The Final Rose

It’s been 10 months since I wrote a blog post. I love to write, so I need to make time for it. Especially where it is therapeutic for me. Between working full time, having a hubby who works shift work and dealing with my kids, I am too mentally drained at the end of most days to string two words together. Lately, I’ve been finding my therapy in walking/jogging, and sadly, tuning in to silly reality TV shows to see who will get the ‘final rose’. Judge me, go ahead, but I need an hour to myself after the kids go to bed and watching stupid shows about other people’s lives gives me the break I need. These days I welcome the distraction.

Aiden’s starting Kindergarten in a week. This means my life is going to get a hell of a lot busier, but it also means there will be big changes (and many more germs) coming into my life. I’m nervous and stressed, yet calmly excited as I know it will be good for him. He needs the social aspect, the stimulation and a place to learn.  And more than anything he needs some time away from his brother.

I don’t know if it’s the age difference (2.5 years), or maybe it’s having two boys, or two differing personalities, or if it’s just having two kids in general, but the last little while, I am drained. I am sick of breaking up fights, disciplining, reminding my kids not to be rude to one another (and me), to keep their hands to themselves, to share, to stop pulling hair and pinching noses. Am I the only mother feeling this way? I can’t be. I read other blogs and Facebook rants in the Mommy groups I am in and I find myself hugging the screen when I realize someone else lives a life similar to my own.  Often times you just need this kind of reassurance. It doesn’t make things easier to deal with. It doesn’t restore patience, but it is comforting to know that I am not the only person who feels less than perfect. It’s nice to know that I’m not the only one at the receiving end of ‘worst mommy in the world’. I’m not the only one whose days lately are filled with more yelling than hugging. It’s tiring, so once the kids are tucked into bed and the kisses, I love you’s and I’m sorry’s are exchanged, I often take a moment and either 1) cry or 2) head to the couch and turn on a mindless TV show that allows me to forget about how crappy my day was and how perfectly imperfect I am at being a parent.

Looking back, I swear I thought I had it all figured out when I only had one child. My life was all about routine and it was just the two of us most days. I was a stay at home mom so Aiden and I spent a lot of time together. I knew his moods, I had a handle on them (or so my baby brain leads me to believe). But adding Camryn to the mixed totally messed that up.  Two kids changed things. It changed me. And now that Camryn is older (and sleeping through the night AND potty trained!!! WOOOOO), I’ve come to terms with the fact that it’s impossible to have everything figured out when it comes to parenting. When you have two, the sound of sweet laughter is almost always followed by tears. As is silence. Never trust it as more times than not, tears and blood follow (from my experience). Smiles lead to punches, coloring and painting can lead to a mess of colors and hurt feelings. When the moments are good, they are real and they are sweet. But when they are bad, they are pull your hair out, run for the door, bad. And how it goes from one extreme to the next VERY fast blows my mind. I hear “I love you” one minute, then “you’re the worst baby brother EVER’ 20 seconds later. Fast forward 5 minutes and your child has the worst parents in the world and threatens to move to Walmart (with his jar full of nickels and a ten dollar bill under his arm). All the while, you can’t help but think about the 5 dollars you stole from that very jar to go to Zumba one Sunday evening.

Every mother should see the movie Bad Moms. I saw it twice because it was rib hurting, laugh til you snort hilarious. It is the story about a mother who is so sick of trying to be a ‘good mom’ so she decides to start being a BAD mom. The movie serves as a reminder that there is no such thing as a perfect mother. Some of us just hide that fact better than others. Well, not me. I don’t hide it well. I’ve admitted since day one, when I started writing this blog, that motherhood is hard. Some days you feel like you are winning, other days you feel completely defeated. At least every day is a chance to start over.

On those days when you find yourself thinking (or saying) over and over “I can’t do this”, remind yourself that you can do this (even on days when you feel like you don’t want to). Do what I do, dust yourself off, have a spoonful or two of peanut butter (I stress eat) and keep going. Not just because you have no other choice, but because you love your little monsters more than life itself. After all, that’s what makes us GOOD moms. Not how good we are at Pinterest shit and whether we bake or buy our cookies for the bake sale.

It’s always comes down to love. That final rose.





Blue brooms and ice pops


Happy Friday!

I have learned a lot from my 4 year old lately. I now know that you can ask for a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, but if you put anything but butter on it, you’ve made it wrong. You may say you are done with your supper, but the second it is thrown in the garbage you will scream and cry that you want it back because although you made it perfectly clear that you were done, you weren’t.

I have also learned that broom colors matter. Apparently they do to my child. Six weeks ago, maybe more, I bought a new broom. It’s blue. Its bristles are not dirty and misshaped. Its brand spanking new, straight from the store that steals our paycheques, Wal-Mart. Anyways, for some reason Aiden didn’t notice my new broom until a month after I bought it. It happened to be the same day his younger brother was very sick, fighting a fever of 104 degrees and refusing to eat or drink. Aiden noticed the blue broom and asked where the old red one was. My response? “In the garbage”. If I had known what his response was going to be I would have painted the damn broom red to avoid the hurricane that was about to hit. He freaked. He had a full on tantrum. One of the dramatic, fall to the floors, limbs flailing about tantrums. Snots and drool everywhere. Are you kidding me? Are you KIDDING ME? How do you even respond to such foolishness? I had one sick child and one child having a meltdown over a new broom? I proceeded to remind him that he was being silly. Then I lost my patience and asked him if he planned on crying over the fact that I bought new dish cloths. New towels. New socks. He didn’t see the humor in it and proceeded to spit fire.

20 minutes later he was on the couch with a fever. AH! That explained it. It wasn’t about the broom. It was never about the broom. And thank god for that. I actually felt a bit better that a new broom didn’t freak him out that much. It was him not feeling well and the broom pushed him over the edge. In a weird way I was relieved. I was afraid that from now on I would have to sneak my Wal-Mart purchases into the house while he was sleeping and gradually ease him into things, like new soap and toothbrushes. Phewf, dodged a bullet with that one.

What I didn’t dodge a bullet on was the mess that melting ice cream makes. We went for a family drive, thought it’d be nice to get an ice cream! Aiden picked out some sort of multi-colored popsicle. He didn’t like it. I could tell because after 60 seconds, it still existed. He said to me “Here Mommy, I am done”. So I tossed it. It was a melting mess that needed to go in the garbage. I saw his eyes. I saw that he knew what I had done. It was too late to turn back now. Bring. It. On. Tears (and drool), and kicking. “I wanted my ice cream!!!”. He cried and cried. We promised him a new one. I even apologized for throwing it away. 2 minutes later he stops and says “It’s okay, Mommy, I didn’t like it anyways!”. Just like the broom, it wasn’t about the Popsicle. I am not sure what it was about, but it wasn’t that rainbow stick of ice. It was probably because I threw it out and he didn’t want me to. I suspect he wanted me to hold onto it indefinitely in case he decided he wanted another lick.

I am learning that 4 is a difficult, interesting and patience testing age. I am also discovering that attitude, like the words ‘seriously’, ‘whatever’, and ‘like’ (which can all be used in the same sentence believe it or not) isn’t reserved for teenagers. Some days, I can’t keep up.

Last weekend, I didn’t have to. I was asked if I wanted a kid free weekend. I haven’t had one in over a year, so I went for it. After a week of sleep deprivation (that’s another post!), I jumped at the chance. If I told you I didn’t enjoy my weekend alone, I’d be lying. I slept like I haven’t slept in years. I cleaned my house (and it stayed that way for longer than 3 minutes), I ran errands, I did my workout videos without worrying someone would get a 10lb dumbbell to the head, I watched one too many episodes of TV shows I am embarrassed to admit I watch and I went out for drinks with my hubby and some friends. It was awesome! Yet, I feel like I should be writing how I enjoyed my weekend, but that I couldn’t wait to get my boys back home. That I missed them so much I felt sick. That’s what Facebook expected of me I am sure. But I couldn’t post that. I couldn’t write that. The truth is, and judge me if you like, but I needed the break and I enjoyed it. Of course I missed not having them around. The silence was weird. But I felt spoiled and I liked it.

When I was driving to pick them up, I couldn’t get there fast enough (proof that I missed them), and I must say, it was a good day. I believe we made it a full 6 hours (until bed time) without attitude. I didn’t even have to threaten to send them back to Nana. That’s a successful day in my books.

But tomorrow is a new day. And just like my 4 year olds mood, it can change in a heartbeat. I just keep reminding myself that I am simply preparing for the teenage years. It can’t be much worse, right? Don’t answer that.

Hugs & Smiles,


Hand me the remote!


Happy Sunday!

A friend of mine graciously reminded me that I haven’t written a blog in months. She is right. So what I have been meaning to do for a while now, I am now doing.

For over 2.5 years, I have been a stay at home mom to my two boys. I remember writing a blog when I was on maternity leave with Aiden about how I really could stay home with him, not work, and be content with that. I was content with that. Then we moved back ‘home’, and I found myself in a small town where I didn’t know, well, anybody. (Actually the same friend who reminded me I was overdue on my blogging was the same stranger who reached out to my when I first moved here. So I figured I owed her one ;-)) Anyways, as a stay at home mother of two boys, a hubby who worked shift work and slept and had many sports in between, I found myself in my house A LOT, and alone A LOT. Just me and my boys. Day after day. Trips to the playground, occasional playdates, adventures to Wal-Mart, and the crayons, play-doh boogers, tantrums and everything else in between was becoming my life. Everything was the same for me, day in and out, me and my boys. As I mentioned before, mothering two children is a world of difference than one (for me anyways). Some days I loved it, and I will openly admit that some days I hated it. I would find myself lonely. Crying. Craving adult interaction. It was HARD.

I knew being a stay at home mom wasn’t for me. I knew it in my heart long before I wanted to admit it out loud to anybody, let alone the world. When Camryn first came along I secretly hoped that we would be able to get by on one income so I wouldn’t have to work. I wanted to be home. It was where I belonged. Fast forward 18 months and I was searching the job bank 812 times a day to see if anything new had been added. Some days, working in fast food seemed more appealing to me than being home  (okay, okay that may be an exaggeration) 😉 But I needed to get out. While the idea of finding work scared me (being at home is what I have known for so long), it also made me feel disappointed in myself. Guilty. Why didn’t I want to be home with my gorgeous children? Was there something wrong with me? That made me cry harder.

I found a job (no, not fast food). I have one week punched and start week two tomorrow. Ironically, I now work with the friend who again, reminded me to write this blog. I have to say, it felt good to go to work. To be Sonya and not Mommy. To challenge myself and my baby brain. To not eat soggy, possibly already chewed, bread for lunch. To not have drool or milk stains on my shirt (well, I had yogurt stains but that was no one’s fault but my own). To not watch Daniel Tiger every morning at 9am. I enjoyed it. And all the while, I missed my boys. I wanted to know what they were doing, did they eat? Was Camryn napping? Were they missing me? I didn’t cry in the bathroom thinking these things. Not yet…..but the sitter starts tomorrow so I wouldn’t rule out the possibility just yet.

I am still adjusting to being back in the working world. It seems to be going fairly well. I have been used to going to bed 9:30pm and waking up before 7am for 4 years now, so that wasn’t a big deal. But it turns out Aiden isn’t having an easy time with it. And it will only get worse before it gets better because as I mentioned, the sitter starts tomorrow (bring on the nervous Irritable Bowel!!!). I knew Aiden would take it hard. He’s been home with me for 2.5 years, and poor Camryn, I am all he knows. Other than Nana or Nanny, no one has ever babysat these boys. Aiden had a good week last week with his grandparents but now shit is about to get real for him. I have already noticed a huge change in his behaviour. He’s acting out. He’s pissed off. At me. At Batman. At his Lego figurines. At the world. He doesn’t want things to change. He doesn’t understand his feelings so he is getting frustrated and acting like a completely different person. I have no idea who this child is but he surfaces a few times a day and sticks around far too long for my liking. He also appears to be 13 because his attitude is that of a teenager. I try to keep my cool, be patient and give him ‘love and reassurance’ as it was suggested to me by a random stranger but COME ON! I am human!!! After I try and fail with the calm, love and hugs, I am emotionally drained. I raise my voice and threaten to take away his Lego. That too fails. I give up.

He always apologizes. It is like he realizes how strange his behaviour is. He says he won’t be angry anymore. He said the remote control that controls when he gets mad is now gone. Phew! See ya later sucka! 5 minutes later he must have found that damn remote control and pressed rewind. Then pause. Then rewind and pause until my Aiden has disappeared, being replaced by this new child. I wish I could fast forward. Or better yet take the damn batteries out of the remote. Or run over it with my car.

Is it an age thing? Is it about my return to work? I don’t know. I hope he adjusts soon. I also hope Camryn doesn’t decide to follow in his brother’s footsteps and get pissed off at me for shaking things up and leaving them. I can’t handle both of them being mad at me and acting out.

Whoever said boys were easier to raise than girls? I think a child is a child is a child. They all have tendencies to act like hormonal teenagers, apparently even at age 4. If this is 4, I can’t wait to see the REAL 13!!!!

Hugs & Smiles,


Potty Mouth


Happy Sunday! Two blog posts, back to back! I am on a roll 😉

We are 6 months into 2015 and so far this year there have been 3 falls in my house that have involved damage to the mouth/teeth. It’s been a bloody mess (literally). For someone like me who happens to have a fear of teeth (being broken or falling out), it has been rather stressful.

I would never be able to be a Nurse. I don’t respond well to emergencies or blood. But I always hoped that during one of these episodes, I would become a bigger person with superpower strength and control. Instead, I curse. And I cry.

The first incident was back in January. Camryn fell in the bathtub- right in front of my face. It happened so fast. I will never forget the sound of his face hitting the side of the tub. I started screaming like a madwoman, which probably freaked him out even more because he started screeching. I checked him over and couldn’t see where he had hurt himself. Until he opened his mouth and it was full of blood. By this time, my hubby had come running in and grabbed Camryn from me to examine him. I continued to curse like a sailor. I have never said the ‘F’ words so many times consecutively in my life. I was a mess. I was in panic mode. When Jarrett told me he chipped his tooth, I wanted to vomit.

After an early morning trip to the dentist, he was fine, the tooth was fine. He just now has a jagged edge on his front tooth. It gives him character. It is also a daily reminder to me that I hate bath time.

The second fall happened a month ago. I wasn’t actually in the room. The fall happened on my hubby’s watch, which I secretly liked seeing as he learned first-hand how fast things happen, right in front of your eyes. Aiden runs around the house all the time. It had never bothered me. It never made me nervous. The funny thing is, he hadn’t been running laps when he fell. He got off the couch and asked his Daddy to play hide and seek with him and slipped on the living room rug, face planting on the hard wood floor.

I heard Aiden crying hysterically and came running. I knew something happened, this wasn’t a ‘Camryn stole my toy’ cry. Sure enough, blood everywhere. This time, I surprised myself. I took him from my hubby’s arms and I reassured him that everything was alright. All the while my hubby was the one cursing, freaking out that Aiden was going to lose his tooth. Let’s not jump to conclusions, I said. Sure enough, his gums were severely discolored, bleeding and his front tooth was loose. *Insert the infamous F word here*. I felt the panic creeping in but wanted to stay in control. I washed his mouth and managed to calm him down a little bit. Next thing I know, I passed out.

Yup. There you have it. I saw stars, grew weak and felt my legs go out from underneath me. Good thing my hubby was there to catch me. Aiden started crying again, this time saying “Mommy, tell me what’s wrong! Are you okay?” I guess my pale face, sweat soaken skin and inability to stand freaked him out. Not my proudest moment. I was supposed to be taking care of him!! Not having him worry about me! But I attribute my weakness to my lack of sleep, the fact I hadn’t eaten in hours and the stress of the moment, as well as my fear of teeth. I’d like to think that is what it was. I don’t want to think that when my kids get hurt all I do is curse and faint 😉

Aiden had dental surgery and was put to sleep. This was another level of stress, but didn’t involve curse words. I can’t say the same about tears. When I signed the consent form, granting my permission for the dentist to take his tooth if it was damaged, I may have bit my lip to keep the tears at bay. That didn’t happen but we are not out of the woods. Aiden did damage his root so he may lose the tooth. It is already started to discolor.

Episode 3 happened just yesterday. Camryn was playing on his ride on toy car. I wasn’t in the room. I hear a thump, then a shriek. I go running and he’s on his hands on knees. He looks up at me crying and low and behold, a mouth full of blood. I started yelling (yes, curse words). I realize this probably made him even more scared but I curse when I panic, shoot me!! There was so much blood and I couldn’t figure out where it was coming from! Lucky for me, his teeth seemed fine, but his top lip, not so much. What a mess!! One side was split (not stitch worthy split) and the other side was fat. Instantly, 3 times its regular size. While it is no longer as swollen as it was, it is purple. It looks like someone painted the underside of his lip with paint. But otherwise he is fine. Eating, drinking and smiling fine. Within 2 minutes, he had stopped crying and was dancing to Uptown Funk. I took a minute and had a cry too, while calling my hubby in hysterics.

I want to keep my kids in bubbles so they don’t hurt. So they keep all their teeth and don’t break anything. I can’t handle the stress. Not without curse words anyways. At least I didn’t pass out this time, so that’s noteworthy I guess!

I know there will be more bumps, bruises and falls. I doubt I will ever get used to it even though there is nothing I can do about it. But one thing I can do something about is my stress induced potty mouth. I should work on that 😉

Hugs & Smiles,


Chocolate chips


Happy Saturday!

Wow, long time no write! I have been busy (freelance) writing, just not blogging. My apologies, I am sure you all missed me 😉

So last week Aiden turned 4. I could go all sentimental about how I can’t believe how fast time goes by, wasn’t he just a baby yesterday?? But I will save that shit for Facebook. This is the truth and the truth is I now believe Aiden cloned himself, and that one of him is sweet and the other one is, for lack of a better word, an ass.

My son (yeah yeah, like everyone else’s) is sweet, caring and smart. Sometimes I get overwhelmed with how sweet he is. He can be so gentle and he is so caring beyond his years. He will jump up from the table when playing just to kiss my cheek and tell me he loves me. Even if I pretend cry (for whatever reason), he is at my side making sure that my cry is fake and that mommy is in fact, okay. I find myself saying “Awwww……” and then wondering how in the world I am responsible for creating such a sweet little boy. He really is a good boy.

Then, like a switch, he changes. He is no longer gentle or sweet. He is yelling at me or giving me attitude or threatening to take away my iPhone! Ha! Listen up kiddo, I am the parent and YOU are the child. And if you want to keep your fingers, back away from the phone. It just blows my mind how he changes in a split second. I never know what will set him off. A cut apple. Changing the channel. Me getting his straw instead of him getting it himself. All I know is, 4 is going to be fun. 4 is going to be a freakin’ blast. 4 is going to turn me grey.

For example, two days ago, 6:48am he said something SO incredibly sweet, I swear it sounded scripted. Fast forward to 7:03am and he was having a screaming fit (you know the ones with boogers and spit everywhere, not just on his face). I was at a loss for words, standing in the kitchen staring out the window wondering what in the world just happened! I was confused. I needed coffee (some would argue alcohol but it was only 7am) but seeing as I don’t drink coffee, naturally I started eating chocolate chips.

I find myself losing patience and yelling. Then I feel bad so I apologize, and he apologizes and we hug and he promises to never behave like an ass again (my words, not his). HA! Two hours later we are full circle. Repeat cycle.

I was reading something on a Mommy blog recently and someone posed a question “What does your child do that drives you nuts?” There were over 500 responses and some of them were hilarious and some of them I could relate to, others I couldn’t (not yet), but nonetheless, reading them made me feel better. Why? Because it reassured me that it is okay that your child gets on your nerves. It reminded me that I am not the only one who feels the way I do. I am not alone.

Of course there was that one parent who had to say “What’s the point of this? Our children are blessings”. I didn’t respond because someone beat me to the punch. No one is arguing that. Our children are our blessings. But that doesn’t mean they can’t/don’t/won’t drive us nuts!!! They do things that get under our skin, just like they do things that warm our hearts. They are human, albeit little ones, but they are not perfect. We can’t expect them to be.

I can’t expect Aiden to be 100% sweet and gentle and pleasant all of the time. That is not realistic. I will try to remember that when he is screaming at me behind a closed door during a time out. Because no doubt, there will be more episodes like that. And when there are, I’ll be waiting with open arms for that hug I always get when it’s over.

Then I’ll brace myself for the next episode and fill my pockets with chocolate chips while I’m waiting.

Hugs & Smiles,


We are all working mothers. Some of us just work at home.


Happy Saturday!

I have been seeing and reading a lot of blogs lately about stay at home mothers versus working mothers. Not to imply that stay at home mothers don’t work, mind you. Because I am one (a SAHM) and although I don’t collect a pay cheque for caring for my kids, I work damn hard. Just as hard as any mother who works outside the home I am sure. Just in a different way.

I am so sick of mothers being pinned against one another- which mom is better, the stay at home mom or the working one? We are all moms. We all do what is best for our kids. That is what makes us supermoms. Not what we do for a living or how much money we bring home.

Being a stay at home mother does not mean I, or any other SAHM, love my kids more than a parent who works outside the house. That is just absurd. No one should be made to feel guilty for working, just like stay at home mothers shouldn’t be judged or made to feel ashamed or be asked ‘what do you do all day?” Seriously? Well, I can’t speak for anyone else but I tend to start my day at 11am (I let my kids fend for themselves until then) and then I sit on my ass all day and do, well, nothing. Sometimes I paint my nails too. HA! The reality is, my day is all kinds of hard. Even if sometimes it is fun, silly, and crazy. It is also hard, long, messy and almost always involves tears, tantrums and attitude. This job is mentally, physically, emotionally draining. It has its rewards no doubt, but it’s hard.

I have been both- a working mother and a stay at home mom. There are pros and cons to each. As a working mother (when I only had Aiden), I hated dropping him off at the sitter’s house every morning and him screeching for me not to leave. It was the worst way to start my day. I also hated missing out on special moments. I hated when he was sick because I wanted him to be with no one else but me, even if it was just a runny nose. It also posed a huge problem because it meant either myself or my hubby had to take time off work to care for him. I hated that I had to place so much trust in someone else to care for my child and just hope that she was doing things the way I would want. I loved going to work and feeling like Sonya, not mommy. I loved adult interaction. I loved having a life outside of my house. I loved not having to worry about nap times and bum changes for 9 hours out of a day. I loved feeling like I accomplished something and got paid for it. I loved going to pick up my son after the end of my work day and have him run into my arms. I appreciated our time together even more, because we had time apart.

As a stay at home mother, I get to see the special moments as they happen. I know what kind of care my kids are receiving, and what they are being fed. I get to see all the smiles, watch them grow and learn, and get more than my fair share of hugs. I miss nothing. My boys love having me home, and I enjoy being home with them. I can’t deny that being able to leave on my yoga pants on all day isn’t a perk. And I am most definitely saving money on makeup (and shampoo! Haha). I get to enjoy the sunshine and hide from the snow.

BUT I miss adult interaction. It is most definitely a huge downfall to being at home. Often times if I make a phone call, I find myself lingering a bit too long, perhaps there is something else the customer service rep at Bell wants to talk about. “Is there anything else, Ma’am?”. Well yes, there is. Let’s talk….. (totally not trying to promote Bell here, that just happens to be there slogan. Haha). I miss leaving my house for longer than an hour or so at a time. I miss leaving my house alone.

I can’t help but think that because I am home all day everyday with my kids, they aren’t getting the best of me. Not 100%, not all the time. I get tired and cranky and quite frankly need a break from them, and I don’t get it so I may be a little too irritable with them. I may lose patience too quickly. I can’t help but wonder sometimes, if I wasn’t around them all the time, would I be more patient? Less irritable? I don’t always feel like I am being the best mom that I can be because my exhaustion has gotten the best of me. But I am fed up with fighting over the same things every single day. If my son wants a banana, do I take the peel off it for him or not? I have a 50-50 chance of pissing him off and causing a tantrum. So I always be sure to ask. Lord help me if I forget. Same goes with apple. Or straws in yogurt. Or opening a package of crackers.

Sometimes it would seem easier if someone else had to worry about these things during the day- whether or not the fruit has peel. It would be easier on me if I went to work, used my brain in a different way, challenged myself, and let my kids have a break from me and be around other kids, other adults. So I tried looking for a job. I have a business degree and was hoping to put it to use. Turns out it is hard to find a job in a small town that actually allows you to bring home a decent income, leaving you with more than two loonies after you pay for full time childcare for two kids. So yes, some women choose to work because they need the income and can’t afford to stay home. Some women stay home because they can’t afford to work, it would cost too much to pay for childcare. Some women want to stay home with their kids, some women don’t. It’s a personal opinion that shouldn’t be open for debate.

For whatever reason you decide to work or stay home, it shouldn’t matter as long as you are happy. That’s what matters. Because a happy mommy makes for a happy family. What you do for a living (whether it be outside the home or not) does not dictate how much you love your child.

We need to stop beating ourselves up (me included) about how we all live up to the standards of being a good mom. If your child is loved, happy and safe, than you are doing a good job and it won’t matter to him/her what you do. To them, our only title is ‘mom’.

Hugs & Smiles,


Love and pressure


Ahhh….Valentine’s Day. A day not dissimilar to Mother’s Day where you have high expectations of being swept off your feet, pampered and dazzled with wine and chocolate.

Yeah, well not to sound bitter but I am not a huge fan of Valentine’s Day. Maybe I would be if my husband was romantic! haha. But it seems like a huge money racket to me. In saying that, I am rather hypocritical because I still expect a gift. Simply because it’s Valentine’s Day and if I am being honest when others ask me what I received, I don’t want to say nothing. It sounds so much more romantic to say flowers or dinner or chocolates. Some sort of expression of love. And with the exception of this year (when me and my hubby agreed not to exchange gifts), I usually get flowers. I can’t help but wonder if the gift I want is for me, or just so I can tell people what I got, or so I can keep up with all the pictures of flowers and jewelry on Facebook.

I found myself scrolling down my newsfeed on Valentine’s Day reading the sappy statuses and admiring everyone’s pictures of their beautiful V-Day gifts. I didn’t have high expectations for the day, therefore I wasn’t disappointed. I didn’t do a thing. It was a regular day, except for making Valentine’s crafts and cards with Aiden (which was fun). I ate some cheap chocolate in the shape of hearts and when the kids went to bed me and my husband watched a movie (one of the non-romantic variety) while I struggled to stay awake. I was still in bed by 10pm. Jealous? You should be 😉

What I would much rather is flowers on a day that doesn’t have a heart on it on the calendar. A day when the kids have been a handful and I haven’t had time to shower and my husband tells me to go take a nice long bubble bath, that he’ll feed and bathe the kids and put them to bed. Let me go to Walmart for 2 hours uninterrupted. Let me have a full night’s sleep. Let’s have a conversation like we used to, pre-kids, that doesn’t involve us talking about how many times our 1 year old pooped that day. Or bickering because our patience is hanging by a thread.

Or a date night. A night out where I don’t have to worry about the kids and I can relax and get a good night sleep and not have too early.

That’s what I want. To reconnect with my husband on a day that doesn’t put pressure on us.

The fact is, kids change everything in a relationship. Not necessarily for the bad, for the good as well! But anyone who has one child knows that things shift in a relationship when a baby is born. A baby that needs attention and love and becomes so important that it is easy to push your spouse to the side. Well, my friends, when you have two kids, things change even more.

Sometimes I am so busy with the kids (and exhausted) that I can’t remember if I kissed my husband goodbye when he went to work. He comes home and I try to ask him how his day was before I start telling him about Aiden’s tantrum or Camryn refusing to nap. Sometimes, although I am super comfy, I feel bad that I am in the same clothes I was in when he left that morning. Trust me, there are some days like that.

We get lost in our kids. We all do. How can we not? They are so consuming of our time and energy. So spouses bicker over little things and big things. Sometimes we forget to be the people we were before we had kids. When the only real worries we had were each other. I love my husband. I have loved my husband for 16 of my 33 years. On Valentine’s Day this year my gift to him was not punching him in the face when he was driving me crazy. That’s LOVE because I know if I didn’t love him, I would have punched him 😉

I probably don’t say I LOVE YOU to my husband daily. Yet I tell my kids a total of 1,145 times a day. I have good intentions but it gets lost amongst the shuffle of the day and instead those three words are often replaced with three more. What’s for supper?

One thing I can say that I love about Valentine’s Day (and one that I can thank my husband for) is the fact that I now have 3 Valentines. Small, medium and large 😉 And I loved my handmade card from Aiden as much as the one him and Daddy picked out from the store. I even loved the card from my husband (even if he did read it so fast that it had ‘Mother’ written on it and was scratched out and replaced with ‘Wife’ in his hand writing. I KID YOU NOT ladies, I KID YOU NOT!!! The boys were with him, so I will let it slide because I know how hard it is to shop with 56 pounds of distraction). Anyways, it wasn’t about the cards, it was about the people who gave them to me. My loves. Those are my gifts, on Valentine’s Day and every day.

And of course, there is always room for chocolate 😉

Hugs & Smiles,