parenting vs voting.

In BC, we just had a provincial election.  It was a bit of a tough one this year, (but isn’t it always) and although I’m definitely not going to ever talk about my political views on a mom blog, the voting process made me think of parenting.  And while you might be scratching your head wondering how that comparison can even be made…don’t worry.  I’ve outlined it below:

It’s Passed Down Through Generations – A lot of people I know are route for the same parties as their parents, because that’s just the way it’s always been.  Not unlike parenting.  So much is passed on from your mom, her mother and her mother’s mother.  “I used to rub brandy on your gums.  It’s fine.  Try it.”  (Does anyone drink brandy anymore?)  Although some advice is a little, um, nevergoingtohappeninmyhouse, other times there’s just nothing like Mom!

You Do The Best You Can, Even If You Fail – Voting is all about exercising your right to choose the political party that best represents your morals and values.  Or in this election, who’s probably not going to mess things up more.  Same goes with baby raisin’.  You never really know if your decisions are awesome. You just make them and hope that they all work out and you don’t mess up your kid for life.  This means you will fail.  Your party won’t get elected.  Your kid dissolves into a slobbering, screaming mess.  But, hey, at least you made a decision!  (And managed to make it out of the house to vote!)

You Will Feel Defeated Every Time – A really smart person once told me that if you feel defeated as a parent, you’re probably winning.  I’m going to go ahead and say it’s the same with voting.  Voting is half the battle.  You made it out there and cast what you thought was a decent vote.  It’s one thing to feel defeated, when even in your heart you feel like you made the right decision.

Either way, no matter how you cast your ballot, you have to go with your gut! What did you think of the election on Tuesday?

Mompreneur.

If you’ve frequented my blog in the past, you’d know that I find things with ‘mom’ or ‘mommy’ labels to be super irritating.  Some things are worse than others, especially when marketers slap ‘mommy’ in front of something to try to sell to a specific market.  For example, The Mommy Hook.  It’s not even really a hook per se.  It’s a giant clip.  And it WILL tip your stroller over, be forewarned.  Moving on.  The worst label of all time?  Mompreneur.

I think, personally, it’s kind of a step backwards for women.  We’re such great multi-taskers, and have proven in the last half century that we can pop out babies, hold down amazing careers and still manage to make dinner, soccer practice and necessary appointments.  Throwing the mom label in there insinuates it just a mom thing.  When it isn’t.  It’s a strong woman thing, bringing home the bacon (or the tofu, for the vegan crowd) regardless of children or not.  I read a definition on the term mompreneur here, and seriously guys?  It makes me mad.

A) It says it’s a solution for moms who don’t want to be a part-time parent.  When are you a part-time parent?  I’d love to argue that you’re a full-time parent regardless of your job status.  If you stay at home or not, you’re still a parent, 24/7.

B) I know it’s about putting kids first and changing your life to be able to be with them.  But who doesn’t do that?  Every mom and dad changes their life regardless of being home.  And for anyone who has ever tried to work with a kid in tow, (what’s UP!) worst idea ever.  The work is probably occurring over naptime or after bedtime anyway, so really…

C) By experience, taking on self-employment is an incredible amount of work, doubt, scariness and anxiety.  It’s not a novelty, like the label insinuates.  It’s hard work.  And I think we need to give ourselves more credit.

So…to all the moms out there busting their humps to provide for their families, in a conventional job or not, I salute you.  Here’s to making it happen, without a label.  xx.

can’t knock the hustle.

Life is crazy.  And I don’t want to be one of THOSE moms who are all, “life is so much more busy when you have kids.”  Well, it is.  So I guess I am.  It is for me anyway.  And perhaps it’s because I decided to just jump in head first and start up the business and not go back to a conventional job and there’s daycare and there’s little activities, and traveling and grocery shopping and planning and you know what?  I’m tired.  But not the kind of tired that makes me want to sleep, but the kind of tired that requires a 3 olive martini to recover from.  That, friends, is probably what I should be doing.  Having a martini.  Sleep is good too, but you know? I can sleep when I’m dead.

This morning was a complete crazy show.  It was like we were in an episode of The Osbornes.  Our idiot cat sometimes misses the litter box and craps on the floor.  The Osbornes always had crap on their floor.  Ozzy would go off as Ozzy does, and Sharon would just be Sharon.  Gross.  If I didn’t love animals, I would open the door and let him out forever, but too bad I do, and will continue to put up with him being a jerk.  Usually we’re all over it and can clean it up right away.  But this morning…nope.  Jack doesn’t watch where he’s going (ever) and walked in it.  Right before we’re supposed to leave for daycare.  Of course.  Someone always craps before we’re supposed to go somewhere.  (Usually no one walks in it.) So, kid in the bath, I’m trying to get ready and not murder the cat, answer 20 emails and eat breakfast.  We actually make it out the door on time.  Except I didn’t eat breakfast. Faiiiil.

I just feel like my life is a constant hustle these days.  Each day is crazier than the last, and I love it.  I love that we ditch housework for park time with Jack, or instead of running errands, we’ll spend the day roaming outside in the backyard.  These are the things I now live for.  I don’t care so much about scrubbing toilets or doing laundry.  I don’t care about making elaborate dinners.  This is our time…he’s small and won’t be small again.  I love it.  I can’t wait for summer, longer days, warm summer days.  Hustlin’ doesn’t seem so bad when the sun is shining. 

(ps…for any Jay-Z lovers, my favourite part of that song is the Pete Sampras part.  Only Jay-Z can rap about tennis pros.)

the haircut.

I had this dream that Jack’s hair would just keep growing and growing until it was cute and adorable and all hippy child long.  It didn’t, and instead decided to grow in mullet form.  Which I hear is pretty common amongst the baby folk.  Which is sort of unfair.  Our hair automatically grows into a mullet?  What does this mean?  Anyway, after a couple months of heading in the mullet direction, we decided it was time to get his hair cut.

Chris has an actual man barber that he uses.  And it’s kind of a tradition between him and his dad, so he wanted to take Jack there.  However, this guy is older, and probably isn’t used to cutting infant hair, (especially infants that only sit still to eat and sleep) so we just locked it up at our local Wal-Mart.  Yup.  There is a salon in there and they have a cute little coat for kids and the lady, Maggie, totally rocked cutting this kids hair.  She was ALL over it.  And his hair is adorable, even and no one was bleeding.  Hooray!

Except…now he looks like a boy.  He doesn’t look like a baby with his soft shaggy baby hair.  He looks like a boy with a real haircut.  And you guys?  I’m not going to lie.  It makes me sad.  Am I a full on crazy person for missing his babyish hair?

we’re back.

Welllll…it’s been a while.  It’s been a long while.  And I’ve had so many thoughts about blogging and four million drafts and a gazillion ideas to post here, but haven’t gotten around to it. I’ve straight up abandoned my sweet little blog baby, and need to pick him back up and love him.  Sorry if you missed me.  I’m back!  And I’ve missed you!

Let’s bring you up to speed, shall we?  I went back to work, Jack turned one, Christmas, New Years, Valentines Day, St. Patrick’s Day and Easter all went by.  Without a post.  Sorry!  Jack is doing really well.  He started daycare and is loving his days playing and learning stuff I’d never think to teach him.  He walking running everywhere, climbing on things (out of things), jumping in puddles, throwing food and throwing tantrums.  You know, the usual toddler stuff.  He’s definitely a vibrant, active kid with a pretty sweet disposition.  (Except for the hitting thing…)  He loves other kids, the park and playing in the backyard.  Being outside in general is his bag, so we try to spend as much time out there as possible.

We just spent Easter up at the cabin and it was glorious.  He came inside to eat and sleep, and other than that, enjoyed the great outdoors the entire weekend.  Too bad it’s pouring outside now…boo.

He’s now 15 months old…can you believe it?

one.

I don’t know how this happened.  It feels like yesterday, I was asking a nurse to knock me out with a shovel.  She laughed, but I wasn’t being funny.  On this day last year, I was in labour, induced after going almost THREE (yes, you read that right) weeks late.  Just hours away from meeting the man who would sweep me off my feet and make me fall completely in love.  Tomorrow Jack turns one.  My baby is a baby no more.  While this makes me a little bit sad, I do have to say I’m more excited to watch him grow and discover life more than ever.

This boy is 28 pounds of crazy.  He doesn’t stop moving except to sleep (and even then), he eats like a horse, defines belly laugh and smiles so big, I’m sure he would catch flies.  He is mine.  He’s my life, my light and my little pal.  Who knew you could love something so much?  He just learned to give hugs, and he’s always down for a tiny snuggle.  As long as you don’t hold him back from exploring the world.

Happy birthday, Jack!

merry christmas, lovers!

Ohmygaaaawd.  It’s been so long since I’ve blogged, but I have so much to say!  Random thoughts and things I’ve wanted to blog, but to be honest, I went back to work and it’s been ca-RAZY since the end of November.  But enough excuses, because it’s the most wonderful time of the year!  We decided to head to my parent’s place this year and have Christmas away.  It feels weird to have traveled for the holidays, but kind of awesome, like a mini family getaway.  We have been enjoying it so far.  Lots of cheer (wine) that’s for sure!

This year has been amazing.  I will save the best for New Year’s, but seriously, spending this year with Jack has been pretty fantastic.  And now we’re here, at his first Christmas (which, if you recall, should be his second.  3 weeks late, what?) and we can’t wait for him to experience Christmas traditions and to make our own.  Ahh…Christmas with kids is what it’s all about.  It’s the best!

On behalf of our family, I want to wish you a VERY Merry Christmas!  Make some memories, take tons of pictures (and shameless home videos!) and let’s enjoy this year.  Sending you all lots of love!!!

xo,

Steph, Chris & Jack.

gender.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how freaky people get about clear gender lines, especially now that I have a baby.  There seems to be a big thing about what can ‘be for boys’ and what can ‘be for girls’, and crossing that boundary is a huge no no.  I grew up in a house where HeMan’s castles were regularly overrun with My Little Pony, or Barbie’s Corvette was commandeered by GI Joe or my personal favourite, Python Patrol. (Anyone?  Cobra?) Python Patrol (the bad guys) were always my favourite to play with.  And we still have them.  Jord had a man doll.  (Still around, people. It lives in his basement.)

I recently read a blog post about nail polish.  The blogger was writing about how her son wanted to have nail polish, and she let him.  The question asked was, would you?  Several people commented on the post and the answers varied.  Lots of people had comments like, ‘I wouldn’t let my girl wear nail polish,’ or ‘no, because nail polish has chemicals.’  Both completely missing the point.  The point is…would you let your son do something that is completely ‘girly’ or not?  There was a comment from a reader that spoke to me.  It said:

I know a lot of people disagree with the above, or with giving their boy something pink, or their girl something manly.  (I’ll maybe get into the double standard another day) I grew up in a house where self-expression to an extent was encouraged, welcomed and appreciated.  My dad wore short cut off jean shorts…if that’s not expression, I don’t know what is.  And I can SAFELY say, that if either my brother or I had turned out gay, straight, bisexual, in love with trees or a female truck driver or a male ballerina, they would have loved us just the same.  Self-confidence comes from a great role model, not from a toy or TV show.  Caring and kindness are learned, and don’t just happen.  Independence comes from making choices, learning from mistakes and being your own person.  It doesn’t make sense to me to pigeon-hole boys to trucks and girls to dolls.  So what if he wants a tutu?  And who the hell am I to tell him no?  I want him to grow up to be confident, caring, kind and compassionate.  To be a good person, with a good heart, who takes care of others, but not before he can take care of himself.  And trying to limit him to be a certain way scares me.  I’m not saying I am going to paint his room pink or start dressing him in dresses.  But seriously, if he asks for one, a dress he will get.

There are so many amazing things that have happened during my lifetime.  Things that were considered ‘girly’ are now becoming more popular for both genders, like figure skating or gymnastics.  They are athletes, and both train hard and exhibit huge capabilities of strength.  Man or woman, both sports are intense.  Not girly.  Women have been rocking the trades, and have been choosing professions like welding, sheet metal, electrical and plumbing.  More men are selling Avon and Mary Kay.  Humans are supporting each other and stepping out of these ‘gender roles’ we’ve set out for ourselves.  We’ve realized that anyone can swing a hammer.  Anyone can dance.  Anyone can wear a dress, high heels and lipstick.  And we’ve discovered that more and more, we’re okay with it, and can actually support each other.  I think we’ve come a long way in a good direction.

I feel some comments coming on…express yourself!

15 more days…

Then mat leave is over. And I’m not sure what’s in my future. And I’m scared. It’s so close. 😦

I can’t believe that in just two short little weeks, my boy will be going off to daycare and I will be going back to work (???). Fingers crossed.

I struggle to even believe he’s here, and he’s almost 1. Time flies! Two weeks of snuggling this SQUISHY face!

jack’s dad.

Believe it or not, there is a man behind this whole ‘child-rearing’ operation.  It’s November, which means that we have been hanging around each other for SEVEN years.  As a person who considers herself non-committal, this is a giant accomplishment.  That sounds horrible, but it’s true.  I never thought I would ever spend that long with someone.  Luckily for me, he’s handsome, tall AND easy to live with. (And he puts up with me.) CW, FTW!  And I read a quote recently, that said, “The couples who are ‘meant to be’ are the ones who go through everything that is meant to rip them apart, and come out stronger in the end.”  I couldn’t agree more.

Being married is hard, and adding a baby is even harder.  But sticking together and trying to love each other through the dark times helps.  And having the necessary ‘critical conversation’ now and then works wonders.  Communication is the most important thing and we work on keeping our communication open.  The most amazing thing is being able to grow with someone.  Learn life lessons and have someone to share life with.  I can’t believe I have that.  I’m thankful everyday.

Here are some awesome things about that man I married:

• He lets me watch horrible TV.  And he judges silently.
• We watch baseball together.  It’s fun.
• Seeing him with the boy is pretty fantastic.
• He lets me have a life and hobbies and time to be myself.  For that, I love him.
• Sometimes we talk in sports analogies.  It works.

I am excited for the next seven years and what they bring us.  My handsome guy.