A hard week to write

I have found myself unable to write this week. I have things I want to say, but lack the focus or flow or motivation to sit down and organize my feelings into words.

For one thing, I feel myself slipping once again into depression. Depression for me doesn't mean I lay in bed crying for hours at a time. Instead, it means that I struggle to find pleasure in life. I struggle to organize myself. I am unable to motivate myself. If you know depression, you know what I'm talking about. The past few times I have been in this place, I have been able to catch it here and use the skills I've gained over several episodes of depression to first hold off from slipping any further, and then to pull up out of the pit.

But mostly, my mind, and heart, and spirit has also been connected this week with my bloggy friends and thousands of others across the blogosphere as we have lifted baby Stellan up in prayer.

Stellan is a miracle baby who wasn't expected to survive when he developed heart problems in utero. But he did survive and was perfectly fine up until this week when the same heart problems returned. He has been fighting for his life this week and his mommy (MckMama) has been fighting alongside him. And thousands of people across the Internet have also been fighting with them in prayer.

And we need to join them. We need to go and lift MckMama up so that she can continue to be strong for her baby. She has faith that is carrying her through and is inspiring to many, but it is still agonizing for her to watch her baby boy suffer.

She feels our prayers. God hears our prayers. Click on the picture to go to her blog.

Mornings: Not my area of gifting

A good morning - waking up before JJ wakes to feed so that I have time to pee first

A notsogood morning - waking up to a loud bang, and having to convince myself that our home has not been broken into and that my children have not been stolen.

A good morning - waking up to the sound of my children playing together in JJ's crib

A notsogood morning - waking up to the sound of the cat, who claims to have needs too

A good morning - KK climbs into bed with me and promptly falls back to sleep

A notsogood morning - Daddy's alarm clock wakes me, so that I can wake him, so that his alarm doesn't wake up the girl on the other side of me... and repeat every 9 minutes x 7


A good morning - Before he leaves for work, Daddy sets up KK with enough activities to give mommy a little sleep-in time

A notsogood morning - Before he leaves for work, Daddy wakes mommy to apologize for keeping her up so late talking about the evolution/creation debate.

An evenmorenotsogood morning - Daddy leaves KK with full access to her "big girl stuff" which includes scissors, chapstick (aka household paint), and hundreds of teeny-tiny toys that, by the time mommy gets up, will be spread all over the living room.

A good morning - stepping into slippers that have been accidentally warmed by the heating pad that fell off the bed

A notsogood morning - (there is nothing that can wreck that moment :)

A good morning - getting up in time to have a shower before JJ wakes up (and thus being able to shower without having to share a 2 x 2 shower stall with a one-year-old who circles continuously around mommy's legs and yells at mommy if she dares lean up against the wall to balance while she shaves her legs)

A notsogood morning - realizing just as the shampoo is being rubbed in that KK is calling from the other bathroom (always the other bathroom) for mommy to wipe her bum.

But...

A really bad morning - waking at 4:50 am to be ready for work in time to catch the bus by 6... which is what I'll be doing both Saturday and Sunday morning this weekend. (Only slightly better than arriving home at 8 am after working all night and getting 2 hrs of sleep before being back to mommy again... which I don't have to do again until May!)

Catch ya on the flip side...

Five things I love about living in a condo

We have been living in our 900 square feet apartment for five years. When we purchased our first home, it was with the intention of living here for only five years and then hopefully moving further from the city and upgrading to a larger place. At this point, we have no plans to move for at least another 1-2 years. These days Sometimes, I get so claustrophobic in our cluttered little home that I feel like I can't breathe. So today, I need remind myself of what I love about living in our home (if it feels a little forced, it is):

1. Low maintenance


We don't have to worry about replacing our roof or repainting our siding. We have a strata for that. Even our windows are strata responsibility. Other than maintaining a standard of cleanliness, there is really little maintenance that is our responsibility. Even our smoke alarms and fireplace get checked by the fire department regularly.

When we are ready to sell, it'll be pretty inexpensive to upgrade the paint, floors and fixtures. That's where smaller will equal better.

2. 900 square feet

Often I can feel very limited by our lack of space. But limits are good. Limits keep me from spending money on things that we don't really need. Limits keep me from feeling like I have to compete with others that are constantly accumulating new things. Limits challenge me to be content with what I have.

To keep things tidy, I am forced to be very organized and selective about what enters our home. Those aren't bad skills to have.

3. Shared living expenses and amenities

We have gardens that we don't have to take care of. We have grass that we don't have to maintain. We have a playground that we didn't pay for. We don't spend much on heating costs. We share a pool, hot tub, sauna, exercise room, lounge, and rentable suites. We have a 24-hr caretaker who is available for emergencies.

4. Underground parking

When the rain hits, I am grateful for never having to load and unload the kids/groceries/strollers outside. On bad weather days, we often go from covered parking to covered parking and don't ever get a drop of rain on us. When it snows, we don't have to clear off the snow or ice. We don't even own a windshield scraper! And if you're thinking that a garage offers all these benefits, well, we don't have to shovel a driveway either.

5. No stairs

When you live in a place as small as ours, you wouldn't want to be wasting any of that precious square footage on stairs. And when you have a son as daring as ours, you wouldn't want to have stairs for him to surf down. And when you do laundry as much as I do, you wouldn't want to be lugging the laundry basket up and down the stairs all the time.



Now you know why I love living here. Most of the time anyways. (This is character-building... this is character-building)

What's your five things this week? Write a blog post and link up to join the fun. Or, if you don't have a blog, leave me your list in the comments. You don't have to copy my topic, but feel free if you need a little direction. I can't wait to hear what y'all have to say!

TMI: Are you saving that for later?

It doesn't matter how many layers the boy is wearing. A onesie, plus a shirt, plus a tight-around-the-neck bib. No matter. When I remove his diaper after dinner to put him into the bath, inevitably, part of dinner has somehow made it in there.

I know it hasn't just gone "through the system" if you know what I mean. It doesn't have that dehydrated look. You know the one. You've seen the corn in the diaper the next day, haven't you? The placement in the diaper, well, that's another dead giveaway that it hasn't been pooped out. Oh, and some of those diapers are just wet. I'm pretty sure he does not pee carrots.

Is he saving food for later?

Yes. Apparently he is. Yesterday, I stripped him down to just his diaper. He pulled down the top of his diaper to reveal two half-munched baby carrots. He thought it was hilarious. Mommy thought it was hilarious. Daddy, not so much. JJ circled around from our kitchen to our living room and back, showing off his prized possessions to anyone that would look. As he circled back into the kitchen, I noticed he was eating something... you guessed it, a half-munched baby carrot.

Um, oops?

Finding control

I pick up the last overturned chair and tuck it under the table. For the moment, my dining room is tidy.

"No mommy, those for my exercise."

"It is time for lunch and mommy told you to finish up what you were doing."

She kicks over one of the chairs.

"PICK THAT UP. RIGHT. NOW!"

It has been like this all day. Me, exerting my authority. She, refusing to listen. I know my approach is wrong, but today, I can't seem to help it. I am seeking control in any way I can.

I find it in the most unexpected place.

Her 3-year-old body is shaking with rage as she runs at me. Her arms are flailing and she is shrieking in frustration. I turn toward her just before she reaches me and I see it in her eyes: self-control.

Twice, she reaches out to hit me. Twice, she stops herself in mid-air.

I am so proud and I tell her so. We reconcile amidst hugs and tears. We talk about how it is ok to be angry, but it is NOT ok to do bad things when we are angry. (In your anger, do not sin. Ephesians 4:26).

For now, the storm has passed and peace reigns once again in our home... this time because of her.

As always, she remains one step ahead of me in our journey.

Conversations with KK: top topics of the week

KK on how babies are made:

KK: Babies not get made. They just grow in your tummy.

Mommy: Well, how do they get in there? (I know. I'm setting myself up for trouble. But I actually believe that the earlier we start this conversation, the easier and less awkward it will be. Somebody please correct me if I'm wrong!)

KK: (Exasperated sigh) You go at the hop-sital and then you get a baby in your tummy.

Mommy: But how does the baby get in there?

KK: The people at the hop-sital, them put it in there. Then you go home. Then you go back to the hop-sital and you push the baby out. And then you have a baby!


KK on sour cream:

Mommy: Do you want sour cream with your taquitos?

KK: No. I not want those. I just want sammer pream (sour cream). I like sammer pream with chetch-ap (ketchup).

Mommy: Sour cream with ketchup? You have never had those two things together before!

KK: But I do like it. And sometimes, I just like sammer pream by itself, with soya sauce on top. Yep. It good like that.

(Please believe me when I say that I do offer her healthy foods most of the time. I have no idea where she is coming up with these combinations! Daddy?)


KK on growing up:

KK: When you get growed up, you not have a mommy or daddy anymore... because you're big. But when you not growed up yet, then you still have a mommy and daddy because you love them ssssssoooooooooo much.

Five things I love about being a nurse

(I'm really excited about this post because I've been waiting to write it for about a month!)

I've been back at work now for two months. I don't love going to work, because I really do feel that my focus needs to be at home right now, but I do love being a nurse. Here are five reasons why:

1. The nurse-patient relationship

The relationship I have with most of my patients is pretty unique. There aren't a lot of situations in life where, within 30 seconds of meeting someone, you might have your hands all over them, or be invited into the depth of their emotions. Sure there are some patients that consider us nurses their adversaries, or worse, their servants... but most times, we very quickly enter into a unique relationship of love and trust. I do my best to love them fully throughout my shift and they do their best to trust that I will care for them to the utmost of my ability.

A patient recently told me that I have healing hands. I love the difference that I can make with my hands. I can hold a patient's hand as I speak to him and look him in the eye, or touch her knee for a moment while I assess her status and the connection that is made in that brief moment is profound. North American culture has made touch between adults quite infrequent, yet I believe we need physical contact with people. I love that I can provide it in a healthy, healing way.

2. Work that is both physically and intellectually challenging

I come home from each shift physically and mentally exhausted, but with an energy that comes from having worked hard. It's a good exhaustion. The kind that comes from knowing I did my best all day.

People often tell me that they could never do my job, with a tone like they might use if they were saying the same thing to a plumber. Yeah, there are some less desirable parts of my job, but even when I'm doing these physical duties, my mind is always going. I'm always assessing, evaluating, comparing, figuring out. Even with body fluids. Even with pee.

3. Unlimited career directions and flexibility

When I graduated from nursing school over 5 years ago, I had no idea all the different avenues that one could take as a nurse. Some nurses use their skills to travel all around the world. I'd like to think that one day, I will be able to take my nursing skills to Africa to help with health promotion in some of the world's poorest countries. Other nurses use their skills to advocate for important changes to health or safety policies. Some day I will be one of those nurses. One can choose to nurse from the youngest babies all the way up to the very elderly. I am currently nursing adults who have had surgery, or are waiting for surgery, or have gastrointestinal disease.

Nursing, for me, has been a very flexible career. Right now, I'm working five shifts a month, only on weekends. Because of the extended shifts, I can work mostly once/week and be working the equivalent of two 8-hr days/week. I love that I can build my work schedule around my family needs. I'm fortunate that my work has been very good about accommodating me. They have trouble filling weekend shifts, and so are willing to let me work only weekends. It is really nice not to have rotating shifts right now because it gives us more of a weekly routine. When the kids are in school, I hope to be able to find a job where I can work only while they are in classes and be home for them after school. I knew that a profession that is 96% female would have to be family-friendly in some way.

4. Supportive colleagues

I work with great, great people. These nurses and other allied health workers work their butts off taking care of their patients. And we all work hard to take care of each other. We often work independently, but when we need help, another nurse will be there as quickly as possible. Nurses give up breaks to help each other. Nurses support each other emotionally, and believe me, we face some emotional challenges in our profession. This past weekend, one of our coworkers had a close family member pass away unexpectedly, in the hospital, right at the beginning of our shift. Immediately, we sent her to be with her family and covered for her until another nurse was able to replace her a few hours later. I love that we take care of each other. I love that we challenge each other. I love my coworkers.

5. Independence

Nurses work within a great team, but we also work independently. Many times in a shift, we are required to use our judgement to make decisions about the care we provide. It may be that we hold a medication because our assessment of the patient indicates that the medication would be harmful at that particular time. Or it may mean that we have to make some quick decisions and get the doctors involved because our nursing sense tells us that our patient is about to deteriorate. Good doctors know to trust the judgement that a nurse has about his or her patient, because the nurse is the only health professional that is with the patient for an extended period of time. Each nurse has a story of how they used their quick thinking and assessment skills to catch a problem before it was too late.

I love being a nurse. It is my calling. It fits my family. It fits me.

What's your five things this week? Write a blog post and link up to join the fun. Or, if you don't have a blog, leave me your list in the comments. You don't have to copy my topic, but feel free if you need a little direction. I can't wait to hear what y'all have to say!

Dear Value Village

Dear Value Village,

First off, I love your store. I love that when I get that urge to buy myself something new, I can pick up something for $7.99 and be done with it. I love that when my one-year-old tries to help me empty the dishwasher and breaks yet another bowl, no worries, 4 matching bowls are only $1.99. I love that I don't have to run the dishwasher just to get clean spoons anymore. And I'm all over paying $2.99 for toddler shoes that are only going to fit for five minutes anyway.

But I have to ask you something. Who decided that the bras needed to be sorted by color rather than size? Do you really get that many women coming in to Value Village who need a bright pink bra with black polka dots, size irrelevant? And don't you think that perhaps these women may just have a little more time to look for that bright pink bra (with black polka dots) than the frazzled mommy who just needs a quick fix now that the double D nursing bra isn't cutting it anymore?

Maybe you didn't realize that organizing bras by color rather than size means that said frazzled mommy will have to sort through all 300 bras, one by one, while her bored-with-shopping one-year-old shrieks at the top of his lungs and her three-year-old frantically pushes the stroller into other bra-searching people, trying to soothe her brother.... just so mommy can get a little lift in the front (if you know what I mean).

I'm just sayin'.

But I love your store. Really. Not the bra section. But the rest? Love it!

Sincerely,

A more up-lifted Peanut

Five things I love about my brother

I was privileged to grow up with one brother and he is two years younger than me. I feel like the luckiest sister on earth to have him. Here are a few reasons why:

1. He's funny

No, he's hilarious! He is one of the few people that can make me laugh out loud every single time I see him. He loves to play jokes on people. He often tries to sneak up on his wife and surprise her. She was raised by a police officer and sandwiched between two brothers, so one time when my brother surprised her, she decked him!

2. He believes what he believes

It doesn't matter what he believes. It could be that Neil Armstrong landing on the moon was all a conspiracy. Or that Tupac was never really murdered. Or his faith in God. Whatever it is, he believes what he believes and you can't shake him. As one who tends to waiver a little more, I really respect that about him. Don't bother getting in an argument with him... you won't win!

3. He is caring

That's me and my brother (and KK on the inside) at his wedding. My brother has always been really caring. When I would tire of a doll or teddy bear, he would adopt it and chastise me for hurting its feelings. As a teenager, he slept with a bed full of teddy bears because he didn't want to put any on the floor and have them feel that they weren't wanted as much as the others. He loves his family intensely and works hard to provide for them. He was very protective of me growing up, even though he was the younger one. I remember many times when he defended me on the playground at school.

4. He has quite a tank on him

He never has to make a pee stop, so if you're in a hurry, he's handy to have around. And if you need a drink finished, he's the man.

(He probably didn't have to pee for 3 days after that drink!)

5. He is my friend for life

We've been friends from the start. Of all the friends I had as a kid, he was my constant. We invented games together. We collected grasshoppers and ants. We dreamed of one day pumping so hard on the swings that we could flip ourselves over the top. We hide-and-seeked. We played house. We played barbies. (Bro, I've still got your Ken doll if you want him back... his head keeps falling off though). Some days, as I watch my own two children develop their relationship, I ache so much to go back to those days with him.

Sure we had our rough years in our adolescence, but once I moved out, we were close again. He would call me up at University, "Sis, I've just punched a hole in the wall. What do I do now?"

As adults, we have negotiated the maze of our parents' divorce together. Each one of us, at separate times, has challenged the other to grow to the next level of healing (although I'd have to say that he challenges me in this way more than I do him... I often need a little push to grow).

He lives hours and hours away from me now and I miss him intensely. He and his wife are one of our favourite couples to hang with.

He's good people. I'm lucky to have him.

Love you bro.

What's your five things this week? Write a blog post and link up to join the fun. Or, if you don't have a blog, leave me your list in the comments. You don't have to copy my topic, but feel free if you need a little direction. I can't wait to hear what y'all have to say!

Like a chicken with its head cut off...

As a mommy and housewife, I get very little time to myself, so when I do finally get a few minutes to myself, you'd think I'd be very productive. Or calm. Or asleep. (I love to sleep. Did you know that?)

But NO. I'm neither productive or calm or asleep. I am like a chicken with its head cut off. Or like a toddler at a birthday party. Or a teenager who just got her driver's license and the keys to her daddy's car.

I get so excited that I have free time that I run around the house, trying to decide what to do with said free time... doing a little of this and a little of that... and suddenly it's over. And I've accomplished 5% of each item on my list.

I swear I'm more productive with a toddler wrapped around my left leg and a preschooler poking my brain with questions every 30 seconds. Hmmmm... there's a lesson here, I'm sure.

The mommy that I am

Sometimes, I see myself from outside of myself. I picture me in my family of four and lately, the picture has been a little unsettling. I think it was about the time that JJ started walking that I realized that something was off.

I couldn't figure out what felt wrong about the picture. Two parents, a girl kid, a boy kid... everyone tells us we are the ideal family. So what was wrong with the picture?

I finally realized that the picture I saw of myself as mom wasn't the same as the picture I'd imagined of myself as mom. The difference is simple: I've never imagined myself as the mom of little kids. My imaginings have always stopped at being the mom of babies. But my babies aren't babies anymore. I knew I would eventually be the mom of little kids. I guess I just thought I'd have more time to adjust to seeing myself that way.

As I'm leaving this season of my life and moving forward to the next, I am grieving a little less than I would have expected. For sure, there are tugs that try to pull me back to those cozy days of having a newborn. My ovaries have started whispering to me about the softness of a baby's head against my breast, the milky scent of a baby, and the teeny-tiny little clothes. But I'm also really excited about moving away from that stage of unpredictability, sleeplessness, never having enough arms to carry everything.

I just need to start picturing myself differently. I am the mom of little kids. No longer the mom of babies. But I am mom. And I love it.