don't eat the paint

In grade 9 my group of friends imploded. We’d been excited at our ability to take over student council ( our Jr was 7-9) and high on being the big women on campus. We all went to Lara’s house to get ready for the election , practiced our skits, added glitter to our campaign signs and everything was great for the first few hours.

Then something happened.

The stress of this all was too much for our pubescent bodies and immature psyches.

We cracked.

I am now 32 years old , this was more than half my life ago and I remember it so clearly and still get that pit of my stomach feeling when I think about it. Our circle of friendship shifted so effortlessly into going one by one and saying what we didn’t like about eachother, openly.

I am sure I am not the only one who still carries wounds. It was so honest , too honest and so incredibly hurtful.  That moment I decided to find new friends. It was hard these girls were popular, these girls were who I’d hung out with for years and at 14 you don’t just walk away from that. So I started dressing in black, listening to depressing music and focusing on drama, as in plays not teenage drama. I think  I managed to push them away, I got weird. They didn’t want weird.

It all worked out in the end, although I can still see Lara’s basement with it’s shag carpet when I feel stug by someone.  I am brought back to that instantly when I think girls, or women are focusing on the wrong things. When we go in with the best intentions of working together as a community and end up ripping each other apart.

I don’t think I need to get into the details of this past week - if you are on Twitter you likley saw what I did. And you saw it go very very wrong. Name calling, nasty comments, accusations of being uneducated, of being Nazi’s… the list is horrible and long. Also it came from both sides, so it doesn’t matter what you agree with the general public is left with the thought that mommy bloggers can’t disagree without disolving into my grade 9 sleepover of nastiness and immaturity.

I don’t expect us to all agree. Debate is awesome fuel for change and the world we live in needs a lot of change. I do expect us to keep it civil.  Openly state your opinion, link to info that supports your position, write respectful posts, openly state that you boycott a product- but when you go from that to name calling all I do it write you off as unprofessional and I know I am not alone.

I want what I do to be legitimate.

Just today at a charity event hosted by myself and another blogger she mentioned to me that the lack of legitimacy in what we do irks her.  Blogs are often brushed off as a hobby of lonely bored housewives looking for drama and even though that is simply not true after a week like this how do we prove that?

So we need to stand up from the shag carpet in Lara’s basement and say in our 32 year old voices something we couldn’t at 14, being mean is not ok. We aren’t a family no one expects us all to love each other, but we are a community and we do need to respect each other.

I hear this so often it scares me and I am guilty of this. Let me just get this out in the open first. I am not chastising you , I am chastising myself .
Why are so many of us afraid to be political? We sure as hell have the motivation to be advocates, we do it every single day. We speak for our children’s needs, whether  great or small we takes stands daily. There is no question as to a power of a mother when she is fighting for her child so why don’t we fight equally hard for ourselves? Our community?
Why is it so hard for so many of us to do it outside our homes? Why is it so hard for us to say ” I think this because…” “I believe this because…”
“My voice is strong and heard because…”

Why do I feel so vulnerable taking a stand?

I use the excuse that I am not a US citizen to get my free pass. ” I can’t vote so it’s hard for me to get involved since I don’t get a say at the end of the day.”

Lame.

I do it all the time. ALL the time.

It’s interesting that I would feel so insecure, since becoming a mom I am considerably more confident, I found my legs and wings the day my son was placed in my arms so where did my voice go?

I am so envious of the moms I know who are active politically, who are up to date on not just the headlines but the details of  news that isn’t covered on TMZ. There are many of you, and I don’t know how I  got off that track and onto the one that I am on now that gets my news from twitter. “I’m busy” is so pathetic even I don’t use that. If I have time to watch the “New Moon” trailer on Youtube I can read some articles in the Economist and remind my brain what it was like to read something above a grade 5 reading level.

I have been letting these questions sink in for a long time. Disappointment in yourself isn’t easy, and I’m disappointed in myself. I am fearful that in a few years when my son asks me about an issue I will defer to my husband and my changeover from independent minded college educated  woman to stepford wife will be complete.

At first I blamed not wanting to ruffle my friends feathers( online and real life) , confrontation has become more and more uncomfortable. Being a stay at home parent is lonely, the friends I do have I want to keep. That too is really just an excuse, my good friends, online and off  aren’t going to stop being my friend if I openly share my views, quietly or forcefully.

What it really comes down to and this is an  embarrassing and vulnerable confession.

I feel stupid.

I have gotten lazy and used the excuse that I just needed something brainless to wind down after a long day parenting so much , brainless is all I feel I can handle.

That hurt to type. I am not brainless, but when it’s all you read, when it’s all you watch…. what’s that saying about you are what you eat?

I hate asking my husband to explain something to me- not because I can’t get it but like the kid who skipped class I just wasn’t there to find out. I have checked out.

I know I am not the only one.

Starting today I am re-enrolling. I may not be able to vote but I used to know the details I used to know the facts and this delinquency has lasted long enough. I just need to make lunch, do laundry and play legos first but I promise after that I’ll grab the Economist.

When I was a director of a large childcare center ( a job I loved and loathed but that’s a story for another day) I would go into the center anywhere between 5:30am and 8 and without fail my inbox would fill up at 6:45am, being on the West Coast  almost everyone’s day starts before ours. Lucky for me I was almost always in well before anyone should start their day.  Now that I am blogging my busy time has shifted, although I am not sure if it’s later or earlier. Either way my in box fills up with messages between 11pm and 1am . What does that say to me?

Mom bloggers need more sleep!  We are all up way too late taking advantage of the time of day when our kids are sleeping ( at least usually), our phones are quiet, and we can’t see how dirty our kitchen floor is , so we can focus on blogging. Most of us are used to little to no sleep because of our most precious family members, they have trained us to survive on less and less sleep, turned some of us into serious caffeine addicts and are also our major drive to do what we do, even at 1am !

The thing is though that we are going to crack- so next time I email you after 11:30 feel free to publicly call me out, tell me to close the laptop and get in bed. Because I am a good blogger with little sleep but I am a much better mom with a little more.  And there is no question which is more important to me.

It’s almost 1am I gotta get to bed!

It was our first day of school today.

EVER.

My little man has had a hard time separating from me before, so we haven’t been separated much, I’ve never felt he was ready until now.  Today he said ” Mommy I am so excited to go to school.” as we left the car, and after washing hands and signing in he looked at me and said “Ok you can go now mommy”.

My first thought was  all the attachment parenting I have intuitively followed with him, all the co sleeping , nursing until only a few months ago, baby( toddler) wearing… did do what I felt it would, gave him security. He knew I would be back because he trusts me. He knew I would be there at the door of the music room as he got off his circle time mat and excitedly told me about his day.

No matter how we parent people parent differently than we do , and have opinions. I get and got so many comments about wearing my son in a carrier ” He has to learn to walk sometime!” <— for the record he could walk at 11 months , or nursing him past the norm of early  infancy ” Once they have teeth it’s time to cut them off, or ” If they can ask for it they are too old.” he got teeth at 5 months and could sign for it at 6 so that never held water for me either. The most recent one was that if I keep sleeping in his bed , he’ll never be able to separate from me “Just watch it will be a nightmare the first day of preschool.”

2 hours to myself, to write and enjoy a coffee was definitely not a nightmare, not a single tear was shed and I quote:

“I had a great day mom, do I have school tomorrow too?”

I am not saying my way is best, I am saying my way is best for my child. Parents have instincts for a reason , we have a connection to our children that is unique and no matter how loud someone else’s opinions that’s all they are.

Smile and pass the bean dip and keep doing what works for your child.

Getting to know you… getting to know all about you…. this went around on blogs a while ago and i ignored it, mostly because I didn’t think there was 100 things about me to list. After yet another request I succumbed to peer pressure.

1. I think I am taller than I am.
2. I love the smell of campfires.
3. I moved to the US in 2003
4. I have lived in 5 Canadian provinces and 3 American states.
5. My son was born on American  Thanksgiving.
6. No one called me Allie except my sister until I was an adult. When I moved back home after university my sister and I lived together and everyone started calling me Allie.
7. I can still tell when people met me based on what they call me.
8. I hate olives.
9. I love tirimisu
10. I love ketchup on  eggs, kraft dinner and fish and chips.
11. I rarely eat any of the three.
12. I met my husband outside a Thai restaurant in Berkley, I liked his shoes.
13. I wrote him off as a dumb football player - I thought his USAFA ring was a football ring.
14. I gave him another chance when I heard him say he worked for NATO in Italy.
15. Did I mention I was dating someone else when we met?
16. Sometimes being bad pays off.
17. The only art class I have ever taken after elementary school was when I was getting my degree in education. The class was how to teach elem. art. It was by far my favorite class . I should have taken art instead of band in Jr. High. I still can’t read music.
18. I have never been on a motorcycle.
19. I have never driven a stick shift ( well I tried once).
20. I don’t like it when things don’t come naturally.
21. Working with kids comes naturally.
22. Working with spreadsheets does not.
23. I loathe most spectator sports.
24. I used to feel guilty about this, now I celebrate it. I would rather play , read or go to a museum.
25. I love art history.
26. Oh I lied in #13 I took an art history class while doing my first degree in history as well. That class was a dream, I wish all my university classes had been like that.
27. The National Gallery in London is my happy place I go to in my head when I need to chill.
28. I love traveling.
29. Touching down in a new city is as happy as I get, I live in possibilities a little too much.
30. My husband and I compete over how many cities, countries and continents we’ve been to.
31. He wins all too often.
32. I have been to Paris 6 times and am still mad we didn’t go last time we were in Europe. I could never go too often.
33. I love walking in a city in the morning- any city, I love the quiet rush of the morning.
34. My grandma won a silver medal in the 1932 Olympics.  I never met her , but remember her like I did.
35. I was a chubby kid
36. I learned to be funny to make up for it.
37. I’m not chubby anymore
38. I hope at times I am still funny.
39. I love reading Margaret Atwood and Jose Saramago.
40. I rarely read adult books.
41. I can’t iron.
42. I am a flirt.
43. I like good wine but  love super cheap White Zinfandel .
44. I blame White Zin for many nights I don’t quite remember like I should.
45. Rye is to blame for the rest.
46. I wish I had more time to get into photography.
47. I hate steak
48. I love to cook but mess up scrambled eggs.
49. I have bad luck with passports.
50. I lost one in France when I was 16
51. I got it back after many hours in the Canadian embassy.
52. I had one stolen in Switzerland in 2000
53. That was not a fun day.
54. I’ve backpacked through Europe 4 times, twice alone, once with my sister and once with my husband.
55. I’ve never been to NYC
56. We went to Africa for our honeymoon.
57. I’ve never been to Mexico
58. I love wearing skirts
59. I hate shaving my legs
60. I wear jeans most every day
61. I rode in the back of a  Polish police car , and spent hours at a police station giving statements  after I had a bag stolen.
62. The suspect was also in the police car with me and the other girl who had her bag taken.
63. I diagnosed myself with a learning disability while studying them in university. When I went to the campus resource centre they looked at my grades and explained that a full diagnosis would be a waste since I had already figured out how to compensate. I  graduated with a 4.0
64. I still can’t spell
65. I can’t tell my left from my right without serious concentration
66. The rules of grammar are completely lost on me.
67. I love the tv show Friends. LOVE it. I refer to the characters as people in every day speech. It doesn’t even phase my husband, luckily he gets every reference.
68. I love and hate running.
69. I need to do it more.
70. I love creamsicles
71. I hate not having a basement.
72. I was born with clubfoot and spent years with casts and braces.
73. The painting “The Embrace” by Egon Shiele takes my breath away.
74. I cry very very easily at commercials, songs and movies.
75. I don’t cry that much about real life.
76. When I do it’s not pretty.
77. I have only seen my husband cry twice. The day he married me and the day he became a dad.
78. I love being a mom, I don’t really remember or want to remember what it felt like not to be one.
79. Greek in ABC family is the best tv show on right now.
80. I know you just lost respect for me but seriously watch- it’s good.
81. Fancy little hand soaps creep me out, except robin egg ones , those are cute.
82. I love my hair boy short and had it that way in 1996 and 1999 but it is so hard to grow out.
83. I had a mullet for much of  1997 and 200o.
84. Also my husband would divorce me, on the spot.
85. I never plan on taking out American citizenship, and am surprised when that shocks people.
86. I came here because I love my husband, not because I wanted to leave Canada.
87. I like it here, but Canada will always be home.
88. I love diet coke but try not to drink it.
89. I love coffee and drink far too much.
90. Fall is my favorite time of year.
91. I like my eyes
92. I want to live in a yellow farm house
93. but do not want to live on a farm.
94. I want to live somewhere with a metro where I don’t need a car, somewhere that rhymes with Maris.
95. I speak horrific French but understand it fairly well, I was in French Immersion all the way from K-12.
96. I am afraid of horses.
97. I am more afraid of the dark.
98. I sometimes convince myself I just made those fears up and I am not afraid, then I turn off a light or see a horse and I realize it’s real.
99. The first Warhol painting I ever saw in person was of Wayne Gretzky.
100. Going to a library is my idea of “me” time.

I am writing this from my son’s room. Although I am wondering how long I need to spend sleeping in here before I get to clear out a drawer in his dresser for myself.  Since coming home from my 4 day trip to Blogher I have developed a shadow. A 37 inch high, 29 pound shadow.

Since getting back every night a little body slips out of bed ( which wakes me up- insane mama ears) and comes to my side of the bed.

“Mama come sleep in my bed ..” so I take his little hand and we go into his room. I lay own with the intention of getting up after he falls asleep but his breathing, the white sound machine on his dresser and my sleep deprevation lull me to sleep quickly.

Unfortunately the waking up was killing me, and started getting earlier and earlier. 12am, 11 pm… I am still working most night at that time. I fell asleep 3 times a few weeks ago while working on posts that had to be up the next day.

This wasn’t working.

This is. Me sleeping in his room. Heck me typing in his room is working , separation anxiety is real.  And he needs me, but I need him too, I need him to stay asleep so I can have big blocks of sleep - and now I can. I sleep with him, and no one wakes up. It’s magical I got 8 hours last night. 8 !!

So yeah Madeline, Babar, Woody and the 14 other stuffed animals and 1 sleeping boy I am cosleeping with  all say goodnight.

I love to cook but don’t find the time to nearly as much as I’d like.  With fall on our doorstep I feel lke all things are new again and I am excited about, well everything.  I love cooler weather, I love the fall produce and I especially love that it gets dark earlier, my son’s sleep is improving.

So this week I made a proper menu again , it had been a few weeks of thrown together pasta and salads as I pack and un pack between summer roadtrips. Yesterday I made homemade “ravioli ” stuffed with salmon and goat cheese. My son ate so much my husband had to have desert because well- in our house you feed the kid first, if he wants more he gets more. Can you tell eating isn’t one of his talents? So when he is eating lots we are tickled.

Anyway here is the recipe ( I don’t mesaure well so at the bottom I have a link to the recipe that adapted )

18 wonton wrappers

1 package goat cheese

1/2 small tub of ricotta cheese

1 clove garlic

1 salmon burger pattie <— the only salmon I had on hand, canned would work too. Just make sure it’s all salmon and no fillers.

salt

pepper

water

Sauce

3 tablespoon melted butter

romano cheese ( grated - about a handful)

2 tablespoon chopped fresh parsley

salt/ pepper

( melt butter , add other ingredients and stir)

Directions:

Mix together the goat cheese ( I used herbed and black pepper goat cheese) and ricotta with a fork.

Cook the salmon pattie and chop tiny.

Mince the garlic as small as you can get it.

Add the garlic and salmon to the cheese mix, add pepper.  I didn’t add salt because the salmon made it salty enough.

Cover and place in the fridge until you are ready.

Stuffing time

Lay your wonton wrappers out and place 1 tsp of salmon cheese mix in the middle.Wet all 4 side of the wrapper, fold and seal.  I was so worried they would open in the water but they didn’t.  Place the stuffed raviolis on a baking sheet - the recipe called for them to be put on parchment paper but I was without and had a sleeping toddler who I couldn’t wake to go get some so… I put down some wa paper and it was fine.

My bowl of cheese/salmon mix made 18 raviolis.

Put your biggest pot on to boil

Pop them in for 5 minutes.

Carefully take them out one and a time and drain, before plating them.

For my son I just put some butter on them , my husband and I had the parsley sauce which again was adapted from the original recipe. I am sure any creamy sauce would be nice as well.

Original Recipe

http://www.marthastewart.com/recipe/goat-cheese-ravioli-with-parsley-sauce?autonomy_kw=ravioli

I wrote this almost 2 years ago , and I thought when I wrote it that I would revisit it in a few years and laugh at my inexperience, but when I read it all it does is ring true. I am far from a perfect mom, or wife, I make plenty of small and even some pretty big mistakes. Luckily my boys love me and I love them and we move on. So this mothering methodology that I wrote out for a pregnant mom looking for advice has actually turned out to be more for me than her, it reminds me over and over  what kind of mom I want to be.

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I have had lots of jobs in my life- sales, management and the closest to my heart, teaching. Motherhood however isn’t a job I have ever had, I am a mother but it’s NOT a job. When you are on the edge of becoming a mother if you believe it’s a job you are waiting to start, you are going to be exhausted, full of frayed nerves and quickly wondering when overtime gets paid out. So spare yourself, there is no overtime pay. The day you give birth is also the day your child makes you a mother - from then on no one can take that away, you can’t be fired , and quitting is not an option so really what kind of job is that?

There are a few crucial things that have shaped me as a mom and I encourage any parent to consider them.

When your nerves are being frayed, perhaps by a baby allergic to sleep, repeat after me ” I chose to create you, I chose to create you- it’s up to me to fix, console and remain calm.”

Seriously sounds hokey but for the 6 months that my son was allergic to sleep this kept me from feeling resentment, insanity and packing my bags . The zoloft helped too, which brings me to my next piece of advice:

Get help when you need it. I am not talking about when the laundry is piled up or your hair is so dirty it looks wet- I mean if you know something is wrong, do not try to be supermom. A super mom asks for help. I knew that my fear of him  going overboard on the ferry was irrational but the fear plagued me. I knew something was up. 3 weeks later I felt like myself again and as it turned out I needed some zoloft to do that. It is worth it for your child, and by god for your own health to ask.

Laugh even if you are faking it when you can’t do anything else. Seriously what else CAN you do?

A whiny baby inside- will often calm down on a walk, and it will calm your nerves too.

Above all else be flexible- give yourself a break, give your baby one and focus on what’s important, it’s easy to get caught up in material things and we are bombarded with it while pregnant but really does your baby care about which diaper bag you have?

Don’t compare yourself to other moms and try not to judge them , it’s hard, especially when you are passionate about something but moms need other moms- and the ones that say they don’t , need us the most.

Never belittle your child- remember my first piece of advice, you chose them, so even when they are big you have to be the bigger person.

__________________________________________________________________________________________

If you could give a new mom advice what would you say?

When you have a garbage truck?

He's driving, you just can't see him!

My son will tell you he is ” into music” “into forklifts” but the one thing he has been “into” forever are garbage trucks. He even had a made up word for them before he has fluent speech. “Bama!”  When he was sick recently we got to have a treat,  snuggle up in my bedroom and  watch garbage truck videos on YouTube. Yes there are many and yes we have favorites.

Today was a treat. Today was Touch a Truck in our town. A day when a portion of the grocery store parking lot is roped off, and all sorts of trucks are cleaned, parked and left open for kids ( and parents)of all ages to climb in and on.

We went straight to the garbage trucks( technically it was our recycling company) . Our regular driver saw us in the crowd before we made it to his booth. ” I know you!” My son doesn’t often talk to strangers but this wasn’t a stranger this was the guy who waves, honks and smiles at us every 2nd Monday at 7:20 am .  He looked at me and made the same joke he made last year ” You look different in clothes!”  I was ready this year and replied with ” I know who knew I don’t actually wear my polka dot pjs all day!” . Last year I was taken aback by the joke, frozen beet red thinking “When has he seen me naked? surely I would have remembered that! ” before I remembered I am always in my PJs when we race out to see them in our cul de sac.

Hanging like a real garbage man.

The favorites were obvious, the line at the firetruck was huge. My son was not interested in waiting, mostly because of “Sparky” the fire department’s mascot. Mascots are not something my son would say he is “into”.  So as we were leaving to look at another truck a fire fighter suggested we just go to the other side- no line, no Sparky and despite my desire to teach my child to wait for things I smiled, said thanks and he climbed in.

Ready to rush to a fire.

This picture of him in a school bus ( another huge hit with all the kids) makes me giggle. My son is super attached right now, he only wants me to get him food, give him snuggles etc… and I imagine his first day of getting on a school bus in a few years will look like this, but with more tears ( me and him ) and possibly some banging on that window. I hope I am wrong, but since i have slept in his bed since returning from BlogHer right now I think he’d climb back into the womb if I let him.

"Mama come with me on the 'cool bus?"

I did let him  climb up on a bulldozer ( where we did wait in line) , police boat, tried on a navy diving helmet and even pulled the horn of a huge 18 wheeler. But nothing compared to the garbage truck that we returned to 6 times in under 2 hours.

When we left my son announced that we had a “Fun family date” , I think he summed it up perfectly.

I can’t explain my gratitude fully but yesterday at nap time I was crying. Unsure of so many things , feeling unable to find the time to right the wrong steps and sort through my insecurities, quirks and road blocks that have come up unexpectedly. They are always unexpected aren’t they?  I have a great life, I know that but like so many of us when we put an issue or problem on a shelf it doesn’t sit down nicely waiting it’s turn to be dealt with. It like my laundry  pile multiplies when I am not looking, grows when I am trying to ignore it and somewhere in there is something I really need and will have to wade through shirts and socks that I had forgotten about to get to what I want. I simply couldn’t do this alone, not this time. I was too tired.

Yesterday and today you sat down on my unmopped bathroom floor and helped me go through each and every dirty shirt, without being asked. You made me question which ones I needed to keep and which were ready to be tossed out. There were a few that had stains so set in but I was too blind to see that the shirts weren’t worth wearing any more, it was time for me to let them go. Carefully , you made me answer why I wanted them and even more gently you encouraged me to throw them out.  My laundry pile will no doubt grow again when I am not looking but these dirty shirts will be new ones, fresh ones, and I will face them knowing if I can’t do it alone it’s okay  share my dirty laundry.