More than just a mom...

Five years ago I became a mom, and since then mom has pretty much been my identity.  This became even more true after I stopped working, and became a full-time mom.  Before then, I was a mom, sure, but when people asked me what I did, "mom" was never my first answer.  Now, everything I do revolves around my kids.  When I sleep, when I eat, where I go, what we do. 

 

Motherhood can be a lonely experience.  Especially for stay-at-home moms, whose sole interaction are usually little people who think they rule the world (newsflash - they actually do!).  I've lost many friends since becoming a mother. Some, were true and real friends, who drifted apart, and whom I miss dearly.  Some were friends I met and clung to because they were also mothers.  These friendships were exhausting... trying so hard to be friends because you think you have this amazing thing in common, and realizing that you were spending more time pretending to be someone you're not, a mother that you're not, because you're hoping to be accepted into the motherhood clique.  Really, and truly, not worth it.  I don't know if you've heard, but the mommy wars are a real thing, and certain moms have a way of making a mother feel like a special kind of worthless.  I've spent a lot of the last five years feeling worthless to anybody outside of my immediate family.  I've cried a lot of tears, wondering and pretending that I didn't care why I wasn't invited to the mom-event of the month.  Why the only girls nights out I attended were the ones I arranged.  Why invitations to other people were always answered with "Yes, for sure, I'll call you!" and then not hearing another word until the next awkward time I ran into that person in public. So much energy.  So much heart and soul.  Such a waste of my precious time.  And all because these seemed like the cool moms, the good moms, the moms I needed to be like.  It was so important for me to feel like I fit in with these mothers, because they seemed to have it all together.

 

I can count on one hand the number of real friends I have, and I've learned how important those people really are to me.  They are the ones that I can call after months of not speaking to and feel like we just spoke minutes ago.  They are the ones who send cards and call on my kids' birthdays, not because they were invited to a party, but because they truly love my kids.  They are the ones I can sit with for hours and talk, and never once feel like I'm being judged or like I need to prove my worth.  They are the ones who know, and who helped me remember, that I am more than just a mom.

 

Nowadays, I mostly answer to "Mom," "Mommy," "Gracie's Mom," "Ella's Mommy," and "Jax's Mother." But before I was mom, I was Danny's wife, a Paralegal, an avid reader, a photographer, an aspiring cook, an adventure-seeker, a Valley girl, and so much more.  All of those other parts of me may have dimmed a bit since becoming a mother, but I am slowly remembering that those parts are also so important.  It's easy to get lost in motherhood, to forget the person you were before.  It's true that motherhood changes you, and in so many good ways!  But in order to be truly happy, you have to remember to be more than just a mom.  Whether it's reading, or cooking, or knitting, or writing, or laying on the grass and watching the stars.  It's important to stay connected to the person that made you who you are today, that helped you become the mother you are, because that "old" person is so important, even still!

 

And when you and your kids are looking through old pictures (like me and mine were today), it'll be fun to remember who you are, and who you used to be... or as Gracie said to me when she saw my grad photo - "Wow, mom.  Before you were a mommy, you had really pretty hair!" 

Here, a walk down memory lane to before I was just a mom...

 

Honeymoon Cruise - 2010 - our last hurrah before becoming parents





Wedding Day - 2009

Halloween - 2008

Bringing home our first baby - 2007

Christmas in Lab City - 2006

 

Lilacs are my favourite flower - summer 2006

 

Grad Photo - 2003
When my hair was "pretty"

 

 

The Underwear Initiation

It's potty-training time in the Ford household.  This is not the first time potty-training has taken place here.  But it will certainly be the last... unless, of course, my parents are still living here 20 years from now, cause I'll be damned if I'm changing diapers that big!!

 

We've had amazing success with potty training in the past.  Both girls were potty-trained by 20 months, and by age 2 were sleeping through the night without diapers.  Neither of them get up through the night to pee, and we've had minimal bed-wetting or public accidents (once each at Roos, oye! And less than a handful of nightime accidents for Ella when we first moved in here).  I've had friends ask me how I do it.  It's really quite simple: You know all that advice you hear, about how your kids will let you know when they're ready, and how you shouldn't push them, and how they'll start to show signs when they're ready?  Yeah, I ignore all of that.  Here's my criteria: 1) Are you old enough to say "poop" and "pee"?   2) Can you run, run, run?  Perfect.  Potty training time.

 

With the girls, we started by "poop" training them.  A few months before we were ready to actually potty train, we would get them to poop on the toilet.  By the time we were ready to fully train them, they were already well used to the toilet and would tell us when they needed to poop.  I also don't use actual pottys. I have a potty seat that goes on the toilet... but I didn't want to have to go from cleaning a dirty diaper to cleaning a potty full of shit.  I'm a very firm believer that, if you let them, kids will surprise you with what they can do, so going on the big-people toilet was the only choice they ever got.

 

With the girls, catching them pooping was super easy, since they both grunted like cavemen when they were "going."  Also, there were only two of them.  Jax is a silent pooper, and the only way we know he went is by the fact that he can clear a room with the smell just seconds after going.  Plus, with two other kids in the house, who's really watching him anyway??  So I skipped that step with him!

 

In order to prepare for potty training, I give myself 7 days without any plans.  No need to leave the house during the awake hours.  March Break was perfect for me because I am other-peoples-kids-less.  I'm really hoping it doesn't take the actual 7 days, but it's there in case he turns out to be as stubborn with this as he is with everything else!  Gracie took 2 days, Ella took 5.

 

I stock up on underwear which, by the way, has been the most expensive part of having kids I think.  4 pairs of underwear for $10.00!! How ridiculous!  I need like 20 pairs, since kids are smelly little muggles and I rarely do laundry.  That's $50 in underwear. Crazy.  I also stock up on paper towel and spray Lysol.  Cause guess what I do the first day of potty training?  Let him pee all over the freaking house!!

 

Okay, not actually all over the house... he's been restricted to the upstairs, where there is no carpet.  But basically, the first couple of days are spent following him around, asking if he needs to pee, and letting him realize what peeing actually is.  The first time he peed in his underwear, he just stared at it like "what the hell just happened?!?" I said, "Oh no!  You peed, let's run, run, run to the potty!" I put him on the toilet, cleaned him up, asked if he needed to pee, said "Good try!" and got him a new pair of underwear.  By the end of the day, whenever he peed his pants he said "Mommy! Pee!!"  Day 1 - Success!  Yes, we went through 11 pairs of underwear, and I spent most of the day cleaning pee off the floor.  But he now knew what pee was and when he was actually peeing.

 

Day 2 is awfully similar to Day 1 with one major difference.  He only peed through 2 pairs of underwear.  He had a few wet spots, where he would start to pee, realize what he was doing and then stop and yell "Mommy! Pee!" and we would run, run, run to the bathroom.  I would put him on the toilet and sometimes he would pee, sometimes he wouldn't.  This is what I find is the longest and hardest part of potty training.  Within one day, he already knows how to stop himself from peeing.  What he hasn't learned yet, is to start again.  He can't "pee on demand," say, before leaving the house or going to bed.  He is not potty trained until I can be sure he pees out all the pee before he goes down for a nap, or goes to the mall.  Jax, as I mentioned before, is stubborn.  The most stubborn of the Ford kids, actually.  And I'm not sure that potty training him will be a success.  I'm not sure that he'll "get it" when it comes to going pee when I need him to.  He's done great so far, and I have high hopes that he'll get the "go pee" request when I place him on the potty.  He's already learned to run to the bathroom when he needs to go, so I have hope.  But he does not like to be told what to do.  "No" is his favourite word.  Plus, the first two were so easy, I'm due for a challenge!

 

Day #3 is coming up, and I don't know what it'll bring!  I know he's super impressed with his new underwear ("Mommy!  Unnies!"), and will probably be very sad when I make him start wearing pants again at the end of the week.  I know that venturing out in public for the first time sans-diapers will be terrifying and I'll be watching every little quiver and movement he makes.  I also know that staying dry through the night is notoriously more challenging for boys, so I haven't given up my diaper fund just yet.  But I do know that this is one stage I won't be sad to see behind me.  Or behind him.  Bye, bye baby diaper bums!! :)
 

 

 

PS - Day #3 Update: After refusing to pee after waking up with an almost-dry diaper this morning, Jax and I hung out in the bathroom this morning.  When he started to pee on the floor, I threw him on the potty and told him to watch (yes, his penis).  He saw a few dribbles, immediately stopped peeing, petted his penis and yelled "PEE!" I said, "That's right, do it again!" And he started peeing again, saw it, and got excited and stopped.  "Do it again!  Get it all out!" And then he did.  And then we had no accidents the rest of the day, and he peed "on demand" when I needed him to.  Crazy.  I will not, of course, count myself lucky just yet, but he only wet the one pair of underwear this morning, pooped on the potty, woke up dry from his nap, and had a huge pee before bed.  Seriously, letting my kids pee all over my floor for a couple of days has been my greatest parenting choice.  Because so far, it has proven to me that once they are aware of pee, and peeing, they become masters of pee!  Go, Jax!!!  :)

I used to be a writer...

Back in the day, I used to be a writer.  You know, before there were three Ford babies in my life.  Before we moved out of our tiny little home into this big beautiful home.  Before Grampy and Nanny Fillmore moved in.  Before I stopped sleeping through the night.  Before I started smelling other people's bums to check for poo.  Before I started showering with the curtain open so little people could stare and point and ask questions about my boobs. Before I caught another person's barf in my own hands while singing a lullaby. Before I shopped mostly for "red" milk instead of beer. Before wine became a 7:00 necessity.  Before sleeping in meant being woken up at 7:15.  Before Cheerios became an accessory to the kitchen floor, the living room couch, and my purse.  Before I wiped boogers from a child's nose with my bare hands and wiped it on my own pants. Basically, before I became a mom.

 

Before all of that, I used to be writer.  Not a great writer.  Not even a decent writer.  But I used to write.  I used to write here, on this blog.  I used to make people laugh.  I used to write poetry.  I used to write love letters.  I used to write long, eloquent emails to long-lost and dear friends.

 

Now, I don't write.  Not nearly as much as I should.  Not nearly as often I would like.  And not anywhere close to the quality of words that I know I should be able to string together.  These days, I think about writing, and then life gets in the way.  These days, I think how I could spin a Gracie-story into a humerous blog entry, and think "Fuck it, I'll Facebook that shit." My writing, which used to be my escape, and something that kept my brain and soul happy, has been reduced to 6-line "She said/I said" anecdotes on social media.

 

Before, I would craft Christmas cards and write meaningful messages to our family and friends.  Now, I buy Christmas cards, write something beautiful like "Wishing you joyfulness and joy this joyous time of the season of joy" and forget to put them in the mail.

 

Before, I would craft emails to friends pages long.  I would tell stories about the silly clients at work, the adventures I'd had over the weekend, and the great things going on in my life.  Now, I send a text that says "Lady - I know I suck.  It's been forever.  What's up?!?"

 

Before, I would text Danny during the day, saying "Hi lover face, I've been thinking about you.  Can't wait to see you tonight!  I've been looking forward to dinner and a movie all week.  Love you, oh so much! xox". Now, I send texts of desperation: "Need tea." or "OMG - the girls won't stop whining!  Make. It. Stop."

 

Yes, I used to be a writer.  Before life happened.  Now, I have three crazy, amazing, and exhausting kids.  I have Gracie - the kid who can ask a million questions, and desperately wants all the answers.  I have Ella - the kid who I'm pretty sure is made up of snips and snails and puppy dog tails, as well as a sprinkle of sugar and spice.  And I have Jax - the most amazing little boy with the biggest attitude of all the Ford children.  I have a full-time job called motherhood, and a husband who is now a university student.  I also have these adorable other children that I borrow during the day to keep my kids (and me) entertained.  I have a 5-bedroom house that needs to be cleaned, and organized, and lived in.  I have a neurotic puppy dog who sucks the soul out of us with her craziness, but who still needs to be loved, and walked, and belly-rubbed.  I have all of this craziness in my world that prevents me from being able to form coherent thoughts, let alone write words in a sentence that make sense.

 

But I wouldn't change it.  I love my crazy, hectic, exhausting little life.  I adore my kids, even though they cause me to cry, whine, and yell at them.  I love the fact that my husband is in university, even though computer-talk is (unbelievably) more boring and confusing than plane-talk.  I love being a stay-at-home mom, even though I miss real adult conversation and believe this is the ultimate reason my brain has stopped working as a writer's brain should.  And even though it's been a rough couple of years for my writing brain, I feel like I'm coming out the other side of it.  Life has been crazy, and hectic, and absolutely exhausting.  But lately, I've been wanting to pick up a pen - okay, a keyboard - again and write.  Instead of thinking, "screw it" when something pops into my brain that I want to write about, I've been thinking, "maybe you should!"

 

I even started reading a book this week.  It has been over 2 years since I've read a book.  Okay, maybe that part's not true.  After all, I've read to you.  And you, and you, and you there too.  I've read a book the whole way through.  The books I've read all kind of rhyme.  And don't take up too much time.  Yes, I guess it is fair to say, I've read a book almost every day!  Dr. Seuss, and Karen Katz, they both know where kid books are at.  But seriously, I picked up a real book - one written for adults - this week and have actually started reading it.  Got through the first 6 chapters and everything.  So if I can start to read, and have my brain absorb the words, maybe - just maybe - I can start to put those words back out there in the form of writing.

 

I've spent the last year since we've moved in slowly, oh so slowly, unpacking, decluttering, and organizing our lives.  I feel like I'm at a point, finally, where I don't feel consumed by clutter and stuff.  And having less clutter and stuff in my home, has ultimately lead to me feeling like there is less clutter and stuff in my brain.  When I think of writing now, whole sentences begin to form in my head.  Not just one or two words, scattered amongst worries of where the kids need to be and when, and panic about whether or not I'm screwing up their lives, but actual real sentences.  Whole thoughts and ideas I want to get out.  And that is very exciting for me to feel again.

 

It's going to take a while, I think, before I'm comfortable with writing again.  Before writing becomes a priority for me once more.  But I'm excited to be on this journey again.  I used to love to write.  And though it's been on the back burner - behind sleep, and kids, and family, and life - I really hope I can become a writer again.  I have lots to say, and some pretty incredible kids who keep me up to my elbows in stories to share.  I'm going to try to start to write again... so please, bear with me while I find my word groove once again!