Monthly Archives: July 2010

For the love of food

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Photo: Lea on Flickr

I have a confession to make: I just ate Mini-Man’s half-eaten pizza for dinner. In fact, I have subsisted for days at a time on nothing but kid-leftovers. It’s true.

I hate food.

There was a time I loved food – as evidenced by my not-so-svelte waistline – but those days are long gone. Now, food is a necessary inconvenience. With a 4 year old and a 7 month old, I feel like all I ever do is nurse, prepare food, feed someone and clean up afterwards. The other day I sat down to eat for the first time at 6:30pm and that was while the small one was crying from his bed. Not exactly my idea of an enjoyable meal.

I suppose they don’t make feed bags for children huh?

My normal day looks like this:

  • 5:30am – Sit kid #1 down in front of the TV with a yogurt (yeah, I’ll do a whole post on TV use another day) and make coffee for me
  • 6:00am – Nurse kid #2
  • 6:30am – Prepare breakfast for kid #1
    *after this is the time I may – or may not – fit in a shower*
  • 7:30am – Prepare solid food meal for kid #2 and feed it to him
  • 8:00am – Nurse kid #2 and put him down for a nap while I clean up from his meal
  • 9:00am – We go out… if we’re not out of the house by 9am I don’t get anything accomplished
  • 11:00am – Back home again; nurse kid #2 and put him down for his main nap
  • 11:30am – Prepare lunch for kid #1 & shovel something into my own mouth
  • 12:00pm – Convince kid #1 to take a nap then clean up from his lunch
    *when both are asleep I may get a nap or I may clean up random coloured debris strewn across my humble abode*
  • 1:30pm – Nurse kid #2
  • 2:00pm – Prepare snacks for both kids and get out of the house for the afternoon
  • 4:30pm – Return home and prepare and feed solid food dinner to kid #2
  • 5:00pm – Prepare dinner for kid #1 while trying to entertain a fussy, tired kid #2
  • 5:30pm – Put kid #1 down in front of the TV with his dinner (I know – mother of the year, right?); get kid #2 ready for bed then nurse him again
  • 6:00pm – Put kid #2 to bed; he is often exhausted and over-tired at this point. Crying may ensue all around.
    *this is also when I try and shovel some more food in my own mouth – usually cold since it’s been sitting since 5:30 or earlier*
  • 6:30pm – Put kid #1 in the bath and either continue trying to console over-tired, teething kid #2 or clean up from dinner.
  • 7:00pm – Get kid #1 ready for bed
  • 7:30pm – Finish cleaning up from dinner.

Now, I have been very successful at ensuring both my kids are in bed, quiet with the lights out by 7:30pm so that I have my evenings to myself. This schedule evolved naturally out of Mini-Man’s natural inclination towards an early bedtime as an  infant. But I thank God for that quiet time in the evenings. Dave and I used to sit down to dinner together after Kai was in bed… at least up until he was old enough to benefit from eating with us. Then we had to start eating at 5:30/6:00-ish.

I think that’s when I lost my love of food.

The Proposal

I have a proposal: I would like the world’s finest medical researchers and food scientists to develop an IV or injectable substance that provides all the nutrition and energy we need to maintain optimal health. Wouldn’t it be great if we coud just plug in to a little machine… kind of like an insulin pump… and have it feeding us all day long every day? No blood sugar fluctuation, no one would be overweight or have high cholesterol… we could basically rid the world of the consequences of poor nutrition. If I never had to eat again I think it would be awesome… I think of all the extra time I’d have to enjoy life!

In the meantime, I wonder if I’ll ever enjoy a nice meal again…

Where the grass is greenest

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Photo: ted.sali on Flickr

This post comes out of many conversations I’ve had lately with a number of different people who either are, have been, or will soon be married as well as many new moms trying to learn the ropes of parenting while maintaining some sort of harmony at home.

I also think a little on this topic anytime I notice the judgemental eyes that now land on my newly-naked ring finger as I travel to and fro with my two children in tow. I sometimes feel like wearing a t-shirt that says, “It’s not what you think.” But anyway, I digress as always.

I realized recently that I had no idea just how much my husband was a part of me; I never really realized how lost I’d be without him. Sure, I can manage… and I do. But the sense of unconditional love and security that he brought to my life and our home is now gone… and I never even really knew how strong that was until it was missing.

Marriage is all or nothing.

Blending two lives together is tough. I know it was a painful reality for me when I realized I had to let someone else’s life, goals, wishes, wants, dreams and plans factor into my decision-making. It took me a long time to get there… in fact, I can say in no uncertain terms that it was only after we were actually married that I fell in love with him with the married kind of love.

The first time the reality of marriage hit me was when Dave severely injured himself from a fall off our 2nd floor balcony when I was pregnant the first time. He had taken off the railing and was cutting some lumber when he slipped and lost his balance, falling to the concrete below, but not before hitting the scaffolding on the way down. He broke a couple of ribs, collapsed a lung and bruised his liver and was virtually incapacitated for weeks. After just 12 hours or so in the ER they said, “You have a wife; you can go home and she can take care of you.” It was then that I realized physically caring for another individual is actually in the cards when you say, “I do.” Whether that means helping them with bathing, using the bathroom, getting dressed or cutting up their food and feeding it to them. I thank God he didn’t sustain a spinal cord injury that day and I can only imagine the selflessness required to care for a permanently disabled spouse. But guess what? As his wife, that was my responsibility, even though I was pregnant and working full time. And if his injuries had been worse, my job would have been bigger. I’m not convinced many marriages start out with the kind of commitment it would take to get through something like that. I think that kind of commitment is something you grow into together.

The birth of our first son put a huge strain on our already imperfect relationship. Those first couple of years were excruciating. I hated being so dependent on someone else and I fought it with all my strength. I was so lost in this new world of motherhood coupled with an awful bout of postpartum depression I barely knew which way was up, couldn’t get enough sleep and went about my life oblivious to everyone and everything other than me and my son. My husband was left to feel lonely, confused and inadequate when he couldn’t solve my problem, but he loved us both so much he would have done anything to make it better. So he waited and worked hard to provide for us while taking on all the cooking and cleaning in our home so I was free to just be a mom. We barely spoke to each other for ages.

And then one day the fog started to lift.

Our life together started to take shape. Our son was older and more interactive; he and his dad became inseparable. I began to enjoy life again; most of all I delighted in watching my husband and my son together… our family. My family.

The point of this, at least where babies and parenthood is concerned, is that it is only a season in your life. It does pass. Kids get older and more self-sufficient; you eventually get more sleep and see the world more clearly; and as you learn to parent together you might actually find a deeper level of connectedness than you ever had before kids. I have said this in person to some new moms and I’ll say it again here:

Do not make any permanent decisions about your relationship until your child is at least two years old. Please. It will get better.

I actually think there is something to be respected about the old-fashioned way of doing things… staying together for the kids. People don’t do that anymore; some don’t even try. We’re all wrapped up in our own self-absorbed worlds and we want what we want without being able to see clearly beyond the here and now. We all want a partner who will place our needs above their own and many times moms have a tendency to put their children before their husbands (I can say this because I’m guilty of it myself). We play the “my life sucks worse than your life” game and bicker over who worked longer hours, who has it rougher, who has more household chores, who spent more money, who gets more “me time”. Then we find we’re meaner, ruder, snarkier to each other than we would be to a complete and total stranger.

If you have children, I think you owe it to your children to do anything and everything to not only make your marriage tolerable but enjoyable! If two adults without children find they both don’t want to live together anymore, fine. Part company. But your kids never asked to be dragged in to your mess and they never asked to live in a world where they’re expected to grow up and know how to have great relationships (or a relationship at all) without ever having witnessed one in their own home.

I received a great message from a marriage conference Dave and I attended once that really struck me: People always think the grass is greener on the other side of the fence, but the truth is the grass is greenest when it is cared for, nurtured, seeded, watered, cared for, aerated, mowed, fertilized, cared for… it’s a LOT of WORK to have a green grass. If you don’t take care of it it will fade and die.

The same is true of a marriage.

We spend hours upon hours at our jobs, our hobbies, our athletic pursuits, our education, our passions… how much time and energy do we spend on nurturing our marriage relationships? I know I didn’t spend enough, that’s for sure.

I feel really blessed that in the last year before Dave died, our relationship had again moved to yet another deeper level of commitment. It started when we found out we were expecting another baby. It was like something clicked between us and we realized we had absolutely no choice anymore but to work together if we were going to not only avoid the hell we went through the first time but move ahead with peace and joy in our home. We were so excited about it; we began to deliberately focus on enjoying our time together. When Mini-Boy was born our family felt totally complete and we were embarking on a brand new adventure of a lifetime.

It took 10 years before we got to feel that total oneness marriage is supposed to be about. And I count myself blessed to have known that kind of love.

Don’t give up.

All shapes and sizes

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Photo: emmerogers on Flickr

Last night I ran Vancouver’s Underwear Affair 10km, raising money for cancers below the belt. The event was awesome. The course was so beautiful – from the Seaforth Armouries at 1st & Burrard along the entire False Creek seawall and back over the Burrard Street Bridge. Not surprisingly, this run is very much a spectator sport; hundreds of people racing in their underwear has a tendency to bring out the people-watchers in droves.

What I loved about the race was that there were bodies of all shapes and sizes donning their skivvies for a cause and, quite frankly, I was surprised and impressed with the level of confidence many of the runners seemed to display. I did not run in my underwear… mostly because I was running this event by myself and thought it would be weird without a team of buddies. But if I were to get a little group of friends together, I wouldn’t necessarily be averse to doing it in future.

Most of my life I’ve struggled with body image issues.

I’ve been fat; I’ve been thin; I’ve been in-between. I’ve had big boobs and small boobs. I’ve worn flattering clothing and not-so-flattering clothing; I’ve worn fully-covering wrap things on the beach and I’ve donned a bikini. I’ve made poor food choices; I’ve suffered from disordered behaviour including binge eating and over-exercising and I’ve smoked cigarettes to help me control my weight.

Even now I often think about having a few things fixed: The lines in my face seem to be developing at an astonishing rate, my mangled two-c-section tummy is a bit of an eyesore and the girls are not what they used to be; but beauty is more than the physical. Besides, what is the ideal anyway? God made all of humanity to have the same components in such varying shapes, sizes and colours that, aside from biological anomalies like identical multiples, there are billions of unique designs. Which one exactly am I supposed to be modeling myself after?

In the last couple of months I’ve developed an appreciation for the skin I’m in. Life is too short to worry about how well we stack up physically against those around us…  besides, it’s not a contest.

When I think of how critical I’ve been of my body over the years I cringe when I think of just how normal I was and yet how awkward and destroyed I felt on the inside. And now with my beautiful imperfections I can at least appreciate that this body has grown two babies, run hundreds of kilometers, earned a black belt, jumped out of airplanes, and will spend (hopefully) the next 50 years or so serving my children, my family and friends and enjoying this beautiful life I’ve been given.

My friends, it’s time to start loving the bodies we’ve been given. Whether you’re tall, short, skinny, fat, freckled, hairy, balding, jiggly, muscular, dainty, scarred, lanky, apple or pear shaped… if you’ve got wrinkles, varicose veins, saggy boobs, man-boobs, a flat bum, a round bum, thick ankles, big ears, hair in the wrong places or nasty toenails, enjoy that you are alive for a purpose and that beautiful body of yours is the only one you’ve got.

… and I think it’s perfect, just the way it is. So does your mom.

How’s my driving?

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Photo: Bobaloo Rox on Flickr

Maybe I’m not clear on the concept, or perhaps it’s you who is unclear, but my understanding of the purpose of the HOV lane is to spread out the traffic by allowing high occupancy vehicles to travel in a separate lane from the rest of traffic. Full stop.

The intention, no doubt, is that more people would consider carpooling to cut down on vehicle emissions. That said, it also allows those of us carrying passengers to travel somewhat more quickly than the rest of the poor suckers stuck alone in their cars. This is particularly advantageous at the end of a long and stressful day at the office when we know there are loved ones awaiting our smiling faces at home.

Now, let’s all take a moment to consider our driving habits, shall we?

Knowing first-hand the devastation caused by bonehead driving, I feel I have a renewed perspective on road safety. That doesn’t mean I’m that person who, with no other traffic in any other lanes, travels the posted speed limit in the HOV lane. I am, however, the person who drives with the flow of traffic but perhaps leaves a little more space in front of my vehicle than you might like. Please note, that does NOT give you any right to ride my bumper thereby endangering me and my children when we are already traveling 20-30km over the posted speed limit.

I assure you, Mr. Lowered Ford F150, that I am indeed traveling at the same speed as the vehicle in front of me… who also happens to be traveling the same speed as the 15 or so vehicles in front of him. Furthermore, we are still passing vehicles on my right every few seconds. Oh and by the way, yes, I do have passengers. They’re safely secured in their child safety restraints in the back seat of my tinted Jeep… you just can’t see them. That doesn’t mean they’re not there. And even if I did move aside as you would so clearly like me to do (don’t worry, I’m not mentally deficient and do know what you’re implying) you would still be stuck behind all those other vehicles going a mere 110km/hr in an 80 zone.

While I get a little miffed at your disregard for my safety, it is you who suffers with your high blood pressure and anger issues while you rant and rave and flip me the bird. You will be the one to find yourself in the intensive care unit one day, the victim of a severe myocardial infarction of your own creation. Then you really will be late for a very important date no doubt.

Not all of us are in a hurry to get where we’re going. Some of us actually want to elongate the time it takes us to arrive at our destination in order to allow our offspring sufficient rest prior to the completion of our journey. Just because you failed to allow ample time to reach your intended destination does not make us any more responsible for your subsequent failure to arrive on time.

Perhaps next time you might leave the house a little earlier… or get yourself a light aircraft as your primary mode of transportation.