One of my best friends is about to have a baby. It is her first, and she is due in the next month or so. She had her baby shower on the weekend and her request from the women she invited was for each of us to share some wisdom or advice about raising kids or being moms. I've been chewing on the request for a few days now, and thinking "what would I have told myself? What would have been the best advice?" So here goes, a truthful mustering about motherhood that I wish someone could have told me. Although, like all things real and gritty and life-changing, you have to go through them to know them.
Dear Self,
As you are about to become a mother, there are some things you ought to know. I realize you may not remember all of what I am about to say, especially in the middle of the night when you are rocking a fussy baby and are exhausted and frustrated and think your life is over, but hopefully these words will find you when you can't see through the small moments.
You are about to change. And I mean, really change. You are about to lose a self that you thought you were only to find someone bigger, softer, stronger, angrier, and more giving than the self you are now. You are about to birth, not just this small human who will be your son or daughter, but also this new self of you, and it may take some time to get used to both.
Motherhood will ask you to change. It will ask you to put aside a lot of the shit that you thought was so important in order to do what needs to be done and just be present. You will look different. Your body will change. Try to love this new body: honour it and comfort it and give it what it needs. Your body is now someone else's home for a while and even as your children grow, you will be the shore for them. Always.
Your heart will break again and again, and it will keep breaking because it needs to get bigger and it needs to open and expand to hold the love that you have for this child, but also the love you will need to have for yourself.This bigger love will make you see the child in everyone, even in people you think are assholes. You will somehow come to love the assholes because you know that even they have mothers.
You are about to be stripped down to who you really are and who you are meant to be. This might feel very confusing because you'll think you have lost yourself for a good, long while, but really you are becoming, and that takes time. While hanging in limbo, have faith that you will find yourself again and whoever she is will be awesome.
Your kid will sculpt you. This can really suck, but is ultimately good. They will sculpt you into the parent they need you to be. Let them be the teacher.
Most importantly, who you are is exactly who you need to be for your kid. Show Your truth. You don't have to be something you're not. Motherhood is your expression. Let it be messy, let it still be your life, and never sacrifice your needs and the things which keep you happy.
You will find the dark places in yourself. Babies and kids seem to expose this to us. Let those dark
moments be like soil: rich and earthy and holding space for something to grow. The anger comes because you want control, you want to be alone, you want to run away, you don't want to do the work, your kid is driving you crazy, you feel trapped, you need a break, you just can't take another second. All of this is okay, and all of this is natural. Ask for help from the people around you. They want to help.
A lot of people say that "your life is over" when you have kids. Who are these people and why did they give up? You are starting a new chapter and it will enrich and feed you like nothing else has.
You are about to truly become hardcore, in the softest way.
But the key is this: find the moms. They're often in coffee shops and parks. They all have iPhones and use them religiously. Talk to them, befriend them. This is your new hive. These women, even in very brief moments or words, will be the backbone you can count on and they will count on you. Be honest with them; share your strife. Build your village.
Welcome to the greatest journey of your life.
Linking up with Selena over at le petit reve. '#RealMamaLife - Motherhood Uncensored.' >Find this weeks edition here
Saturday, 11 May 2013
Saturday, 20 April 2013
Having It All?
BlogTO just wrote a piece about New Moon (and me) as a featured look behind the scenes at our cookie factory. I must say, getting this jolt of PR while cradling a 5 week-old baby felt pretty awesome, and I am so grateful that they came for a visit.
The article got me thinking though, about how we are creating, within our zillion media outlets, this superwoman power-mama who can do it all and it is oh-so-easy.
Since having Frankie (baby number two! A girl!) I've noticed a few women comment that I make it look easy, and while it's nice to hear a compliment, I also want to grab that woman's hand and say, "Lady, this is the hardest thing I have ever done."
I often compare myself to that mythical woman; the one who seems to pull it off without breaking a sweat. Although many, many women pull off incredible feats of multi-tasking and having the all, it doesn't mean we should feel we have to, or that the new norm means wearing as many hats as possible in order to feel whole.
In an attempt to debunk a myth, I'd like to share My Having It All with you.
Here is what I have:
- I have an incredibly short attention span and often look like an iguana tracking flies. I attribute this to the complete splicing of my life right now, and the compulsion to get everything done and maintain some small sense of having-it-together. In order to accomplish this I am always doing at least two tasks at once. Like: peeing and texting or eating and folding laundry.
- I have two kids. One of them is a rambunctious, spirited two-and-a-half year-old who is my favourite person in the world and also someone who likes to tear, throw, or break all my shit and is also prone to hitting other children which really helps my social standing.
My other kid is only six weeks old, but judging by her nighttime screaming I think she may be spirited as well. In other words, my ego lies crumpled on the floor.
- I have a cookie business that I am supposed to be running, but these days it feels more like a staggered jog.
- I have a home in Roncesvalles Village. It is awesome and also very messy. There is a kids' bike in the hallway and a utility closet I yell at whenever I have to go in there to get a roll of toilet paper and things like votive candle holders from our wedding four years ago fall out and smash at my feet.
- I have a couple postpartum issues right now, one which I am going to spare you the details of and the other a condition called vasospasm whereby I get pins and needles in my nipples. It hurts. As my friend who also had it said, "it's worse than my craziest night of sex ever."
- I also have a crazy temper these days, which I blame on the hormones, but let's just say that I have been punching pillows a lot and last week my husband caught me about to throw a book against the wall. The book was Guerrilla Marketing; perhaps I should read it instead of throw it.
I used this analogy after having that Cedar that my time felt more like snacks than a meal. Now with two kids it's like eating snacks really, really fast. So fast that you don't chew them and end up choking on a piece of carrot or something.
It's kind of maddening in the moment, but in the greater perspective it is beautiful to be at the mercy of life these days: to be a tangled mess, to wear the same pants for four weeks straight, to eat a dirty apple off the ground because I am hungry and could care less, to make a playdough couch first thing in the morning with my son before even having a bite of food or taking a pee. To be such a rundown, emotional version of myself: more raw and real than I have ever felt.
I guess what I am trying to say is that having-it-all (career and family) is not exactly pretty. At least not for me. There is so much push-pull around wanting to be at home but needing to work, and also wanting to work and get space from my kids. I feel like I am doing a crappy half-assed version of everything right now, and that's only because my expectations are set way, way too high.
It's a paradox, and yet I am trying to satisfy all the parts of me that need food - even if they are just snacks for now.
The article got me thinking though, about how we are creating, within our zillion media outlets, this superwoman power-mama who can do it all and it is oh-so-easy.
Since having Frankie (baby number two! A girl!) I've noticed a few women comment that I make it look easy, and while it's nice to hear a compliment, I also want to grab that woman's hand and say, "Lady, this is the hardest thing I have ever done."
I often compare myself to that mythical woman; the one who seems to pull it off without breaking a sweat. Although many, many women pull off incredible feats of multi-tasking and having the all, it doesn't mean we should feel we have to, or that the new norm means wearing as many hats as possible in order to feel whole.
In an attempt to debunk a myth, I'd like to share My Having It All with you.
Here is what I have:
- I have an incredibly short attention span and often look like an iguana tracking flies. I attribute this to the complete splicing of my life right now, and the compulsion to get everything done and maintain some small sense of having-it-together. In order to accomplish this I am always doing at least two tasks at once. Like: peeing and texting or eating and folding laundry.
- I have two kids. One of them is a rambunctious, spirited two-and-a-half year-old who is my favourite person in the world and also someone who likes to tear, throw, or break all my shit and is also prone to hitting other children which really helps my social standing.
My other kid is only six weeks old, but judging by her nighttime screaming I think she may be spirited as well. In other words, my ego lies crumpled on the floor.
- I have a cookie business that I am supposed to be running, but these days it feels more like a staggered jog.
- I have a home in Roncesvalles Village. It is awesome and also very messy. There is a kids' bike in the hallway and a utility closet I yell at whenever I have to go in there to get a roll of toilet paper and things like votive candle holders from our wedding four years ago fall out and smash at my feet.
- I have a couple postpartum issues right now, one which I am going to spare you the details of and the other a condition called vasospasm whereby I get pins and needles in my nipples. It hurts. As my friend who also had it said, "it's worse than my craziest night of sex ever."
- I also have a crazy temper these days, which I blame on the hormones, but let's just say that I have been punching pillows a lot and last week my husband caught me about to throw a book against the wall. The book was Guerrilla Marketing; perhaps I should read it instead of throw it.
I used this analogy after having that Cedar that my time felt more like snacks than a meal. Now with two kids it's like eating snacks really, really fast. So fast that you don't chew them and end up choking on a piece of carrot or something.
It's kind of maddening in the moment, but in the greater perspective it is beautiful to be at the mercy of life these days: to be a tangled mess, to wear the same pants for four weeks straight, to eat a dirty apple off the ground because I am hungry and could care less, to make a playdough couch first thing in the morning with my son before even having a bite of food or taking a pee. To be such a rundown, emotional version of myself: more raw and real than I have ever felt.
I guess what I am trying to say is that having-it-all (career and family) is not exactly pretty. At least not for me. There is so much push-pull around wanting to be at home but needing to work, and also wanting to work and get space from my kids. I feel like I am doing a crappy half-assed version of everything right now, and that's only because my expectations are set way, way too high.
It's a paradox, and yet I am trying to satisfy all the parts of me that need food - even if they are just snacks for now.
Thursday, 7 March 2013
Into the Great Wide Open
It is a peculiar thing to be waiting on a baby. It is even more peculiar to assign a human being a due date, or to feel that one is "late" once this date approaches and the baby is a no-show. Clearly, I am a few days past one of these due dates, as they are called.
Although people are assuming I am chomping at the bit, I am quite happy to sit here in this gap of time wherein a baby could come at any second, or not, so therefore I have nothing to do but just tinker around.
It is a pause and I am thankful for it. There haven't been too many pause moments throughout this pregnancy; it's been a GO marathon. In fact, there haven't been too many pause moments since Cedar was born. Nope. Self-reflection is now available when I am driving to work or washing the dishes, or waking up at 4am to pee and all these thoughts barrel in when I should be sleeping.
It is quite a thing to become a mother. It's a popular rumour that a woman is changed forever, or loses her self, or won't get her life back, or that her days will be punctuated and spelled out by self-sacrifice. Definitely, there was the loss of self - a certain self. And definitely life changed, and most certainly I had to make a lot of room for someone else. And honestly, I had/have to do a whole ton of things I don't want to do. Those changes all seem obvious at this point. But there is something else, and I think it is the something that doesn't get talked about all too often. It is about who replaces that lost self: the mother. You may think of her as frumpy or forgotten or messy, but she is just about the sexiest creature I have ever met. This woman is covered in life's everyday messes and still manages to crack smiles, get food on the table, and do that freakin' fish puzzle with her kid for the thousandth time. She is vibrant and soulful, gets angry, gets soft, finds happiness in the tiniest little simple things, and loses her shit completely at least a couple times a week but recovers like a champ.
I have met, and become close with, and admired many of these women since I had Cedar. I think it is even fair to say that I have become one of them. It's a righteous club. More hardcore than anything I've ever done before.
So here is this pause, this abyss before I give birth to my second (and last) baby. Today I imagined myself driving on a highway in Phoenix, Arizona that I have taken many times. It boasts a perfect horizon, one you can really see and feel as it approaches. I was picturing this road and thinking about the whole idea of coming to the edge. See - I've always imagined the edge as a cliff, one you are supposed to jump off of. That idea of jumping off has never fit with me. I mean, I get it, but why would I just go and jump off a cliff? It occurred to me that the edge is simply a place I haven't been to before. It is that point on the road that is new and unknown and scares me. There is no jumping required - just the will to go forward, to explore, to be present. I am here now inside this edge.
I don't know any other way to say it except that I want to be free. This moment here is not just about having a baby, but of birthing myself again into this next incarnation. I am not a maiden becoming a mother, about to be devastated by the loss of ego. Now I am a mother birthing my new self.
I see this as an opportunity to choose the form that my life takes after things settle down on the home front. I've been mulling over and dreaming up all kinds of things for a couple years now, simply waiting for the time and energy and personal juju that could bring it all together.
It has become clear to me how much I do because I think I have to, or because it is my duty or obligation, or because if I don't do it, who will? Could it be possible to live life as if everything were a choice? What would that feel like? What would change? I have the sense that it would change everything. This is what I am sitting here with in the abyss; the chance to let it all go. Begin anew. Turn the corner. Find the new edges and valleys and twists that are all part of this crazy journey.
Well, Little One in utero. Thanks for giving me a few days to figure all this shit out. You can come out now.
Although people are assuming I am chomping at the bit, I am quite happy to sit here in this gap of time wherein a baby could come at any second, or not, so therefore I have nothing to do but just tinker around.
It is a pause and I am thankful for it. There haven't been too many pause moments throughout this pregnancy; it's been a GO marathon. In fact, there haven't been too many pause moments since Cedar was born. Nope. Self-reflection is now available when I am driving to work or washing the dishes, or waking up at 4am to pee and all these thoughts barrel in when I should be sleeping.
It is quite a thing to become a mother. It's a popular rumour that a woman is changed forever, or loses her self, or won't get her life back, or that her days will be punctuated and spelled out by self-sacrifice. Definitely, there was the loss of self - a certain self. And definitely life changed, and most certainly I had to make a lot of room for someone else. And honestly, I had/have to do a whole ton of things I don't want to do. Those changes all seem obvious at this point. But there is something else, and I think it is the something that doesn't get talked about all too often. It is about who replaces that lost self: the mother. You may think of her as frumpy or forgotten or messy, but she is just about the sexiest creature I have ever met. This woman is covered in life's everyday messes and still manages to crack smiles, get food on the table, and do that freakin' fish puzzle with her kid for the thousandth time. She is vibrant and soulful, gets angry, gets soft, finds happiness in the tiniest little simple things, and loses her shit completely at least a couple times a week but recovers like a champ.I have met, and become close with, and admired many of these women since I had Cedar. I think it is even fair to say that I have become one of them. It's a righteous club. More hardcore than anything I've ever done before.
So here is this pause, this abyss before I give birth to my second (and last) baby. Today I imagined myself driving on a highway in Phoenix, Arizona that I have taken many times. It boasts a perfect horizon, one you can really see and feel as it approaches. I was picturing this road and thinking about the whole idea of coming to the edge. See - I've always imagined the edge as a cliff, one you are supposed to jump off of. That idea of jumping off has never fit with me. I mean, I get it, but why would I just go and jump off a cliff? It occurred to me that the edge is simply a place I haven't been to before. It is that point on the road that is new and unknown and scares me. There is no jumping required - just the will to go forward, to explore, to be present. I am here now inside this edge.
I don't know any other way to say it except that I want to be free. This moment here is not just about having a baby, but of birthing myself again into this next incarnation. I am not a maiden becoming a mother, about to be devastated by the loss of ego. Now I am a mother birthing my new self.
I see this as an opportunity to choose the form that my life takes after things settle down on the home front. I've been mulling over and dreaming up all kinds of things for a couple years now, simply waiting for the time and energy and personal juju that could bring it all together.
It has become clear to me how much I do because I think I have to, or because it is my duty or obligation, or because if I don't do it, who will? Could it be possible to live life as if everything were a choice? What would that feel like? What would change? I have the sense that it would change everything. This is what I am sitting here with in the abyss; the chance to let it all go. Begin anew. Turn the corner. Find the new edges and valleys and twists that are all part of this crazy journey.
Well, Little One in utero. Thanks for giving me a few days to figure all this shit out. You can come out now.
Monday, 8 October 2012
Thankful for Giving
This is my favourite time of year; the end of a whole cycle, a whole watching-of-time. The end of the harvest, the changing of the leaves, the crispness of apples and cool air. But mostly, mostly - this is the time when I had Cedar.
The day after he was born my sister and mother-in-law came over and roasted a turkey and gawked over the baby and we ate pie and stuffing like real pros. Brian and I had bowls of leftovers for dinner every night for a week as we stumbled somewhat gracefully through our first days (and long nights) of parenting.
And now it is Thanksgiving weekend, two very full years later. Cedar's second birthday is in three days and we are in Montreal with Brian's family, trying to figure out the logistics for tomorrow's turkey and stuffing, and where we'll find a proper pumpkin pie in Montreal.
Things, you see, they all come together. Eventually. I say this because I feel that something in me has clicked. I feel like a mom. A good mom, or at least, the right mom for Cedar. Lately it is love-on-fire with him.
Being that it is Thanksgiving I simply wanted to say that I am thankful for him. I am thankful, so deeply thankful, that I get to be his mother and guide in life. For a long time there, I really didn't get it. I was in a lot of pain and overwhelmed and battling my own inner demons so much that I didn't feel or understand what was so great about motherhood. Honestly.
But something has happened. Maybe all those demons were just a big fire in my chest that could burn a place for my heart to open. Perhaps the overwhelm was sweeping me over to a new shore. And now I am here with an almost two year-old boy, and I understand what is great about motherhood, or why a woman may say that it is the best thing she has ever done.
I love to give to him. I love to know what he needs and when. I love to be with him and to discover him. I love the simplicity of needing to be nowhere else or do anything more. I love that who I am makes sense when I fall into step with him.
But mostly, this thing we have feels equal. We're clearly two spirits on the journey together. I don't feel that I am a wiser being than him, but that we are two wise beings learning from each other.
You know what it's like when you're in love? When time seems to slow down or speed up or just leave you alone, and everything looks brighter and you feel that you really don't need to do anything else except just exist in that moment? It's like that. On the good days, of course. Of which there are many more than the crappy days.
Happy Birthday Cedar. Thank you for teaching me how to love.
Happy Thanksgiving Everyone. This year, and hopefully for many more, I am thankful for giving.
The day after he was born my sister and mother-in-law came over and roasted a turkey and gawked over the baby and we ate pie and stuffing like real pros. Brian and I had bowls of leftovers for dinner every night for a week as we stumbled somewhat gracefully through our first days (and long nights) of parenting.
And now it is Thanksgiving weekend, two very full years later. Cedar's second birthday is in three days and we are in Montreal with Brian's family, trying to figure out the logistics for tomorrow's turkey and stuffing, and where we'll find a proper pumpkin pie in Montreal.
Things, you see, they all come together. Eventually. I say this because I feel that something in me has clicked. I feel like a mom. A good mom, or at least, the right mom for Cedar. Lately it is love-on-fire with him.
Being that it is Thanksgiving I simply wanted to say that I am thankful for him. I am thankful, so deeply thankful, that I get to be his mother and guide in life. For a long time there, I really didn't get it. I was in a lot of pain and overwhelmed and battling my own inner demons so much that I didn't feel or understand what was so great about motherhood. Honestly.
But something has happened. Maybe all those demons were just a big fire in my chest that could burn a place for my heart to open. Perhaps the overwhelm was sweeping me over to a new shore. And now I am here with an almost two year-old boy, and I understand what is great about motherhood, or why a woman may say that it is the best thing she has ever done.
I love to give to him. I love to know what he needs and when. I love to be with him and to discover him. I love the simplicity of needing to be nowhere else or do anything more. I love that who I am makes sense when I fall into step with him.
But mostly, this thing we have feels equal. We're clearly two spirits on the journey together. I don't feel that I am a wiser being than him, but that we are two wise beings learning from each other.
You know what it's like when you're in love? When time seems to slow down or speed up or just leave you alone, and everything looks brighter and you feel that you really don't need to do anything else except just exist in that moment? It's like that. On the good days, of course. Of which there are many more than the crappy days.
Happy Birthday Cedar. Thank you for teaching me how to love.
Happy Thanksgiving Everyone. This year, and hopefully for many more, I am thankful for giving.
Saturday, 22 September 2012
Just Give 'Er
If you choose to pay attention, you might just find that events in life often seem to coincide or relate or conspire together to teach you something or give you a nice, firm kick in the butt to take action on something.
Some people call this serendipity, and some people are obsessed with "signs" and that overwhelming sense that the universe is really listening to you, therefore you should definitely make a move. I don't mean it in either of those ways. In fact, I am pretty much over reading-into-everything as a way of decoding life. What I am talking about is the simple putting together of life experience so that it makes sense and so that we see where change is heading. We either change or we die, right?
Let's start with this lovely dinner I had with one of my best friends this week. This woman is incredibly beautiful, intelligent, creative, warm, loving, adventurous - she has it all going for her. But she has been looking for love for quite some time and certainly has her doubts about whether or not it will happen. My first instinct was to tell her to look at herself, to see where she needs to change or open her heart, to essentially "work" on herself. Then I kind of slapped myself in the brain; I realized that I don't think that is true anymore - that we have to continually work on ourselves in order to arrive at some perfect version of who we are in order to have what we desire.
Now onto today. Bear with me please, because I am about to bridge this into business. Today I went to a trade show at the Metro Convention Centre. It is called the CHFA and is for manufacturers and distributors in the health food industry who are looking for new business. I roamed the aisles and aisles AND aisles of all things gluten-free and raw and supplemented and fermented and vegan and well - you know I could go on and on. This is a growing industry. So I'm roaming and I'm trying all the cookies, of course, and as I'm eating all these cookies from the many cookie businesses there are out there, I am growing increasingly disheartened and confused. How will I make it when everyone is doing the same thing? What's the point? It got kind of depressing, actually.
Then I thought about my husband, who is a brilliant musician, and how he will be attending a music conference in October. I thought of how many other handsome guitar-playing guys will be there, with songs that are great, with voices that can soothe and belt, and how he also may wonder why and how and what for.
The question is then, do I stop doing what I do for the fear that there is no place in this world for it? Do I succumb to doubt? Do I give in to the thought that I don't measure up or don't have what it takes or that someone is better than me? Or do I go for it?
I am not perfect. Oh dear, I am so far from it. And my business is not "ready" to go national and be on those big, bright shelves at the supermarket. But it is what is right now.
How does this relate to love, and music, and cookies, and putting all the pieces of life together? Well, I suppose I am a bit scattered and a bit lost these days, but that's what it is. There is no perfect version, there is no waiting to get it all right. Life is messy.
I am not saying that I'm going to sell a crappy product or anything, but maybe my product happens to be good enough to make a whole bunch of people happy. Besides, between you and me - I had some pretty crappy cookies today. Cookies that are sold in supermarkets all over North America. I'm not being a hater, just making a point.
Some people call this serendipity, and some people are obsessed with "signs" and that overwhelming sense that the universe is really listening to you, therefore you should definitely make a move. I don't mean it in either of those ways. In fact, I am pretty much over reading-into-everything as a way of decoding life. What I am talking about is the simple putting together of life experience so that it makes sense and so that we see where change is heading. We either change or we die, right?
Let's start with this lovely dinner I had with one of my best friends this week. This woman is incredibly beautiful, intelligent, creative, warm, loving, adventurous - she has it all going for her. But she has been looking for love for quite some time and certainly has her doubts about whether or not it will happen. My first instinct was to tell her to look at herself, to see where she needs to change or open her heart, to essentially "work" on herself. Then I kind of slapped myself in the brain; I realized that I don't think that is true anymore - that we have to continually work on ourselves in order to arrive at some perfect version of who we are in order to have what we desire.
 | ||
| This is a picture of a fraction of the show. |
Then I thought about my husband, who is a brilliant musician, and how he will be attending a music conference in October. I thought of how many other handsome guitar-playing guys will be there, with songs that are great, with voices that can soothe and belt, and how he also may wonder why and how and what for.
 |
| A picture of my feet at the show. |
I am not perfect. Oh dear, I am so far from it. And my business is not "ready" to go national and be on those big, bright shelves at the supermarket. But it is what is right now.
How does this relate to love, and music, and cookies, and putting all the pieces of life together? Well, I suppose I am a bit scattered and a bit lost these days, but that's what it is. There is no perfect version, there is no waiting to get it all right. Life is messy.
I am not saying that I'm going to sell a crappy product or anything, but maybe my product happens to be good enough to make a whole bunch of people happy. Besides, between you and me - I had some pretty crappy cookies today. Cookies that are sold in supermarkets all over North America. I'm not being a hater, just making a point.
Wednesday, 6 June 2012
Hello Anger, Nice to Meet You
I have never considered myself to be an angry person; it hasn't been my default emotion when life gets unruly. Instead, I may have become overly busy or anxious or inwardly stressed. But not angry, not a steaming, rattling kettle. Not until lately.There are so many things that aren't spoken of openly when it comes to parenting, but more specifically to motherhood. It's common knowledge that there looms an ideal mother in our society. She is selfless, patient beyond compare, willing to give every ounce of herself at every given moment, and does not get angry. Plus, she LOVES every single moment that she is with her children, which is every moment of every day. I have come to know this false idol quite well. She sits on my shoulder in a glowing white smock with a perfect smile on her face. She follows me to the park, into my kitchen, into my kid's room when he wakes at 3am, and no matter what, how, or when - I can never live up to her. This makes me feel bad about myself. Most of the time.
Sometimes I break free and am able to be myself with my kid. And I'll tell you, it is the best feeling I have ever felt. It is the purest, realest love I have ever experienced. It is ecstatic bliss. These moments are gold. Pure gold. But the rest of the time I am battling with a whole army of emotions and responses that, after digging around with a few other mothers, I have learned are part of the whole motherhood deal.
My kid brings me to a place of rage that I did not know I was capable of. I thought I was pretty calm and collected and able to handle most adversity with a pretty decent level of grace. But now? Maybe on a good day.
My rage doesn't get bounced onto him, instead it turns inward and I put it on myself. Rage and anger are such huge emotions - they are like having an ocean storm inside your body, rolling and lashing. I do not know where to put these feelings or how to handle them. They scare me. Which brings me back to that perfect mother and why I think the whole idea of her is a pile of crap. Giving birth to a human being and raising him in the world is a huge thing. It is more important than anything else I have ever done or will ever have to do.
Life is not dressed in a glowing white smock. Life is full-on. Life, if you are open to it, will rock you like nothing else and offer you so much growth and awesomeness and challenge and grief and love and pain. So much. How can I teach my son about life if I am not able to feel rage and show him how to be with it?
This is why, I believe, motherhood induces rage or frustration - it opens us up, day by day, to be bigger people with bigger hearts and a larger capacity for emotion. That greater capacity is what allows us to love more, bigger, stronger, more powerfully. That, to me, is what motherhood is about.
This anger thing feels new to me. I'm not good at handling it yet. I stomp and curse and want to run away. I shut my heart, I get pissy and sucky. And here it is - an ocean storm in my heart asking me to open up bigger, stronger, more powerfully. What a paradox.
So here it is - for any mother out there who may be feeling the same thing or wondering if any other mother feels this way: yes. Me. I do. I sincerely hope we all bring that perfect mother down from the pedastal so that we can be ourselves, which is exactly who our kids need us to be.
xo BB
Tuesday, 15 May 2012
Help Wanted
I usually like to keep my game-face on, but thought I'd tell it straight instead: I think I'm stuck. Well, I kind of know I'm stuck. OKAY - I'm stuck!
My name is Eden and I am officially experiencing some kind of personal crisis at work. Now, when I say work I don't just mean my job. This is the thing with owning your own business; New Moon is my baby. It is part of me. In fact, I may be over-identifying with my business. Me and New Moon have been together since I was 19 years old. That is almost 16 years. I wouldn't say it's like marriage, it's more like a kid. The difference with a kid is that they are most certainly energetically their own being, whereas a business, without its own stubborn determination for separation and autonomy, seeps into the ego and identity.
When my business is doing well, I feel good. When my business is struggling, I don't sleep at night, and it becomes very difficult to think about anything other than how to solve the problem.
Here is a picture of where things are at:
When I was pregnant, my job was to get the business running like a well-oiled machine. I needed to do that in order to ensure a smooth maternity leave. It was a lot of work; I remember sitting at my desk cramming away at spreadsheets and systems just days before I gave birth. But I did it, and while I took a step away to have a baby, the business ran well. No major hiccups, we didn't go into debt, all was well.
Then I came back, pretty tired and shell-shocked, and resumed my seat at the desk. And twiddled my thumbs. Since then it's been an interesting journey; I've done lots of clean-up, worked with my staff, shredded lots of old paper, played with new recipes, tried to get more customers, but I still sit here day after day with this sinking feeling. How on earth do I grow my business? What does it require of me? How do I take a small-medium business to bigger? But most importantly, what do I want?
This is where I'm stuck. And it feels a bit scary to admit that I don't know. I want the business to grow, I want to continue to build an awesome business with incredible people and incredible products - but where and how? I want to have fun, and I want to be creative, and I really, really don't want to compromise my ethics JUST to make money. This is the crux.
So I'm putting out a Want Ad. I want to find a mentor. I want to talk to someone who can say, "hey, this is what most entrepreneurs go through at this stage and this is how to get out of it".
As it stands, going to work and trying to "grow my business" is proving to be somewhat painful, because I am being incredibly hard on myself, and the pressure is too much.
I wanna be this guy over here, walking into the sky - except not a guy and perhaps wearing a killer dress instead of some boring suit. Oh yeah, I'd also be holding a cookie in each hand and have Cedar on my hip.
xo BB
My name is Eden and I am officially experiencing some kind of personal crisis at work. Now, when I say work I don't just mean my job. This is the thing with owning your own business; New Moon is my baby. It is part of me. In fact, I may be over-identifying with my business. Me and New Moon have been together since I was 19 years old. That is almost 16 years. I wouldn't say it's like marriage, it's more like a kid. The difference with a kid is that they are most certainly energetically their own being, whereas a business, without its own stubborn determination for separation and autonomy, seeps into the ego and identity.
When my business is doing well, I feel good. When my business is struggling, I don't sleep at night, and it becomes very difficult to think about anything other than how to solve the problem.
Here is a picture of where things are at:
When I was pregnant, my job was to get the business running like a well-oiled machine. I needed to do that in order to ensure a smooth maternity leave. It was a lot of work; I remember sitting at my desk cramming away at spreadsheets and systems just days before I gave birth. But I did it, and while I took a step away to have a baby, the business ran well. No major hiccups, we didn't go into debt, all was well.
Then I came back, pretty tired and shell-shocked, and resumed my seat at the desk. And twiddled my thumbs. Since then it's been an interesting journey; I've done lots of clean-up, worked with my staff, shredded lots of old paper, played with new recipes, tried to get more customers, but I still sit here day after day with this sinking feeling. How on earth do I grow my business? What does it require of me? How do I take a small-medium business to bigger? But most importantly, what do I want?
This is where I'm stuck. And it feels a bit scary to admit that I don't know. I want the business to grow, I want to continue to build an awesome business with incredible people and incredible products - but where and how? I want to have fun, and I want to be creative, and I really, really don't want to compromise my ethics JUST to make money. This is the crux.
So I'm putting out a Want Ad. I want to find a mentor. I want to talk to someone who can say, "hey, this is what most entrepreneurs go through at this stage and this is how to get out of it".
As it stands, going to work and trying to "grow my business" is proving to be somewhat painful, because I am being incredibly hard on myself, and the pressure is too much.
I wanna be this guy over here, walking into the sky - except not a guy and perhaps wearing a killer dress instead of some boring suit. Oh yeah, I'd also be holding a cookie in each hand and have Cedar on my hip.
Friday, 27 April 2012
Is it Time?
Breastfeeding, for whatever reason, always seems like such a hot topic. I find it kind of stupid that we pay so much attention to this one act: whether or not a woman does it, and for how long, and where, and what she wears (or doesn't wear) while doing it, and who she may offend by doing/not doing it. The list goes on... There are so many issues in our not-so-evolved Western culture around parenting that exist because many of us have the luxury of not having to work and can discuss our breastfeeding woes or preferences.
Alas, here I am at home on a Friday afternoon because I have the privilege and luxury to work flexible hours so I can be with my kid. I mean that earnestly. And here I am on this Friday afternoon wanting to share a story about breastfeeding.
Cedar is now a year-and-a-half old. He has a full set of teeth, and we are still going strong with breastfeeding. He doesn't take nursing lightly; this kid is very serious about his boob. I have always loved sharing in this wonderful act with him. Lately though, I am feeling really annoyed by it. He is getting his back molars and because of all the discomfort, he has been especially needy and forceful with nursing. It can be very frustrating. This leads me to the question of whether it is time to begin the weaning process.
If there is one parenting philosophy that works for me, it is this: if you can't stand it, do something to change it. For example, I can't stand the biting and pulling and obsessing over my boobs. Makes me bonkers. When I am bonkers we all suffer - just ask my husband.
Although bonkers, I feel very emotional about the idea of weaning him. Just before his nap today I tried not giving him the breast and he cried and cried, then I started to cry too. This breastfeeding thing - this is ours. This is the most basic, beautiful, natural thing, other than love, that I feel I can offer my child at this point. When he is upset, the breast calms him. It is a simple communication, and no one else in the world can give this to him in this way. This boy grew inside my body, and it was my body that fed him, and my body continues to feed him through breastfeeding. So simple.
I feel emotional because I doubt that anything will ever be this simple again. I think about this huge, mad world that he is growing in, and I think about wanting to give him every tool there is to manage well within it. As he grows and changes, these tools will also have to change.
I imagine that every mother experiences this moment when she realizes that her baby is going to grow up and move on in the world. I have never experienced the movement of time at such a fast rate; it is mind-blowing. While he is still on my breast, he remains a little person in so many ways. I do not want to force him, or myself, but I do want to change the stream of things right now so it is more comfortable for me, and in turn, for him.
Alas, here I am at home on a Friday afternoon because I have the privilege and luxury to work flexible hours so I can be with my kid. I mean that earnestly. And here I am on this Friday afternoon wanting to share a story about breastfeeding.
Cedar is now a year-and-a-half old. He has a full set of teeth, and we are still going strong with breastfeeding. He doesn't take nursing lightly; this kid is very serious about his boob. I have always loved sharing in this wonderful act with him. Lately though, I am feeling really annoyed by it. He is getting his back molars and because of all the discomfort, he has been especially needy and forceful with nursing. It can be very frustrating. This leads me to the question of whether it is time to begin the weaning process.
If there is one parenting philosophy that works for me, it is this: if you can't stand it, do something to change it. For example, I can't stand the biting and pulling and obsessing over my boobs. Makes me bonkers. When I am bonkers we all suffer - just ask my husband.
Although bonkers, I feel very emotional about the idea of weaning him. Just before his nap today I tried not giving him the breast and he cried and cried, then I started to cry too. This breastfeeding thing - this is ours. This is the most basic, beautiful, natural thing, other than love, that I feel I can offer my child at this point. When he is upset, the breast calms him. It is a simple communication, and no one else in the world can give this to him in this way. This boy grew inside my body, and it was my body that fed him, and my body continues to feed him through breastfeeding. So simple.
I feel emotional because I doubt that anything will ever be this simple again. I think about this huge, mad world that he is growing in, and I think about wanting to give him every tool there is to manage well within it. As he grows and changes, these tools will also have to change.
I imagine that every mother experiences this moment when she realizes that her baby is going to grow up and move on in the world. I have never experienced the movement of time at such a fast rate; it is mind-blowing. While he is still on my breast, he remains a little person in so many ways. I do not want to force him, or myself, but I do want to change the stream of things right now so it is more comfortable for me, and in turn, for him.
Monday, 19 March 2012
Number Two, How You Scare Me So
Bri: So, you wanna make a baby, huh?
Me: Yeah, you?
Bri: Yeah, why not?
And practically in unison: Get 'er done.
Isn't it funny that the first baby is the most incredibly romantic and wonderful idea/thing of all time, and number two is this shafted little being who happens because, well, you can't have just one, or the other needs a sibling, or you know you want two so you may as well get through the debauchery. So you shrug your shoulders and pull the goalie.
All that said, I know there's more to it, and I know that my heart wants a second baby with as much true love as it did for the first. Only difference? I guess I'm just too damn tired to put as much energy into it!
I'm scared though. Not a real scared, but an unsettled anxiety that's creeping around my shoulders these days. We've sort of, kind of, become settled with this one little guy. Bri and I are both back to work in our freelancey ways, and I am starting to have dreams for the bakery again, but here comes Number Two nudging my ovaries.
I've been taking polls from different families. This morning at the coffee shop I asked a friend who has a three year-old and a six month-old what it's like to have two. He said, "twice the beauty, twice the pain." Or there's my other friend who says that having two is not 1+1=2, but 1+1=3.
The consensus is that two is better than one and you may as well have the second one BEFORE you get too used to things like sleeping or having some time to get things done.
All logistics aside, I think I'm scared because those first and many months after Cedar were the most difficult and painful times of my life. I don't want that again. And that's just the truth leaking out now.
Moral of the story: when the heart wants, it wants. Things like Order and Control are always getting messed up by that dirty little heart scoundrel.
My great-grandmother had 9 kids. 8 of them girls. Times have changed, haven't they?
Wednesday, 28 December 2011
The New Faith
I am exhausted. November and December, in hindsight, look like the insides of a tornado. Okay okay, that's not fair, November was actually really awesome, but December - December was certainly a tornado. In its mix: husband touring extensively, toddler cutting 8 teeth (which made him forget how to sleep), and a persistent cold that turned into a crazy sinus infection (I'm still coughing).
It is incredibly crucial to pay close attention to your anxieties. Why? Because all that anxious thought will bite you in the ass. If I had a bumper sticker which would have summed up my greatest anxieties of the past year, it would read: ALL ALONE AT HOME WITH NON-SLEEPING TODDLER. So what happened? I ended up all alone at home with a non-sleeping toddler. And here's the thing: it wasn't that bad. In fact, it forced me to finally surrender to all those things which are really out of my control. This is such a breakthrough for a control freak, to realize that there are things I can't control so can just stop trying. It's like a vacation!
I have a tendency to make busy. Plan plan plan, do do do, fix fix fix. I exhaust myself. I am certainly the culprit of my own insanity. My pattern has always been to fit as much as possible into each day, and do this for weeks on end, then take a trip somewhere by myself. I've always believed that in order to feel life at its peak, it has to be crammed full of experience. Then the vacation serves as time to unwind and reflect before heading into the next bout of creative madness. Here's the hitch: having a kid means that I don't take those trips by myself to decompress. So I am faced with two choices: stay on the crazy train without a vacation, or get off the crazy train and find a new way.
What I want to tell you, from the other side, is that what I gain from 5 minutes of open-hearted joyous play with my kid does not compare with a trip by myself to Tulum. Sigh. I think I just lied. Trips to Tulum are amazing, but my kid is even more amazing.
So what to do now that there isn't that chance for the getaway? I make the ordinary moments my salvation. I discovered this one night in the midst of December's madness when I had to drive to Canadian Tire in a rainstorm to pick-up a steam cleaner (long story). I get to Canadian Tire and am bulldozing my way through the aisles looking for lightbulbs, a stepladder, bob skates, all the while getting more worked up and stressed. Then I hit the customer service line-up to order the steam cleaner. It was a Sunday night. Long line-up. I could have lost it completely, but instead I took a breath and realized THAT was my moment to escape, to find some peace, to relax, to take a little vacation in my mind and pray. I prayed for things to calm down, I prayed for some patience, I prayed for Cedar to take up sleeping again. And a moment which could have gone awry went beautifully instead. I think I even listened to Hungry Like the Wolf on the way home at full volume and whipped my hair around a bit.
So take my advice: make life your temple. Make life your vacation. Listen to old Duran Duran. Eat more cookies. Be kind. Practice patience. Eat more cookies. Forgive your parents. Forgive yourself. Welcome a new year with open arms.
Off to bed.
xo BB
It is incredibly crucial to pay close attention to your anxieties. Why? Because all that anxious thought will bite you in the ass. If I had a bumper sticker which would have summed up my greatest anxieties of the past year, it would read: ALL ALONE AT HOME WITH NON-SLEEPING TODDLER. So what happened? I ended up all alone at home with a non-sleeping toddler. And here's the thing: it wasn't that bad. In fact, it forced me to finally surrender to all those things which are really out of my control. This is such a breakthrough for a control freak, to realize that there are things I can't control so can just stop trying. It's like a vacation!
I have a tendency to make busy. Plan plan plan, do do do, fix fix fix. I exhaust myself. I am certainly the culprit of my own insanity. My pattern has always been to fit as much as possible into each day, and do this for weeks on end, then take a trip somewhere by myself. I've always believed that in order to feel life at its peak, it has to be crammed full of experience. Then the vacation serves as time to unwind and reflect before heading into the next bout of creative madness. Here's the hitch: having a kid means that I don't take those trips by myself to decompress. So I am faced with two choices: stay on the crazy train without a vacation, or get off the crazy train and find a new way.
What I want to tell you, from the other side, is that what I gain from 5 minutes of open-hearted joyous play with my kid does not compare with a trip by myself to Tulum. Sigh. I think I just lied. Trips to Tulum are amazing, but my kid is even more amazing.
So what to do now that there isn't that chance for the getaway? I make the ordinary moments my salvation. I discovered this one night in the midst of December's madness when I had to drive to Canadian Tire in a rainstorm to pick-up a steam cleaner (long story). I get to Canadian Tire and am bulldozing my way through the aisles looking for lightbulbs, a stepladder, bob skates, all the while getting more worked up and stressed. Then I hit the customer service line-up to order the steam cleaner. It was a Sunday night. Long line-up. I could have lost it completely, but instead I took a breath and realized THAT was my moment to escape, to find some peace, to relax, to take a little vacation in my mind and pray. I prayed for things to calm down, I prayed for some patience, I prayed for Cedar to take up sleeping again. And a moment which could have gone awry went beautifully instead. I think I even listened to Hungry Like the Wolf on the way home at full volume and whipped my hair around a bit.
So take my advice: make life your temple. Make life your vacation. Listen to old Duran Duran. Eat more cookies. Be kind. Practice patience. Eat more cookies. Forgive your parents. Forgive yourself. Welcome a new year with open arms.
Off to bed.
xo BB
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