now ex-) husband stayed home for 7 months as his work had top-up.  Since then, I have regretted having to go back to work and I’m glad I get the opportunity to be with them now.

 

A year and a half ago, I unexpectedly became a SAHM, partly because I couldn’t find childcare and partly (mostly) because of my marriage breaking up.  Last fall, I had secured a full time contract back in my former career, at a level where it was as if I hadn’t been away from that career track for 4 years.  Unfortunately, 6 weeks into the position, my childcare fell through.  Finding care for my daughter is easy because she’s “neurotypical” but finding care for my son is a bit more complicated because he has Autism. 

 

When I say that my job is looking after my kids, I’m still not at the point of saying it with pride, even though I am very proud of it!  Friends have looked after my kids for the odd commitment I’ve had where their father couldn’t take them, and they usually tell me that they don’t know how I do it, they didn’t realize how much my son needed to be watched like a hawk, and that I make it look so easy. ~Blush~

 

So, when I’m asked what I do for a living, I tend to use the past tense: “I used to be a fundraiser, and an organizer, now I’m a SAHM.”  Logically, I know that if anyone else has a “problem” with it or looks down on me for “wasting” my university education and 2 college diplomas on being a SAHM, that’s their problem.  The question is, how do I change my own thinking so I can stop being “apologetic” to myself about being a SAHM? 

 

Perhaps I should switch out the words “Stay-At-Home-Mom” with the 2^nd definition of the acronym “SAHM” on this online dictionary … “Sexy And Hot Momma”…tee hee…  

 

My “Understanding” of Current Events

 

 

 

Being a SAHM to 6 year old twins can be a bit isolating, especially when we just moved back to the family farm and one of my twins has Autism.  Having said that, one always needs to find humour or the positive in every situation so I thought I would share with the world my interpretation on current events.  Please note, pretty much the only sources of information for me is Facebook, Twitter, a music radio station we listen to in the car, and kids’ shows.  So, here are my ramblings without Googling the items first…

 

PRE-GOOGLING

Norway – with the greatest respect, I know something horrible has happened but, couldn’t tell you any details other than people have died. 

 

RIM is laying off 2,000 people – so many families affected…wait, how big is this company?  Crap, I just upgraded to a Blackberry.

 

US Debt – ummm…how is this “news”?  Haven’t they always been in debt?

 

Somalia – what’s going on? I’m guessing it’s related to famine or AIDS.  Either way, it can’t be good.

 

Ontario weather – I’ve stopped checking the daily weather report.  It’s hot.  Hotter than hell.  High temperature plus humidity makes it about ten million.  Glad I have naturally straight hair.  Sorry curly or wavy haired girls…

 

Amy Winehouse died – too bad.  So young. Unfortunately, with the amount of partying she did, I’m not all that surprised…wait, how many times has she been in rehab?  Didn’t help her apparently.

 

Fabio has become the new Old Spice guy – he’s alive? I really need to see this!!

 

JLo & Marc Anthony split up – oh no! Another fellow family with twins bites the dust. So sad.

 

POST – GOOGLING

Oh Gawd.  I suck.  I really need to start paying more attention to the world outside of our little family but…wait, excuse me while I stop my son from pulling at the blinds again, and my daughter from climbing on the back of the couch again…

 

However, I gave myself a little pat on the back this morning to discover that I was already following all but 3 of this week’s 20 Mommy Bloggers List from SweetSpot.ca.

 

I know. I need to get out more often.

Proof of “Never Say Never”

 

I left my small hometown of 2,000+ people when I was 18 to venture across the country for post-secondary education.  My parents “ruthlessly” sold my childhood home (How dare they?!) in the summer before I left and moved to a farm before I visited for Christmas break of first year university.  So, I packed for university and packed everything else I had for their move.  I left my hometown saying I would “never move back until I owned my childhood home again”.  Well, never say never.

 

Fast forward 16 years.  I moved back across the country, got married, have amazing almost 6 year old twins, am now getting divorced, and the kids and I have moved to the family farm; back to my hometown.  In the past 16 years, I have lived in 2 provinces and 3 metropolitan areas, and am now getting reacclimatized to small-town living. 

 

I was pleasantly surprised to find out that library is open every day of the week, but not the number of hours in the day as it is in a city.  I was shocked to see the sign on the front door of one of the satellite library locations has Wi-fi!  Having said that, the family farm also has Wi-fi…but I digress…

 

There’s only one Early Years Centre BUT, it has OFF-SITE playgroups at various parks in the area, with staff and one volunteer from the centre to help the parents in attendance with their kids, and set up different activities.  It also has a special needs-specific program offered every Thursday morning, which was nice to attend this week to start meeting other parents of children with special needs in the area.  Staff at the Centre are so excited because “there’s a new family in town”.  DD is even attending one of the French programs, that is run by a family friend whom I babysat for as a teenager.

 

I forgot that people here tend to get married and have children earlier than I did.  I remember some friends were surprised that I was going to university to get an education (gasp!) rather than a husband (double gasp!).  It seems that many of my childhood friends got married by 21 or 22, had their first child within a year so now that we are all in our mid- to late-30s, they have pre-teen and teenagers while I’m chasing after almost 6 year old twins.  It’s a very strange realization to find out that I’m an “older mom” here.  I talked with my best friend from highschool tonight, only to find that her son is now 12 years old – he’s still 5 in my mind; my almost 6 year olds are still babies in her mind.

 

I’m having a hard time getting used to the slower pace for everything here.  Everyone works REALLY hard (my dad has cut, turned, bailed and stored more than 100 bales of hay this week, on his own…and it’s “just” a hobby farm – my parents still run their own business full time!) but the panic and stress inherent in city life just don’t seem to be here.  People actually drive the speed limit or under (you mean it’s not just a “guideline”?) here, which feels very foreign to me.  Having said that, you can get everywhere within a 15 mins drive so really, what’s the rush?

 

In the end, I think I will have to change my original “never move back until I own my childhood home again” to:

“I WILL own my childhood home again…someday”.

On The Injured List

 

 

 

Normally, school pick up entails picking the kids up, chatting with DS’s Educational Assistant for a few minutes to see how his day was, and then we head across the street to “the Butterfly Garden” if we have other plans, or the park then the Butterfly Garden then home. Yesterday, this is NOT what happened.

 

Everything looked normal until the supply EA let go of DS’s hand BEFORE I had ahold of his hand. In that split second, he bolted. Three adults went to grab him. We all missed. I’m sure it looked a bit like baseball players all going for a fly ball. I had been carrying DD and lost my footing. Down I went. DD was crying, DS started crying because DD was crying. Honestly, I was trying really hard not to start crying too. Unbelievable pain! A bunch of fellow kindergarteners were coming over asking if my daughter’s “mommy was okay”. All I could say was “no. I’m hurt. Please give me space”. My left knee was banged up, left foot toes were scraped, the side of my right foot was twisted…which made for a painful 2 minute drive home.

 

Some things I’m thankful for from this situation…

1. I was able to turn just a tiny bit when I was falling so I didn’t land on my daughter, and was still able to protect her from really hurting herself.
2. The kids’ father was able to take the kids overnight. There was no way I could handle the stairs in our home to put the kids to bed. We have a sunken bathroom with only two steps and those are hard enough to manage, let along the 20 or so steps to upstairs!
3. A friend of ours was with us for school pick up. He caught my son after he bolted, was able to carry him to our mini-van, get us home, help me into our home, manage my kids, and get them fed. He even told me to make a stop at Starbucks on the way home to get me my favourite Starbucks order…gawd he knows me! Thanks AS!
4. My neighbour kept my daughter entertained between our friend leaving and the kids’ father coming to pick them up. Thanks JM!
5. My daughter was and continues to be such an amazing help…she’s holding my hand to “help me” whenever I have to move somewhere this morning, and she even wrote me a “get well” card this morning too.

 

This morning’s biggest decision for me was, do I put the tensor bandage on my right foot or my left knee. Went with the right foot.

Losing My “Virginity”…

 

 

 

 

Tomorrow I’m having my first surgery ever. Yup, in my mid-thirties and there are a few things that people are amazed at…I have never dyed my hair (why would I? I’m a natural redhead!), had my first cavity at 31 years old, AND have never had surgery. The closest I go was having a couple teeth pulled when I was a kid because they had been wiggling forever and wouldn’t come out. Broke my arm as a kid, but no surgery required. I even gave birth to twins without a C-section for crying out loud!

 

Anticipating my first surgery feels like I’m losing my virginity…the nerves, fear, anxiety, the heart palpitations, the excitement, etc. Will I feel different after?

 

~ If you get queasy with medical information,

do NOT read the next paragraph…you have been warned ~

 

I’m having what’s called a Vaginal Myomectomy. Basically means that I have a mass in my uterus (and it’s not a baby…or two in my case!) that needs to be removed. This fibroid grew to 5cm within a year (what can I say? I’m an incubator!), and has been the bane of my existence for the last 3 years. As each month passed, my periods became heavier and heavier, and more and more painful. By the time they put me into chemically-induced menopause the 2^nd time (shrinks the fibroid), a “normal” period for me was 2 weeks “on”, 1 week off, and repeat. The pain was unbelievable, and I couldn’t leave the house for 3 – 5 days, and was going to washroom every 20 mins, day and night (therefore no sleep!). Not good when I’m a SAHM to 5yo twins. Their father would help when his schedule allowed, and my friends filled in whenever possible too.

 

My obgyn didn’t feel skilled enough (nor did any of her colleagues) to remove it without removing my uterus. What??!! I was still married when they found the fibroid and still wanted to keep the option of having more kids open so I was NOT impressed. Thankfully, my obgyn found a specialist (with the same first name as me!) who has, to quote her, “removed bigger and badder” fibroids. Phew! She can also remove it without a C-section-type entry, therefore only needing a few days to recover instead of months. Double phew! Felt kinda weird to go to appointments at a fertility clinic though – my twins were “natural”.

 

So, my fibroid is FINALLY being removed, and I can no longer say things like I did to my father a couple of weekends ago: “I’m menopausal AND having PMS. Don’t screw with me” but I’ll be glad to see the end of it. 

Introducing…

I’ve written a few different blogs over the past couple of years, very topic-specific. For the last year and a half, I have found myself as a SAHM to my beautiful 5 year old twins, boy/girl. Always knew that being a SAHM was the toughest job in the world, but I didn’t realize it was this tough! As with any job, there are good days and bad days, highs and lows. The great thing about twins though is that there may be double the mess but there’s also double the hugs and kisses…which are the greatest payment one can receive.

So, while I’m muddling my way through being chef (trust me, I use that term lightly!), laundromat, cleaner (another lightly used term), personal assistant, “doctor mom”, chauffeur, coach, social calendar manager, educational consultant, Autism advocate, and many other roles I’m discovering every single day, I thought I would share my madness with the world. So…hold on tight!

________

TWINS

There’s two to wash, there’s two to dry
There’s two that argue, there’s two who cry

One’s in the mud having a ball
The other holds a crayon, another marked wall

Some days seem endless
My patience wears thin
Why was I chosen to be a mother of twins?

The answer comes clear at the end of each day
As I tuck them in bed, I say to myself:
There’s two to kiss
There’s two to hug
But best of all there’s two to love
~MultipleBirthParents.com