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.

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.

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.

Photo: Ruud Raats on Flickr

Three months.

It feels like forever and it feels like just yesterday. This weekend marks three months since Dave died and here is the continuation of my story. While most of the time I’ve felt fairly peaceful, this weekend was hard. It was shaping up to be a fantastic weekend: I had two music rehearsals on Saturday and was doing the music for my church on Sunday. I love a weekend full of music… something about it is so soothing.

Saturday morning started out well. I got mini-man settled at a friend’s house for a play date then took mini-boy to the church where another friend was going to spend the morning with him while I attended my rehearsals. I then headed up to school where the Black Bear Band was meeting for our final rehearsal before our last gig of the season – the Ladner Band Festival (gotta love the website – 1996 word art, but I digress…) on June 12th. Rehearsing wasn’t the reason I was attending, though… see, our music director – one of the top names in music instruction in the Vancouver area for the last 30 years or so – is leaving us and one of the band members composed a tribute piece in his honour. Saturday was the day we surprised him by performing it for him. To be honest, I was more emotional than I thought I’d be. While the band will, of course, go on, doing so without our fearless leader will be a real shift for us… but such is life I suppose.

So after the tribute piece was presented I had to jet to get to the church for my rehearsal for Sunday. I love singing with these guys… I’ve written before about how music affects me, but even amidst life’s trials, I feel like I was created to make music for God. Like that’s why he made me.

Sidenote: It’s so strange when I think back about it… when I was young – maybe in my teens – I did one of those career quizzes… the ones that tell you based on your likes and dislikes, interests and abilities, what you should consider doing for a living. Well the first suggestion was “Composer” and the second was “Music Director”… I thought, “Yeah… sure. You got the wrong girl.” But here I am some 20 years later writing music. Funny that.

After my rehearsal at the church I heard the Black Bear Band had gotten together at the pub… SOP after rehearsals and I was suddenly sad I couldn’t join them because I had mini-boy with me. I wanted so badly to spend a little more time with them before we break for the summer, but also found myself feeling very lonely given that I couldn’t get my mind off missing Dave. I wanted nothing more than to be surrounded by friends and laughter. I ended up letting the baby nap in the car while I ate take-out sushi and listened to some music in the mall parking lot. Yep, really exciting. All the while wishing I had some people to hang out with on this now beautiful day.

I cried.

I don’t cry often. I cry mostly when I’m stressed or frustrated… and I cry when I’m overwhelmed with joy and gratitude. But not usually for sadness; it’s very weird I guess. Maybe I just avoid it. It makes me uncomfortable. In addition to having two kids who keep me extremely busy most of the time, I’ve filled my life with sweet distraction… most likely to avoid facing the fact that Dave is, in fact, gone. Sometimes I still don’t believe it. Sometimes I feel like I didn’t love him enough though I know I loved him with all of me. I still do… and I see him in my babies. I can’t imagine ever not missing him terribly.

Many of my friends and family have been wonderful… some people I barely knew before March have been my biggest supporters and some people I thought would be there for me have been noticeably absent. My new friend Brenda has been a God-send to me. She has three kids of her own and the oldest is 4 ( a great match to play with my 4 year old – win!), yet she is so willing to take the kids for me when I need to go to appointments or even just out for a run. We have great conversations and I feel like I can tell her anything without fear of judgement. She has really made this much easier on me… I only hope that she doesn’t tire of me and my requests and that one day I’ll be able to repay her or at least pay it forward.

I’ve become very wary of single men. I have had a couple of single male friends who have just given me a vibe that made me uncomfortable and, while I am absolutely craving male attention, I don’t want to even put myself in the position to have someone seek out something I am completely unprepared to give. I am in no way, shape, or form “on the market”. So mostly I’m avoiding men altogether… even my friends. Even when I do find myself in a position to want to date again… the field is narrow my friends. Very. Narrow.

So for now I’m swinging between writing and playing music, staying active by getting to the gym and out to run as often as I can, learning to be a better mother (I picked up new art supplies and, get this… baking supplies just the other day for the next rainy afternoon at home), and avoiding my emotional reality at all costs.

We’ll see what the next month brings.

Photo: mtbjohn on Flickr

Sometimes I’m ashamed to call myself a Christian. And it’s not because I’m ashamed of the Gospel of Jesus or my faith in God, but I’m ashamed of the image of Christianity that has been shown to the world. Oftentimes I hear people recount their views on Christianity and what it is to be (in the words of my friend Sarah Bessey) a “happy-clappy Jesus lover” and I feel like my faith has been so completely bastardized by misinformation and false doctrine that everything in my soul feels like screaming out.

It’s not what you think it is!

Today I heard a message from God… directed at me. I’m sure of it. It was as if this morning’s sermon was poured out by God to minister to my heart and confirm everything I’ve been thinking, feeling and trying to explain to those in my life who question the foundation of my faith.

See, I’ve been going through one of the toughest things I’ve ever experienced. One of the biggest struggles I’ve been facing is redefining myself as a single mom, a single Christian and a mid-30′s single woman. I don’t know who I am on my own anymore. To be honest, I’ve never been on my own. I’ve been in 3 long-term relationships back to back since I was 16 with just tiny breaks in between. To make matters worse, I was never particularly good at being in relationships either (read in to that what you will). And the cherry on top is that I came to know my faith while I was married, so I have no idea who I am apart from my marriage.

Sure, I have a bucket list, so to speak… things I want to do in this life… but all my plans for my family centered around my husband’s hopes/wishes/dreams for us. I wanted to go where he wanted to go… I could be happy anywhere with him. What I don’t have now is a dream for myself and my kids apart from him. I don’t know how to behave each day when I get up in the morning.

So I’m a little lost.

In my lost state and my efforts to redefine myself, I have reverted back to some old behaviours that are less-than-healthy by most standards and certainly sinful by God’s standards… and when I say reverted back I mean more like I’ve embraced my failure to some extent and am kind of wallowing in it… enjoying my sin if you will. My faith life has taken a beating as I’ve struggled to pick up my bible in months and have barely been able to eek out a prayer other than “God, anything you want me to do you’re going to have to do through me, because I’m pretty helpless at the moment.”

I’ve never felt so far from Jesus yet so uplifted by his grace in all my life.

I’ve had several conversations with friends recently about this stuff and I keep coming back to the same point: I never earned my salvation to begin with and I sure can’t work to keep it. God knows me and my faults, my habits and hangups… he created me. He loves me. Just as I am. No matter what. And forever.

Today’s message was a giant confirmation for me that what I’m feeling is indeed spirit-inspired.

The Revelation

I once had a revelation during a group prayer time before a Sunday morning service. It was so sudden and so clear I told the whole congregation during the worship service: God showed me a picture of a clay jar full of cracks and holes… falling apart, barely held together. From all the cracks and holes came a radiant light. This is us. This is the body of Christian believers. This is the potential for humanity… the more cracks and holes we have the more the light of Jesus can shine out of us. The more broken we are, the more opportunity for God to show himself to the world.

If we were perfect, what would we need God for?

The Message

The sermon today was titled “The Treasure Within”. The main point was from 2 Corinthians 4:7 – “But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, that the excellency of the power may be of God, and not of us.”

It was about the broken clay jar.

“Spiritual growth is not a straight journey from weakness to power… but a journey in both weakness and power. (…) We all see things in our life that show us how far short we fall from the ideals of holiness and the ideals of wholeness (…) It’s at times like that we need to embrace again the gospel of grace.”

“We’re fallible. We’re human. (…) God will use each one of us to do remarkable things. (…) There’s no place for pride; there’s no place for self-reliance if you understand the treasure in the earthen vessel – that we must understand our limitations. (…) We must not be surprised by our own failures. (…) God will use every failure … and he will bring out of that new growth.”

“Four areas of concern…

1) Applauded temptations/addictions: Not all temptations prickle with danger… some things look very virtuous: perfectionism… how legal we become. Workaholism… busyness… The greatest sin is not your failure, it’s your presumption that we can succeed without full dependency on Christ. Our goal is maturity, not perfectionism… God is more interested in your love than your perfectionism.

2) Inconsistency in reading scripture and prayer: Inspiration and enthusiasm wear out… take your hands off yourself, submit yourself to the Lord. It’s not a matter of willpower. That will always run short… what it is, is embracing the power of a vision… who God is calling us to be in Christ Jesus. There will be frequent lapses… half the time we’re just plain lazy… Just offer yourself to the Lord. “Lord, this is what I am unless you help me.”

3) Comparing ourselves to others: One of the most common tendencies is to idealize other peoples’ experience… we may think they don’t have any problems… God is never in a hurry. He’s at work in you… if things don’t seem to be happening fast for you, you’re normal.

4) Looking for a zap rather than knowing Christ in a greater way: Many people crave for revival… that’s not my purpose. My purpose is to know him better… growth is slow and steady.”

“How God uses our imperfections…

Our imperfection discloses our helplessness apart from the Lord… God uses our imperfections to cultivate an honourable humility… there’s no room for any kind of pride. God shows us our limits through our failure… an honourable humility, which often the church lacks… there’s nothing about the vessel for us to be bragging about. God uses our imperfections (…) to stimulate my patience and gentleness with others… people carry a lot of loads… our imperfections drive us in to the arms of grace.”

“Through the cracks, people can see the treasure.”

[Download the full sermon: Pastor Owen Scott - Lynn Valley Full Gospel Church]

Closing Thoughts

If anyone who professes to be a Christian claims to be without sin I’m calling them out right now. They’re lying.

Christians flip the bird at other drivers. Christians drink too much. Christians use drugs. Christians use foul language. Christians lust, watch porn and have affairs. Christians lie and cheat. Christians hold grudges. Christians can be downright mean… I could go on… and on… and on…

I believe with all my heart that God just wants me to be honest with him about where I’m at. That’s it. The moment I try to hide myself is the moment my faith begins to crumble. But even in my failures and my weakness, as long as I’m continuing in my communion with God in an honest way, he will be near.

And I can still see his works in my life.

I can see his love poured out on me when I needed help most. I can see how God prepared my heart and my household for Dave’s death. I can see answers to my prayers – even if they’re few and far between. I can see my life moving towards the direction I’m destined for. I can see people blessed by me and TRUST ME… it’s not because of anything I do.

I’m involved in ministry and considered stepping away from service because of how I’ve been behaving lately… but one morning last week I sat down and just started to praise God. He IS still God, after all. And I heard his voice… “Don’t stop praising.”

God moves in mysterious ways… but no one will be without sin in this lifetime. Grace was made for lives like ours… and God is still God.

“And I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ.” Phillipians 1:6

Photo: dugasj on Flickr

Why is it that moms worry about everything? Maybe it’s ingrained in our DNA to worry about our offspring as a way to ensure we don’t give them away or eat them, but I don’t think there’s a mother out there who doesn’t worry about her kids.

And I can understand the worry about the big, bad things – drowning, car accidents, falls from windows etc. – but we also find a way to worry about the good things.

Last night, mini-boy slept over 11 hours straight.

I had fallen asleep early – something very rare in my world (side note: I have a hard time forcing myself to go to bed at night because the non-kid silence is so lovely and I know that once 6am rolls around it’s non-stop mom responsibility for the next 13+ hours) – and awoke at 1am… still fully dressed as I was when I laid down thinking I’d just rest for a few minutes. After being up for 45 minutes or so I actually got myself ready for bed thinking I’d have another hour or so before mini-boy would wake me with his little cries.

So 6am rolls around and I wake up in a panic… and soaking. No cries.

Fighting the urge to run in to the kids’ room and check his breathing I laid there thinking about the grim possibilities.

I remember this with mini-man – now 4. He had been on a regular schedule of sleeping 8pm-midnight, waking for a feeding, then sleeping until 4am, waking for another feeding and then he would go back down until maybe 6:30 or so. I remember so vividly the night he first ditched the midnight feeding… I woke up (also soaking, I might add) about 5am and realized there was no crying. I thought he was dead. Then I went in and checked his breathing… still breathing. So then I worried that he’d awaken at midnight as usual and I’d somehow slept through his crying… then I felt awful and berated myself for being a terrible mother.

Then I realized he’d just slept through. Most likely. He began to sleep 8 hours straight every night after that.

At least with the second child the worry is a little reduced because I finally realized how insane I’d been the first time around. But honestly I don’t know of a single mother who hasn’t, at some point, checked her sleeping infant’s breathing… even sometimes going so far as to wake the baby to make sure he’s alive.

Why do we do that? Sleep is a good thing, right?

And now that this hurdle is over, I can go on to worrying about more important things… like food allergies, milestones, weaning, injuries, tantrums, back-talk and questions about where babies come from.

I remember thinking 4 years ago how difficult life with a baby was. I’m not sure if it was the postpartum depression, the personal adjustment to becoming a mother or the adjustment my marriage took to figure it all out… perhaps it was a combination of all of the above. I sure found parenting to be a wicked change from my blissful life simple adult life life before kids.

Now when I find myself with just one baby, I’m at a bit of a loss as to what to do with my time. There’s a weird sense of relief and boredom all rolled in together at the thought of not having to entertain a curious and energetic 4 year old, but having only to occupy a not-quite-5-month-old baby whose only source of frustration is when he can’t get the toy to his mouth in a timely manner.

Today, mini-man was with his Nona and I had not had the foresight to make any plans in advance other than a music rehearsal this morning. My mom came over to babysit mini-boy and was horrified when he slept through the entire visit (she drives a good 45 minutes to get here). I put him down for a nap at 9:15am and was certain he’d be awake by 10, but I returned at noon to a disappointed Nana who kept peeking in to see if she was going to get any cuddle time whatsoever.

I filled the rest of the day with take-out sushi, a trip to the store for light bulbs and a new booster seat for Nona’s car, visits to a couple of open houses in the neighborhood where I’d like to live, a nap and some reading. After our busy afternoon **insert sarcasm here** I talked on the phone, played with mini-boy on the livingroom floor, fed him, gave him a bath and put him back to bed. Then I indulged in a glass of wine, some leftover pesto pasta straight out of the plastic container I’d stored it in and settled in to my couch with my book. Then I fell asleep.

It was 7:30pm.

For the life of me I can’t quite put my finger on why I found parenting so difficult when I had only one baby with two parents. Now I guess I’m getting used to having two kids with one parent… Anyway, for any of you who are finding adjustment to new motherhood hard, take heart… you will one day look back and wonder what all the fuss was about.

Just one baby… easy peasy.

Photo: Frankfarm on Flickr

Get your head out of the gutter… I’m talking about cancers below the belt.

Last month, a very close friend of mine lost her step dad to bladder cancer. Before he had bladder cancer he’d had prostate cancer and this same friend lost her dad 10 years ago to colon cancer. I have some other friends who lost their mom to colon cancer as well. There is no shortage of stories of how cancer devastates families every day.

In fact, I have been treated twice and know many other women who have also been treated in various ways to remove pre-cancerous cells from the cervix. This is way more common than you might think. And it’s a little scary.

This year, I’ve decided to run in the BC Cancer Foundation’s Underwear Affair in memory of Bob Walker to help raise money for this worthy cause:

Join BC Cancer Foundation’s Underwear Affair® presented by Mark’s Work Wearhouse and help uncover the cure for underfunded below-the-waist cancers like prostate, ovarian, and colorectal. On July 10, 2010, run the competitive 10K or walk the fun 5K and show Vancouver that there’s absolutely no shame in bringing a little awareness to down there-ness. [uncoverthecure.org]

The minimum fundraising commitment for this event is $300 and I’m hoping you will help me reach my personal goal of $500 raised. I have kicked off the donations by chipping in $100 of my own, but I’d love to see my friends and family rally around to help me.

It’s been a long time since I ran 10km though I’m confident I will find the strength to run this race. I only have to take one look at the sadness on my loved ones’ faces to see how important this is… and I want to help make a difference.

Will you help me? Please click below to donate.

Have you or someone you know been affected by cancers below the belt? Please share your story in the comments… or maybe you’d consider running with me.

Photo: Aleksi Aaltonen on Flickr

Well it’s Monday morning and I’m going to take this opportunity to indulge in a little whining…

I’m seriously unimpressed with the state of my body. Not the shape of it. The state of it. Two pregnancies and two c-sections (not to mention breastfeeding two babies), combined with some less-than-healthy personal habits have indeed left the shape with something to be desired. I can, however, live with the shape. The physical state, on the other hand, is desperately out of whack.

Parenting is physically demanding. I remember this after mini-man was born… I have nearly no range of motion in my shoulders from constantly having my arms out in front of me – carrying babies, pushing strollers… well, sitting at the computer typing… add the sliced up abs from the c-sections and my lower back is messed up too and requires active rehabilitation to fix it.

I wake up every morning with a sore, stiff back, tension headaches and numb hands. What I need to do is re-balance my physiology to fix these problems and it will definitely require the help of a personal trainer who knows what they’re doing.

I’ve decided to check out a new gym that has childminding. Options are certainly limited in North Vancouver: North Van Rec Commission has childminding at most gyms but the hours are limited. Fitness World has childminding too with somewhat extended hours but they pack the kids in like sardines with very little supervision. I will give Genesis Athletic Club a go and see what their facilities are like.

I’m also torn between massage, chiropractic and physiotherapy to fix my back & shoulders… not sure what should be my first line of defense. Personally I’d hope an aromatherapy massage and a glass of wine would fix it, but sadly I think it’s going to take a little more effort on my part.

What’s your Monday Moan?

Photo: limowreck666 on Flickr

The more I use social media tools to communicate with people the more I ponder the long-term rammifications of such systems. I know there was a time when people were a little nervous about using a little newfangled tool called the telephone. Similarly, when email became a viable communication tool in business, the C-suite got their panties in bunches because everything anyone said would become written record. Now, in the days of Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn, YouTube, Flickr, MySpace, forums and the myriad other social networking sites out there, EVERYTHING is a matter of written record. Personal, professional, not-so-professional… everything.

The one thing I find absolutely fascinating about these sites is that it takes a certain kind of person to start a conversation. There is definitely a sort of narcissistic tendency that drives status updates everywhere. Facebook, Twitter and LinkedIn all have a status update field, and updating one’s status is like starting a conversation without knowing who you’re talking to… it’s sort of akin to running out into the street and screaming, “I just ate pancakes for breakfast!” to see who might respond. The business equivalent is like standing in the subway yelling, “I improved sales by 23% over last year by implementing a new CRM system!” What kind of person starts a conversation without someone on the receiving end?

Almost everyone.

If that is the case, are we creating a narcissistic society? What does the future of social networking look like?

The simple fact that I have a blog probably makes me a bit of a narcissist if I’m being honest. I’ve never met a blogger who didn’t get a sense of accomplishment from checking their site stats; some even go so far as to set up full Google Analytics and track conversion rates for email and feed signups. It’s not that I think there’s anything wrong with that, but it is just evidence of the ego boost that goes along with knowing people are interested in what you have to say.

I’ve always been a little awkward in new situations or when I’m put on the spot; it’s the reason I’ve become so incredibly truthful in every situation – sometimes to my own detriment. Somehow I find being completely transparent makes life easier… not to mention, I don’t have to try and remember what I said in any given situation. In light of my mildly stunted personal skills, social networking and communicating online gives me the opportunity to think through what I want to say before I blurt out something ridiculous. This is good for me.

I am excited at the prospect of a transparent world.

Ten years from now, everyone will be online sharing status updates and leaving a trail of evidence to their lives behind them. No longer will anyone have a public and a private persona. No longer will people have to worry about not getting a job because they had some college party photos on their Facebook; companies will barely be able to find anyone who hasn’t posted something that shows them enjoying a drink, wearing something too revealing (or nothing at all), or doing something embarassing. What will happen, though, is that we’ll all have to evaluate every relationship by looking at the total person with all their dirty laundry hanging out for the world to see. We will have to consider everyone from a different perspective. I can’t tell you how often it has shocked me to see CEOs use the phrase “WTF” on Twitter. Seriously. It shocks me. But ten years from now it won’t. I will just get to know that those people will likely drop the F-bomb in the office too and decide if that’s okay with me.

I’ve already said more online than many people and maybe that will come back to bite me in the butt one day. But I’m happy knowing I’m true to me and if someone chooses to overlook me for a given opportunity because I’m a born-again Christian or because I’ve had postpartum depression, because I once bashed a reality TV star or because I have written about the joys of colon cleansing so be it. I’m okay with that. The kind of opportunities I’m looking for are those where my skills can make an impact and those that allow me to be as nerdy as I want, let me try out new ideas and allow me to do what it is that I’m passionate about.

I can’t and won’t be someone else just so more people will like me. After all, I think I’m pretty great and that’s all that matters.

I dare you to copy your most recent status update to the comments…