Tide Shifting

So I done got told to update this blog for goodness sakes.  The last thing I had up here was so depressing.

Well, it rightly was.  I have depression.  I have anxiety.  Hello - means often times my thoughts are actually depressing.  :)  Fancy that.

What had precipitated the last post was the fact that my brother, whom I knew had been looking for reasons to fully distance himself from the family, finally found what it was he needed as an excuse and decided I was no longer a good enough influence on his child and therefore he wouldn't be bringing her near me again.  Now let me assure you that what he found pales in comparison to some of his nasty habits, and it's not even my habit that has him making this decision...but whatever.  I'm tired of clawing at things that would eliminate his excuses.  I don't want him in my life if he doesn't want to be in mine.  With that realization, which admittedly came AFTER the last blog post, I found a liberating peace in my life.  While it's been painful to have to tell my mom that her kids won't likely be in the same room for a good many years, she's had her own similar experiences with her own brothers, and I think she understands.  Besides which, she's good at staying out of things...so there's that.

But after that moment of liberation, I started to plot a course to better things, and the tide is finally shifting in my favour.  I've been offered a new job with more money and better title and better learning opportunities.  It's a really exciting change that I think will be better for our family in the long run.

It's not coming without it's fair share of anxiety.  At the moment I feel like a great big bungled up ball of whoa...and there's no way to release it because I can't submit my resignation for at least 1 more week.  The biggest anxiety I'm having though is putting my daughter back into a daycare situation.  There's no way to make it work with commuting to stay home til she goes to school, and be home in time to collect her from school.  They don't give parents 5 hour workdays and pay them this great.  SO, we're trying to lock down on a sitter that makes the most sense, but it's breaking my heart already.  She's been in daycare before.  But it seems like I'm giving up the cup of christ by handing her over.  It's no easier than when I did it the first time.  That's because no matter what job I do for another company, it will always be at odds with my baser instincts of being a mom first.

But onward and upward.  In 20 years, when my daughter heads off on her own path, she'll have seen an example in her mother of a woman who stopped at nothing to ensure her family was well provided for, and who broke herself in two trying to be everything to her and her daddy.  Not such an awful legacy to leave behind.  She'll have witnessed confidence in the face of adversity, and thoughtfulness in a woman who truly looked for every possible way to make the best decisions for her family each and every single day.  She'll see a woman who spent as much time with her child as humanly possible, playing, engaging, and caretaking...and she'll see a woman who hopefully made the world outside our home just that little bit better.

Right?

The big job changes come at the end of the month and hopefully keep me busy and engaged and inspired for a good number of years to come.  I'm beginning the second half of my work journey - and I'm hoping it's a wild and woolly ride!

Onward and Upward.

Fat Phobia

This morning, one of my worst parenting nightmares began to take shape in real life.

My daughter told me someone said she had a fat face.  My 30 lb bone rack of a 3.5 year old beauty has been the brunt of fat jokes, and it's hard not to internalize it, blame myself, and curse the world that being fat is like the lowest common denominator - the worst kind of insult that could be thrown at anyone.

I have done everything in my power to eliminate the word fat from our household.  Not out of denial, but out of a clear understanding that it doesn't actually represent the people it applies to.  And clearly out of the hope that by taking away some of it's presence, takes away some of it's power, and hopefully allows me to raise my child in a way that develops an appreciation for all people, regardless of what they look like period.  Full stop.

By all accounts, though I am morbidly obese, I'm pretty frigging healthy.  I'm not diabetic.  I've never had a heart attack.  I don't have some of those other disorders commonly associated with obesity like high blood pressure and high cholesterol.  I do have aches, pains and generally feel better when I'm lighter, but I'm one of those people who will never be 150 lbs.  It's not in my genetic code to be that way.

I've taken every possible step to lose the weight, out of fear that my daughter would draw bullying based on the simple fact that her mother is fat.  I know how kids are.  I had surgery last year and have lost 40 lbs.  The big win for me has been that I've sustained the loss.  That's huge for a woman who seemed to be an ever increasing size without even blinking an eye.  I cook 90 percent of our meals from scratch and limit our intakes of preservatives and chemicals...I'm wholly focused on making sure that the food that is brought into this house is generally healthy but also not otherwise punitive.  And the reason I haven't lost more than 40 lbs in a year despite my surgery is that I'm keenly aware that I want to exemplify healthy, balanced and non-punitive eating behaviours for my otherwise very petite daughter.  I'm aware with every bite that I take, she's getting either a message that will lead to her own potential eating disorders.  So I'm trying very hard to lose the weight while being as "normal" as I possibly can be.

And still the thing I hear this weekend is that she has a fat face, isn't pretty, or she's drawing fat mermaids.  And I can't stop it.  I can only tell her that telling someone they are fat, isn't nice.  That the other people saying she is fat are simply jealous, and they aren't worth her time or effort.  But the voices have begun, and I have no idea how to protect my child from it and all the ripple effects of every single possible choice I can make.

I'm open to ideas though.  While I'm praying that how I've handled it already has been the right way to do it.

PS. It was an oversight not to call out that part of my strategy in addressing this at home is about self love and body appreciation of all kinds.  My response has been to guide her that all people are beautiful and have infinite value, no matter their shape, colour or appearance.  But speaking louder than her peers and the little voices that are developing in her own mind is already proving to be a challenge.  Fingers crossed I'm louder for a really long time...

Time Flies

The past week has been quite the emotional roller coaster here.  My husband has been violently ill, to the point of scaring me, and it's looking more and more like the reason for it is stress.  I'm afraid of how much of the stress he's feeling is my own doing, but am also afraid not to intervene and try as hard as I can to pressure him to let up at work and let things start really breaking.  I mean for real, break til they can't legally enforce any more.

I want to beg him to take a leave of absence, knowing that might cause him more stress than not doing it, and I want to beg him to put this house up for sale and start looking at trailer park solutions.  I know we can't keep going the way we're both going forever.

Which brings me to my own work.  It's making my eyes twitch and giving me a chronic migraine.  Yep.  I've inherited quite the crap storm and I'm left trying to sort it out, streamline it, fix it just so I can figure out a way to co-exist with it...all before I lose my own marbles, and need another crazy sabbatical of my own.

Add to this that last week I registered my baby girl for junior kindergarten and I'm left emotionally drained as a dried up grape.  Only the raisin that's left is pretty bitter.  She is sooo very excited to be going to big kid school, she even started doing her letters and numbers in high gear.  She's already told me she wants to wear a dress on her first day of school, and daily she checks out their progress on her new school.  You see her school is being built right at the end of our street, and that means she can watch as construction progresses...many days she can't understand why it's just not done already.

I on the other hand, as excited as I am to see her happy and diving in with both feet, am emotionally devastated at the thought that my last chances to be a stay at home mom have come and gone.  Literally, there's no way, unless I was choosing to home school her, that I will have that "opportunity" to be the kind of mom I always wanted to be.  I used to dream that I'd stay home with my kids til they were in school full time.  Then I'd go back to work.  And that was when full time school didn't start til kids were 6 years old.  She's  just going to turn 4 in June and will be going to school full time in September.  Unless I win millions so that I can take the summer with her, this is never going to happen for me at all.  It makes me all the happier that I was able to take the full maternity leave.  It was worth chewing up 6 years of my retirement to take that year.  Thank GOD I did that much.  She still snuggles with me, and holds my face in her tiny hands and tells me that I'm a good mommy.  And that fills me.  And her stellar behaviour, politeness and caring for others shows me every single day that I'm doing right by her.  But my god how I wish that I could have done this for her.  Been a 100% visible, dedicated and fully attentive mommy.

Every kid deserves that.  And every mom deserves to be able to do that for their kids without pushing themselves to the brink of death trying to be super mom, breadwinner, housekeeper, and CEO.  Exhaustion kills...My husband and I, and our grey skin tones are virtual proof of this.  I guess at least if we keel over tomorrow, our child will remember snippets of awesomeness, and will hear the stories of how we killed ourselves trying to give her the best we could.  That's reassuring for kids, right?

In the meantime, my little monkey has become a butterfly ready to leap off the leaves and float through the sky.  She's buoyant and light, and graceful, and sweet.  This world is changing because she smiled at it.  And she's about to be let loose, to get her footing and show the world what she's capable of.  I'm infinitely proud of her.  Of the person she is and the woman she will become.  I'm so terribly sad I've not been able to soak up 1000% of her moments the last 2 years.  And so thoroughly grateful for the hundreds of moments I've been given in place of them.

I'm a Good Mommy

It's true.  My husband has said so more often than I can count recently...but best of all, my three and a half year old bundle of perfection just told me so!

We seem to have what many would consider a "tough year" most years in this family.  It all simply amounts to being the stuff of life that all the good moments happen around, but this year in particular, we started with close to $100K in consumer debt (not counting mortgages and car payments), and we are now exiting the year with half that problem.  While we started out fighting every unknown bug that could affect a tiny little human, we are now exiting with very distinct bugs and we've not had too terrible a time of it since tonsils and adenoids were removed in February.

And while we're much, much, much happier than we were last January (anti depressants and half the debt problem with limited illnesses is the magic answer), we're sending 2013 out with what appears to be a flaming stake up the arse hole.  In our general geographic area, the kids have been plagued with an outbreak of gastroenteritis in epic proportions, and now we're dealing with one hell of a head cold, which is robbing people of their will to live.  And I without a sick day left to my name, my grandmother has had an accident, my mother has needed help taking care of her, and I have been trying to be the model parent of a sick kid at the same time that I'm trying to be a model employee and model grand/daughter.  Them's the breaks.  I always told my mom I wanted to be supermom...now karma's kicking me in the teeth...asking me how's that feel?

But I'll tell you, the suffering, the sleeplessness, the emotional binge eating and general slavery for others is worth it, when your husband hollers from the rooftops how much he loves and appreciates everything you do.  And when in a moment of pure perfection, your sick child looks over at you, strokes your cheek gently and whispers "you're a good mommy".

I wish we could ring the bells on 2013 right this very second.  I want to leave it feeling like this.  I want to greet 2014 with more optimism, hope and energy than I had last January.  God I hope nothing else tries to kill the holidays for me between now and then.

The Hap Happiest Time of the Year

Well folks, tis that time of year again where the magic of giving and receiving and celebrating is descending upon us like that welcome blanket complete with the rope and the big rock it's all attached to that are going to yank us into the dark abyss of a lake, surprisingly not very far from here.

Yep...I'm being sarcastic of course, but it's definitely that time of year when family gets together to remind one another of where we come from.  Where we can make the time to appreciate one another and remind each other how much we care.

And of course, then there's Santa and all the wonder and magic He, I mean She, inspires in us all to be gracious givers and even more gracious receivers.  Honestly, it takes a LOT to make just the basics of magic happen at any time of year...and most of all at Christmas.  There are only so many hours in the day for mom's like me to fit in magic making after surviving the office, and daily grind of eat your supper, wipe your butt, wash your hands, and for the last time "PLEASE AND THANK YOU"...er...please and thank you.  Don't you know Santa is watching every single breath you take you little monster.

And this year amounts to no different at our household.  In an effort to better control the budget this year, I got my sewing machine humming in mid summer and vowed that this year, I would make 50% of our Christmas gifts for family and friends.  At the end of the day, I only buy for a couple of our friends, and the rest is family and when all is said and done, I still have 35 people to buy for.  And I'm not the person who gives a small trinket and thinks "cool" we're all done here.  Each gift I give is actually well thought out.  Doesn't mean it's often expensive - I am a thrifty shopper.  But when you have to buy 35 gifts, well, it adds up no matter how cheap you are.

I often wish very much that I were a trinket lover and thrifty-strong enough to say, well folks it's been nice but I'm only buying for the hubby and kid this year.  I just can't.  It's not in my nature.  I've tried, and others have tried, but I'm in such a habit now of starting in January, that by the time December 1st has arrived, I'm ready to decorate, wrap and celebrate.  I honestly don't expect things in return, but I have to admit, I'm probably one of those people you hate at the holidays because they make you feel obligated to reciprocate.  And December is stocked up with celebratory events.  Getting around to see each and every one of the people in our lives that mean the most to us, well, sometimes it's a burden to be so blessed.  Christmas for us literally begins in November when we chip in to help my grandmother decorate, and starts peaking the first weekend in December when visiting begins.  Then it's dance recitals, Christmas concerts, visits with Santa, visits with family, hosting family dinner and my goodness, please let's not forget the wrapping, stashing, hiding and baking...

I'll admit though, I was liking the fact that there was just a bit of extra cash on hand to buy for the hubby and my baby girl this year...that was until our 3 year old started behaving like a mean girl at school, and demonstrated that it was high time she learned what it was like to have less and be a bit kinder in general.  And so we have begun our push to find things of a charitable nature we can do that will help instill in her a strong foundation of humility.  In a real tangible way.

So in an effort to kick start this, we're now going to be adopting a family in our community.  Giving them a Christmas so that my daughter can participate in the shopping and delivering of these things to a centre where our family can then collect them.  It may not make a whole lot of sense to her this year, but this will undoubtedly be the first of many.  We'll also be wedging in time to clean out our closets as a family so she sees that all of us are participating in a donation process and that all of us are working to meet the needs of our community and are being "kind to others".  When they say parenting isn't for the weak or the selfish, they really bloody well mean it.  This was in no way time and effort and money I had budgeted for.  And these efforts really will be wedged in between things that are critical to be done if our magic is going to be kept in tact and as planned.  And while I know the sanctimonious will be happy to remind me that this is truly the joy of parenting and something I should appreciate, I gotta be honest.  I'm already charitable with people who matter the most to me.  I'm respectful and kind and giving to just about anyone, but I'm not a "charity" kind of person either.

And so, the savings I've accrued by hand making so many of our family's gifts to others this year, is now being spent on those who really need it.  And the people who receive my handmade crafts and goodies will know how much I love them because of the effort that was put into them.  And God willing, my child learns by example that it's better to give than receive, to have love and warmth rather than things, and that all people deserve to be treated with decency, dignity and respect.  Crap there's a ton of lessons to be taught - no wonder our parents always sounded so damn preachy.  I feel preachy and I haven't even started for real yet.

Golly, someone better get me a strong soapbox.  I could be here a while.

30% Awesome

So, I've been bad about posting, and that's probably because I've felt crummy.  I've felt so up and down over the past couple of months, that I'm afraid I'm back on my meds and I don't think I'll ever come off them now.

I struggle daily with feeling like I'm supposed to be sooo much more awesome than I actually have turned out.  Could be that Pinterest is responsible for me feeling so much the failure - there aren't enough hours in the day to learn and make all the things that inspire me on that site - but more than anything I think it comes from the execution or lack thereof of day to day tasks that seem to escape my capabilities.

My 3 year old challenges me at every single step - getting out of the house in the morning's is like trying to change the weather (in other words, it's impossible to leave on time).  Getting her to eat a meal is a never ending fight, and it's only because she's not willing to do as she's asked or expected.  Then she advises that it's "killing her" because well, she's repeating what I'm saying - her snail pace and her stubborness are often what I decry are "killing me".

Then there's work, and it's on one hand something I appreciate whole heartedly.  On the other hand, my ability to climb or move or change things up is extremely limited.  They want someone who can travel.  They want someone who will sing their praises.  They want someone who has already drunk the special koolaid and well, I'm afraid I tossed that cup before it even hit my lips.  And that means rot here and be happy about it, or find something else, and since finding another job is like well, trying to grow a new limb, I'm really trying hard to swallow my pride and rot with a smile on my face.  I'm not sure how long that will appease the powers that be, but it's my only game plan.  And even I know it sucks.

Which leaves me to wonder if I'll ever feel more than say 30% of the awesome I instinctively feel I'm supposed to be?  I'm less than the average person, in twice the average person's body, which brings me to the other thing I fail miserably at - weight management.  Add mood management to that I I feel about as infinitesimally small as a tick.

Which means I don't have a lot of wisdom to espouse at the moment.  I also don't have a lot of time.  I'm failing at all these things because I'm trying to make our Christmas gifts - my list is long, and I'm trying desperately to manage the hits to our pocket book this year by making as many gifts as I can.  I'd say roughly 50% will be handmade goodies and crafts...but all this takes every single spare second, and I started back in August.  I'll be working it right down to the wire.  It's keeping me awake at night.  The lists.  The lists of commitments made, the lists of things left to do, the lists of how I'm failing my kid, my husband...then the worries kick in, and it's about why my daughter does what she does, and am I handling it the best possible way - the answer of course is always no but I'll be damned if I can find something better.  AND then there's the millions of ways I'm failing my husband.  I want so much to make things better with him, and I'll say we're stronger than we have been in our relationship in over a year...but I have no drive, no interest and no time to invest and he suffers from it.

So when in doubt, give in right?  I guess I'll try to find a way to lower the bar of my own expectations and be satisfied with my 30% awesomeness.  Maybe one day, I'll come into my own all by a surprise.  I'll wake up one day and never look back because each and every day won't be the drudgery of same old same old...it will be one more day of freaking fantastic, or as my daughter says "it was a perfect day today"...well, maybe one day in the far off future, I'll feel that way too.

One day.

Cowards among us

I didn't comment yesterday because honestly, I can't find the words to truly describe how repugnant, disgraceful and hateful it is that someone would write a letter recommending that a mother euthanize her autistic teen, donating his non-retarded body parts to science (their words not mine).  Nor do I really have the words to describe how sickened I am that people like that not only simply exist, but that they would exist in this country, and that they would so shamefully show their face in the world.  While I have often said that I would wish no one real harm, I do have to confess that I wish this woman an opportunity to feel a similar wrath from a similar stranger.  Unprovoked, unnecessary, and unbelievably horrifying.

As someone with friends and family who either have autistic kids or work closely to care for them, and moreover, just plainly as a parent, I'm dismayed by the heartlessness and evil of this letter. 

And to lament to GOD even, I'm just appalled...and honestly that's an understatement.

In a show of support to my friend who has an autistic teen whom I've only ever been delighted to be in company of, I wrote the following:

I hope you know that all parents out there, of all children, who have any type of moral compass at all, are questioning the contents of that woman's character. Not because this story is about an autistic child, but because it is about any child at all. And I hope what you can see in that, is how far the advocacy and awareness generation that families like yours have gone to improve the situation for people dealing with autism has done so much good. It's never enough, there's always more to do, but know that this woman is an outlier and people aren't seeing autism the way it was once seen way way way back. With much love and support. I hope armies of parents, children and concerned citizens show this woman the error of her ways.

It's really the best I can do.  No human being deserves this kind of treatment.  NONE.  

I do hope that armies of parents, children and concerned citizens unite to show this coward a mirror. I won't pray for God to do it.  That's not enough.  We as human beings need not to be vigilantes, but we most definitely need to be mirrors.  We need to hold hands and drown out the sounds of idiots everywhere.  Russian homophobic politicians, American homophobic politicians, religious fundamentalists in every single religion known to mankind.  

Hateful people everywhere need to be put on notice that it can no longer be tolerated.  That it will no longer be tolerated.

My love and support go out to those with children who have special needs of any kind.  

My heart and my ire and my stiff upper lip are right there with you as you field this blow.  Others like me have your back, and we will not rest until our children demonstrate the kindness every single person deserves. 

That is how to be good.  That is how to be Christian.  That is how to be human!

Friends

There have been a lot of things I've "missed" that I never intend to, and I am absolutely blessed that I have chosen some amazing friends who both understand this, wouldn't try to change it, and who love me and are there for me without fail.

We're about to host a friend of mine that I haven't spent any real time with in almost a decade.  We live thousands of miles apart, but I've thought about her just about every single day in that decade, and when we do chat, it's like picking up right where we left off.  The last time we spent more than an hour or two together, she came to visit me in the winter.  I had not met my husband yet, and she was a single mom to a very dependent 6 year old.  The separation between her and her husband had made him withdrawn and meek, and highly sensitive.  I was barely 30 and thought she was coddling him.  I owe her the deepest apology for my thinking this, and the deepest gratitude for not just lopping me off like a numb and bothersome appendage.

The woman makes me laugh til I cry and I won't be doing anything more than recalling her talk about her hippie days on a commune or visits to her redneck family in Mississippi.  I am so damned excited to see her, I'm about to jump out of my own skin - I don't even care if the house gets cleaned I just want her here like yesterday.

And when I think about it, I feel this way about every single one of my friends.  There's not one in the bunch that I haven't called a friend going on 15 years or more.  I recall a time when I thought that was just plain unheard of.  And when I look at the examples I had - my parents only long time friends really kinda stopped talking to my mom after my dad died because it hurt too much and then got awkward.  She would call them acquaintances now, despite the fact that I know through extended networks of people, they keep a watchful eye on all three of us.

So when you grow up and you place an extra concentrated effort on maintaining those relationships with friends who have children in roughly the same age group, you are naturally "picking their friends for them".  It's a part of growing up.  I have recently been able to connect with the daughters of the very friends my parents had growing up and in this way, we're really keeping the families together, or bringing them back together as it may be, through Facebook.

And I know in my heart that the friends I have who are engaged with my daughter, are being raised in a way that's closest to my own heart.  They're good kids.  Kind kids.  Because they're being raised by good, kind parents.

But then they stop being babies, these children of ours and start branching out.  Choosing friends for our children isn't easy...and helping them develop the skills they need to choose wisely and in some cases choose for fun, is insurmountably difficult.  Nevertheless, they start choosing their own friends.  I'm finding it absolutely curious to watch who she seems magnetically attracted to, and who she plays shy with or avoids.

Letting go of the control isn't easy ever.  Never ever ever.  But we can hope, through demonstrating the power of a chosen family being stronger than most would expect it to be, we can help show them the skills it takes.  A whole lot of trial and error unfortunately, and a lasting commitment to be as true to others as we are to ourselves.  That's what builds lifelong relationships.

For My Daughter on Her 3rd Birthday

My daughter turns 3 this week.  And I find myself, as I often do, reflecting on the person you are becoming.  Today I was agape at thinking about this.  You really are becoming a person, as opposed to that malleable piece of clay that I gave birth to such a short time ago.

You always had personality.  But you're becoming a real person now.  With independent thoughts, and you're fighting it every step of the way.  You hear the opposite of what I say, every. single. time. I. open. my. mouth.  You resist doing things independently because you're forlorn at the thought of not doing them with my help.  It's getting harder and harder to remember the philosophy "In your time, not mine".  When I see you, I see how much you are capable of, and how much you can already do, but when I press you to do anything without me, you reject the idea so violently that you worry me sometimes.  Your tears and your passion are equal to mine and your father's combined, and I worry how one day that may feel crippling for you.  It's a feeling I know too well.  It's impossible for me to figure out how to show you that you can be that passionate and independent at the same time...or better yet, be that passionate about doing things for yourself.

You make me laugh hysterically every single day, without fail.  From sighing and rolling your eyes as you tell me "Apparently, I need my Daddy" when I've asked you for the millionth time to please just pick up your damn spoon and eat your yogurt already.  To looking at me with a shine in your eye after you've finally gotten past the turmoil of getting up on a stool and sitting down on the toilet in time to pee on your own to say "You're happy now."  As if you telling me, makes it so.  And it sort of does.

Indeed while you suffer from single child syndrome (my name for what is otherwise known as the starved for attention spoiled brat with no siblings), you are in fact not overly spoiled by "things".  You are most definitely spoiled with love and attention.  Almost to your own detriment as you really have little desire to do anything ALONE.  You enjoy a cheering squad and a good fight...and absolutely every waking moment we're together, we are literally glued to each other with at least 3 parts of our body touching.  I do not have a child.  I have a spider monkey baby clinging to my body as I try in a futile way to swing from tree to tree, just to get a single damn chore done around this house.

You help me make dinner every night.  You sit on the counter, and help me put salad together.  We've made your birthday cake together.  You love to mix things and make the salad dressing.  You eat more than you make which is glorious while we're cooking.  I wish that translated to the table.  You want so much to start working over the stove or start using the knife during meal prep...again, these are a little beyond what is safe for you to do just yet, but when you prove to me you can do it all at the table, I'll be more open to letting you do more during meal preparation.

To celebrate you turning 3 and becoming a big girl, you're getting a party.  One that is in line with all the others.  One that shows just how precious and perfect and happy we are to have you in our world.  By most standards, it's large, by some, it won't be big at all.  But it is a celebration, and one that represents something bigger than just you, but actually celebrates our family as a whole.  Our family is made up of people who are born to us, and those parts of our family that we have chosen and inherited because in many ways they are as important in our lives as the others.  You will be surrounded by all the people we love the most and who love us dearest of all.  That can never be wrong.  And moreover, the thing I learned most clearly this year is that our birthdays should never really be about ourselves.  They should always and forever be a celebration of family and life and the immense change that comes from bringing a child into the world.  There is no greater and more beautiful change in the universe than this.

I know one day you'll be all grown up and reading these.  You'll think maybe I was a bit cookoo.  But I worry that I'll either be gone from this world when you're raising my grandchildren, or that I'll be in a home and not coherent enough to help you through what is hands down the most difficult thing in the world to navigate.  My hope is that in reading these, you'll be reassured you're not going through anything abnormal.  That you'll find some camaraderie with me as your parent.  That you'll be struck by a random piece of my thought and find a new way to deal with your own situation.  And that you'll forever have a part of me that belongs to no one else but you.

Being a parent is unlike absolutely every other identity known to humankind.  It's both a choice and a part of the human condition that affects your very genetic code.  I hope you take from these letters how life changes as a parent year to year, and how it stays remarkably the same.  The moment you become a parent, you can visibly, physically feel time in an ethereal flicker of blinding light that comes with absolutely no other experience you could ever have.  I imagine that the only other time in life you would have this type of out of body experience is when dying.  And so to be able to experience it, and live it and see it every day in the thing that brought it to you is beyond comprehension, even for the person who has had it.

I love you so much I could literally eat you and be ravenous for more.

Please keep hugging me so tight we could meld into a single being.
Please keep loving me the way you love me now so that when you tell me you hate my guts and want nothing more than to be alone, I'll have this to cling to.
Please keep smiling at me so brightly the world fades into nothing around me.
And Please show your daddy just even a fraction of the love you show me.  He doesn't understand why how you love him is equal but different for him, and he loves you just as much as I do.

My spider monkey baby.  My cup overflows knowing how unstoppable you will be, when you finally grasp a little of that independence I so desire for you.  And I am already in awe with the footprint you are leaving on this universe.  Not a single person meets you without being surprised and delighted by you.  If your Grandma were reading this she'd curse me for the pressure I appear to be placing on your tiny little shoulders, but what she wouldn't hear in this is how much liberation I am in fact wishing for you with these words instead.  The universe still makes me wonder at it.  I wish every day that I could do a million wildly different things, each one feeding a part of myself that starves for nurturing endlessly.  And that in itself is so wonderful, it's virtually impossible to describe.  EVERYTHING in this world is possible.  IT is ALWAYS POSSIBLE.  And that to me is food.  It's life.  It supplies everything my body and soul requires to thrive...and IT, my darling, is YOU.

And now I'm sobbing and it's time to sign off my letter.  I'm forever grateful to the universe for bringing me you.

With every ounce of my love and nothing spared,

Happy Birthday my darling Margaret.  

The Power of a Strong Self Image

An inherent impacting factor in most cases of depression and anxiety in women would have to be their self esteem and self image.  In the last two weeks, I've recognized the veritas of a thing called Body Dysmorphia or "Self Enhancement".  Often you hear it in connection with people who have experienced such devastating illnesses as anorexia, bullemia, and exercise addiction.  But I'm telling you today, that I too have what I think is some sort of body dysmorphia.  I'm no doctor, but when I look at my mirror, or I consciously look inward and actually feel my own physical presence, I realize that I feel a certain size and I look a certain way.  Then I see photos that were taken very recently, and I see something entirely different and very discouraging.  Something I feel embarrassed by and something that makes me feel like there's a bigger mountain to climb than I ever dreamed it would be.

I can tell you with stark honesty that I have never felt as big as I look.  That's not to say I didn't always feel too fat or too large, unhealthy or uncomfortable.  It's obvious if you've read anything I've written, that my size and my health are at the forefront of just about every singular thought that runs through my mind.  It conditions my response to the world I live in, in every single situation I face.  And when it has become glaringly obvious to me that the way I already felt was better than the reality, well, that leaves me with a distrust in my own perceptions of the choices I've made, in addition to making me wonder that with all the beating up I've done of myself, if it was nearly enough.  Which in turn (as you've probably already guessed) triggers a new round of anxiety and depression for me.

So, this is how I looked at Halloween:

And this is how I look now:

courtesy lesleywongphotography.com

I can see a glaring difference, though I'm sure many won't.  Though it's not what I would have hoped for.  And it's certainly not how I feel when I step into pants I've not worn in over a year.  The major differences are what create the woman in this photo.

courtesy lesleywongphotography.com

I am happier today than I have been in such a long time.  I am more well rested and more balanced than I can remember being since I was a teenager.  I have more energy and more ummph than I had last Halloween as I feverishly tried to fit carving a pumpkin between rounds of children's tylenol, yet another sick day and a sad little review of the bank account.  Oh yeah - and bath time, dinner dishes and planning for the next day.  And in the "after" photo, most of my body is hidden.  Disguised.  Not discernible as a particular shape.  Thank goodness for black on black!

What makes me happy is that I'm not lugging around the extra 30 odd pounds, but also that I have a husband and child who adore me as much as I adore them.  But all of this comes from a strong sense of self and willpower to be strong and independent.  Beneath all of the anxiety and depression and obesity, lies a strong and confident, intelligent and resilient woman.  I carry the world on these shoulders, for at least 5 people, probably more.  And my God they are strong.

courtesy eonline.com

Which brings me to the actual way this post was originally envisioned.  There's a bruhaha over Disney's redesign of it's character Merida, in advance of releasing her as an "official" princess.  And  I know I've been sitting on it for a while, but I was honestly trying to find the right way to describe why it offended me.  At it's most basic level, a cartoon is just that, and it's their property to do with as they wish.  I should have very little to even think of it, as a wise woman suggested in her post on the same topic.  But here's where the rub started with me, and where it ends is with the ever constant imagery we get from the world at large around us that influences (to my own shock and horror) our view of ourselves in the mirror.

Merida and the movie Brave by Disney signaled a real paradigm shift for women at large that reinforced what we've been trying to overcome for centuries.  Women are capable, independent, fiery and naturally beautiful.  If we can simply exude confidence and courage enough to show it, we're capable of redefining this world for the better.  For me too, the story within the movie reinforced something that every other Disney princess movie has blatantly pushed aside and in many cases tried to cast as not normal.  That it's possible to have a confident, fiery, capable princess who bucks the system and doesn't require a man, but more over who recognizes the strength, love and transcendent bond that a real mother and her daughter share.

courtesy themarysue.com

Merida and her natural mother Elinor battle bears and nature and often each other to find a way to mend their bond and save the mother.  Unlike the evil step mothers in every other princess movie, this mother shows angst over choosing to try and steer her child onto a path she believes will be the best for her and the kingdom she will inherit.  "She does what she does out of love", never for profit or personal gain.  Never for the evil and selfish betterment of her own biological brood.  There's no sending Merida out with a huntsman and a box...especially not when Merida's amply armed, trained and capable of defending herself.

courtesy wired.com

So when a corporation does what it always does, without even thinking of the injustice it serves it's own brand through Merida, you feel gobsmacked, disheartened and angry.  I am not letting Disney raise my child, or allowing my child to grow up believing that the best thing in the world to idolize is a Disney Princess.  But there is absolutely no shielding them from the draw of the Disney brand, and with Merida in the mix, potentially, it's not so harmful to let them fantasize and explore the world of princesses a bit.  When I was my own daughter's age, I watched them faithfully, and still one of my favourites is Sleeping Beauty.  Note there's no evil stepmother in this movie, and the girl lands with the prince she thought was just an average guy.  He also fell for a girl, thinking she was just an average girl.  Kind good fairies kept her safe from evil for 16 years and loved her as their own daughter...not all the other dark, sordid tales of woe and despair that you see with Snow White and Cinderella and the like.

The end result of taking such a dramatic change on such an impactful character in the lives of young girls who are finally getting outside examples of strength in a medium they connect with, is truly criminal.  It has no choice but to show the smarter ones of the bunch, that there's a difference between average and "vavavoom"...and most of us don't have what it takes to get the "vavavoom" makeover.  It contributes to the way we look at ourselves in the mirror at such an early age.  And that's shameful.

A Woman's Balance

I read an article this morning on Linkedin wherein I found the contents somewhat repetitive of other similar articles I'd read elsewhere.  The article titled I'm Not Balancing Work and Life, and I Feel Great, pretty much tried to give the impression that when you do what you love and you have a family that lets you do it, there is no such thing as a struggle for balance because it inherently exists.  The argument is simply that doing what makes you happy is all the balance you need, and as long as the kids are taken care of, what's the big deal?

The comments as you can imagine were far more interesting than the article.  Many calling out exactly the issue with this argument for the general populace, which is simply put, not everyone can afford to offload their kids and not think twice about it.

I've read other articles by high ranking female executives who talk frankly how they are both in a flexible work arrangement where they set their own hours, and who have the financial means to buy the support they need at home.  They either have a full time live in nanny, and/or a spouse that either has similar flexibilities / finances OR who is willing to support the primary worker by sacrificing their own career to stay at home with the children.  In all cases, the word balance comes with a steep price tag.  Balance in any of those reports only calls out how affluent you are and how fortunate it is to be able to "buy" flexibility when you need it.  And in all cases too, it's critical not to overlook what I like to call the "Quota Quotient".  The ratio of female executives and CEO's as compared to male executives is still a product of inequality in the workforce.  Any woman who has made it to the top of the career ladder must still prove that they are worthy of being there for their skills and actual value rather than the fact that their gender satisfies a company's male to female ratios in support of their diverse work culture policies.  This naturally translates to a need then that they have to reinforce that their work dedication is no different in absolutely any way to that of their male counterparts.  If it's harder for them in any way shape or form, it's riskier and it's perceived as a blatant lack of dedication or loyalty to the company and it's profitable outcomes.  We want so much to believe that feminism has been a blanket success, and in the face of providing the "other side" any ammunition to to the contrary, well, we'll opt every time to prove that we can have and do it all, the way our fore-mothers fought for our rights to have it that way.  Especially if the perception of our current status is that we've already won the battle.

I have similarly found a level of balance that makes me happy...but here is the key...I'm happy with it most of the time.  There is no such thing as equally weighted balance, and I make sacrifices every day in my career to facilitate more time with my child.  I was fortunate enough to be able to hire a nanny when I first returned to work after maternity leave, AND was fortunate enough to change my work arrangements in such a way that I was able to work from home full time when I returned to work.  This meant I really got to extend my time with my child beyond my sanctioned maternity leave, and enjoyed that much more "parenting" time, without putting my job at risk.  When the nanny moved on, and we started our child in preschool, again, it was disruptive and I struggled (still do most days) with the choice to work rather than raise and take care of her full time.  I was still fortunate enough to be able to work from home, and so, I'm not losing 2 hours or more every day with a commute, and that 2 hours more I can spend with my child each and every day.  When my systems shuts off at 4 pm, it doesn't go back on until 7:30 am the next morning.  If I have evening calls with Asia, it's done after my child is in bed, and very rarely before.  On the rarest occasions when things have to overlap and work infringes on my time with my child, my husband has to step in and do it alone, but more often than not, she's sitting on my lap colouring and drawing while I listen to the conference call on mute.  Again, I have more flexibility than your average Jane, and I know I'd struggle immensely managing my family priorities if I had just the 2 hour commute to deal with even.

A complicating factor however is my husband's job.  While he's very much a hands on dad, and spends as much time as possible with us doing the family thing, there isn't the same appreciation for familial responsibilities with his job.  His commute is a total of 3 hours every single day.  It significantly reduces his time with the family, AND means that I am the one who takes every single sick day, who takes the burden of most of the child rearing responsibilities and who absorbs the daily tasks of meal preparations, dishes and house cleaning.  We're not financially free enough to afford a housekeeper or other types of domestic help.  And our child was sick for over a year.  This meant my career really took the back seat and it meant that I worked during naps and every spare singular moment on those sick days so that I could avoid losing my job due to excessive absences.  The company I work for is more awesome than most at providing the kinds of flexibility that made this possible, but it took them a lot of years to recognize and acknowledge the lesson.  And it also means that it's hard to reignite my career trajectory, now that my child is healthier and there's more room in my life to prioritize work.  As they say, the damage may have been done.  For someone at the top of the career ladder, this is likely less of a concern weighing on the sleepy mind of a mother who is trying to balance the priorities of work and her family.

So here's my message for let's say, new mom's who are returning to work for the first time, and facing the fact that they'll have to leave their children in the hands of potentially strangers, for care between the hours of 7 til 6, Monday to Friday.  Find as much flexibility as you physically can in your job without jeopardizing the fact that you have one.  Remember to choose caregivers you trust and keep a hawk eye on the care they are giving your child.  TALK to your children every single day about their day, no matter how young they are, so that they open up and actually tell you what happened.  Eventually, their vocabularies will catch up, and you'll know more than you probably ever wanted to.  Remember that you working, is as much about making your family a priority and providing for them as staying home would be.  AND, remember that you are more capable than you think you are.  Balance for average working moms is really about the quality of the time you are spending with your kids.  So involve them in your chores, and make the work to up keep the house feel more like fun.  Get your itty bitty's helping with dinner preparation, or let them paint at the table while you do dishes.  Let the living room be less tidy than the dining room, and play with them while you have your tea and watch the news.  Make baths fun, and crash at 9pm.  Take them grocery shopping, and find a babysitter once every couple of months to watch the kids while you and the spouse do something grown up - like getting beer and wings at a restaurant and watching a grown up movie, you know, at the actual theatre.  Work is work, and it's important.  But remember it's a tool to buy you more time with your kids.  Prioritize it this way, and you'll see some semblance of a balance, in a ratio that works better for you.

AND DON'T READ the articles by women executives thinking they've figured out some magic math that affords them better balance than you can achieve.  The only thing they figured out was how to prioritize work so they could afford more support at home with the kids.

My Life is a Game of Jenga

OK...so it dawned on me today that my life is like a game of Jenga.  You take a block that's been wearing down from the bottom of the pile, and while hopefully you remember to polish it up a little on the sleeve of your shirt along the way, you slide it back into place on top of the pile so you can focus on your next move.

Yep.  My life is a game of Jenga.

So, I've taken this block out of the bottom of my pile called weight loss, and I'm polishing it off on the way to placing it on the bottom, when suddenly I realize that the blocks labelled my growing daughter and my fragile in laws are starting to come loose.

I'm placing that weight block firmly on top here, and now it's time to figure out which block to polish next.

My in laws are in dire straits.  It's sad.  It hurts my heart, mostly for what it must feel like for my husband, but I'm honestly more than perplexed at his reaction, and the lack of reaction in his siblings.  Here's the deal.  Mother in law is diagnosed with an extremely bad case of gall bladder stones a year ago, during preop tests, they discover she has lung cancer.  Gall stone work gets placed firmly on the back burner while they deal with the 7cm mass in her lung.  They can't operate so they treat her as a stage worse than she apparently is.  End results are, there is shrinkage and the cancer is better, but not gone.  She's gone through hell with her treatments and on the other side of this has discovered that not being able to work, and driving two hours each way for treatments 4 or 5 days a week has left them broke, over extended, and unable to feed themselves.  She is depressed and vocally suicidal.  Her gall bladder continues to give her extreme pain and discomfort, and it's unlikely that she'll survive any surgery, but at this point she's willing to risk it.

 Her daughter and youngest son are awol and barely appear to have a peripheral interest.  My family has made the 3 hour journey twice in the past month to take loads of groceries.  It appears also that their church has found out about their hardship and they are providing some charitable provisions as well.  They are now using a food bank for staples and griping that they can't get animal food and butter.  My father in law has quit smoking (I hope it sticks this time) only because they can't afford to buy them.  But if cash were no issue, I no he'd start up again in a heart beat.  My cancer riddled mother in law, who is a senior and living on a pension, is back to work on the only job they have left between them to make sure they keep that extra $400 a month coming in.

I'm the one prodding my husband to call his parents, to go up with provisions, and talking about bringing in the siblings to help cover off some of the bills.  I'm the one trying to spark ideas about perhaps selling their property and buying closer to my family so that I can at least help physically with things that need to be done, and so that she is closer to cancer treatments when she inevitably has to start them back up.  This is all for people who I can barely tolerate.  Why?  Because they are my daughter's grandparents, and because it seemed at one time they were very important to my husband.  Why is it, I seem to be the only one who's concerned?

And the other block is my daughter's block.  She has many in my Jenga tower.  Believe me.  But yesterday, she started to do that thing where she's beginning to branch out.  We moved to this community so that we could be more relaxed about her safety, and so that we'd have more trustworthy neighbours.  We moved to a safer community in general.  On Sunday, while outside playing with my husband, she met some of the kids on our street, and the two of them got familiar with some of our neighbours.  Yesterday afternoon, my daughter chose to hang back and play with a few of her new friends while I walked down to retrieve the mail.  Never out of site, and always supervised by an adult, my nearly 3 year old child started branching out. She had fun, and I was outside of my own body the whole trek to the mailbox and back again, because I wasn't hanging on to a little hand.  I realized, I'm not sure I'm ready to take a side seat in her life.  In fact, I'm not ready at all.  And I have to be.  It's incredible to me how quickly the time passes from dependent on someone else for every single breath to fully raring to go and charge ahead knowing few limits and pushing oneself to the brink of independence the way a 3, 4 and 5 year old child does.

On one hand, I'm proud of the person she is becoming, and I'm overwhelmed by how close the two of us are.  I pray every single day that we keep this bond.  And I know I'm doing things right, because I've already heard on more than one occasion that she "doesn't like me".  That can only mean I've established at least some of the right boundaries.

On the other hand, I'm scared to death of what awaits her, and how her independence can be reckless and haphazard.  I'm so scared of letting go of her hand it paralyzes me, and gives me out of body experiences.

So which block to move and polish then?  I'm not sure either one will leave my tower standing.  I know that moving them will make my tower more fragile - at least in the short term.  I'm leaning on polishing off my child's block a bit, and standing by in observation on the in laws block.  For the life of me, I can't understand why an outsider like myself, is the most concerned part of that whole mess.  It's enough to make me pause and look for other cross impacting factors at the very least.

Raising good little mommies

So yesterday was a day where my daughter and I called out to the world to let them know they`d have to go on without us.  We were taking a sick day.

We stayed in bed virtually the whole day.  With a small break for some much needed groceries, we stayed in bed, and watched movies and read books and just generally snuggled and slept.

When Maggie awoke from her nap and came in, I was just starting to drift off...so no surprise that I didn`t get all the rest I needed, but when she crawled up on the bed and saw that I was not moving as quick and alert as I usually am, she snuggled in quietly and cradled my head with her whole body.  She was as quiet as a mouse and barely stirred for almost an hour which (if you know toddlers) is unheard of.  In fact, anyone would wonder if there was some cruel and unusual punishment afoot.

That`s when I had an epiphany.  She`s growing up so quickly that it`s almost always that realizations of our children`s development come to us in big brief glimpses.  They quickly flash through our minds and set us on our haunches where they leave us to ponder them.

My daughter is learning how to be a good mother...and she`s learning this from me.

So for the last 24 hours or so, I`ve felt like a great success.  When I had my child my life long goals changed.  In the blink of an eye, my sole purpose in living became moulding this new life into a caring, kind, and capable woman who would take on the world, turn it on it`s end, shake it out and make something remarkable from it`s pieces.  I have just seen precisely how capable of that she already is.

When, as a parent, you spend most of your days worried about what a failure you are, and how badly you may be doing at not poisoning their little minds and leaving them with mental footprints they`ll need therapy to cope with later on in life, a success like this is huge!  Ginormous even!  It`s enough even to get you through another 24 hours without medication.  These small successes are the foundation for good mental health.  These types of successes are the ones where if you`re actually able to recognize them, can carry you through just one more difficult moment.  These are the successes that are often the hardest to trust, but the most important ones to put your faith in.  They most certainly should carry more weight than those ugly dark moments that cause us to doubt ourselves.  If you were to award points, you would award at least 10 points to such a remarkable success.

And then she asked about my boobies, and compared them to her own itty bitty 2 year old chest, and life returned to normal quicker than it gave me a view to the surreal.  BUT, in all this you can see, she knows how to comfort and console and repair and build up.  She knows how to nurture, and what helps in that process..  Boobies are the best comfort in the world - as any man will tell you.  And she already has that instinct.  My baby is an awesome caregiver.  My baby just changed my world...again.

Parental angst

Apologies for leaving you all hanging.  It's been a couple very strained weeks with barely a moment to spare.

Not that it will get any better in the short term.  The holidays are officially upon us, and while I'm more than amply prepared with gifts purchased and decorations up, December is going to be all about execution.  Gifts will be wrapped mere moments before they are delivered all month long no doubt.

The snow is flying here, and it has been already colder than we got all of last year.  I'm actually watching the snow whip across my office window as I write.  It's chilly, and dark and dismal, and I am already wishing it were spring.  I do not want to deal with winter at all this year.  It likely has something to do with having to clear off my car to take my daughter to preschool in the mornings.  But I digress.

Other things that are triggering some anxiety for me recently are the fact that my child is having issues with a bully at her preschool, and I'm so hopping mad about it, I could spit nails and be sent to jail.  I can not believe I'm dealing with this already - my daughter is only 2 and a half!  It makes me want to quit my job and do things the way I know they should be done - but we know how that goes.

But I've also finally gotten the written notice of the orientation session at the hospital that will begin my journey through bariatric surgery.  I know I've said before how I couldn't believe how long it was going to take, but suddenly, it feels like it's all going so fast, and I'm getting terrified.

Today I went to see my doctor to get the requisitions for all the surgical work ups.  And to be honest with you, I suddenly realized the angst I've been living for so long relates directly to this thing that happens when you become a parent.  Some people call it guilt.  Others may call it a noose.  I don't know what's more accurate other than to say, that I've come to recognize that every single thing I say or do is delivering a developmentally critical message to someone I am now fully responsible for.  And this is why working creates such angst for me.  It's also why dieting and this surgery is creating even greater angst than I could have imagined.

One hand says: working shows my daughter a strong and capable way of managing one's life, supporting one's family, and being able to do and have it all.
The other hand says: you weren't my priority and I desperately needed or took more time than you should have had taken from you.

One hand says: dieting and getting healthy shows my daughter the value of eating healthy and exercise.  Shows her that making herself a priority is important to living a long, healthy and balanced life.
The other hand says: dieting and going to extreme measures to achieve something called "health" is self abuse, lack of self worth, and demonstrates a lack of ability to accept all of one's self.

One hand says that going to an extreme measure like having bariatric surgery should prove how much I love myself and more than that, my child for making such extreme sacrifices just for the opportunity to spend more time, more quality time, with my daughter.
The other hand says that it's extreme lack of ability to love myself, and that I'm a failure at every other method of weight management.

And the worst message I could imagine her receiving from any of this is that its even remotely better to over exercise, under eat, or do "whatever it takes" to never gain an ounce of weight (muscle, fat or otherwise).  I managed to catch a 5 minute snippet of the Katie Couric show the other day.  And it happened that the 5 minutes I caught was of a 15 year old girl who's battling back from dire situations related to anorexia.  She explained that it was her mother's dieting, exercise regimen and constant watching of her food intake that triggered her negative body image, and her approach to food and exercise.  She recalled her mother baking an extravagant birthday cake for her 5th birthday and noticing that despite slaving over it for days, that her mother had nary a bite.  Her mother looked healthy, athletic but not over thin and frail.  She looked strong and confident and healthy.  Her mother thought she was teaching her daughter how to live a balanced and healthy lifestyle and how to do things right.

Flip a coin and now that I'm on the precipice of starting this bariatric (the system wants to auto correct that word to "Barbaric") surgical journey, I am realizing that I am either acting on this way too late, or praise God, just at the right time.  With that image in my own head of hearing another girl recall how acutely she was watching her own mother, I recognize how I already struggle to get my child to eat a full meal.  She eats baby bird size portions and can often just graze all day long.  She is underweight for her age and has been since day one.  I've worked overtime trying to make sure I consistently deliver a healthy relationship with food for her, putting my own and my husband's health at risk to ensure she has 100% complete balance at every meal I can give her, and the example of parents who eat what is given to them and try everything on their plate.  But quantity and some varieties of food continues to be an issue with her.  Setting examples, we eat a healthy dinner before anyone gets dessert or treats after supper.  Admittedly, we have far too many treats in this household, and my daughter would quickly forego any meal of any kind to skip right over to our treat portion of any given evening.  So I'm wondering how in the world I'm going to cope when all I can eat, is really as much as she is currently able to eat, and that there will suddenly be things that my body can't digest or metabolize.  And I'm praying to God that it's early enough that it won't impact her relationship with food.

It's times like these when I really do wish I could have some of my teenage angst back.  It pissed a whole lot of people off when I was going through it, but the only one it really impacted was me.  I'd take back a whole dose of my teens to alleviate some of this angst I have today.  

Random Thoughts

So, it's been a bit insane (no pun intended) in my neck of the woods lately.
I'm pretty sure the phrase "nothing can prepare you for children" isn't an unfamiliar phrase to anyone.

I'll be very clear, I was as mentally prepared for motherhood as anyone could imagine being.  I'm level headed, I don't generally freak out when my child bumps her head or scratches her knee.  I anticipated post partum depression, and I knew how to take care of her when she arrived (for the most part).  I wasn't scared to breast feed, bottle feed, or deal with poopy bums and other unsavoury things.  I was even prepared to get puked on a lot.  But she has terrified me to my very core without even trying, and has sent me on the longest treks of head hanging guilty feelings, and seemingly endless tears, several times.

And what this means is having a child, no matter how "stable" you are, can and will shake the very foundation of that mental stability to it's core.  Maintaining your own mental health is never more important than when another little living soul is dependent on you for every breath they take.  My toddler got sick this weekend.  This isn't very surprising.  Since she started in a preschool daycare setting in March, and we've been sick just about every other week in this house since then.  Not foregoing the fact that she's been sick enough to be hospitalized for the last two August long weekends of her short life already.  I figure we're gearing up for a doozy in two weeks.  Now, when a child is sick with even the faintest sniffle or sneeze, the world comes screeching to a halt, at least for mommy's.  With one arm holding a toddler, juice cup, bunny and snot rag, and doing all your other life/house sustaining things with your free hand, life becomes nothing short of chaos, and confusion.  Add more sleep deprivation to an already disrupted sleep cycle, and an inability to keep up with those key responsibilities that keep your family on an even keel, and you have a real recipe for disaster.

Oh, and the more this goes on, the more worn down you become, the more likely you are to get sick with whatever they have, and the more likely you are to get depressed and anxious because you feel like it will. never. get. better.  Couldn't possibly, because it's like you've jumped on a germy hamster wheel of misfortune.  And let me tell you something, if Lady Fortune is fickle, the Madame Misfortune is pretty fucking evil.

All this got me to thinking though, about the statistics and information we hear about who is affected by mental health.  Anyone who lives with a mental illness will tell you that it's not surprising that everyone in the world is affected by issues related to mental health in some way.  But moreover, I've been told by a health care professional who cared for people mental health disorders like depression and anxiety (the ones I suffer with), that these types of patients are generally intelligent, over achievers who are extremely critical of their own perceived failures.

SO, give over to any over achieving mom, and I'm going to tell you that the stats for people affected by depression are probably exponentially higher for working moms over stay at home moms, and are probably greater still for working mom's whose children are not with another member of the family for their day to day care.  And that got me wondering if this was in any way related to the pressures of corporate America, and moreover that so many women are now also the breadwinners in their families.  While the article's main subjects demonstrate a gender role reversal of the marital partners, I would speculate based on my own experience that this is by in large a rarity.  In my own case, I'm still the primary care giver and the fact that I'm the breadwinner is as much the reason for flexibility in my day to day schedule, as it is for the added pressure and responsibility I feel day in and day out.  The more balls you are juggling in the air, the more responsibility you have, the greater the opportunity is that something will fail, break or just plain not be good enough by our own over achieving standards.  And then you feel all those trigger feelings.  Just as it is with any diet, if you don't leave yourself enough time to nurture your emotions and your mind, and find your zen as they say, how can you possibly expect to stay healthy?

So, I have to say, that all the employee assistance programs in the world  (like this one) are only going to be so helpful.  We need equality of pay, equal opportunities for everyone regardless or race, gender, age, or physical challenge, and that goes for the home and child rearing responsibilities as well as the for workplace.  Perhaps patience is the key.  It's taken a long time for women to achieve this level of equality.  I guess I can hope that by the time my daughter is dealing with all these adult life things, that her spouse is the kind who will contribute equally, both to the household income and the family care.


With all that said, it's also true when they say:

"it's worth it a million times over.  And I'd do it again without even blinking an eyelash."