Every little thing…

So, this just happened.

20170426_112538

I just wanted to share out loud that this is another repair job in an ongoing list of things that I need to take care of. Door knobs. Wood working school projects (with woefully under-supplied power tools). Dishwasher shelf wheel-thingys. Suctionless vacuums. I am the One responsible.

There are people who do home repairs as a profession, and yet I know I won’t call anyone.

I’m strangely compelled to try and tackle things on my own. There is a cost factor, absolutely. There’s also a stubborn streak, to prove I can do things myself. There’s a learning piece, to expose trio to household repairs. There’s a feminist component wrapped up in here too, that a woman can handle what comes up too.

Plumbing work is brand new to me, so I’m kind of excited and intimidated about this job.

Underpinning all of the above is the sense that we need to be our own cheerleaders. Our own motivators. Our own source of strength. We rely on ourselves first, and then reach out second.

I’ll give this a try, and then if things go horribly wrong, at least I’ll have learned a little something.

Thanks for listening and letting me share this. I feel more capable after saying this out loud.

xo
Mto3

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Back to a little-better-than normal

After our painstaking weekend ended in a pukey kid, today was brighter. Better than, I’d say. 

I’m not quick to apologize when I’m wrong (although I am totally trying), but I will talk about events and situations and get feedback and try to do things differently next time. 

At different times today, I touched in with the kids about the weekend and how I was feeling and how I feel different today. Is that the right approach? Is this the best choice? I don’t know. I felt it was: we all have different motivators that come into play when we react. I guess I wanted trio to know it can shape a behaviour, but doesn’t necessarily define our whole self.

Trio will make choices in their lives where, I’m sure, it will feel that will shape their sense of self. Maybe positively. Maybe negatively. In either way, their next choice needn’t be dependent on that perception of self. Talking about it lets them know that they can be aware of what’s going on inside them, make changes, and make choices next time.

Is it that I’m seeing things differently today? Noticing that my biggest boy is proactively helping and anticipating what might happen next? Acknowledging how helpful it is when lil miss asks what the evening plans are before rushing out to play? Appreciating that my younger boy tells me about upcoming homework needs or things he needs my help with? Whether they’re always like this, and I just missed it over the weekend; or that the weekend helped them make different choices today; or some other unknown variable… I’m grateful.  

Xo 

A little sick and tired…

In many ways I consider myself an ‘experienced’ mum – multiple kids, wrangling on my own, a mix of boys and girls, a chaotic combination of abilities and personalities… In other ways I know that I’m learning every single day – and some days the lesson is harsh.

Last night, Lil Miss didn’t want to eat dinner – her stomach was uncomfortable. She had been at a friends for the bulk of the day on Saturday, played hard outside all morning on Sunday, and trio and I went out in the afternoon. The boys were saying that my homemade ham-and-bean soup was good (better than my typical ham chowder), and the fresh buns I made were so good with the cheese and chive egg-wash. She turned up her nose and said she didn’t like it, and frequently wandered away from the table during dinner.

I’m not going to lie: the day had been rather frustrating. I was feeling short tempered and easily aggravated, and overwhelmed, and that everything is my fault – the messy yard, the cluttered garage, that we didn’t get to take pup to the park again, that I needed to go to the grocery store… *and* the to-do list was full of Spring Cleaning chores. Trio just wanted to play video games, watch The Flash and chat with their friends. But they’re all quick enough to complain that we “ran out” of Nutella. Or that they can’t unearth their skateboard from the garage pile. Or their sweatshirts don’t fit anymore. Or irritated because the van door isn’t opening. I’m the One who has to deal with it all.

Usually riding over these reactions is easy for me. I can understand and sympathize and rally the troops in a way that meets all our goals. This weekend I could not. I was sick and tired of being the One. She who will cook. Clean. Rally. Encourage. Mediate. Remind. Be patient. Coax. Shop. Remember *everything.*

I just didn’t have it in me this weekend.

So when Lil Miss refused my cheap-o Dinner-on-a-Dime, I had little wiggle room in me to cajole or insist or seek to understand. My heart was playing the tape that I’m not good enough to do it all. And is she objecting because our dinner wasn’t the usual roast & potatoes – it’s a close-to-the-poverty-line week for me, and my fear of making a bad career choice echoed in her refusal. I vaguely wondered how this might be better if I had a partner to help in these moments. My mind and heart was full of my own feelings and deficiencies and concerns and fears. I knew I was actively missing an opportunity to connect with her, but… well. I didn’t want to. I felt wrung out.
I managed not to yell (as I had already done that a few times in the last day or two), but just told her she could eat her dinner or leave the table for her room if she was that sick.

Ugh. I know.

She didn’t want to leave the table, she wanted to be around her family, and had no other ways to tell me that she was feeling ill. She reluctantly had a bite of delicious soup and promptly threw up all over the table – looking startled and unsure. My poor middle son nearly followed suit until I managed to encourage her to dash to the bathroom. I divided my time between cleaning up her mess, and comforting her in the bathroom. Pup certainly helped with cleaning the floor (ohmygawsh, it’s so gross when he does it, and yet so helpful too – totally mixed reaction from me!).

In the moments before she was sick, I could see she looked pale. I could see this was unusual behaviour from her. I knew there was another reaction I could choose, and yet I didn’t. She sweetly thanked me for taking care of her, and told me that I was right – that she was sick and should have been in her room.

She remained flat out on the couch, and after the 3rd time dashing up the hall, I gave her a pot to keep beside her. The boys and I tidied, and put out the garbage, and we all chilled on the couch watching The Flash until bedtime. My oldest and I enjoy Sunday Night tv together: typically The Walking Dead, but the season finale was last week. He really wanted to watch another program with me, and shoo his sister upstairs, but she was still so pukey, I couldn’t leave her be. He and I will watch it tonight.

I realized that I might have experience parenting small children, and I’m familiar with what that might feel like inside of me, as a mum and a person. I made space for their emotional development and needs in an easy way that didn’t trip many of my tapes or emotions. It’s harder, I’m finding, to parent teens and tweens – they look and sound like older people, and yet their emotions and insides are more similar to children. They are capable of judgement and derision and haughty stares in a way that is totally expected and normal for their development – and yet, creates strong reactions in me! I know they don’t have the life experience or the emotional maturity to understand how that might impact others. When I choose to connect and strive to understand and try to climb out of my own spiral, I find we navigate these challenges better together.

The tough lesson for me this weekend is to still trust my gut instinct – a blip is just that, and not a harbinger of a New World Order. Hm, and to trust that trio are still the same people as when they were smaller – loving, happy, zany, independent – but are also trying to figure out who else they can be.

We’re all trying to figure things out together.

 

xo

Mto3

A day of warm fuzzies

It turns out I like Valentines Day. 

Yes, I’m one of *those* people… 

While it could be considered gimmicky or some attempt at something, I say whoa. I used to buy trio board books about love, now I buy them books I know they’ll love. 

Cookies, cupcakes, breakfast for dinner, hanging out, being lovey – Valentines is a day when we can do that with abandon.

Squeeze your people. Love yourself. Have a treat. Be nice to strangers. Watch a rom-com or a full out romance. Read a book. Have a bath. Have another glass of wine.

Enjoy yours! ❤

Today’s to-do list

…and I haven’t even folded in “regular” house jobs (sweeping, emptying dishwasher, feeding animals) nor any of my work tasks. 

Busy days go by faster! And I figure there are more voyeurs than just me 😁 I love seeing what other people do in a day.

The muffins are yummy tho!

Have a great day!

xMto3

Meet and Greet Weekend @ DBDO: 2/12/16

I love the community, and the amazing togetherness in a meet and greet. Check out over there and include your links, and/or check out the other blogs!
See you out there!
xo Mto3

Dream Big, Dream Often

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It’s the Meet and Greet weekend at Dream Big!!  There are a few simple rules that will help make this MnG the most incredible networking experience:

  1. Leave a link to your page or post in the comments of this post.
  2. Reblog this post.  It helps you, it helps me, it helps everyone!  So don’t be selfish, hit the reblog button.
  3. Edit your reblog post and add tags.
  4. Feel free to leave your link multiple times!  It is okay to update your link for more exposure every day if you want.  It is up to you!

  5. Share this post on social media.  Many of my non-blogger friends love that I put the Meet n Greet on Facebook and Twitter because they find new blogs to follow.

Now that all the rules have been clearly explained get out there and Meet n Greet your butts off!

See ya on Monday!!

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The struggle is real

Carolers

Leaving hubby in the idling car while mama and her two girls raced to my porch to sing carols and offer a gift to my house, I was struck with how my little family might appear to someone peeking in the front door.

Our big black dog sniffing the carolers, lil miss edging her way to get to the front of the pack, the taller boys over my shoulder, trying to figure out how to act in this situation, and me at the center. The group on my porch was obviously missing their other adult – and this, therefore, seemed to highlight that ours was missing too. No dad was waiting in the wings. No adult joined me in the center of the doorway. No hubby spontaneously burst out in tenor from the sidelines.

It is fully just me as captain of this house. Of this troop.

When I say ‘we’ I mean the kids and I. When others say it, they mean with their significant other adult.

In the meditation book I’m reading (am I allowed to write what book it is? what are the blogging rules about this?) there is a section on self-definition and probing the edges which cause us hurt. By feeling and experiencing the hurting parts, we can acknowledge our history and let go. And, the next time that part of us is touched, it hurts less because we let go more easily each time.

In exploring my partnerlessness, I felt a little like I was probing around the edges of a bump on my head to check to see how bad the bump really is: gingerly easing up to where I think the hurt is, pressing down every once in a while to see if I’ve hit the hurtiest place yet. I wager that it’s just as challenging being alone (and uncovering feelings and growth edges) as it is to be in a relationship (and finding growth edges as a team – I don’t even know, does that happen in a real relationship?)

And now, oh so many years into my singleness, I think the bump isn’t as sore as I fear(ed). I think that the fear of feeling a hurty spot on my head led to me treating myself more gingerly than I needed to. I wonder whether I am stronger than I thought I was, than I feared I was – because there is a certain amount of comfort and safety in being not-strong. It seems easier to expect less than to struggle and learn and try. Or, at least easier to project that I expect less so I can struggle and learn and try in private so no one needs to know that I am struggling.

At least, I think that’s how I used to be. Recently I don’t mind telling people that I’ve struggled – with my parenting, with my body image, with my organization, with my moods. And y’know what – most people have struggled too (or are still struggling).

Fear is the mind killer.* It is so true.

 

*Dune is one of my favourite books. Thank you Frank Herbert.