Trying to Love Myself.

I was recently so lucky to spend an evening out with the infamous Team Vag! Three of my friends with whom I spent almost the entire time I was single- celebrating being a woman- an independent woman- okay so we mostly drank mojitos, went shopping and shared secrets- but they are memories I will never forget and always hold tight too...

On our night out I noticed something. All of us- every single one of us- had not one nice thing to say about ourselves. It is easy for me to tell my friends how beautiful they are- it's true. Physically they're knock outs- with skin, smiles, and curves people would kill for they're amazing.... but each one of them had a myriad of complaints about their bodies.... and I sure wasn't standing there thinking that my body is perfect- in fact- far from it.

We change... we change as people: evolve. It's only natural that with our lifestyle changes or maybe better put, LIFE changes, that our bodies will change too. Part of it is simple science... you grow older and your skin loosens, your metabolism slows down... hey man- you can't go out partying every night and get up for work the next day simply by shaking it off with a greasy breakfast?? Not. Fair. The other part is I think- for a second, being comfortable with yourself as a woman: I can remember us taking a thousand photos a night- and feeling good about what we saw in those photos.. confident in ourselves- in love with our smiles or our boobs or whatever... the other night there lacked that relaxed feeling about our appearance- and maybe it is back to simple science- as we age we feel the need to compete with younger women- who to us, appear more fresh and beautiful and tight/slim.... Anyway, with the comfort we feel- for that second- we can relax- also with the aid of finding a mate who loves you for who you are as a person rather than your cup size comes the ability to love yourself- don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to say "someone has to love you before you can relax and love yourself and be comfortable with who you are" but let's face it- it helps to know that someone loves you and plans to spend their live with you... that love helps let you put your guard down...

I don't really know what I'm getting at. Personally my body has changed so much after having my kids- and every single day I struggle with those changes. I don't give a shit how many people tell me I grew, nourished and birthed two beautiful children- I live with them- I KNOW that... but I miss my tits. I miss my flat stomach- I miss not having stretch marks over my entire midsection. I am, slimer and more fit now than I've been since high school-- but you know where that comes from- it comes from a complete lack of confidence in my appearance and a hatred for the physical appearance of my body. It did not start from a healthy place. Insecurity is a real bitch.

Now- with running- starting that Dance Bootcamp class- and most recently- and I think most importantly, starting to work out with a trainer- and doing what I've learned in the gym at home- I have decided that I want my body to be strong- I want my body to match my spirit... to match my determination to tell life to "fuck off and I'll deal with it" Sure, sometimes I'm a total wuss and I cry and whine about my situation-- but I don't want to cry and whine about my body anymore. I want to love it. I want to love what it's been through and I want to love where it's going. I want to love it through the transformation I'm putting it through- and I want to love it for a long time. I want to be healthy.

I'm not there yet- I don't think I'm even close. It's SO easy to pick apart every little thing about yourself.. and I don't want it to be that easy for me. I know I'll never be happy with everything about myself- and I think that's sick- thanks society for making me aware I now have wrinkles and my stretch marks are unacceptable....

These photos I had taken by Anita Alberto found here http://www.facebook.com/anitaphotography and here http://www.anitaginaphotography.com/ I think have changed my life. I look at these photos and sure- I can still tell you what I don't like.. but more importantly I can tell you what I love. I love my eyes, my skin, my waist:hip ratio. I can tell you I've been working hard and I love the changes my body is going through. I can tell you I appreciate myself for not being shy- and standing around in my underwear- I can tell you I think I look beautiful.

Maybe it is vain. I don't think the world has ever been a place where appearances don't come into play at some point... I want to get to a point where I'm not competing with everyone else- but rather doing something just for myself... I'm getting closer. Closer to not caring what the world thinks- but it's hard. It's so hard.

I think every person needs a photo they love of themselves. Something they can look at on a shitty day and think, "wow: I'm amazing" During this photo shoot I was so shy at first... half a bottle of pink champagne and one of my best friends with me- I was so timid... but Anita made me feel beautiful- strong- confident. I think this is one of the most empowering things I've ever done.. and I want to do it again...

The other night it got to a point where I made the girls toast: toast to loving themselves for who they are- and a toast to not being nasty to themselves anymore. We all failed- but we tried... and now one of us simply has to remind the others when they say something bad: "remember the toast". I want my friends to do this. All of my friends. I want you to have something that makes you feel beautiful.. I don't care if it's vain, I really don't. I think it's important... we all know we're good humans- very few of us recognize that we're beautiful humans.

Thank you Anita.

Falling Down

You know when you wake up and think, "This is it. This is the day I'm going to lose my shit 'Falling Down'" style and most likely end up in jail... you know those days?? What? you don't?? Oh.. you must not be a mother.

I know, another post about motherhood- but it's not... really.

I've recently scored a run of shifts that take me to work Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday from 4pm-12am- awesomesauce! I've had the weekends off for a little over a month and it's been so sweet! I've seen people, seen the outside world, drank beer!

By Wednesday night I'm so done... when you think that I get home from work at 12:30am at the earliest and Otis wakes at 6:30am.. and it takes me around an hour to "wind down" I'm not sleeping much- this is where the "Falling Down" feeling comes in. Usually I'm fueled by coffee and the cuteness of my children- but some mornings their insane behaviour is too much for me to remember that they're actually cute and I really do love them... remember 4-5 hours of sleep- never in a row- as I have to get up with someone for something during those few hours (scary bad guys, lost my binky, just feel like playing) isn't the best mix with one of them playing in the toilet while the other drops berries and toast all over the floor- oh- and finding a giant cat poop during this madness also doesn't help....

Thursday is a whole new day- even though I've had the same amount of sleep I don't have to rush around making breakfast, lunch and dinner all before 2pm. I can take my time- it's luxurious!

By Thursday night at 5:30pm when Jay walks in the door- I'm ready for a break. The luxury of taking my time often translates to "it's taken forever to do anything- with "help" from the kids- and I haven't gotten much accomplished" and I feel like a dog chasing its tail... So I usually jet out for something- the last couple of weeks it's been to the gym to meet with my friend and our gym guy- or for a run-- sometimes I "need" something from the store...

All of this panic and claustrophobia makes me feel like a bad parent. Like maybe I should have waited to have kids until I could be settled, and sit still for five minutes....

Then I think back and realize- I've never been able to sit still. Sure I could lie in bed hungover and eat chips while watching terrible reality shows-- but I'd never stay there. True that I'd stay there longer than the five minutes I get here to be be hungover in bed (I'm not hungover all the time so shush!) but I still wouldn't ever just lie around all day. My mom recently suggested Jay and I go to a hotel for a night- and to be honest, just the thought of that gave me anxiety- weird I know- not being alone with my husband of course, that sounds amazeballs... but the morning... sleeping past 7am- not having anything "to do"... at times that sounds great- but when she suggested it I kind of panicked thinking, "I have so few days off- never a day off to myself- what the hell would I do? I don't want to waste it sleeping??!" I guess it's contradictory- all of my feelings are these days- and I think that's what makes me wonder if I should have waited to have kids- my feelings are so mixed-- not about having the kids now- of course I wouldn't trade them for the world-- I mean, if you're on facebook you've seen the 600 pictures I post of them- they're cute! But I guess what I'm trying to say is, there are more things in a day that I want to do then just be "a mother"

Everything I do- I'm a "mother" doing those things... like at my Dance Bootcamp so many people have said to me, "I can't believe you're a Mom" or when I play baseball I'm a "mother" who plays ball- or when I go shopping I definitely feel like a "mother"-- mostly because nowadays I can't be bothered to try clothes on I'd rather just look for cute stuff for the kids- but also because I like so many clothes but wonder could my "mother" self wear this super sparkly shirt? I don't resent being a Mom while I do all these things- I think it makes me feel stronger- like I'm a "mother" who MAKES time to exercise, and socialize and be alone- but when I hear that my husband has told my Mom that "he couldn't pay me to stay home with him and the kids" I get so sad-- and wonder "is that true?" and of course it's not true- but there are so few hours in a day and I spend all 24 of them being a Mom- that I need to spend a few of them, a few times a week being a "Mom who does other things".

Does any of this make sense? Probably not- my writing has been interrupted numerous times while I helped Abby make cards- and when I popped back on to write more as I thought Otis was helping her-- I had to pop back off after learning he had pushed a chair to the counter to eat an entire spice jar full of cinnamon-- diaper changes and snuggas- I'm currently getting my hair done by a little lady by the name of Sleeping Beauty whose cell phone is apparently ringing-- Odey is blow drying his hair with a TinkerBell blow dryer and I am hoping when I'm done writing here I'll go into the kitchen and it will be clean....

I guess my point is-- I am a "Mom" which I love. I love the adventure of every day being the same but different- as in they do and say new things every day and it's hilarious and pride inducing- the same as in we have our routine--I am a Mom who loves to cuddle and snugga and teach and also learn from my kids... but I'm also a "Mother" who chooses do to other things- for her non-Mother- and also my Mother self... because at times I feel like I'm being really selfish and I feel so guilty-- but I think that without being selfish I would definitely be "Falling Down".

I had my kids when I did because I met a man who was meant to be a father- and who loves me so dearly- and would do anything for me- I had kids when I did because I felt ready- no one can prepare you for the changes- life altering- I realize that no amount of waiting would change who I am... someone who needs a little space, something to own as mine, someone who maybe is a little selfish- time wouldn't change those things- I think I will always wonder, that selfish being inside me will always wonder if I was meant to have kids- if I'm patient enough, loving enough, teaching enough, etc... but the "Mother" in me will reassure those other parts that I'm only human... and doing my best is enough- that sounds "Motherly" doesn't it? See- I was meant to do this- even on those "Falling Down" days- I always get back up- because who needs to sleep anyway?

The Counter.

You know how people "check in" at places on Facebook? Like so and so checked in at wherever with another so and so... I never use that thing because I rarely go anywhere interesting- just work, preschool, the grocery store and the gym... BUT if I was to use that thing... I'd be checking in at "the counter"

I am pretty sure I spend about 75% of my day standing at the kitchen counter. Starting at 7:00 am when I'm making my coffee- I'm back at 7:20 to make Otis' breakfast, then back again at 8:00 to make Abby's... back there again at 8:10 for my 2nd cup of coffee-- and then again at 8:30 (providing both kids have pooped) to make my own breakfast... why do I wait until they've pooped? Because honestly it's really shitty (pun intended) to finally have time to sit and eat your own food and have it be interrupted by a "mommmmmmmmm come wipe my bum!" or the smell of rotting sewage walking around and trying to sit on your lap...

Once I'm done my breakfast... I do the dishes- still technically the counter.. then it's Otis' nap time and time for me to run/workout... good times!! So I'd check in at "the garage". When I'm all done there I'll have a quick shower, get Otis up.. and yup- you guessed it- check back in at "the counter" where I will make Otis lunch, Abby something different... and place them in their seats to eat-- while I madly try to make myself something healthy to keep up with my revisit to weight watchers... then.. still at the counter I eat. Standing up... or I simply won't get to eat because as soon as I sit Otis will want up and onto my lap etc... so that's how that goes.. Transitioning once again back to another place at "the counter" I now wash the lunch dishes.

After preschool or whatever little outing we take- it's snack time... so I check back in at "the counter" to make snacks.. this is a short check in mind you.. I get about an hour before I'm right back there making dinner-- with small children this can take some time- and it can be torturous when they try to get close by standing on my feet. I swear, and I've said this before, the feet of small children, though cute and soft and they don't even stink, should be used as a form of torture during times of war... their skin gripping my foot skin and dragging down- pointy little bones jutting into me! AGH!

Once Jay walks in the door it's dinner time- waste not- because I have to check back in at "the counter" to clean up! Thankfully dinner is worth it- I mean meals are worth it-- but it's a pain in the ass. I feel like there should be a path where I walk back and forth back and forth back and forth all day long....

I try my best to be prepared- to spend as little time at the counter as possible- because in this house it's not pristine and clear- it has a bowl of junk and little pieces that someone is saving for somehting or to put back on "that thing" it came off of- there's knives pushed way back and treats hidden behind the coffee maker so the Gremlins only see them when they're whipped out as a surprise.. there's cut marks and stains and sometimes even half eaten apples and bananas- which is par for the course with my little grazing children. It's that 70's countertop- like melamine or something- with orange and yellow flowers- some of my friends call it retro- I think it's ugly as shit...

I guess that messy, chaotic counter represents family life- bits and pieces- war wounds and scraps of food... little treasures and treats hidden behind the maddess. It's the place where I prepare the meals that bring my family together-- even if one of us has to stand at eat at "the counter" we're still all in the same room- talking, sharing, feeling the love....

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.