That Time my Dad Retired...

Sgt. Leslie Fillmore, Ret.

It's official, ladies and gentlemen.  After 39 years of service, my dad has retired from the military.  For good this time, I swear.  Sergeant Leslie Fillmore, Retired.  His official title now. 

My dad joined the military in 1976 when he was 18.  He's "old school" military.  He joined back in the days when it was okay for your commander to yell at you and call you names.  He started in the infantry, where he stayed for 9 years.  He drove tanks, visited a whole bunch of foreign countries, and drank a shit-ton of beer... oh, the good ol' days!

Rumour has it, my dad applied to both the military and the RCMP.  He got his call for the military, signed up, and within a few weeks, received his letter from the RCMP.  A few weeks shaped the rest of his life, and the life of our family.  The military has been a lifestyle for the Fillmores.  We grew up military, my brother joined the military, and my sister and I married military.  It's a part of all of us.

My dad started in Gagetown, in 1977.  In 1981, he was posted to the now closed Cornwallis base.  In 1990, he was posted to Greenwood, where he spent 20 years, until 2010, when he was posted back to Gagetown.  Five more years in Gagetown, and a final posting back to Greenwood, where he is finally retiring.

This isn't the first time he retired from the military.  After his 20-year contract was up (the first time), he retired at age 39.  He started his new job as the Accountant at Perry Rand Bus Company the week after.  He spent a couple of years there, and then took over as Office Supervisor at Royal LePage Relocation Services, who at the time had the contract for military postings.  After some years there, dad joined the military as a reservist and worked (pretty much full time) in Greenwood until he re-inlisted in 2009, while deployed in Afghanistan.

My dad has been deployed and has travelled more places than we can count.... although I tried to get him to remember most of the places so I could list them here for you:

 

 

Afghanistan

Bermuda

Cyprus

Damascus

Germany

Golan Heights

Israel

Pangnirtung

Syria

UAE

 Every province and territory in Canada (except Newfoundland) 

My mom spent a good time of their marriage alone, raising us.  My dad told me the other day that when he married her in June 1980, he dropped her off at their PMQ and immediately deployed for 8 months.  She's "old school" too, when wives didn't complain about deployments, and you carried on and lived your life the best you could.  She said her toughest deployment was dad's last, to Afghanistan.  By then, we were all grown up, and didn't "need" her anymore.  She was truly alone for that deployment, and made dad promise it would be his last.  At the age of 51, he agreed. 

My dad is also "old school" in the fact that NCM's (non-commissioned members) didn't associate with Officers.  With his son an Officer, and now Danny working his way to being an Officer (currently an Officer Cadet), it makes one wonder if, perhaps, Dad is retiring before he is required to salute his son-in-law before eating dinner at night - just kidding dad, we would have only made you do that for fancy Sunday brunches.

My dad has enough stories about his career to fill an entire library.  At least once or twice a week, something will remind him of something, and we often hear, "When I was overseas..." He experienced many cultures, many countries, many war zones, and many culinary adventures.  From war zones, to peace keeping for the UN, he will be the old man sitting in the legion in 30 years that you're going to want to talk to while drinking a cold beer (or 5).
 

After getting posted back to Greenwood this spring, my dad was offered the opportunity to take a civilian job on base here in Greenwood.  Accepting this position meant that he could work past 60 if he wanted... and grow a beard (watch for it, mom!).  So, although my dad retired today, he starts his new job tomorrow.   Typical Leslie... not ready to stop just yet. 

Today was the last day he put on his uniform, and I think everyone should know what this man has contributed to his family, his community, and his country, over the past 39 years.  He is a true military hero, and we couldn't be prouder of him!  Congratulations on your (almost) retirement, dad!! xox

He walked out of the house this morning for the last time with this uniform on!

That time that Gracie grew up...

Last Friday was Primary Orientation at Kingston School, where Gracie will be going in September.  That means that she spent the day at "big girl school," where she did gym class, music class, play at recess, eat lunch, and ride the school bus.  She was so excited that morning, she talked and bounced off of every single wall in our house.  It was adorable!

 

Gracie turned 5 in January, just 3 short weeks after the primary cut-off.  Really, she was ready for school this year, but because of her birthday, got to spend the extra time with me.  It means she'll be one of the oldest in her class, which I guess gives her a little bit of an advantage.  I was totally prepared for her to go to school last Friday morning, and I'm definitely ready for her to go in September.  Still... when did she grow up??

 

I posted this picture of her last Friday, standing against the wall with the school motto, and someone commented, "When did she get so big?"

 

 

Gracie has always been an old soul.  She's been smart since the day she was born.  She talked really early, and grasped concepts and ideas way before I thought she would be able to understand them.  She is wise beyond her years, so she has always seemed like a little grown-up.  I guess that's why I'm not sad to see her go off to school.  She is ready, 100%.  So I didn't cry getting her ready for school last week... I did a happy dance!

 

My goal is to raise independent children, ready to face the world as functional members of society when they finally leave my home.  I love every moment of independence they gain, including "leaving the nest" for school. 

That morning, she was so excited, but as soon as we got into the line to pick up her nametag, she froze.  Those that have known Gracie for a while, know that she struggles with social anxiety.  Where Ella and Jax love to talk to strangers, and will run up to anyone on the playground and ask them to play, Gracie has always been very reserved.  She hangs her head, and turns her face when someone tries to talk to her.  With the exception of dropping her off at daycare, she always clings a little longer to my hand when I try to get her to leave me.  Growing up with her, we had to prepare her for social activities such as going to the doctor.  We would practice scenarios, role play what a doctor might say to her, and how she should answer.  We would practice for a few days before, and over time, we could stop practicing... a little chat just before a social situation gave her the confidence she needed to face it.  That morning, when she froze in line when the principal asked her her name, I pulled her aside, and we had a quick little chat to remind her that new things could be scary, but that she was totally ready for this!  And she perked back up!  Gracie has come so far with her social skills, and I am proud to say that when I walked out of the classroom and left her behind, I waited by the door in case she needed one more "thumbs up" or blown kisses.  She didn't even look back.  She was in her element.  And it was awesome!  I skipped my happy self right out to the car. 

When I came to pick her up after lunch, she waved at me from across the classroom, gave me a big smile, and said "Mom, I have so much to tell you about today.  It was awesome!!!"

She asks every day when school starts.  She tells me everything she's going to learn, and how if I ever miss her while she's gone, that I can imagine her standing with me, and that'll make me less sad.  She said she'll do the same thing if she feels lonely.  I guess that's it... she's all grown up.  And I couldn't be happier for her!  Except she said to her grampy, "I had a great day, and I didn't even kiss any boys." Wait, what?  Is that something I should be worried about in September... maybe I'm not ready for this after al!! 

Little Miss Gracie, all ready for school!

Little Miss Gracie.... when she was still little!

Just a little bit of sick...

It's been a rough couple of weeks in the Ford household... and this mama is now exhausted.  The boys in this house have been unwell, but now that they're both feeling better, I have some time to write about our sickly adventures.

 

It started a few years ago, actually, when Danny woke up one night with "indigestion." He went to outpatients in the middle of the night, where they gave him a "pink lady" and he felt better.  It happened again a year later, and the MIR started treating him for indigestion.  Fast forward to April of this year, and he had another "indigestion" attack.  This time, the pink lady at the hospital did nothing to make him feel better and they considered another culprit of these attacks... his gall bladder.  After the April incident, Danny felt unwell basically all the time.  When he wasn't having full-fledged gall bladder attacks, his stomach was upset, and he couldn't eat.  He spent way too much time at outpatients in Middleton, hooked up to IV and receiving morphine, and - the last time we were there - Toradol.  At the time of the last attacks, he was in the middle of writing his final exams at university.  Hoping to at least make it through exams, he visited the MIR and they sent a request for a semi-urgent ultrasound to Valley Regional.  After a couple of weeks of still feeling unwell, Danny followed up with the MIR, who followed up with Valley Regional, who refused their request for an ultrasound on a semi-urgent basis.  Waiting for Valley Regional to schedule an ultrasound would take months.  The MIR called the Shearwater base, who was able to get Danny in for an ultrasound the next day (Tuesday).  On Wednesday morning, at 7:30 a.m., we received a call from the Greenwood hospital. The ultrasound results were back, and the doctors didn't like what they saw.  Danny's gallbladder was inflamed, and had been thickening, and was clearly showing stones.... Danny was being sent to the Halifax Infirmity "direct for surgery." He arrived home long enough to pack a bag, and off he went with a friend to Halifax.  At around 4:30 that afternoon, they decided they wouldn't be able to fit him in that day for surgery, or the next day, but would call Friday morning and let us know if they had room for him, and if not, then Saturday, Sunday, Monday, and so on until he was taken care of.

 

Danny had another gall bladder attack Wednesday night, and most of the day Thursday.  On Friday morning, the hospital called and said they didn't have room for him that day, but to be there the next morning (Saturday).  We had to be in New Brunswick Friday afternoon for my grandfather's surprise 80th birthday party, so Danny joined us as originally planned.  We drove to NB for the party, stayed the night in the hotel, and checked out at 6:30 the next morning. 

 

At least Danny was well enough to make the party! :)

We arrived back at the Halifax Infirmary at 9:30, and Danny was signed in.  At 11:30, they told us that they probably wouldn't have time to operate on him that day.  The plan was to send him home, have him come back Monday morning and they would admit him... he would stay at the hospital, basically "on call" until a spot freed up.  We waited for the doctor to discharge him.  At 1:00, the doctor came in and said Danny was next for surgery, and instead of heading home, we were again preparing for surgery.  The kids and I wandered the hospital when they got restless, but otherwise, they were amazing!  We sat on the floor and watched Clifford on Danny's laptop.  We did stretches up and down the hallway outside Danny's room.  We wandered to the cafeteria, where we filled up on apples, bananas, and Special-K chips.  They were the best little troopers ever!! 

 

At 3:00, we were told that Danny was bumped again, and surgery wouldn't be happening, but they would keep him overnight in case something opened up.  He was moved to his room on a different floor, and we were getting ready to say goodbye for the day (7 hours on a hospital floor with 3 kids was more than enough!).  Out of nowhere, a nurse came in, said "You're going in now!" and we had time to kiss him goodbye before they took him away! We were told that by the time he got in to surgery, spent time in recovery, and made it back to the room, it could be anywhere between 3 to 5 hours.  Thank heavens, our friend Tim was in Halifax waiting for my call, and he was there when Danny was taken in.  I still had to take the kids home, since we had been on the go since 6:30 that morning.  Tim took over my spot as "waiting wife" and I drove home with the kids.  On the way home, Jax spiked a fever - which I chalked up to the long, tiring day, and the drive home in the sun.  Danny made it out of surgery, and was on his way to finally feeling better for the first time in months.  All was good again.  Until...

 

Post-surgery!  And on his way to feeling much better (hopefully!)

 

Tuesday.  I got home Tuesday evening from taking the kids to swimming lessons, and my mom told me that Jax had thrown up all over the floor twice.  I thought it was odd, but he had no fever and seemed to be feeling fine.  I texted the parents of the kids I babysit as a warning, and got everyone to bed.  On Wednesday, Jax seemed mostly fine during the day.  He was a little grumpy, and woke up with a fever around 100.  Tylenol kept it down during the day, and we assumed a little stomach bug.  By Wednesday evening, Jax was not a happy camper.  He complained whenever I touched him, and said "ow, mommy" over and over.  He would tell me his leg hurt, and then his arm, and then his belly.  I figured he must be achy from the fever and sent him to bed with more Tylenol.  At 3 a.m. Thursday morning, he woke up crying and with a fever of 103.9.  I immediately dosed him with Tylenol and Ibuprofen and wet his skin with a facecloth.  At 7:30 he woke up and the fever was down to 99.9 again.  Thursday was not a good day.  He wouldn't eat, he wouldn't drink, and he wouldn't pee.  He cried when I touched him, and he cried when I put him down.  He said his skin hurt.  And he kept saying, "Ow, mommy.  My mouth." Whenever his Tylenol came close to running out, his fever spiked again.  He slept in the morning, and again all afternoon.  He laid in bed with daddy (who was newly recovering from surgery), because I didn't want him sleeping alone.  By that evening, after refusing to eat and drink all day, and after complaining about his mouth and his ears, I called 811 and asked for advice.  After asking dozens of questions, they recommended I take him to see a doctor within 6 to 12 hours.  Because we have no clinics or after-hours here, that meant outpatients.  My favourite question from 811 was their last question:

 

811: "If you hadn't called 811 for advice, what would your have done?"

Me: "Probably sit here all night questioning my parenting skills."

811: *stifles laugh* Is that your official answer?

Me: "Absolutely, sounds about right!"

811: "Well thank you for being honest."

 

Seriously, I'm a "let them bleed" type parent.  I can count on one hand the number of times we've been to see the doctor for reasons other than regular check-ups and vaccinations.  I don't take my kids to the doctor for the flu, unless it gets out of hand (like the lack of food and drink for 24 hours combined with high fever), and bumps and bruises are a part of our every day life (except for the toddler fracture last year, whoops!).  I'm glad to have a resource like 811, for when I'm seriously questioning my parenting skills.

 

I carried him all day, and he would periodically fall asleep on me. This kid weighs 29 pounds.
And had a fever of 103.  But, hey!  Baby snuggles, right?!?

Aww, those cheeks... a clear sign of being terribly unwell.  Also, our first hint of the scarlet fever!

 

Anyway, off to outpatients we went.  When we arrived, the nurse took us in to be assessed. She excused herself for less than a minute to find a toddler thermometer, and Jax promptly began vomiting.  I found one of those little blue bowls and handed it to her when she returned. "Well, there's the only red freezie I managed to get into him today." His temperature was 104.5, and we were immediately taken to see the doctor.  Before the doctor could see us (less than 5 minutes) Jax fell dead asleep.  They had to pry his mouth open to administer ibuprofen and acetaminophen, which he choked down while barely opening his eyes.  The doctor was able to assess him and discovered he had the flu, and also strep throat.  "It's really bad," she said. "And it will probably get worse before it gets better.  I wouldn't expect him to start feeling better for another 48 hours.  Also, I'm pretty sure those red cheeks are a bit of a rash, so I wouldn't be surprised if you see a rash all over his body before the 48 hours are up, too." Do you know what a full body rash + strep throat equals?  Scarlett fever.  Which he got. 

 

By Friday evening, his whole stomach and back and legs was covered in a rash.  He ate some crackers and drank some water Friday evening, too, which he immediately threw up all over me.  We climbed into the shower, fully clothed, and rinsed off.  Because Jax didn't want to be put down, and because Danny couldn't carry him, I somehow had to get my clothes off, and his, with one hand.  I sat on the floor of the shower where I shampooed and cleaned us both off while Jax sat on my lap.  Did I mention the fact that he had the most horrible diarrhea ever?  No?? Oh yes, we also had that pleasure on top of everything else.  The whole time he was sitting on my lap, naked, in the shower, I kept thinking "Please don't fart on me.  Please don't fart on me." Parenting is glamorous... have you heard??

 

Not the first time Jax threw up on me... and, unfortunately, not the last.

 

Saturday was not a good day either.  He whined and cried and fevered and threw up all day. He put himself to bed for a nap. I contemplated taking him back to the doctor, when Danny reminded me what the doctor had said.  48 hours.  He woke up Sunday morning a totally different little boy.  He drank a full cup of water without crying.  He had half a piece of toast for breakfast.  He laughed again.  And he walked around the kitchen without anyone needing to carry him for the first time since Wednesday.  Ahhhh... antibiotics were working!  We were on our way to recovery!

 

Did I mentioned that because Danny was post-surgery, he was spending most of his time in bed, and when he was up and around, he was not allowed to lift anything over 15 pounds.  Which meant I carried Jax... all day, for 3 days!  I was up at night because Danny was uncomfortable sleeping in our bed, and I spent all day carrying Jax and parenting the 2 other spirited children in this house.  I was tired!  By Tuesday, Jax was mostly back to normal, but Danny contracted the flu portion of Jax's illness.  Ugh.

 

It's been a long couple of weeks.  But we're on the other side of it now, and things are looking up again.  And I should be able to catch up on all the sleep I've lost sometime over the next 15 years, I'm sure!

 

Feeling well enough again to play in the dirt with Ella!

 

A little less wine, and a little more water...

Tonight I went out to the movies with my mom.  We saw My Big Fat Greek Wedding 2.  It was pretty funny.  And really sad that the first movie came out 17 years ago. Cause now I feel old.  But the movie is not the point of this blog entry here tonight.  The point is that on my way home from dropping off my babysitter, an advertisement came on the local radio station. Now, I'm paraphrasing a tiny bit, but it went something like this...

 

"Hey moms.  There's nothing better than getting together with other moms for an evening to relax.  To remember that before dance recitals and hockey recitals, you were more than just a mom.  But there's also nothing worse than waking up the next morning with a headache while your three-year old bangs on pots and pans.  So how about next time, you drink a little less wine, and a little more water.  No judgment.  Just some friendly advice from Magic 94.9."

 

I'm sorry... what?!?  At first, I thought it was going to be a funny advertisement from a water company, like Dasani.  But, nope.  Just some friendly "non-judgmental" advice from our local radio station about how much wine I should be drinking - or not drinking, as the case may be.  Now, I don't get out much -  mostly because I'm usually 2 bottles to the wind and respect the "don't drink and drive laws" - so maybe there's a male equivalent out there in radio land somewhere.  You know, "Hey guys, I know living with an alcoholic wife is hard.  And raising kids is not the joy ride you thought it would be.  But how about instead of adding to that keg around your middle, you hit the gym.  Little less keg, little more six-pack.  No judgement.  Just some friendly advice from Magic 94.9." I dunno, maybe it's there and I just haven't heard it.

 

Now, maybe I'm only offended with this ad because I was out in public, and haven't had time to down my usual nightly bottle of vino.  But you know what I think.  I think that, maybe, the wife of someone who works in advertisement at Magic 94.9 had a little too much to drink over the weekend, and daddy had to get up with the kids.  But, I'll tell you what Magic... how much we mothers have to drink is none of your damn business.  I've got three great reasons to drink:  Gracie, Ella, and Jax.  And here's a list of 25 more:

 

1.  Because I'm a god-damned adult.

2.  Because today, my almost two-year old peed on my leg.

3.  Because today, my almost four-year old picked her nose, and rubbed it on my couch.  Twice.

4.  Because my husband sleeps with ear plugs in.

5.  Because my dog barks every time the wind blows, and today was fucking windy.

6.  Because today was laundry day, and I had 5 loads of laundry to do.

7.  Because after I finished washing and drying 5 loads of laundry, my son shit his pants.

8.  Because I made breakfast, lunch, and supper for three kids, and that shit is hard.

9.  Because I'm watching my weight, and can't eat any fucking fried pepperoni.

10.  Because I love pinterest, and I'm making a wine cork wreath, mother fucker.

11.  Because my cat hurled up a hairball at 5:30 this morning and guess who has to clean it up?!

12.  Because "Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mommy. Mommy. Mommy. Mommy. Mom. Mom."

13.  Because "Sammy, what do I feed them for lunch?" "Sammy, where are the shoes?" "Sammy, can they go outside?" Sammy, where is my black t-shirt." "Sammy, do we have any more milk?"

14.  Because I have a five-year old who thinks she knows everything.

15.  Because "MOMMY! Gracie's being mean to me!!!!!!"

16.  Because my kids don't want to wear coats, even though it was fucking snowing outside tonight.

17.  Because it's the end of April, and it was fucking snowing!!

18.  Because today I swept up three thousand Cheerios from under my kitchen table, even though I just vacuumed yesterday.

19.  Because today I tried to kiss my two-year old and he pushed me away and said, "Eww, mommy.  No."

20.  Because today was a must-shower day.  And I didn't shower.

21.  Because while playing with a watering can, my oldest child watered my boobies and said, "Here mommy, maybe this will help them grow."

22.  Because I pee a little when I sneeze.

23.  Because I'm over thirty, and a little bitter about that now.

24.  Because I pushed three beings out of my vagina.

25.  Because I fucking want to!!

Bonus Reason** Because this stupid tablet keeps auto-correcting fucking to ducking.

 

And I'm sure every single other mother out there can add to this list.  I don't drink wine to remember the times before I was a mother... I drink wine because I'm a mother.  And quite fucking proudly, too, thank you very much.  Mothering is hard as hell, and if I want to drink wine I will, gosh-darn it!  I'll also drink Keiths, Sangria, mouthwash, and windshield-wash fluid if I want.  Because your "non-judgemental, friendly advice" is judgemental as hell.  And ignorant.  And dumb.  How the hell am I supposed to parent efficiently without a little grape juice as a reward for a hard day's work? Huh?? Drink a little less wine, and a little more water.... pfshhhh... I've been drinking water all night. And look how well that turned out for you tonight, Magic.  There's not a mother out there who would hear your friendly advice and think, "You know what.  I should drink more water.  Thanks, Magic!"  But I bet there are plenty willing to join me in donating our empty wine bottles so you can put your advice in them and shove it up your ass.

 

So, hey Magic.  There's nothing better than playing music for the audience, and broadcasting great jokes for everyone in radio land to hear.  It's even nice to remember the days when you didn't play the same song 10 times in one day.  But there's nothing worse than hearing judgemental advice from a radio station about the amount of alcohol a mother should be drinking.  So how about next time, you play a little more music, and a little less bullshit.  No judgment.  Just some friendly advice, from a wine-drinking mother you pissed off on a Tuesday night.

How about a little less water, and a little more wine?!

 

For my friend, the preggopotamus...

One of my best friends is pregnant, which is fantastic news for me!  I mean, I'm sure it's great news for her too, except for the fact that the little parasite growing inside of her is making her barf all over the place... but for me, it's truly awesome.  Because as any other mother will tell you, no matter how many times you say "I'm done," there is always a little nagging voice in your head that says, "Oh, come on!  Just one more!!" And you don't really listen to it, except that you walk past a cute little baby in the grocery store, and your heart goes "screeeeeee!" and you want one.  Now I don't have to have one.  Because I can steal my friend's baby, love the crap out of it, and hand it back.  I cannot, however, steal the baby of the lady in the grocery store.  People frown on baby kidnapping.

 

So anyway, this friend of mine is all knocked up, and miserable because of the barfing, but terribly excited about her future, and the other day as we were discussing the barfing, she said "Ugh, this baby better be worth it!" Heh. Heh. Heh.  Yeah, babies are totally worth it.  Except when they aren't.  Which is lots of the time... except they make up for and are totally worth it again.  Except when they aren't, and when they don't.  Which they do.  Not.  Sometimes.  Confusing??  Yeah, welcome to the most fucked-up relationship you will ever, ever, ever be in.  Parenting!  But totally worth it.  Mostly.

 

I'm a mother of three kids, which basically makes me an expert... according to the mommy blogs, anyway.  So here's my sage advice, my heart-felt wisdom, and my unique experiences... I'm basically the baby whisperer, so take everything I say as gospel.  Except, don't, because every baby is different, every situation is unique, and once you think you have anything figured out, you'll realize that precious gift you're currently carrying in your belly is just screwing with you for fun, and that you actually know exactly nothing.  So yeah... here we go.

 

When your baby is born, you will feel the most amazing bond of motherhood and will love that child more than anything in this entire world, making the last 10 months (9 months is a freaking lie!!) totally worth it. 

 

Okay, so you'll totally love the kid.  But you may, or may not, feel that instant bond.  Lots of mothers talk about how they cried and could hardly contain the instant love they felt.  A friend told me it was like her whole soul changed and immediately revolved around the baby.  Pretty amazing, right?   When I finally pushed Gracie out and the nurse handed her to me, my first thoughts were pretty amazing too... "Cool.  She's here.  Right on!" I mean, obviously I loved her... but there were no tears, no instant soul-changing revelation.  Really, I just wanted some freaking supper!  And that's okay.  Despite what people tell you, it's okay not to break into tears and pledge your last dying breath for your baby.  If shit came down to it, trust me, you'd give your last breath.  But you may not feel that right in that moment.  Gracie and I had to get to know each other... she was my first child.  And to be honest, I didn't know what the crap to do with her.  Within days, when the shock of pushing a human out of my gitch had worn off, and we had had some time to stare into each others' eye, I totally would have jumped in front of a bus for her.  But don't beat yourself up if you don't feel that the instant your baby is born.  Not everyone does.  But trust me, it'll come.

 

Breast is best.  Period.

 

Your ta-tas hold a magical power.  Breast milk.  It's like liquid gold.  It's a life-changing elixir with benefits rivalling the Fountain of Youth.   It's totally natural, and nothing is better for your baby.  Unless, of course, like me, your baby rips a nipple off while performing this "totally natural" function, you develop a thrush infection that lasts 4 months (hello, searing, burning pain in my nipples), are diagnosed with Reynauds specifically affecting your nipples (look that up, it's awesome), develop a uterine infection and are hospitalized, develop supply issues, or a million other things that may affect successfully breastfeeding.  If you attempt to breastfeed, and succeed... you are amazing!  If you attempt to breastfeed, and do not succeed... you are still amazing!  If you decide from the very beginning not to try breastfeeding, and bottle feed your little person... still amazing!!  But let me tell you the part that isn't talked about very often... it's the second option here... attempting and failing.  If you want to breastfeed, and run into issues, you will feel like a failure.  You will cry tears you didn't know you had, over things you didn't know bothered you.  For example, I once said to Danny, through tears "But if I don't keep breastfeeding, how do I know my baby won't die of SIDS." That's right, breastfeeding can help lower the risk of SIDS, which of course, to an extremely hormonal woman means you are choosing death for your baby if you do not breastfeed.  How I fed my babies was probably the thing I cried over more than anything else.  It was torture for me to feed them via boobies, and it was torture for me to stop feeding them via boobies.  I pumped almost exclusively for Gracie for 4 months (the thrush infection made it damn near impossible to actually put her to boob), and wrote a 2500 word email to my lactation consultant while bawling my eyes out the day I realized I had to start supplementing with formula.  I felt like a failure.  An absolute failure.  Six days later, I realized how much easier it was to make a damn bottle out of formula, without having to attach myself to a milker, and stopped feeling bad.  Felt the same guilt with babies 2 and 3, but for fewer and fewer days.  How you feed your baby will cause all sorts of anxiety.  But guess what, Gracie is hella smart, and that kid ate formula.  So there.  Feed your kid.  However you do it, they will be okay!! Also, as a warning... the "bonding" you feel while breastfeeding... again, it's different for everyone.  Personally, I felt a lot closer to my baby while looking her in the eye and snuggling her next to my cheek with a bottle in her mouth.  The blood running out of the side of her mouth while breastfeeding made it a little creepy.  Kidding.  But seriously, I was much more relaxed with a bottle, and found it much easier to position them where I could creepily sniff the crap out of their heads while they ate.

 

Your relationship with your Husband will change.

 

This crap is true.  For some people, they will begin to hate and resent their husbands, solely for the fact that the husband didn't have to push a 9-pound baby out of their penis.  For me, I felt a deep, deep, desperate need to keep Danny close to me.  I suddenly felt the need to know exactly how much he loved me, and made him tell me over and over again that he would never leave me.  Hormones.  They're even worse after baby's born!!!  The day Danny had to go back to work, you would have sworn I was being left to care for 10 babies at the same time.  I had no idea how I would manage it, I begged him not to go, and he texted all day to make sure we were alright.  I was alright, by the way.  But who in the hell decided to leave me with an infant only 5 days old... I had no idea what to do with it!  That's what I thought anyway, and you will too.  But, trust me, you'll figure it out.  As for your husband, talk to him, tell him how you're feeling.  And teach him right now to say these words, "It's okay.  You're doing great.  Of course I love you. What do you want me to make for dinner?"

 

The Internet is Ripe with Friendly Advice.

 

Like this blog, here.  Totally friendly, unjudging advice.  Read only this blog and nothing else.  Because every other mommy advice group out there is dangerous.  If you have questions at 3 in the morning about what you're doing right or wrong... save them for morning and phone a real friend.  Do not...  I repeat...  Do. Not. Go. On. A. Mommy. Facebook. Page.  Those crazy ladies be judging everything!  From breastfeeding (see above, food is best - any food), to car seats (oh, sweet Jesus, the car seats!), to winter coats, to co-sleeping, to CIO (crying it out - which is evil - and totally worked for me!), to cloth diapers.  Everyone has an opinion.  The problem is that everyone also has a problem with everyone else's opinions.  That shit gets nasty in those groups.  Stay away.  Stay far away.  If you really need help at 2 a.m., call your mom, or text me.  Only enter those mommy groups after you have 3 kids and you've learned not to give a crap what other people say about your parenting skills (hey, mine are still alive, right?!?).

 

Don't forget the diaper bag.

 

I only say this, because you will forget the diaper bag.  Not on the days that you don't need the diaper bag, of course.  On the days where you have a successful, uneventful trip to the grocery store, you will have your diaper bag, full of useful things like wipes and a change of clothes.  However, on the day your kid decides to crap up it's own neck, into it's hairline, and through the only diaper and set of clothes you have - that'll be the day your forget the diaper bag.  You'll laugh about it later... after you've washed your kid in a sink at Superstore or on the side of the road with watered-down Lysol wipes (that was me - don't judge) and have carried them home completely naked because you decided it was better to toss the whole outfit into the trash than even attempt to clean that shit. Your husband will, of course, say "Where's the diaper bag?" And you'll say, "I told you to grab it!" and he'll say, "No, I said I didn't have it and told you to grab it." And you'll both hold the baby up by it's pinky fingers and try to remove clothes that are covered in yellow, runny, poo, and after you finally get the baby cleaned up, your husband will say "Eww, what's that on your elbow, and you'll realize it's poop and you just used the last piece of paper towel in the public restroom.  So... don't forget the diaper bag! (But tell me the story about when you do, after it becomes funny!)

 

People post the best part of their lives on Facebook

 

Not the worst parts.  Not the crappy parts.  The best parts.  If you look on Facebook, you'll see baby smiles and giggles.  Clean kitchens, and homemade dinners.  You'll see little Billy's perfect little art project, and hear about little Maggie's ability to walk and write the alphabet at 6 months of age.  You'll read about how this mama thinks that motherhood is the most amazing, life-changing experience, and how unicorns visit every night to help put her little angel to bed.  Don't let these people fool you.  Parenting is amazing!  But only like 40% of the time.  Most of the time it is hard, exhausting, dangerous, sad, and totally fucked up.  But the times that it is amazing, it is sooooo amazing.  The little terrors that we raise are such amazing little people that bring such joy to our lives.  They can make you smile without even thinking.  They are incredible.  Absolutely.  Just don't be fooled into thinking it's Facebook-awesome, like all the time.  Remember the people like me, who share the crappier parts of parenthood that other people are afraid to talk about it.  I share, because I know I cannot be the only parent whose 2-year old could use the word "fuck" fluently in a sentence.  Because I cannot be the only one, who, at the end of some days, wants to drown parenthood away with a a glass of wine.  Because my kids cannot be the only ones with attitudes bigger than my own, who challenge every fibre of patience, but who still say the most adorable and hilarious things. 

 

I will forever share the crappy parts of parenting... because parents, new and experienced, like to know they're not alone when their kids are acting like shitheads.  Because parenting is exhausting and challenging just as often as it is rewarding.  And because it seems, these days, that everyone is so quick to judge every decision, big and small, and make us feel like failures as parents.  The way I see it, if you love your kids, and do your best to raise respectful little people, then you're doing alright.  And hopefully now, my friend, when things get tough in those first few weeks and months after the little puker-maker is born, you have a little something to read and laugh at, and say "Damn... she was right." Cause I usually am, you know!! :)

Prego with baby #3 - the One Who Made Me an Expert...

 

Old Love...

Do you know what today is?  Today is the 11th-year anniversary of the first time Danny and I went on a date.  This is also the first time in 11 years that Danny hasn't mentioned today to me.  April 6.  Our first date.  More than a decade ago.  Three kids, two houses, and my whole twenties ago.  Yikes.

 

I met Danny when I was 19, and he was 21.  He was with me when I moved to Moncton, and when I moved back a year later.  We spent our twenties buying two different houses, getting married, going on our honeymoon, having three kids, and dealing with career changes and life's hardships.  We were wild and crazy and in love.  And although the crazy is still there sometimes (hello, three kids!!), I think we've lost some of the wild.  But after 11 years of being together, a little less wild is good sometimes.  I call it "old love."

Back when I was 19, we had "new love." You know... the "no, you hang up first!" smoochy, kissy, gross sort of love.  New love was awesome.  Danny and I would email back and forth every day.  Even though we saw each other every single day.  He'd leave me love notes on the counter, written on a receipt, or a paper towel, or whatever he could find.  I'd come home for my supper break at the drug store, and he'd have a pasta dinner waiting for me.  We'd talk about going to the movies, or out for dinner, and we would decide - together - where to go.  He would tell me about his job, and the work he did on planes, and I actually wanted to know, to be involved in that aspect of his life.  We would go to bed every night at the same time, and fall asleep cuddled together.  Ahhh, new love.

Crap's not like that anymore.  Instead of emails, he gets texts that say "Jax pooped.  On the potty, and not on the floor.  Rock on!"  There are no love notes on the counter, but some days he makes our bed before he leaves the house, so hells yeah for that!!  He rarely cooks me dinner anymore (cause really, who wants to cook for 7 people??), but he slaps my butt or pinches my ass every time he walks by me in the kitchen, and sometimes he even honks what's left of my pathetic excuse for boobs... so I'm pretty sure that means he still thinks I'm sexy as hell.  We don't decide together anymore where to eat or what to see.  We spent a good portion of our late-20s fighting about it (I don't care, you pick!), and we've just come to the arrangement that if Danny really gave a shit, he'd let me know.  Otherwise, my choice!  I still care about his work, which is now school, but he knows that I know even less about computer programming and sciences than I did about Auroras.  So he talks, and I try my best to comprehend, but we both know I'm not fooling anyone.  And as for bedtime, three kids has killed that for us.  I'm exhausted by 7:05, about five minutes after the kids are down for the night.  I try my best to make it to 10:00, but honestly I'm in bed most nights by 9.  Some nights he comes with me, watches a show while I fall asleep, and then returns to the living room to finish Walking Dead, or whatever other gory crap he watches after I'm out cold.  I like having him with me while I fall asleep, but I can't tell you how many times I've woken up from the brink of sleep choking on one of his farts.  So perhaps the living room is the best place for him after all.

Do I miss the "new love" of 11 years ago?  Sure, sometimes!  But there's something awesome about being at a point in my life when my husband comes home from the grocery store with a new package of tea he saw me eyeballing. Or knowing that when he says, "Sammy, are your hormones acting up again?" that he mostly means "Are you okay, do you need a hug?" It's great knowing that when he says "Do we have plans on Thursday night?" he really means "One of the guys just texted, can I go out for wings?" because even though I told him years ago he doesn't need my permission to ever go out, he still respects me and our life enough to check in every single time.  He still holds my hand in public.  He still kisses me goodbye every time he leaves the house.  He still texts me "I'm here. xox." when he reaches Acadia every day, because he knows I worry about his drive on the highway.   He knows all of my faults, and I know all of his.  He knows what drives me absolutely crazy, and he knows that at least once a day I'll drive him completely insane.  He still brings home flowers when he knows I've had a bad day, and pepperoni and chicken wings when it's been an especially rough week.  He delivers me snacks and water bottles and vitamins in bed when I text him at 9:05 p.m. because I don't want to get back out from under the covers - even though it means stopping whatever he's doing to do something for me.  He still offers to clean the barf when one of the kids is sick, because he knows how much I hate it.  And he does it all with love.  Every single time!

New love is pretty awesome.  But this old love crap... well it's pretty spectacular in lots of different ways.  And now that we're both officially old too (hello, thirties!), I can only see our old love getting even older!

 

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"