Never Enough.

Funny. I've been wanting to write for days... and on the drive home from work I thought of all these witty, interesting things to say, and now, as I sit here, I've got nothin'.

I said to my husband the other day, in what I remember being a fit of desperation, "why can't just one single hour of my day be easy?!" This was after 4 straight days of 5 hours sleep a night- and after I had run around all day doing stupid little things that should take minutes and with two small children they take hours-- and when those two small children are being especially challenging it feels like it's taking days.... after I fed my family, I left my house, my husband, my children, the mess, the chaos... the love... and I went to bootcamp.

I have found, since Abby was around 18 months old, a kind of peace in exercise. It helped me to lose the baby weight and then some I gained after Abby-- and then once again after Otis.. and now thanks to celebrating holidays with small children who love treats, it will hopefully once again help me shed the 10lbs that have creeped back on...

Aside from helping with weight loss- it has been key to managing stress. Before my maternity leave with Otis ended I would run every day at 6am.. starting my day before the chaos began- even being able to shower and drink a hot cup of coffee-- now as I often don't get home until close to 1am and as Otis still wakes in the night, 6am is not realistic- and when I try- it's only conterproductive- making me even more overtired... I do however sneak out during Otis' nap- either bringing Abby along- or setting her up with the tv and the baby monitor to which she often announces updates or makes requests of me to come inside "for just a sec".

I fell in love with this dance bootcamp a while back- I think because it makes me insanely sweaty and it's a serious challenge- and I get to laugh at myself attempting to do this thing people call "dancing". The instructor is awesome- and high energy and enthusiastic- all the things I wish I could be... and it's also somewhat a social exercise- relying on some of the same people to be there week after week- which is nice- consistency is so soothing to me sometimes.

I have also been running with a friend- who is the world's greatest cheerleader- and again, creates an environment where we exercise- but we also get to socialize- and catch up- and gossip-- and challenge each other: mostly she challenges me- but I love that... I get so much satisfaction out of that push.

Now this friend and I have recently arranged for the bootcamp instructor to work with us in the gym- to guide us through some strength training etc- which has been awesome... I find myself at home now randomly on the ground attempting to do push ups- or stopping during cleaning up to use the toy bin to do tricep lifts (or whatever the hell you call them)- about halfway through what I aim to do Otis usually sits on me... which is pretty cute- but not helpful.. I dream of being fit- and firm- and finally feeling beautiful.

Maybe it's shallow- but my body isn't what it once was... and though now I'm thinner and more fit than I was before I had my first child-- it's different. Things are in different places, textures are different- it feels different. Scarred by first growing children, then labouring them into the world- and finally feeding and nurturing them has left me feeling unsatisfied with how I look- feeling sad... and after the amazing feat of having children you'd think I'd feel the opposite: that I'd feel strong and powerful- and beautiful- the way I see my mother, and my friends who are mothers... but I don't: I just feel sad.

I feel like sometimes the world has created yet another nemesis for women: firstly we are our own worst enemies- but as years go on more and more is piled onto our plates (this is true not only for women, but people in general). We are expected to be amazing parents, gainfully employed, amazing housekeepers and chefs, etc etc etc, and on top of all that, we are supposed to be beautiful...

This desire for me- I literally squeeze the time in... at first I thought it was because it's what makes me feel good- I really do love to exercise- I love the adrenaline of beating my time, or lifting a tiny bit more (and I mean tiny- I'm a wuss!), or lasting through the whole ab segment of my class- the socializing with people who are interested in the same things etc etc etc... but secondary to those things- the drive for me to be "better looking" seems to be creeping in... I compare myself to people who are unrealistic for me to compare myself too- women who haven't had children- or who have and have always been naturally thin- women who are younger- women who have time to work out 2x a day... women who get to sleep longer than 5 hours a night-- women who have family here to help them have time to achieve more- I'm exhausted- and it's not because of all the exercise.

I don't think I should stop all of it- because I do feel like the pros outweigh the con-- the desire to simply "be" more beautiful- I wonder what I can do to help make myself "feel" more beautiful- to feel satisfied with how I look- to have the confidence I had before I had my kids- I was more confident with 20+ extra pounds on me...

I guess it comes down to-- well I don't know what-- maybe I think I can make up areas where I'm less adequate than my peergroup- maybe I feel that even though I don't own a beautiful house, tidy and full of nice things, or even though I don't have support here- or can count on 3 fingers the number of times I've been out with my husband alone in 2011, or even though we are living seriously close to the poverty line-- I can keep up with my beautiful friends? Could I be more shallow?

As soon as I walk in the door from work each night- I go into the kids' room and I look at them. They are so quiet- and amazing- so peaceful... I wonder how my low self esteem will affect them as they grow up- my embarassment over certain things, my uncertainty, my worry- why can't being beautiful to them just be enough for me?

Naturally.

I'm not naturally thin. I'm not naturally beautiful. I'm not naturally happy or smiling all the time. My house is not naturally clean. I'm not rich- well off- or anything remotely close. I'm not overly educated- nor do I carry any knowledge of the world's current events. Sometimes I feel like I live in a bubble- these days my bubble has been bursting a lot. Even though I'm not naturally any of those things I mentioned- I am naturally caring. I am naturally generous and thoughtful. I am naturally funny. I am naturally surviving in the only way I know how. I am naturally an over-acheiever in roles I feel comfortable in- and I am naturally aware of things that happen within my community at home- and the community with which I work.

I am naturally- or maybe un-naturally- trying to keep up- impress- gain approval- feel appreciated.... it doesn't feel like it's working.

I feel like maybe it's time to move on- but it's so hard to let go of something you love. It's so hard to let go of something you believe in and that you feel good doing- and feel like you're good at doing it. When structure and systems interfere it shouldn't be hurtful- it should just be "the way it is" but it is hurtful- I take it personally... and I think I take it personally because deep down I know I can do more- I know I'm worth more. Deep down I know why I strive to impress and gain approval- because deep down- or not even so deep down, I know I deserve approval- and I know my efforts should be appreciated- but they're not and it kills me.

There are no grades- no raises- no thank yous. Systems- or people- there is something not giving me what I want- what I feel I need... and I know you're thinking- why do you need approval when you know what you're doing is good and right? And yea- I know that- but when I can barely help support my family and I work so hard- I know now that education will be key- but education is in the future- when my children are old enough not to need me so much- at least with my kids I feel appreciated, sometimes.

My nature is to do things when I know I'm capable. I have a horrible habit of volunteering for things I know I can do- and do well- and then I feel sad or overwhelmed at the lack of appreciation. I don't want a party- or flowers- or an announcement... but sometimes "hey thanks" or "nice work" would be good. Often in my personal life I do things to make myself feel good- and maybe that's selfish- but little things-- like I mean little things like stopping for a pedestrian, holding a door open, picking up coffee, or words of encouragement, a check-in, a hug--- those things would make such a difference in my day- just to know that someone knows I'm there.... I like to think that when I do those things- those little things- I might make someone feel better, or good-- and I might help make their day better-- which makes me feel better about my day.

I leave my work feeling good about the work I've done- and that should be enough. I feel like I've usually done something to make a difference... maybe not in the entire world, maybe not in someone's entire life (everyday anyway), but maybe just in someone's day- someone's moment... and I feel good about that... I like to think the connections I make will make a difference some how- most of the time at least... I know I'm decent at my job- making a homeless youth cry with positive reinforcement, active listening, and positive reframing-- basic compliments on little things-- things maybe they've never been told before- I know that makes a difference... I know I'm a good adovocate and encourager- I know I'm resourceful and I can tap into networks- I'm not afraid to ask questions and make suggestions... I'm empathic and caring- and I feel that doing-with is more helpful that doing-for... I know I'm an asset to my employer.

Maybe I sound full of myself- like I'm "tooting my own horn". Or maybe I just gave myself the compliments and encouragement I needed to keep going. To keep trying. To hang in there through politics and structure- or lack thereof. I will continue to fight for my rights as an equal- my right to answers and proper policies... and I will continue to love that actual work I get to do... because that work, I do naturally.

Bandaids.

My writing has been constipated... backed up... dying to come out- not enough time to sit down and "get er done" so to speak. Okay. I could totally have used a different analogy- but I have many Momma friends- and what Momma doesn't like to talk about poop?!

This rainy day post-thanksgiving, which I spent at work, feels heavy. I'm not sure if it's because I'm so tired I can barely see straight- or maybe due to the tug and pull of trying to balance work-Amy with Momma-Amy, having nearly lost wife-Amy and Amy-Amy altogether....

My return to work has been awesome. I have missed it and I know why. I still stand by that I'm good at my job... maybe it's time to move on and challenge myself even more- but I'm not quite sure my sleep schedule can handle it. I've also promised Jay, when I was pregnant with Abby- engaged to be married, that he wouldn't have to do construction all his life- that there would be time for his dreams too... now how do I squeeze that in there?

Over the years I've worked many Thanksgivings and Christmases- and generally speaking I really enjoy it- I enjoy being able to spend time in the kitchen preparing a meal for kids- that may have never had a meal like the one I'm cooking- or they have- and they can't go home to be with family for whatever reason- some worse than others...I like to be there to try and bring some positivity into their situation... which I am able to do for almost anyone- with the exception of myself. That old tradition of going around the table saying what you're thankful for gets me every year though- "thankful to be alive" "thankful to have to not sleep outside in the rain" "thankful someone gave me a smoke today" my heart breaks.... and I'm thankful that they shared with me.

Since my bedtime duty has been cut down at least 3/4s due to working many nights a week- I have an appreciation for my children- moreso than before. I love to catch a glimpse of Otis mimicking his sister- literally almost everything she does- he gets right in there- which in turn makes her crazy and she pokes him or pushes him... and then I remember- I remember my younger sister making me crazy- and I remember how I used to torture her.... I remember also, playing with her- endless games of house- or mermaids and crocadiles- riding bikes and climbing the huge hill in our backyard... and I am so thankful my children will have each other- to torture- and to play with- to protect each other- to hug....

Otis has this innocence in his face- but somehow he's still such a cheeky little bugger. Pointing all over the place at birds and planes- items he wants off the counter- and when he doesn't get what he wants... he has mastered the tantrum at 12.5months... and this tired Mommy has mastered the "walk-away-to-another-room" tactic-- to which is battled back with a moving-tatrum- so he is able to throw himself at my feet in the new room... I'm laughing now as I type- but during those moments where exhaustion creeps into my brain- it's no so hilarious.

Abby is changing too. She doesn't draw faces and people or write names like her friends do- but she loves to cut and glue... and do everything herself... which as anyone with small children knows- takes forever... and rarely gets done properly (ie teeth brushing). She picks up on the smallest things- like after dropping an apple referring to it as "a runaway apple" or explaining to me very seriously as I feed Odey his yams and chicken that "Mommy- Odey says to he-self, "ah fuck, yams again!?" Sarcasm is starting to rear it's cheeky head as she "tricks" us- little white lies are appearing claiming she "didnt' do anything- Odey just bonked 'he's' head" which Otis is clearly standing in the middle of a room after she's stolen something from him...

It doesn't matter what happens- they're siblings- who play together from one tantrum and battle to the next. I love to watch when they're playing nicely- Abby gently offering Otis something to play with (always something a little more lame than what she has) and Otis eagerly taking whatever his big sister has to offer- and making the best of it. My hope is that, like my sisters, their relationship simply gets stronger over the years- through the battles and the bumps- I hope they always love each other like they do now.

I'm not sure what brought on that transition- work to home... Maybe it is because I need to take a lesson from the youth at my work- and instead of simply being thankful for my beautiful children and my amazing husband- I need to be thankful for the relationship I have with them. I know they're toddlers not teenagers- and so much can change (and I really hope Karma isn't a bitch like they say- or I'm in big trouble) I am thankful I am not forced to spend the holidays away from my family- with some 'perky' stranger trying to pretend everything is not-so-bad- like I do every year... I'm not without empathy at work, I never say "it could be worse" but admittedly for those meals I do cook on the stats- I try to put a little bandaid on their problems with delicious comfort food- and I guess there's nothing wrong with that....

Finding balance has been difficult. Jay has been amazing as per usual- and my only complaint is that he could fold more laundry... things are not easy here in this little house.. but we're making the best of it- heading into the long nights of winter- we have each other- even if it's just over texts messages and phone calls as we pass each other in night and early morning- we all know we have a place to go home to.

I'm grateful for the youth who have found our resource to call home- every day I learn something- sometimes it's trivial- like the meaning of "I just hooped that stuff when I went to jail" and sometimes it's much more meaningful- teaching me that we all have our stories- some of them are more heartbreaking that others- but it's the stories that shape people- families.... I do know that my bandaid of a warm meal or homemade cookies brings youth to the table- and even if I can get them to smile a little- or share a bit of their story- I'm starting to build a relationship with someone and maybe I can be part of a chapter in their stories- a part where maybe things got a little better for even just a few moments.. and maybe.. those moments will turn into days, weeks, years....

Universe forbid my kids ever end up out of home- but if they do- I hope someone's cooking and openess puts a bit of a bandaid on their story- long enough to be reminded of home- of love- of family...

Hi Ho.

Holding Otis tonight as he started to slip from awake to asleep panic washed over me. Tomorrow night I won't be putting him to bed- and then more nights after that... I'm going back to work. I can't believe that it was a year ago that I left my job, swollen with babe, nesting like a maniac and desperately trying to squeeze in last moment "Abby" time before Otis arrived. I can't believe I have to go back already- where did the time go? Funny thing is, it seems at times that he is so big now- as I nurse him at night I have to put up with his squirming and pulling his own hair, kicking his feet- he's a vicious nurser- Abby was never like that- but as I looked down at him tonight, my giant baby, I feel like it was so very long ago that he was small- that he fit in the crook of my arm and slept peacefully and still on my chest... Aside from the panic I'm pretty stoked to get back into my work. I'm returning to the safe house- to continue to work with youth in crisis- a place where I truly do love to work. I have no stability there aside from the confidence I feel when I'm actually doing my job- I have no guarenteed hours- no benefits etc... so I have started to look at other jobs (sadly) and actually have an interview Friday morning... now: this is very remniscent of my last return from maternity leave- where I applied for a full time line and had my dreams shat on... I was crushed- rejection and me; not good friends (poor rejection- probably doesn't even have any friends- well aside from self loathing) I am not sure if I'm setting myself up here or not- but the job sounds amazeballs and like something I would love to get paid to do. I am scared for Jay- having to feed two small children, bathe and then put them to bed is no small task. Throw in the fact that he's been out of the house for 10 hours and it gets to be even more of a challenge! I'm scared Otis will forget about me- or that he'll do hilarious things or walk more than 2 steps when I'm gone... I'm paranoid Abby will resent the fact that I have to work too- that she'll notice that even more lack of sleep makes Mommy even more cranky-- maybe I'm setting myself up for that one-- I can do this. There just seems to be so many things I have to squeeze into the day (like all other people I know) I just wonder what life will look like when I'm working-- I know it will be messier.... we'll find out tomorrow I suppose. I am oddly confident that my youth working skills will need nothing more than a light dusting off and then they'll be fine. I'm imagining my phone voice and logging in observant language. I'm picturing myself locked in the bathroom pumping at Otis' bedtime! I hope that with my passion for empowerment and crisis deescalation will be enough to keep me up until midnight- and that I can ride the high of "helping" until my car is safely parked in my driveway. I hope my children will stay asleep as I creep into their room to watch them sleep for a few minutes- to fix their covers and kiss their cheeks- and then I pray they stay asleep until 10 minutes after I come back inside from my morning run--- which my ass hopes does not get lost in the shuffle of adjusting to life. We've made this choice as a couple to pass each other in the night. We're good parents who cannot afford childcare in this paycheque to paycheque pay grade- we've committed ourselves to our kids because that's the way we were brought up- and also because paying for childcare is not an option- by the time we paid the daycare bill I'd probably be making $3/hr... I love my husband for being as committed to me as he is our kids... I'm lucky. I'm off to have my cake and eat it too- be with my children- and hopefully maintain a meaningful career (okay- one should be getting paid more than I to call it a career- but this is the plight of my field). The cake will be heavy- and huge- but I'll feel full- satisfied.

Blink.

Sometimes that little bald bastard they call "Cailou" really pisses me off... like really! Or maybe it's his insane hippy parents that get to me- as Cailou spazzes out about bedtime or not wanting to take a bath his Mom just sighs, "oh Cailou- you're so silly- why don't you just stay up then, or not wash your giant bald filthy head" AHHH! That's not real life! You tell that little bugger to "shub up" *as Abby says and get in the tub! I've actually banned Cailou previously because I could not take his snively little voice- or his parents attitude towards his extreme whininess. This week however, Cailou has been my saviour. It sucks to have just said that out loud. I've been so tired, drained, and oddly depressed that I need to just lie down while Otis has his nap-- and that whiny little brat (Cailou that is) is a sure fire way to get Abby to sit and snuggle me- while I just "rest my eyes".

Life continues to whiz by me. Light speed. I feel like I blink and something new is happening- or I've missed something-- or there's another loop I've been tossed from as that's how far out of my old life I am. Wah wah wah- I know- mention of that "old life" again- the one pre kids- pre marriage- pre responsibility. The one where the hangover reigned and there was such a thing as sleeping in- the one where I could sit still without being mauled by children like midget wrestlers tag teaming Nacho Libre- or where I could sit still and not be plagued with guilt for not doing something more important....

I am scared sometimes... a lot of the time. Things go by so quickly that I'm scared to even close my eyes, often I don't. Otis is cruising around on furniture- we think he's saying "cat" and "dog" he's waving and playing along while we sing songs- he fancies himself someone who is quite hilarious- just like his Daddy. Abby's been to dance camp and another summer day camp- and she's talking to all kinds of kids- so easy to make friends- playing with the neighbour in the backyard- kissing me goodbye and saying she'll "see me in the morning". She's telling jokes- and playing tricks- and dishing out attitude as though she's already 13-- what happened?? Did I fall asleep??!

I move along through my days- fueled by coffee and the endorphins of my early early morning run (which has been giving me shin splints-- so now-- oh well that's a whole different ball of wax). Each step is a matter of survival... each meal for each family member is different and it's exhausting just thinking about it-- and the dishes that come along with it! I have to feed Otis as fast as I can- if a millisecond passes where there's not food in front of him he screeches and screams- I basically have to pin Abby down and/or bargain my way through her meal- and me- while I used to have time to make myself a nice healthy meal- I end up eating odds and ends between the two kids- though keeping a huge salad in the fridge has helped- but there's been times when I've been so hungry I'll eat cold mashed yams with peas or crusts of bread! This is likely nothing new to any Momma- it just kind of sucks sometimes. I wish someone would cook me supper... frick- just make me some toast with peanut butter.

I think of that book "About a Boy" where he describes the day being broken up into units of time- and that's how it goes... spending all day trying to keep to a schedule just so we can go to sleep (on time) and do it all over again- with the least amount of crankies and trauma- it's can be excrutiating! Rushing around to get things done in time for lunch and nap and then having to wake Otis up just so he'll go to bed on time! At times it seems like pure insanity and the most backwards reasoning- but for 2 hours of quiet time- where I get to finish cleaning, pay some bills, fold laundry etc etc etc...

All this whining- it's the life of a Momma I know it. I'm not stupid.. I love my children more than anything- but I can still complain about all the work that comes along with them! I still feel like even after 2 children and nearly 4 years my childless friends often don't know what it takes to have these gremlins- you really can't feed them after midnight or you're fucked!

I guess as my return to work approaches I'm starting to panic. When the eff will I have time to sleep? Seriously. Will my house turn into a garbage pile (oh wait- excuse me, an even BIGGER garbage pile). Will Otis' fingernails grow so long they'll get him into the Guiness Book of World Records because I won't have time to cut them? Will Abby go to school with candy in her hair, green teeth, wearing all her favourite clothes all at once because I'll lose the will to care about teeth and hair- because she'll get new ones and it'll grow back if we have to cut the candy out- and I'll be too blind tired to see that she looks like an absolute lunatic (okay- I know she's 3.5 she is allowed to wear all her favourite things at once- but once she gets a little older I won't have a hope in hell of dressing her so I'm trying to take advantage!)

And I panic about all the things I will miss. 9 hours (minimum) away from my beautiful kids. What will I miss?? What if I miss Odey's first step- I want to puke just thinking that it's possible I might- it makes me sick to think that he won't need Me- Momma- to put him to bed.. What kinds of conversations will I miss between Abby and her babies and imaginary friends? What hilarious things will she say while I"m gone? Once again I have to hold tight to these things- because with every blink I"m missing something.

I went to Ab's dance recital today- just a little dance in the studio for the parents- I had taken Otis for a walk so he'd nap and stopped in at Micheals from some crafties- and I was a little late- hitting every red light on my way.... I stood at the doorway with some other Mommas- holding Otis and I watched Abby snuggle her Teddy so tight- looking worried- and I wondered if she was worried that her buddy Kaeden's Momma was there and I hadn't come- she's funny- she didn't even know they were doing a recital-- but then that worried little face caught my eyes- and it lit up and she squealed (I had to shush her) she waved at me and waved at Odey... and I had to back away- because I burst into tears. How did she get so big- so beautiful- so amazing? Just writing those words my eyes well- and I'll let the tears slip over my lids because I don't want to blink and miss something else.

Playing ball and listening to Otis scream while a friend shakes and jiggles him - bribing him to calm down and just chill- brings mixed emotions.... I want him to be happy and quiet and just let me play- but I'm also happy he wants me- wants a snuggle and a cuddle and to nuzzle me. I sometimes have to cook dinner with him screaming at my feet- nothing will do- no tupperware or banana- not even cheerios will help- or while I stand at the counter chopping away he stands between my legs and tries to climb me- some days I laugh- and others I struggle to not shake him off! Scared to blink- he might be taller than me when I open my eyes.

People always say to me, "cherish this time- you'll miss it when they're older" and yea yea yea- I know they're right- but I won't miss feeling drained and exhausted- I definitely won't miss sleeping on the livingroom floor! I know there are millions (yes millions) of things I'll miss when they're older- there are times- many times when I just want to hit pause- enjoy the moment- the hilarity- the love- sometimes I do- even when the extreme schedule doesn't allow for it- haha! I think of the feeling of my teeny babies nuzzled into my chest when they were just born- I can't remember the exact feeling- I don't know why-- but what I do remember is that there is no other feeling in the world that can compare-- no amount of blinking, or sleeping can make those two moments slip away.

My children are amazing- beautiful- hilarious- smart- emotionally charged- caring- sweet- hungry- tired- whiny- exhausting- but they're mine. I guess even if I blink and miss something- or per chance I "rest my eyes" for say 20 minutes- when I open them- my children will be there (universe willing) continuing on to be their amazing little- and not-s0-little selves...

Slips and Tangles

Written June 17, 2011 There are some days when I wake up and think, "was I meant to be a mommy today?" Through lack of sleep and this new phase of the everyday screeching headache I'm seriously doubting my skills... I hate doubting myself- I'm sure most people do (unless you're some kind of emotional masochist) I hate feeling like "failing" is slipping into my life... a few days ago I don't think "mommy" was in my vocabulary- at least not the Leave-it-to-Beaver kind of perfect mommy. Ab is in this new stage of extreme-- independence. She's a major Bratsky- and Otis is Hutch. From the second I wake up I go. I take out garbage and recycling on my way to run.. and I run- half asleep but my body knows what to do. By the time I finish both kids are usually awake and the mauling begins! I find it so funny that I talk to my Mom and Sisters on the phone and they have to let me go or put the phone down so they can put mascara on- I guess not everyone posesses the skills to put on liquid liner and mascara while two hooligans crawl all over them. Sometimes I just feel so suffocated... and the exhaustion just fuels my impatience.. or is it inpatience? I have been short with Abby through this bratty stage- unsure of how to discipline her for not listening- or flailing or screaming... or hitting her brother with a broom. I just feel so lost on those days that I want to curl up and cry. I feel like I can't keep up with her- or her little brother- who is another mover and shaker who never ever stops. In this tiny house I feel like a dog chasing its tail for the 12 hours a day Jay is gone. Sometimes I'm so exhausted when he gets home that I just want to burst into tears! The other day I had all this insight to write- and had the craving to write- but no time- or I fell asleep on the couch with a cookie in my mouth or something... these phases in life- stages or whatever you want to call them- they're debilitating sometimes! We all know "change is stressful"- moving or getting a new job- big life events- hard on the mental state of anyone- when you have kids it just feel like every day changes-- which is a blessing and curse- it would be nice to know how early to go to bed based on what kind of day your kids are planning to give you the next morning! In all the change in the kids is a certain monotany for the parents. Feed, play, change, sleep etc... and sometimes sitting to nurse or in front of the highchair picking up and replacing bits of cooked yam and chicken can be so draining.. Until someone giggles- or laughs so hard at a light, a block, a teddy- or a big sister... or until that big sister says, "I love you so much Mommy" or looks through wedding pictures where I look like a seriously beached and pregnant whale and says, "mommy you look SO pretty". Until a wiggly jumpy little worm leans into my neck and coos... or blows a raspberry on my arm... or sucks on my nose. Until watching two siblings roll around and laugh and play (until someone gets hit with the broom of course) makes tears come to my eyes... mixed tears to be honest- of tiredness and relief- frustration that all the toys are out AGAIN- and a love so deep it doesn't matter that I'll have to chase my tail around again one more time. The recent events after the loss of the Stanley Cup really affected me for some reason. I cried at the photos and footage and felt sick trying to comprehend how people can be so heartless- and ignorant. I found myself worrying that me raising my voice- no- let's face it- screaming at Abby to do something I've asked her to do 100 times or stop doing something I've asked her to do 1000 times will turn her into one of those hooligans. My Mom never yelled at me- I'm not a hooligan- but I've had my moments that's for sure... I just hope my kids remember me for the cuddles- for time spent digging in the garden- planting and replanting- checking to see if that strawberry is ready yet- I hope they remember my terrible singing and how once it starts it doesn't stop. I hope they remember that even though I go out some evenings to get away and have a break- that I kissed them both goodnight again while they peacefully slept (well okay Otis just has a series of naps). I hope they remember my cruddy clothes while they always looked cute- my tired eyes because I was up late rocking or singing- or doing something for their preschool or baking a homemade birthday cake... I hope they remember each time I told them that I loved them. Enough horn tooting. I guess I just think aloud that my actions influence my kids' actions. And that- my friends- is a lot of pressure. A lot. On days when I'm exhausted, drained or lonely it's extra hard... I was in a play when I was in grade 3- the first little piggy was my role- but since then my acting skills aren't so good- and I hope my little babes don't take it personally- because the smiles outweigh the tears and fears- after one screeching incident I spend the day extra concious of my behaviour and I hope they see that... I hope they see me trying every day- every moment- to be a good Mommy... because I love them more than anything.

At Least the Rain Makes the Clovers Green...

Written April 28, 2011 When I was a little kid- okay- let's say around 10 or so- I could seem to spot a four leaf clover from a mile away. I would pick three or four at a time and I remember thinking to myself, "holy I must be so lucky". I haven't had many of those moments lately. Too wrapped up in being exhausted and trying to sleep train while folding laundry and changing a giant three year old's poopy princess pull up. (still with the poo issues!). It's been rainy and cold and so very grey that when I wake up in the morning I almost want to go back to midnight and fight through the night with Otis again just to see if when I wake up for my run- the sun just might be shining. Then this morning, a usually grey day, I had a little moment. I'm going to cling to that moment for as long as I can- hopefully past the point of Abby not listening to me at all causing me to carry her out of our best friend's house like a suitcase, past the point of poopy pull ups and screaming baby with separation anxiety... Nothing happened really. Otis woke up at 5am and made noise until finally pooping at 545am... I laid there listening and waiting, attempting to interpret his coos and "ba ba das". Wondering how many times he could switch binkies and flip them over and chew on his blankey... I changed him and nursed him and put him back down in his makeshift crib nestled in the corner of our tiny bedroom. He looked at me with his gorgeous eyes.. and protested for only a second... I walked out of the room leaving Jay to rock Otis if need be- he went right back to sleep (nothing does that like a good poop). I changed into my running clothes- grossly still kind of sweaty from last night's bootcamp class- but I didn't take anything else out of my dresser so I had to work with what was there rather than disturb the boys in my life sleeping away in my room. I glanced at Abby- who has been fairly sick- fighting a terrible cough while eating her own snot- and she was snoring away- finally peaceful and able to actually "rest" while she slept. I covered her up with a silky robe she calls her "mommy soft soft" which was actually a gift I got for my bridal shower-- every time I watch Abby and Otis sleep I realize how similar they look with their eyes closed- and it's not just because they're quiet for once in their lives-- their eye shape is the same- the same soft little lips and perfect nose. Their faces look so serene- and beautiful- and it's at those moments, like so many throughout the day- that I'm in awe that I actually helped create such perfection. I was able to grab a quick shower- joined by Ab- which I usually hate- but this morning I welcomed it... watching her mimic me is cute- and I'm flattered that she wants to be like me- it makes me self concious in a way that I actually invite because I know I need to practice being a better person- so we have less of "this fucking pencil doesn't work!" incidences at the library-- where I looked up in shock at her proper use of such a word- only to see that she had been using said 'fucking" pencil to draw in a library book (which I promptly shoved back on a shelf). I need to practice being calm for her- and using soothing words... less harsh... and when I don't sleep it's hard! But I'm going to practice- for Abby- and Otis. I braided Abby's hair- "one braid Mommy- like a pony" because she knows I hate the single pony tail because all her wispies come out and get food and paint in them- I helped with her pants- "with a belt like your pants mommy". I was able to put on my make up and then we heard Otis- Abby always anxious to be the first one in to greet him- and he LOVES it! A nice little snuggle and poopy bum change for Odey boy and off to make breakfast for Abby- mango french fries, giant daddy strawberries and orange wedgies.. oh, and a wah-fuh. (waffle) Otis played around in his exersaucer giggling at the cat- I drank my coffee semi warm while blending up some mango for his breakfast- picking him up when he's happy is such a joy- he lifts his arms to me and smiles and coos and welcomes my touch- leaning in to suck on my nose or drool on my shoulder- sometimes I find this annoying and irritating to have to clean myself up after just showering- but this morning I welcomed the baby-fluids. He gabbed away while I fed him in his highchair, Abby popping in and out of the kitchen from her usual "picnic" breakfast in front of Rob the Robot and Curious George... when Otis was finished eating I went to wipe his face- he hates it... but this morning I teased him and played with him and he giggled so hard- laughing at his crazy Mommy-- and at that moment- I realized looking out the window at the pissing rain- that the rain really does make the clovers grow. Watching his eyes light up and hearing that beautiful giggle- watching Abby come in to see what was going on- grabing onto me because she was a little jealous- I grabbed that moment- grabbed my two litle four leaf clovers and sent a mental thank you to my husband for making me so lucky. It won't last all day- probably not even until lunch time (as Otis has woken up much much too early from his nap) but I won't forget this feeling. I won't even hate the rain today for keeping us cold and inside. I will embrace Otis crawling room to room army style to either find me or chase the cat- I might even be able to snuggle Abby through an episode of Cailou (though I really hate that whiny bald little bastard)- on second thought maybe we can dress up like princesses instead... our little trip to go pick Abby up from preschool will not be so monotonus today- because it will give us something to do in the rain- drive around and listen to Imagination Movers while watching Otis take in the world.. watch the falling rain and be thankful for giving me such green little clovers.

The Anchor

WRitten March 29 2011 It's funny- on a particularly bad day I decide: I simply must write. I need to purge and lighten myself... this will likely be written in installments over a few days as I rock Otis in his carseat with one foot while Jay gives Abby a bath- it's only moments away that she comes bounding out to "poke" her baby brother or scream in his face and wake him up... thus I will need to move on to a different activity. I am tired. There are luxuries with the first baby that I totally took for granted... like breastfeeding sitting down- and patiently without the need to rush the baby so we can get to preschool or so I can make Abby breakfast... napping when the baby naps isn't an option with a little one running around (screaming)- in fact the baby actually getting a nap isn't an option- I have to leave the house no later than 10am or I feel the need to lock myself in the bathroom and scream- because Otis is screaming with frustration out of not being able to sleep and Abby keeps repeating, 'where are we going, what are we doing where are we going what are we doing why why why why why why why?" I have been out with Otis since the day I came home from the hospital and I don't know how many times people have commented on how "brave" I am for leaving the house with him when he's still so little- I just feel like responding that it's the only way we'll all survive- the walls of this tiny house close in on me every single second... getting out is the only way to not feel trapped- and it's the only way Otis will nap. I feel like I've been raped by an octopus by the end of the day.. between nursing and carrying and slinging and bjorning and toddler-clinging-to-my-legging I'm all touched out. I feel bad because a little kiss is all I can muster to Jay because I'm all touched out... I long like crazy for some space and just a few minutes to myself to just sit.. but that isn't happening for a while- and that's fine.. I just need to keep reminding myself that my time will come. There are some things this time around that are better- I don't worry about every single thing.... as much. Of course with a tiny human completely dependant on you 24/7 there are worries--- oh. pause.. and so ends installment number 1. hopefully tomorrow I remember what my point was.... I started this note in November. It's now March 28th. Wow. I've thought to myself many times, "man I'd love to sit down and write something" but the reality is my actual "computer" time is so scarce- I do most of my work on the google machine via way of my cell phone or Ipod (when Abby hasn't jacked my ipod to watch youtube). Otis is essentially 6 months old- and still on the schedule of a newborn- waking at bare minumum (this week) every 3 hours. In fact, I can heard him squacking now in the play pen in our room- but it hasn't been an hour yet so he will need to stay in there and try to muster some more sleep out of himself. Otis is a Momma's boy. There are things about that I love: his ear-to-ear grins when I come into the room, his giggles when I hang my hair in his face or shake his little hands, how if I pick him up he settles almost instantly... there are things about it I don't like: how I can't leave the room without loud protesting, if I keep him down too long he screeches like a teradactyl, how making dinner with a wiggly baby in a sling is a serious safety hazard. We went through some major sleep trauma. He's been in our bed until about 3 months, then his crib and our bed as a combo (early early mornings I'd move him in with me) then he started to wake up every 2 hours, then every 45 minutes- fearing it would disturb Abby's sleep we moved him to a playpen in our room-- which didn't help- I thought maybe he still wants to sleep with me- it made things worse- now he was getting up every 45 minutes and I wasn't sleeping... and I was CRANKY! Then back to the playpen on one of my smelly shirts-- that helped, back to 2 hours, then he got very sick and would only sleep in my arms if I was sitting up. That was great. I thought I would lose my mind. I cried a lot. Now he is back in the play pen doing a modified cry it out-- where I let him cry during nap time in hopes he will figure things out at night without too much screaming because his big sister needs to sleep.... and so does his Momma-- Daddy seems to just pass out on the couch and not hear a thing so he's fine. It's hard having two kids. Two schedules. With Otis now on solids two more meals to cook- on top of the already two different meals I cook for Jay and I as I'm doing weight watchers- successfully meeting my goal after 12 weeks (yay). I do enjoy making baby food though- I can get pretty crafty and my little tubba seems to like everything so far... except crying in his playpen- but who can blame him? I'm racing sleep the entire day. I get up at 6 to run- get back inside by 645 for Jay to leave for work- pray the kids are still sleeping so I can shower-- then hope Abby wakes up happy from what little sleep she got (she is like me- can go without much) and then I hope Otis sleeps long enough for me to make Ab's breakfast and maybe jave a hot cup of coffee (YEA RIGHT!). Then when he does wake and is usually so smiley and amazing-- I have to keep him smiley and get everyone ready to leave the house to drop At at school- only to race home before Otis falls asleep in the car- simply so he can fall asleep at home and get some practice! Then I have to hope he wakes in time to go pick up his sister- race home for lunch or out to do errands and then back home in time for the next nap... why don't I just stay home? Well because Abby has so much energy that by the end of the day I feel like my head is going to explode! Why not let him sleep in the car? Well I do-- to an extent- but if he only sleeps in the car it simply reinforces his already nasty habit of cat napping 24 freakin' hours a day! It's a logistical nightmare. At night- I try my best to give Jay 20 minutes of his own time by bathing Abby with Otis in the jolly jumper- which that kid just loves it's amazing! I bet you 7 times out of 10 I have to ask Jay to pick Otis up because after 10 minutes he starts to scream- we've taken to evening walks so that Otis can have his tiny 3rd cat nap in the bjorn and Abby can blow off steam- but with that- comes an extremely neglected house- which makes me even more crazy! I kind of feel like a dog just chasing my tail in circles over and over and over- and never catching the damn thing- and when I do- and bite down it hurts! We are getting along. Spring is coming- then with the nicer weather I'll be trapped inside with naps longing to get out- and get Abby out to play-- wanting to have my cake and eat it too is painful! It's so hard to have kids without any outside support- our families are so far away- and I'm so seriously envious of families that do have each other that I swear you can see green steam coming from my ears when I hear of the luxury of going on a date or having someone help you fold your laundry- or even make dinner! Being at home is so much harder than being at work- and with the situation around our pitiful financial status I have seriously considered going back to work early- with my measly wage I would have to work full time again for it to be worth while- and since I would have to work til 12am- I would never get any sleep (considering most nights I get my most solid sleep from 9pm-12am) and then I would be an even "meaner Mommy" to poor Abby. So we suck it up- and let our debt grow- and try not to think about it. I feel like sometimes if I was to lose it (fully) this ship we call the Mazzone home would sail off into sea and be gone- I'm the anchor. Not trying to toot my own horn but it's true- I think most Moms out there are the anchors that hold things in place- I know husbands/daddies definitely play a part in the maintanance of the family- but generally speaking, us Mommas hold down the forts- and it's hard- and a lot of pressure. Anyway, I've rambled completley- maybe my mind is still on that laundry and the pylometrics I just did with Mr. Do-your-best-and-forget-the-rest... or maybe I'm grateful Otis has stopped crying-- only to hope that he wakes in 15 minutes so we can go pick up that sister of his. The way his face lights up when she dances for him or brings him a toy reinforces our choice to have a second baby even more than my love for him on the day he arrived. Otis has been a joyful (loud and challenging) addition to our family- but with that smile and giggle he fits right into this crazy family. He looks just like his Daddy- and I know he loves being part of our family just as much as his Daddy does.... I better go and make some noise- trick that little stinker into thinking he woke up by himself- I'm sure all the books tell you not to do that- I have trouble with the books and I'm picking and choosing what I like and dislike- what I am willing and unwilling to do- it's hard and probably harder than just following one method- but I'm the anchor- strong and stubborn- and a litttttle bit rusty.

Otis Enters the World

Written October 7, 2010

I've been trying to write Otis' birth story for about a week now- of course with an Abby and an Otis- there is little time for anything else... I am thankful for the people whohave writen and offered to help- I haven't replied just because I'm still trying to get grounded- trying to make it through the day without crying- which hasn't happened yet... I'm terrified to go through the depression I had after Abby- and that paranoia has made me uber aware of every feeling in my body- I'm scared. I am just trying to get into a routine- and then we will know what is a good time to visit- that being said, dinner is always welcome ;) My North Burnaby Mommas have been checking on me several times daily- and bringing us dinner-and making sure I know that I'm not crazy and things will be okay- I know it'sokay to be scared- but it's lonely and without my Mom, Jay and my Momma friends I would be lost- I am so grateful for you. As my due date approached I had mixed feelings about my pregnancy ending- I knew I would be sad to lose our secret relationship- the one that had been kicking my ribs and making me pee 7 times in a night- the one where rolls and waves were just between us- the one that made my belly firm and round and fun to rub- but I was so anxious to meet my little son that I wanted labour to start-- and then it started and I changed my mind... Around 430am on Wednesday September 29th I woke up what I refer to as "poo cramps". I kind of knew they were contractions, hoped they were- but then didn't want to get too excited... sure enough, every 10 minutes my belly would tighten and the pressure was on. They were short- and fairly painless- I think around 520am or so- 7 minutes apart I woke Jay up to tell him that I thought the baby was coming-- he fell back asleep almost instantly- and with all my might I fought the urge to elbow him in the face-- I woke him again 7 minutes later- he asked this time what he could do- and I stupidly said nothing! ha! I went over in my mind what we needed to do: my good friend Amy was the overnight person who would come down with her 6month old daughter if I went into labour in the middle of the night-- she also has a daughter the same age as Abby- so I kept thinking "just make it til 7am- then call" over and over again- even though I knew in my heart Amy would have come in a split second- but also a wave of sickness washed over me realizing that my last moments with just Abby were here-- I got into the shower and tried to wash away the contractions- now 5 minutes apart-- I had to bite my lips and lean on the wall and kind of walk my feet because now- they were definitely strong and definitely long... I got out of the shower about 620- I could hear Abby and Jay talking-- I went in- towel and nakedness and asked her if she wanted to go to Sadie's to play-- she was soooo excited! I asked for a snuggle because every morning we have a snuggle-- and she climbed in my lap and talked me through a contraction-- we talked a bit more about the baby coming- and my contractions were probably 3 minutes apart-- stronger each time-- so I went to walk the wall and lost my towel and Abby just laughed at me and said, "Mommy you're NE-KED!" Then she saw my face and kept asking if I was okay-- I explained Otis was trying to get out of my belly and it hurts! I had to leave the room to get dressed- panicking now because I realized we may have waited too long! I could hear Abby say to Jay, "my baby brubber's all done growin' now!" and I started to tear up... I paged my dr.,. she called back and I just TOLD her, "I'm coming- 3 mins apart, strong and long and I can't take it!" she is the best and just told me she'd see me soon! Abby's bag was packed and we got her into the car- after I yelled at Jay for being too slow- he was making coffee and if you know Jay you know that takes about 23 minutes- We got up to Amy's and she snagged Abby from the car- who was still so excited- I had called my friend Sarah who works at Children's to come and see us on her break.... I called my Mom earlier- and then again from the car- she was packing to leave her training for her new Social Worker job to come and be with me- I knew in my heart she wouldn't make thebirth and I cried a little-- Jay assured me we'd be fine- I wasn't so sure as we weaved in and out of construction and I already felt the urge to push with inklings of insane pressure-- he kept reminding me to breathe and passing me my water-- as my breathing was more of a hyperventilation! Pulling into the hospital and getting out of the car I caould barely walk-- I wish I could have walked through contractions- I heard it helps- but I was basically imobilized! Jay registered me and as I stodd to walk the wall through another raging tightening- a teeny little nurse grabbed and squeezed my hips/butt area so hard-- but oh man did it help! I don't know how someone so small had such strength! My dr. rounded the corner with a big smile and I was really excited for her to bring Otis into the world-- I was brought into anm assessment bed and a little nurse named Annabelle who was cute as sin started to talk to me-- and so did her medical student- a slight super young asian man who I think I scared the shit out of by yelling at him- I didn't mean to! Dr. Strydom checked me and I was at 7 cms dialated-- I told her I didn't want to feel this anymore and she called for the epidural- explaining that once my water broke- because I was so diapted and Otis was my second baby there wouldn't be time-- so it was ordered-- and she smiled saying she got me a good birthing room on the cedar ward- with a bathtub and lots of bright sun... I was wheeled up to my room by one nurse- in so much pain- scared that I would be doing this without drugs-- that nurse brought me to my birthing nurse Anita- who was so nice- but I couldn't tell her that because I was in so much pain- I stood with my bare bum hanging out for the sunshine to see- with my head on the bed going through contraction after contraction-- I asked about the epi- but with only one anesthesiologist on-- I had to wait- the good news being that I budged in line of other moms because of my progression being quick and this baby being number 2-- I started on the gas- which helped a little- but not enough-- I rested in between contractions- nearly falling asleep because they really took so much out of me-- I needed to lie on the bed-- and then it hit me like a tonne of bricks-- the urge to push. I started to scream in the middle of the contractions and Anita could tell something was happening- another nurse came in to see what was happening and wasn't impressed that I didn't have my epi yet- they called aagain... two more screamers and Anita said she needs to check me because I might need to get baby out-- I was hysterical- like a child, muttering, "nononononononono I can't I can't" I was 10 cms-- and I saw his feet enter the room- Anita explained she was checking me-- and I yelled at the anesthiologist, "no don't leave don't leave comeback come back!!" like a maniac-- as I saw his feet leave-- she asked again if I was sure about the epi and I said yes! So in he came and they acted quickly-- I had to huff gas and sit still- Jay helping to hold me-- he was very good- there but not to pushy- only spoke when I needed him too-- he was perfect-- Once the epi kicked in a wave of calm washed over me. I was ready to have my baby. I thanked the dr. a million times- but told him he shouldm't keep a woman waiting like that. Jay went to move the car- I texted my babycenter support mommas-- this group of women who have stayed together through message boards while trying to concieve after a miscarriage-- we've been together for nearly a year now- I didn't even join a birth club for support because I got all I needed from them-- and I knew that literally from all over the world I was getting love and support through my labour. Because of the epi I needed my BP and baby's HB checked often- Anita couldn't find Otis- she tried a different doppler- no go- she kept saying all is fine- but I could see her face- I stopped breathing... she called for a machine- my dr and another nurse-- after what seemed like forever and a day- they finally found him- so low down- he was ready too. Jay came back- with a parking ticket-- that has since been fixed by a certain nurse with certain connections! Dr. Strydom and an OBGYN named Dr. Mistery from India came in(as she has to retrain to work in Canada)-- a BCIT nursing student, Anitia and Jay-- All smiles- sun shining in- I was calm.. and ready. I got word from Amy that Abby was happy and all was well... I was ready. My water was broken with a big crochet hook- so weird-- and unlike with my epi with Abby I could feel the water break- I could feel just the edginess of each contraction- all the presure and just a second of pain- it was perfect- I could feel the urge to push strongly- but calmly... laying slightly sideways I grabbed my legs below the knees and started to push- with my cheering squad below and Jay by my head-- I could feel Otis moving- It was amazing. With Abby I felt nothing- numb- this was very different- getting a new "walking epidural" was great! After only 3 pushes Otis' hair was there! But there was also some meconium- just like his big sister he pooped- so a pediatrican was called in- she was nice too! Another couple of pushes and I could feel some real movement- like he was almost here- Jay said "I can see the head!" another push and I could feel a kind of "plop" which sounds gross- but that's the best way to describe it-- then I felt some serious pain! I said, "it hurts now" and they were all smiling- and I looked down and Otis' head and shoulder were out-- Anita put this needle in my leg to keep the contractions going strong (I think) so that I would get Otis' other shoulder out- but she left it hanging in my leg- everyone was giggling- I had no clue-- because Otis was on my chest-- no cries at first but after a few seconds of rubbing there it was! The pediatrician said he could stay with me and snuggle and she would check him in a minute-- unlike with Abby who wouldn't cry and needed to be taken away for a few minutes... Otis was perfect. Lots of hair- huge hands and a squshy nose... he cried and started to feel for me- grab my fingers and immediatley started to root for the breast- The dr handed Jay the scissors to cut the cord- and reminded him to "watch out for the penis!" Jay was gagging but did get the job done! The pediatrician came to take him for a few minutes- Odey got a 9 and a 9 on his apgars and the pediatrician told us he was perfect and handed him back to me... My dr and the obgyn delivered the placenta- what a weird feeling- I asked to see it and once they checked it out they showed Jay and I where Otis had been living! Crazy! Then... they dropped it on the floor! "Oh shit!" is all I heard my dr. say and then SPLAT! haha! Inursed Otis while they stitched me up= talking like a couple of old girlfriends about the stitching methods of Canada vs. India- I'm sure I have some kind of fancy hybrid stitch! Unfortunately they kept pushing on my uterus- which had stopped contracting causing a big of an issue with regards to my uterus not clotting right- I was given some oxytocin to keep it contracting to force the rest of the blood out- it was gross I'm not going to lie... I handed Otis to Jay who waited patiently for me to nurse Otis- and I spent some time with the nurse going over my bits and pieces--- good times.. Otis tried to root for Jay's nipple too. My Mom arrived shortly after Otis' 11:35am bday- she got to meet her first grandson- we talked to our friends and family- had a few visitors who stayed just long enough to meet Otis- recognizing the delicate time.. Jay left to pick up Abby- who brought Otis a little green puppy and a balloon-- the balloon which she took back of course- she held Otis and got to meet him exclaiming in her high pitched little voice, "he's soooo cute!". I cried- I cried less with Otis than with Abby- but I cried harder I think... My heart just overwhelmed with my family... This is long- and took me many breaks to write- Otis is waking up- Abby is going crazy- all of a sudden she is going on 13- and I hope it passes and I hope she loves me again- soon. She is a wonderful big sister but I think she sees me snuggling my little nonsleeper and feels a little scared herself- I'm trying my best to maintain a sense of normal for her- daily outings and activities- it's not easy- but loving both my kids the same is- now balancing my time is something I';m working on.. and likely will be for a long time... Eventually I will see Jay again soon too... he's patiently waiting for me- playing and loving our children while he does...

When Tomorrow Comes

Written September 9, 2010 I'm in the dark in a hotel-- nope- this story isn't sexy- or funny- it's grim and sad but needs to be told... Campbell River is a really pretty place- I've never been here before. The Travelodge leaves much to be desired but it's pretty clean and they have provided my daughter, my neice and whoever is taking them swimming at that moment with about 600 towels. It is pretty- but we're not here to admire it- we are here to try to find some kind of justice- what kind- I'm not sure-- my hopes of someone doing the "right" thing have gone down the shitter. We saw him. The man who drove into the southbound lane-- when he was heading northbound-- the man who stole a husband, a son, a papa, a brother, an uncle, a stepdad and a friend... He doesn't look like I expected.. he is little and short and bald... yesterday when he saw us for the first time he looked upset- sad- pitiful... but today he seemed different... at first yesterday I thought he might have been crying- but today after watching him listen to the testimony of four different people describe the accident- and each of those four different people describing finding Wes dead- he didn't look sad... he didn't look like anything... just like a bald, short guy who was trying to get away with murder. I find it so interesting the defense's approach. I guess in a way, when you're grasping at straws it's as a good of an approach as any- but when you're us- Wes' family sitting there- it just seems so pathetic and cowardly. Just admit it.. you drove drunk and you killed someone... but instead his defense is to make the crown "prove" he was driving- as the accident happened in the middle of nowhere (almost) and no one actually saw him hit Wes' truck. The motor vehicle recontruction team PROVED that at least- but since no one saw the accused go flying through his window- there could have been someone else driving- who magically dissapeared into the forest or ocean within seconds of an accident that killed one man and broke another's neck... there was a witness who was driving behind Wes- one that Wes actually passed on the hiway- and that man rounded the corner just in time to see the accused's truck settle on it's suspension- seconds after his truck collided with Wes'- that witness saw no one other than the accused and Wes- who was taking his last breaths in his truck- air bags deployed- seatbelt on- going the speed limit- at 3ipm in the afternoon on a sunny day... that witness was very nice to us after his testimony and I will bet you a million dollars he wonders every day what would have happened if Wes didn't pass him on the hiway. There have been a number of experts and witnesses who were called to the stand to help crown provei its case- but the decision is all left in the judge's hands... and when tomorrow comes we hope to find some kind of justice-- but like the crown counsel said to us-- justice won't bring Wes back.. not even close... but will it put the accused in jail to give him time to think about what he's stolen for us? I hope so- but my faith in the system when it comes to driving drunk is not strong- will it take away his license so he can't kill anyone else- that's the least that could happen- sparing other friends, families, children, grandchildren, parents, siblings etc. this kind of pain would be a little piece of justice... We need strength to get through tomorrow- and hope to fuel our memories of Wes.

Poopy Pants

Written August 27, 2010

Holy moley- literally. I am covered in these freakish little skin tags- that little girl in the commercial would be absolutely horrified if she saw me up close-- "Mommy what's that??" -- "it's a skin tag!" -- "eww it's yucky" Yea. thanks a lot you little bitch. Apparently, my dr. assures me, they will most likely all dissapear when the baby is born.. along with my hair falling out and me hemoraghing to death. Fun stuff. My back is in excrutiating amounts of pain-- by the end of the day I have so much trouble walking it's ridiculous- I look like I have poopy pants and/or like I don't bend properly. It's super sexy. Speaking of poopy (don't worry I won't discuss my acutal bowel movements) but there is a reason pregnant women should not be choosing paint colours in the paint store-- and I am staring right at it-- poop green. Yikes! Physically things are so different this time-- with much less swelling and lower blood presure it's nice to feel healthy and still able to exercise almost every day but I find myself to be very round this time.. very round.. and very anxious. I have been so hesitant to book my final day at work that i"m actually scheduled right up until my due date... that's pure insanity. I realize now with this inability to move past 2pm that I may have to stop working before that.. thinking back, I was counting down the minutes to my maternity leave during my pregnancy with Abby- just so happened that on my last day at work I was with a youth who lost her shit and there ended up being 8 police officers involved-- ha... she's a good egg who had a bad day.. but anyway- now I'm so scared to stop working.. I think the reasons are two-fold-- can I get away with saying that?? 1. Once I'm off work.. it will be official: I will be waiting for my baby- waiting for those terrible body wrenching contractions- waiting for the sleepless nights... oh the crying (not the baby- me) etc etc.. I know what I'm in for this time.. and 2. we may or may not have to live in our car with the current EI rates.. thinking about this, so many people ask me, "well you get 'topped up' right??" ummm no. In fact, neither Jay nor I have medical coverage and thus have a nice fat (well it feels fat to us) MSP bill to pay each month.. and I discovered that EI has a new pilot project allowing parents on parental leave (the portion of EI past the first 15 weeks known as maternity leave) to work and earn the greater of either 40% of their weekly EI premiums or $75... so I thought super- I can work one day a week and keep all my EI benefits (all $4 of them) but... the project ends Dec. 4 of this year.. meaning I won't qualify.. and seriously-I don't want to go back to work that early anyway... My fears are all starting to kick in- will I be as crazy post partum as last time- will Jay have enough patience again to stick it out with my crazy ass-- how will the four of us fit in this tiny 2 bedroom- what if baby won't breastfeed-- how will I cope with that? What if what if what if?? I think also- being off work will leave me time to worry more- whereas right now I tend to squish it in somewhere between work, painting the house, peeing and loving my Abby-- oh and sleeping sometimes.. I will also so miss the mover and shaker inside me- I know he'll be out in my arms- but in there- even on his busiest of days-- and he's busy alright- I can feel elbows and heels digging into my everything! inside he's all mine-- and even better- he's so quiet! This will most likely be my last pregnancy unless we can somehow score our own TV show that will pay for our childrens' college (because they have to go so they can pay off our student loans!) we simply cannot afford more children- we can barely afford kraft dinner right now! Trust me, I realize that so many more people are worse off than us- but it's hard in the world of "keeping up with the Jones'" not to feel a little pathetic that Granny has to pay for preschool... plus it's very easy to feel sorry for oneself when you spend the morning on the treadmill busting oneself's pregnant ass and the evenings gorging oneself's on icecream and zantac... wah wah wah... We shall see how things go these last 5 weeks... I remember being only 5 weeks into my pregnancy and feeling quite similar-- unsure and scared- worried and anxious- excited and so happy- I guess the upside of this end of the pregnancy is even though carrying our baby boy is coming to an end-- very soon I will be meeting the boy who will grow up to make the world a better place-- and I can enjoy a beer while I watch him grow :)

The Negotiator

Written July 28, 2010

Holy shizzle I'm so tired- tired of being tired, tired of whining about it- tired of doing it to myself by staying up late... in this heat Abby isn't going to bed until 9-930- and the desire for a few moments of alone time over-rules the exhaustion- I imagine that will end when the new baby comes... Abby has been very... umm.. determind these days.. Every single directive I give her seems like it's up for negotiation- well she thinks it is... this results in me asking, "are you listening??" 500 000 times a day- most of the time she says "yes I listen" the odd time she yells, "I NO listen to you Mommy!" when then of course ends in her sitting on her 'quiet time' chair in her room while she promises to listen from now on... it gets old fast. There are many things that do not age as quickly as negotiation-- for instance I brought Abby's little buddy Sadie on a little trip to the petting zoo- en route as the two bopped their cute little faces to Yo Gabba Gabba they had a full on conversation- and I with the weight of this wiggly baby pressing on my bladder- listened and giggled and tried my best not to pee myself. Sadie greeted Abby by telling her how nice she looked- Abby thanked her- Sadie goes on to say that she likes Abby's new hat because it has butterflies and hearts- Abby tells her proudly that her Mommy bought it from the store... a little singing break ensues where Sadie proceeds to tell me what a remix is (it's when they take little pieces from a bunch of songs and mix them up to make a new song-- FYI the Gabba CD has several remixes) Abby and Sadie then carried on to discuss their birthdays and what kind of cakes their Mommies would make them and how they would help. I nearly died... when did they turn 10?? Abby has been so much more "interactive" (I guess that's the word) and rather than playing beside her little buddies she plays with them- and I love to watch.. I love to watch the bonds between her friends grow so that instead of tantrums when someone wants to borrow a toy it's a "okay Abby" and a "thank you Kae-nen" or in today's case "Sadie". I love when Kaeden comes burning down the trail to share his granola bar than he has shoved in his pocket and I love how he gives Abby the tiniest crumb at first (Abby would 100% do the same thing) until his Mommy reminds him to share just a little bit more... I just enjoy watching her little brain work- even when it's bratty! The negotiator kicks in when she asks 600 times to play back inside even though she's soaking wet and I say, "no no no" and then you see her stand still and think... scheme and all of a sudden she "has to go pee pee" yea right! But man- I'll give it to her that she's very smart. She appreciates all her gifts and hand me downs from various friends- and we are very fortunate to have many- calling her new tricycle her "Ella bike" and any new piece of clothing simply must have come from Nan Nan or Granny-- she refuses to wear a beautiful gift from Violet insisting to me that it's Violet's dress and she (Violet) wants it back! Jay brought home additional "poo poo in the potty" gifts and Abby must have said, "thank you Daddy for bringing me a present" 85 times-- she isn't always so grateful and getting her to say please or thank you is like pulling teeth- but that's mostly during a big negotiation settlement and she doesn't want to appear weak... I love how she associates her memories and remembers who people are- and how much she loves her cousin "Yaya" (Lyla) and her friend "Weesa" (Ainsley) who are two very patient 8 year olds who just adore Abby- I love Abby's need for adventure (okay I don't always love it- sometimes a momma just wants to rest a little!) I love how she mimics people she loves- and invites Granny for sleepovers... She seems excited for her baby "bruder" who is "still growin in there" to arrive- though I don't know how realistic it is for me to think that everything will go smooth as silk- and I feel kind of sad at times worrying that somehow in the little time we have in a day that I won't be able to love them both the same- I know moms of two or more insist there is always enough love- but my heart has moments of near explosion just watching Abby sleep that I wonder how true that can be. I'm scared that our relationship will change and she'll spend all her time with Daddy because I'll be nursing the babe- or that she will think I love the baby more because I rock him to sleep- geez- I am in a panic about where she will go when I go into labour- though I think the Burnaby Mommies have it covered- but then I worry about inconviencing them because I realize how precious sleep is and how nap time is just coveted- I worry that Abby will miss me or think I"m sick= just today when I had a little meltdown crying on the phone to my Mom Abby crawled in my lap and asked with her giant blue eyes, "Are you okay Mommy? are you sad? Are you okay?" I don't want her to see me in pain- the first time I did not hide the pain of contractions well at all- this time I worry about my acting skills for her sake... I just panic myself about what will happen... The transition from 1-2 babies is terrifying- throw in that Jay gets ZERO days off and we have no family here and it's even more scary- I am scared of PPD again- and a million other things- I have a zillion things to do and no energy to do them- instead I'll just whine publicly about it here! ha! I'm not sleeping super well because in addition to it being hot this baby bean is a serious mover and shaker- today he fkipped and flopped so much I felt carsick! and his giant feet are super pokey- and his big head is pushing on my bladder so hard that I nearly pee myself in my sleep! All those complaints and I know how much I will miss being pregnant- miss those kicks and nudges that I don't have to share with anyone.. I will also miss eating peak frenes and m&ms as my work outs and weight watchers has to start stat-- at 30lbs gained already-- I'm a little scared! Anyway.. enough whining out of me.. sometimes I just feel the urge to share- so it reminds me that through these "turdy twos" my Abby girl is seriously someone so amazing- and I am amazed every day that I have had something to do with creating her- I know her little determind self is going to continue to grow into an amazing little lady- and likely a very bossy big sister- (like her Mommy).. I hope she takes to the transition of being a big sister as well as she's taken in the rest of the world.

Buy me Some Peanuts and Cracker Jacks

Written July 19, 2010 So I feel like I might have just spent the weekend in a time machine. I played out the last of my own personal ball season... not because I'm ready to stop playing at all- or because I'm too pregnant or too hot or too big-- because I've realized I'm too sensitive. My "alone time" team (aka the team I play on without Jay or Abby) had its final tournament this weekend.. I was the "coloured" person drinking from the wrong fountain and pissing in the wrong bathroom. I stood up to bat to be bantered with comments like, "hey strike this one out- she counts for two outs" I stepped out of the box to politely ask what was meant by such a comment- and then I promptly struck out... in slo pitch. I was privy to many a "YOU"RE CRAZY" or "WHAT IF SOMETHING HAPPENS comment that I just stopped responding (attempting to point out that every time I move or leave the house I am in some kind of danger) A former teammate also told me, "with all due respect- you're asking to be mistreated- look at you" and then he continued to imitate me saying in a high pitched whiny voice (since we all know that's how I talk) that if I didn't get to play I'd sue the city. No such words ever exited my lips- though I wouldn't have hesitated for a second to file a human rights complaint. I bumped into an old friend from highschool who discovered that I was the pregnant women "everyone" in the league was talking about. In a place where I usually feel so comfortable I felt like an outsider being shunned... sneaking off into the bathroom to shed a few tears with dignity and then hiding behind my sunglasses. I've put up with muttered comments by people on my very own team- I can see if I was standing out there knitting fucking baby booties that it may be an issue- but I can still outrun and outthrow and outplay many people-- and this underhanded, "well we worry about your baby" bullshit is done- I don't tell anyone to stop maowing on a snickers because I worry about your weight- it's not my fucking business.. I know I let this break my heart for far too long- but by far the shady comments that started at the beginning of the season have made this my worst season yet. I spend too much time feeling ashamed to be me- someone who in the past I feel like I should be proud of- questioning my ability to mother this baby because I supposedly put him in harms way-- when I've admitted to five different doctors that I've still been playing ball twice a week and not one of them even blinked an ounce of concern... Maybe now that this is over for me... we can name the baby- buy a stroller and paint the kids' room.. maybe in a few days I'll shake off the weekend and the season as though it never happened.. maybe I'll even consider going back... though pretending to be okay with people's comments and judgements is very challenging- I know I'm letting it suck too much of my energy. It's at times like this when I wonder how I would deal with the world if I wasn't a blond haired. green eyed caucasian woman... I'm hoping this will open my eyes to my own stereotyping and discriminating thoughts- In our world it's very difficult to be 100% PC- but I also believe in my hurt little heart, that very few people even TRY to be politically correct.. Playing out this season has helped me rediscover trust in my body after my miscarriage- I am healthier than my last pregnancy and experience far less discomfort (okay- well I have MAJOR heartburn). I am thankful for the handful of people who supported me and continued to love me through my "bad mother" choices... I am strong and sturdy and if I'm able to carry a human life- I'm able to catch and throw a ball- and if you're that concerned about my well being then why don't you offer to just hold the door open for me as I struggle through with a toddler and 7 bags of groceries.

it's just called caring

Written May 8, 2010

So, here I am, the eve of the day dedicated to our mothers-- and I'm sitting at home in my pjs- contemplating silence.... my new version of "livin' on the edge" is eating greek salad this late at night just hoping to avoid heartburn like a 19 year old hopes to avoid a hangover. Jimmy Fallon wrote his "thank you" notes last night.. and it went something like, "thank you- Mother's Day- for being just like Father's Day but you're the one people actually give a crap about" I laughed out loud- woke Jay up for a brief second- and then settled down- okay.. it's not that funny- but it's kind of funny- maybe to me especially because I'm lucky enough to have a great relationship with my Mom. Today will be a hard day for her- it would be Wes' birthday- it's the first to pass since his untimely death last June- we are all waiting for the trial of the drunk driver who killed him coming in September. This is one of the many hurdles she has had to move through, over, beside in her life... It's cliche- but to me, my Mom represents strength. I wasn't a nice teenager- I judged her and "hated" her and called her names (I know Abby will get me back) but as I grew older I actually started to realize everything she had been through and had done had been- and sitll is, for us, her children- and now grandchildren... Stuck it out through a shitty marriage- divorced twice from the same man- my Dad- but wanting desperately to make it work to avoid having to continue living on welfare as a single Mom of then two- taking a crappy job (literally) at a chicken farm so that she could be home for us when school was out- teaching craft classes because we could enroll for free as her kids- doing my paper route when it got too cold- coaching softball when she had no clue-- taking out small loans to buy me a fancy flute- I could go on and on... As my sister grew more and more sick- my Mom held it together the best she could- waiting for Cara to either get better- or die-- patiently by her side- me over a thousand kilometers away- at the time I resented it- but now- having a baby of my own- I get it... The three of us put my Mom through SO much- we still do (I have a sister in University- you know those crazy college kids) but she never stopped loving us- she never stopped trusting us- never judged us-and she never stopped trying to make things all better so that we wouldn't be heartbroken over anything. Again the cliche that my Mom is my role model- but in so many ways she is- at 51 years old she graduated with distinction and now holds her Child and Youth Care Degree with a Specialization in Child Protection--- her heart broken and her life torn apart by a stupid man who decided to take away her husband's life- Wes' estranged daughter who wanted nothing to do with him for EIGHTEEN years is all of a sudden interested and fighting for his estate- unanswered questions- the what ifs and how comes-- I only wish I had the strength to help my Mom get through this- I know if the tables were turned.... I need more training- and more of her strength- I can only help in bits and pieces... I keep telling her to put herself first- but that's one thing she doesn't have in her-- she can't help herself- and I want to step up to the plate and just force her to for once- but for a tiny little thing she is very very strong.. I hope all of the Mommas out there have a wonderful day tomorrow- I hope you have a Mom to look up to- or a Momma figure to thank for all you've learned and taken away to offer your own children- and the the women who don't have children or even want children- I hope you have a wonderful day tomorrow- and that someone appreciates the maternal instinct that you have within you- I think as women we're all strong- and even those who feel they are anything but maternal-- you have those instincts in you- it's just called caring- This Momma has to go to bed- heartburn and all with tiny baby kicks and my weary mother tears... preparing myself for a lifetime of Momma years- and trying to muster the strength to be half as strong as my Mom has been for me...

Pregnancy- Liability

Written May 8, 2010. The reason I've been feeling so angry is below.. my feelings have been hurt... and not just because i'm hormonal- because I'm a human- and I don't like being called a bad mother- and I don't like people believing that I am intentionally putting my baby at "risk". I'm not an idiot... there's no sliding or diving or throwing myself in front of bullets- I'm smart and as any mother is- baby gets protected first... and remember- this is a NON contact recreational sport- we're not playing for money or medals or even recognition- it's called fun. I've been told constantly to keep active this pregnancy- and that I have- I've gained half as much weight in the first 19 weeks compared to with Abby- my blood pressure is perfect and I feel good.. still cranky mind you... I don't have a social life any more outside of toddlers (and their amazing Moms) or work- this is my alone time to do just for me... Jay's laid off I make pennies an hour- I don't have the funds to go to prenatal yoga for a shocking $150 a month... let me play... I'm not asking to deliver my baby on the field and then go up to bat- a few more weeks until I FEEL it's time to stop- until I make the choice. I'm not an idiot.. don't treat me like one- and stop spreading rumours about me throughout a league where I know no one- how do people I don't even know know I'm pregnant-- I've never met them! I didn't make a Poco Slopitch League pregnancy announcement... I refuse to back down... this is my choice.. I will put my career choice to work in my personal life- and be my own advocate...sure my voice may waiver as I listen to discrimination and "liability" concerns- but I'm not the only person to struggle with this kind of thing- sure maybe my degree is less- but I'm good at my job... and I'm not backing down. May 4, 2010 To the Executive Board of the Poco Slo Pitch League, My name is Amy Mazzone and I currently play on The Fireballers in B Division of the Poco Slopitch Softball league. Often you’ll find me back catching or playing first base- and you may or may not notice that I am pregnant. On May 2, 2010 I was approached by XXX XXX and half heartedly informed that I would “have to stop this soon”. At first I had no idea what he was talking about until he poked me in the stomach and said that “today’s game was just for fun” and then stated “when his team plays my team I would no longer be playing”. I informed him there was no such rule and or limitation in our league rules and I would continue to play in the league until I made the decision to stop. Mr. XXX insisted that it was “in the rules” and I had no choice in the matter. This happened during a double header in the middle of the second game when I was “in the hole” and waiting to go on deck. I had made arrangements with my team for a sub half way through so I could make it to work on time- I called my sub in early and informed my team I would be leaving- this occurred after I ran the bases and scored a run for my team. I was doing my best to hold it together- as a strong woman who makes her own decisions I was in total and utter shock that a stranger, stating he was bearing the news of the “executive committee” would speak to me the way he did in the middle of a game. As I was visually upset Mr. XXX took it upon himself to attempt to continue delivery of his message. During this time I was told I was a “liability” to the league and to “think of my kid” and “what kind of mother puts herself in such a position” (playing slo pitch while pregnant). These statements along with being referred to as “honey” enraged me not only as a woman and a mother, but as a human being. I could not believe that something as important as being essentially kicked out of the league was being handled in such an utterly unprofessional, condescending, chauvinistic manner. I can appreciate that some women would choose not to continue playing a sport or doing certain activities while pregnant- in my opinion that is their choice and a decision those women would be making themselves along with the support and advice from their significant other and their physician. However, I have made the choice to continue playing a sport that I love and am good at. My doctor is fully aware and in support of my choice and has informed me that so long as I feel comfortable playing I am able to continue to do so. My physician trusts that I am of sound mind and body and this being my second pregnancy she trusts that I will listen to my body and play within my limits. I am not a child who missed a day of school due to being ill but if you feel the need to have written permission from my doctor for me to continue playing I will get a doctor’s note. I must have missed the memo informing pregnant women that carrying a child makes them a “liability”. I feel that I am no more of a liability than someone who chooses to play with a persistent knee injury or asthma. I would only assume, and I would assume that you feel the same, that those people are making the choice to play within the limits of what is appropriate for their bodies. And speaking of bodies- what about older people playing who have trouble running the bases and take a runner as soon as they reach first base. I understand this is allowed according to league rules and those people are simply playing within the limits of what is appropriate for their bodies- but how can I be called a liability when I can make it around the bases without any assistance or trauma to my body or my baby. One could say that someone who is overweight and smoking and drinking at the games is a heart attack or stroke waiting to happen- but I don’t see anyone asking them not to play. Any of the players in your league could have a myriad of physical or mental disadvantages that do not get addressed and/or accused of causing them to not be able to play- simply because they are not seen: ie there is no visual “belly” that allows other people to “call them out” (of play). I understand that you quoted my team manager, D XX, in a response to an email he wrote on my behalf, SPN rule 5- The Players, Substitutes and Re-Entry Section 5- The Pregnancy Rule. I understand this rule to be applicable in tournaments to be professionally umpired by carded SPN umps and/or if someone feels I am a “detriment” to their performance- ie. a player informs his/her team that they refuse to play on the field with a pregnant person- which to me is utterly ridiculous and runs along the same lines as a player claiming they refuse to play on a field with a player who is physically challenged or is of a specific race or sexual orientation that makes other players feel “uncomfortable”. I am aware that the Poco Slo Pitch League does not write the SPN rules but I would like to add that I plan to address this rule with Slo-Pitch National as well for the reason that I feel it is simply discriminatory. It is also my understanding that there is no reference to defer to SPN rules in the case that the Poco League rules do not cover and issue- and as we as a league or team do not have SPN insurance I don’t understand how we can be expected as players to assume that we would make such a deferment if a rule or player is called into question. For that matter there are plenty of happenings on the playing field that are not SPN “approved”, for example simply the wearing of jewelry while playing. It is my hope that Mr. XXX did not deliver this “message” verbatim as to what you may or may not have already discussed but I feel like you should be aware that the delivery of this “message” was highly unprofessional and insulting and if it was to have come from your executive committee I feel you should be re-thinking your delivery of such “messages” and treat people with dignity and respect. I have never in my life experienced such discriminatory comments with regards to my own body. My body belongs to me and I will not be told what to do and what not to do with it. I believe in my argument with Mr. XXX I asked him if he thought I should be pregnant and smoking crack rather than playing a recreational non-contact sport. I can imagine that the women who make that choice for themselves and their babies are not often told what to do with their bodies- but rather judged by society in silence. I would rather you, as an executive board, sit and “judge” in silence and not tell me what I can and cannot do for myself and my child. And speaking of silence, Mr. XXX mentioned that their had been “talk” about my bulging “liability” I find this very interesting as there have been zero concerns brought forward to me, as the bearer of the bulge OR my coach or team manager. I would be interested to hear the complaints and “concerns” raised and feel it is my right to be aware of such complaints. In short, I have enjoyed playing in this league very much- both pregnant and not pregnant. I appreciate the diversity in the players and the teams and I respect the enjoyment that people of all shapes, sizes and capacities get from being able to exercise and the companionship they get from team comradery. Thus far I haven’t been witness to any discrimination on the fields no matter what the physical capacities of each teams players- unfortunately this past weekend I was a victim of the discrimination I was so happy had no place in this league. I would like to know immediately and in writing how you plan to proceed. I do not wish to be “called out” again mid game on the playing field. I wish to be treated with respect and dignity and like a human being rather than some “poor hormonal woman who must not be able to think straight”. I feel I deserve an apology for the official- or unofficial “heads up” I was given by Mr. XXX. Most of all I would like you to know, and understand that I wish to continue to play until I make the choice to stop. I am an intelligent woman- I consider myself to be a wonderful mother to my two-year-old as well as the baby I carry inside me and to have my abilities as a mother called into question in public by someone who doesn’t know me from Eve was one of the most insulting incidences I’ve ever had to deal with- that being said, this incident hasn’t changed my love for a game I’ve been playing since I was seven years old and I want to continue on with my team until I make the choice to stop playing. Kind Regards, Amy Mazzone 4308 Pender Street Burnaby BC V5C 2M6 604 267 6512