I’m An Old Lady and I Don’t Care What Others Think About It!

I’ve started to realize something about myself.  Before getting pregnant I was all about going out and socializing and doing things.  I wasn’t a partyer.  I haven’t been since my early 20s.  But I did like going out for dinners with friends, going to movies, going to concerts and not thinking at all about it being a late night.  I was still a bit of an old lady who wasn’t the biggest fan of doing things on work nights, but I would still often go to the concert even though I knew I would be tired the next day.

Fast forward to now.  34 years old.  Mom of a 2 year old.  Working full time.  This person does not want to socialize at all.  EVER!  If it wasn’t for my husband’s encouragement and organizing, I would likely happily be a hermit at home and not even know my neighbours.  Which is funny considering I always used to say that I wish I lived in a neighbourhood where everyone is connected and knows one another.  Don’t get me wrong.  I love most of our neighbours and a few of them have really stepped up and helped us out during some more difficult moments.  One of them dropped everything when Eddie’s dad was rushed to the hospital and they took our crazy dog for us for a few days.  No hesitation at all on their part.  How amazing is that?!  But, for me, I’m not the stand on the sidewalk and chat with everyone type of person.  When I’m outside with Hunter I’m ok with not running into anyone and ending up in forced conversation.  I’m definitely an introvert in that way.  When friends message and try to make arrangements to do lunch or dinner on the weekend….I’m never heartbroken when it falls through or nothing really comes into fruition.  Occasionally if something falls through when I desperately need a mom-break, I will end up upset.  But it isn’t so much about the socializing…it’s about not getting a chance to not to be a mom for a bit.

If someone mentions going to a concert, the first thing I will do is check the date on the calendar.  If it’s between Monday and Thursday, it’s almost a guaranteed “no” from me.  Especially if it’s at one venue in the city here that is notorious for super late starting concerts, but it’s also one of the best concert venues around.  Friday or Saturday night?  No problem.  It’s easier to be tired over the weekend when I know that I can rely on the third parent…aka TV…for my child while I sit for a while.  But even then, I still am hesitant to commit to anything that makes any night a later night.  I know there is the old saying “you can sleep when you’re dead”…but whoever wrote that saying clearly didn’t have young kids.  Sleep becomes this holy grail.  This thing that you value more than anything in life.  Sure, my kid sleeps through the night, and has for a long time, but he wakes up early….so sleeping in to 10:00 after being at a concert the night before is something that won’t happen for a long time.  Or at least until I can teach him to turn the tv on himself and get his own breakfast.  Still…a long time away.  So when it comes time to be invited to something that could be a later evening, my mind goes through the mental battle of which I would prefer….the couch, a blanket and Netflix….finally getting some time to myself OR dressing up, loud restaurant/bar and trying to socialize through the exhaustion.  9 times out of 10….the couch wins out.  Thankfully, as long as I make sure I go to things here and there, Eddie doesn’t mind so much when I pull the “stay home” card.  Because usually when I pull that card, he’s secretly hoping I will because he’s tired too.  The difference between the two of us is that he’s someone who will go to almost everything he’s invited to, even if he’s tired and doesn’t truly want to go.  So it’s my responsibility to make the stay home decision for both of us and he happily obliges.

When it comes to drinking, I can say that I haven’t been to the point of drunk in over 2 years.  When Hunter was 3 months old we went to a concert with new parent friends of ours and we had a fair amount of wine before the concert and then, because we were in box seats at the stadium, we shared some wine there too.  It was after this that I learned that mom-ing + hangover do not go hand in hand.  Especially when I’ve never handled hangovers very well in my pre-kid days.  There is no luxury of staying in bed and sleeping it off, or lying on the couch feeling miserable.  That kid needs my attention and help and I would somehow have to push through it, despite feeling like total and utter shit.  Since that day at the end of November 2015, I have kept my consumption levels low.  Two glasses of wine max at most things.  I’ve gotten tipsy, but I’ve never let myself get out of control to the point where it will be hangover time the next day.  Eddie pokes fun at me when I say I’m not drinking so I can drive.  He goes “that means no fun andrea is coming”.  Which isn’t entirely true.  But sober Andrea likes to come home earlier than drinking Andrea…so maybe there is some truth to it.  I don’t really care.  It just isn’t worth it to me anymore because for as much fun as I could have enjoying a night out of heavier alcohol consumption….the feeling for the entire next day just takes it all away.  The fun night is forgotten in a haze of dehydration, nausea and even more tiredness.

Now that I’ve made myself sound like a 100% total downer that nobody wants to hang out with.  Rest assure that I DO actually socialize.  I DO actually go to things when invited.  And I DO actually, occasionally, message people I haven’t seen in a while to meet up.  And when I’m doing these things, I push the exhaustion and dreams of my couch aside and I make sure that I have a good time.  Just because I’m a little old tired lady on the inside, it doesn’t mean that everyone needs to know that I would rather be in my PJs, watching tv!!

Proof I do go out! Just a few weeks ago we got glammed up and went to a masquerade gala fundraiser!



Me, Me, Me!

To spare you all from another post whining about sleep, here is a change up!

I posted a little while ago that I was starting to work with a food coach to try to get myself on track to losing the many pounds I gained during pregnancy and post pregnancy.  Everyone talked about how breastfeeding makes the weight fall off.  But what they don’t mention is that you probably shouldn’t be going and drinking a grande vanilla latte almost every day while on mat leave as well as indulge in other many treats because you think that breastfeeding will counteract that eating.  I didn’t gain much while on mat leave, but I gained enough that I now have to work to take it back off.  My body seems to be really great at gaining weight, but not so great with losing weight.

BUT, since working with the food coach I’ve been significantly more conscious of what I’m consuming.  I’m still reporting my weight to him every day, and it’s a pain in the ass, and I hate that my life has become about stepping on the scale daily.  But it holds me accountable.  I have been working with him since mid-October and to date I have lost 10 pounds.  Now….November kind of messed everything up.  With the unexpected death of my father in law, the emotional eating, more emotional eating and more emotional eating, I gained back about 5 of the pounds that I had lost.  Not bad in the grand scheme of things considering how much I was eating and doing the “I don’t give a shit” mentality.  I guess stress was helping me out for once with that.  I’m technically on week 2 of losing that weight again and I’m happy to see that it’s slowly creeping off.  Slow and steady is what the food coach wanted to see.  For my 10 pound loss reward, I took myself to get fake eyelashes put on.  The ones that are supposed to last a few weeks.  It was something girly to do for myself since I’m hardly ever girly.  Now I work towards my 15 pound reward, which is either a pair of workout tights or cute top from a local company that I’ve been drooling over online.  I really want to hit the 15 pound mark before Christmas.  The hardest part is avoiding all of the chocolate amazingness that is going around my office right now.  I get to 2:00 and suddenly my brain thinks that I absolutely need that chocolate to get through the remaining 1 hour 45 minutes of work.  Chocolate is dangerous!!  More addictive than cocaine.  Or so my food coach likes to tell me.  He’s likely just trying to use scare tactics!

I haven’t been perfect with my eating.  I’m supposed to be 100% sugar free (besides fruit) still but it hasn’t stopped the occasional piece of chocolate from slipping into my mouth.  I’m not perfect.  I’m trying hard to wean myself off of the chocolate as I definitely felt significantly better and more energetic when I was sugar free.  I am also on a thyroid medication now that I’m finally consistently taking.  My naturopath said my bloodwork came back showing that my thyroid is performing just a little slower than it should be so she wants me to do three months of the medication and then I will do another blood test to see if the medication helped.  So I’ve finally buckled down and started taking it every day like I should have been doing since the end of October.  On top of that, I’m also using a progesterone cream every night to try to balance out my hormone levels.  My drastically changing hormones are one of the reasons I am getting migraines these days since I’m quite good at avoiding my trigger foods.  So we are working towards getting those balanced out.  Part of me thinks that the thyroid meds are helping with the slow and steady weight loss.  My naturopath did say that I would probably see some change after a month of taking them as the thyroid is quite responsible for weight gain or weight loss, depending on what the issue is with it.

One thing I have tried to remain consistent with is at the start of every week making my breakfasts, lunches and snacks for the entire week.  So I just grab them out of the fridge and go.  I’m learning to not mind reheated scrambled eggs.  But only if they have cheese shredded on top of them!  My meals are all remaining low carb, and what carbs are there are the carbs found in veggies and fruit.  On the weekend I will allow myself some bread or pasta, but otherwise I try to keep it to the carb percentage that the food coach asks for.  My lunches for the last two weeks have been chicken, cauliflower rice (grilled up and seasoned) and then some steamed veggies (brussel sprouts, red pepper, broccoli).  It gets a bit boring by the end of the week, but it’s keeping me consistent.

I also haven’t been to the gym in over two weeks.  Not happy about that.  But with Hunter’s insane change in his sleep it has meant no early morning gym sessions for me.  And by the time evening rolls around and he’s in bed, all I want to do is get his lunch made and then lie on the couch and be a zombie because I’m so tired.  I have to find some way to push through that and get my butt to the gym in the evening now though.  It’s way easier said than done.

Wrapping up this really uneventful post now.  Sorry it’s so insanely boring to those who actually took the time to read it!

And It Goes On and On and On…

So, the sleep thing didn’t get much better over the weekend.  I kept hoping that Saturday morning would roll around and we would all wake up rested and happy because he decided to sleep, sleep, sleep!!  That was not the case at all.  Not remotely.

I had posted in a mom’s Facebook group looking for tips on WTF I should do about this new and fun sleep issue we are going through.  I got a lot of suggestions like:

  • Put him to bed later
  • Put him to bed earlier
  • Drop his nap
  • Get him lots of fresh air during the day
  • Minimize screen time in the evening
  • Give him a bath before bed
  • Bring him into bed with us
  • Let him cry it out
  • Buy a gro-clock
  • Move him into a “big boy bed”
  • It’s just a phase so adapt to it and try not to let the exhaustion ruin the day
  • Etc, etc, etc

So many tips so we decided to work our way down the list.  We first started with him going to bed earlier.  Yeah….that one failed because I don’t finish work until 4:00, it’s a 15 minute drive to his daycare, then rounding him up from the daycare takes another 15+ minutes depending on how much he doesn’t want to leave (the kid never wants to leave daycare).  Then the 50 minute commute home.  Usually 40 minutes, but with the weather getting colder, wetter and soon to be snowier, and more tourists on the highway heading up to the ski hills…it makes for a much slower drive.  So we aren’t getting home until well after 5:30.  Throw in getting dinner into him and then some play time and then bedtime routine, it’s next to impossible to have him in bed before his usual 7:00/7:15 time.  We tried one night and it felt so rushed.  Hunter barely ate any dinner because we were trying to hurry the routine along.  He picked up on our anxiousness and started acting out.  This plan clearly did not work for any of us.

Going to bed later was likely the BIGGEST disaster one.  We took him to the Santa Claus parade in our town.  It was pouring rain but we are in a small town and events like these rely on community interest, so we bundled up and headed to the parade.  He had a blast at it and was excited to see Santa at the end.  By the time we got home it was 8:20.  By the time he was in bed it was about 8:40.  We thought we were in for a win with this one.  What could possibly go wrong?  Well…EVERYTHING went wrong.  He woke up at 11:00 crying and screaming for us.  He hasn’t woken up in the middle of the night in a very, very, very long time.  I rushed in there thinking that something was wrong.  He immediately pointed at the door and started repeating “mama bed” to me.  He wanted to come in our bed.  That’s not something we want to create a habit of so I stuck to my guns and said no, that he has to stay in his special bed.  He wasn’t buying it.  I also refused to sit in his room until he fell asleep.  Another habit I didn’t want to form.  It was then that I heeded the advice of my friend and declared to Eddie that we need to re-sleep train him.  We started the “Cry It Out” method that I did with him when he was 5 months old.  Let him cry for 10 minutes, go in and calm him, leave the room, repeat as needed.  When he was 5 months old he picked up on it so fast that he calmed down in 40 minutes and went to sleep.  He was a perfect sleeper from that point on.  I thought that would be the case this time.  But….not so much.  It took over 2 hours.  2 HOURS!!!!!  My oh-so-supportive husband kept falling asleep during the 10 minute intervals, while I sat anxiously on the edge of the bed having his cries piercing my heart over and over again.  Eventually I realized that going into his room was just making the situation worse, so I stopped going in.  After about 12 minutes of crying he sat down.  A few minutes later he was still sitting really still and quietly.  I zoomed the camera in on him and I could tell, even with his back to me, that he was sleeping sitting upright!  This made me nervous, but I wasn’t daring to go in to lay him down.  Eventually he fell over and bumped his head on the crib wall and woke himself up.  The crying started again.  This time I had to go in and check on him because it was a pretty serious thump noise I heard when his head hit.  It took another 15 minutes of him crying, while lying down, before he fell asleep again.  By this point it was 1:30 in the morning.  I was wired and didn’t fall asleep until 2:00.  One would think that with that chaotic night he would sleep later.  Nope.  5:00 rolled around and he was up and ready to party.  Thankfully Eddie agreed to get up with him and they settled in downstairs for cartoons and cozy blanket time while I slept until 9:00.  Saturday was awful because we were both so tired and grumpy.  We were snapping at each other constantly.  Thankfully my husband was the calmer one of the two of us and kept reminding me that we were both tired and irritable and we need to be each other’s support…not make each other the attack victim.  Despite the general mood, we got out of the house and took Hunter for a hike in the rainy forest.  It was great, he loved it and mom and dad got to sip on coffee while we hiked.  Hiking with a 2 year old is the only time you can get away with carrying along a coffee cup!  Snail’s pace hiking!

Last night he battled bedtime like nobody’s business.  He was tired, but he had no interest in going to bed in his own bed.  He kept pointing to the door, again, saying “mama bed”…thinking we were going to bed too and he wanted to come in the bed with us.  It took us swapping back and forth taking turns and letting him cry it out while comforting him every 10 minutes.  He threw all of his blankets and stuffies on the ground and just wasn’t buying it.  Eventually I gave in and sat down in the chair and stayed in there until he fell asleep.  I didn’t need to eat my dinner while it was hot right?  I figured that he never does this, so something is clearly going on and he just simply needed the comfort of his mom there.  So I caved.

The “big boy bed” comment is one we’ve been discussing here and there for a little while.  We have a really nice big bed for him in our storage locker.  It’s brand new and ready to go when we want to make the move.  The husband is all for it, but I’m hesitant.  I know that moving him into a bed that doesn’t keep him blocked in requires a whole bunch more “sleep training” to teach him about staying in it and whatnot.  A friend also said that now isn’t the time to move him while he’s already in such turmoil with his sleep, adding another thing in the mix will only make it worse.  Theoretically.  Either way I think we have to wait until after Christmas, as we are out of town for about a week and we need to ensure that he will sleep in his travel crib…not get used to being in a regular kid bed.  We both agreed to play out this week and see how it goes, then discuss the regular bed thing again.

The bath before bed hasn’t worked because he has suddenly decided that he wants to talk all about bubble baths….but once I get one filled up and all his toys in it, he flat out refuses to go in it.  I usually have to chase him to strip his clothes off of him and shove him in the tub and quickly lather down his body and hair with soap and shampoo, wash it out while he screams bloody murder while scrambling to try to get out of the gas chamber bath tub.  It’s truly a joyous time at bath time.

Fresh air hasn’t worked either.  On Sunday we loaded our quad into the back of my truck and headed into the mountains to find some cedar branches and small trees to work on decorating the front entrance of our house for Christmas.  We were gone from 11:00 to 3:00 and in the fresh, cold mountain air the entire time.  It was an awesome day.  But….he still fought bedtime and then woke up just before 6:00.  *sigh*  We can’t win here!!

I ordered a Gro-Clock from Amazon the other day and that should arrive tomorrow.  I’m doubtful it will work for his age as it seems that he should have a small concept of time and night vs. day in order to understand it.  But I’m willing to give anything a shot at this stage.

Otherwise…we will just continue to ride this one out and hope that it’s just a regression because he’s taken a major leap in his speech lately.  Learning leaps can often cause major regressions.  There has to be a light at the end of this tunnel we’ve been in for a few weeks now.  Every night I’m going to bed and pep talking myself to not let him waking up early get to me.  I repeat this over and over again.  I’m going to readjust my workout schedule to going to the gym at 8:00 at night.  Which will take away all of my relaxation time that I so desperately need in the evenings.  But I also need the sanity that getting my blood flowing brings too.  Once he’s back onto his normal schedule…if that ever happens…I will go back to going in the morning.  If the evenings don’t work, then I will have to talk to the husband about how we can manage mornings when I need to gym and Hunter is awake early.  How he will get through the shower and whatnot even though Hunter is awake.  We will figure it out.  Right now we are just clinging to the hope that change will happen soon.  Keeping our fingers crossed.

People Suck

Ok November…I’m about done with you.  Time to pack your things up and go home.  You’ve overstayed your welcome.

Thank god today is the last day of November.  I don’t think it could have been any harder than it has been.  I’ve written all about it in various other whining posts, but today the month hit a lower moment for me.

It started with Hunter waking up at 4:23.  4 fucking 23 in the morning.  My husband says that he was actually awake closer to 4 but he was quiet for a while before he started calling out for me.  It doesn’t matter though because there was still a freaking 4 on the clock when I had to haul my exhausted ass out of bed to go deal with him.  I walked into his room and said out loud “Seriously?? Why are you awake???”  I then tried to coax him to lie back down because it was still night time and he needed to go to sleep.  He flat out said “No.  Bed.”  I said he needed to lie his head back down and mommy will sing a song.  Again he said “No.  Bed.”  I had no idea what he wanted.  He then started to point to the door.  I figured out that he was saying he wanted to come in OUR bed.  It goes against everything I’ve ever wanted to do as a parent, but, as they say, things change once you’re actually in the situation.  And because I’m so beyond tired, I picked him and his giant bunny up and brought him into our room.  I was ok with him being in our bed as it’s king sized and loads of room.  But of course he wanted to lie right on top of me.  There went my chance at being able to go back to sleep.  I love cuddles…but when those cuddles involve a knee propped up on my already delicate bladder, and an elbow into my boob…those cuddles aren’t so nice.  But he was asleep…and that’s what we needed to happen.  Except….I didn’t fall back asleep.  Instead I lay there and pep talked myself into not letting this get to me and ruin my morning.  To not get angry and show up to work cranky because of it.  To just let it go and that it’s just a phase.  Just a phase.  Just a phase.  I keep trying to remind myself of that.  When my alarm went off at 5:30, he woke up with me and I put him on the couch with some milk and Pepa Pig and I proceeded with my new routine of using my handheld mirror and sitting on the couch in the dimly lit living room doing my makeup and hair for the day.  I don’t love that in the process of trying to do the tv detox for him, we are back to relying on it to get through our morning.  Part of me thought about just waiting to get to work and using the bathroom there to put my face on for the day, but that involves organization of packing all of my makeup up and in my tired state it just seemed too complicated.  Eddie got through the shower and came downstairs and took over Hunter duties while I snuck out of the house.  I hate that I’m not getting to say goodbye to him, but if I do, he will figure out I’m leaving and it will cue a colossal meltdown.  So I sneak out the door ever so quietly.

I stopped and bought myself a coffee for the drive and I picked an upbeat country (don’t judge) playlist to crank up and cruise in the dark rain to work to.  I sang along a bit, I pep talked myself some more to wake up and make it a decent day and to not focus on the bags under my eyes and the endless tired feeling.  It was a good drive.

But then shit hit the fan when I was about 1 km away from work.  I exited off the highway and started driving up the mountain (where my office is) and as I was coming up to another spot where people exit off the highway from a different direction, a silver truck pulled out dangerously right in front of me.  The ground is soaking wet right now.  It’s been raining for weeks…if not months straight here.  I leaned on my horn at him because I’m in a large pickup truck and my ability to slow down with its weight and with the wet ground is harder.  I then backed off and continued to follow him up the mountain.  I was hoping he was headed to the ski hill that’s further up, but no….he was turning into my work place.  The word “fuck” might have slipped out of my mouth when I realized that I work at the same place as this truck driver.  No big deal right?  I’m sure he realized his mistake and let it slide.  That wasn’t the case.  He pulled further into our work property and then stopped at the open gate where I couldn’t go around him.  He then got out of his truck and came over to mine and started losing it on me.  He flipped out saying that it’s a merge and I’m supposed to give way to him.  It’s not.  It’s a yield and he legally was supposed to give way to me.  He accused me of speeding up so he couldn’t merge safely.  I didn’t.  I was coming off of a very tight corner and I was simply increasing my speed to the speed limit of the road.  I wasn’t being malicious.  I was following the law.  I told him I was going the speed limit and his response was “like fuck you were”.  I said I’m not a reckless driver and I know I was going the speed limit and that I didn’t do anything wrong.  He then walked away yelling “give me a break” at me.  At this point, I’m not proud of myself, but I yelled back “give me a fucking break”.  There were two people standing right there witnessing it all go down.  I burst into tears, like the softy I am, and drove around to my parking spot and called my husband in tears saying I want to go home.  He calmed me down but insisted that I speak to the head manager of my department and file a complaint about being harassed on work property.  I feel like harassed is a strong word, but it was definitely inappropriate and uncalled for.  I eventually felt ok enough to get out of my truck and go inside.  But the moment I saw my closest co-worker friend I burst into tears again.  She hauled me into one of the boardrooms here and let me sob through my whole story.  I swear I wouldn’t have been this emotional if I wasn’t so tired.  Usually I would be angry and rage-full…not a crying mess.  She tried to piece together who it might have been, because I didn’t recognize the guy.  She started listing off names of people I know and it was definitely none of them.  She talked me off my emotional ledge and sent me back to my desk.  A little while later one of the other managers and the person who is acting for my manager while she’s away came to ask me a question and my puffy cry face was clearly obvious so they asked me if I was ok.  I went into the whole story again, minus the tears.  They didn’t really say or do much, which was fine because I didn’t want them to be involved if I was going to talk to the head manager.  About half an hour later my acting manager told me to grab my coat and come with her.  We jumped into one of the work trucks and we drove up to the parking area where our “outside staff” (guys who don’t work in the office but are out in the field) park and she got me to point out which truck it was.  She then took pictures and said she was going to ask around about the driver.  She said that we can’t do anything about his asshole driving, but because the way he dealt with me on work property was worth writing up a formal complaint about.  She said it’s a version of harassment and nobody should be talking to their colleagues, even if we work in different departments, like that.  I kind of backtracked at the mention of making a formal complaint.  I’m a passive person.  I don’t like creating upheaval.  I don’t like knowing that people WILL be talking about it and about me.  I might like hearing about other people’s drama, because it doesn’t involve me, but I don’t like being the cause of any drama.  Anyway, she told me to trust her and that she will go through the right channels and processes and it won’t cause any kind of a scene.  It’s been a bit funny though because I now have seen how many people actually like and respect me around here as one person went and talked to a couple others, asked them to keep it quiet, and they have jumped into action trying to figure out who the driver is.  I am always a smiling, happy, helpful co-worker who is ready to joke around about anything, so I know that if people hear about this guy losing it on me, they will tell him off.  I, of course, don’t want it going around the workplace as I’m just not into that.  But considering two of the most gossipy department staff members were standing right there and saw it all, I’m sure it’s already circulating.  All I want is the guy to get a slap on the hand and a good telling off.  I don’t want an awkward apology.  I don’t want to have to face him.  It’s a case of road rage and his lack of understanding what traffic signs mean.  It’s a giant misunderstanding on his end.  I just want him dealt with and then this all let go.  And I never want to pull into work in tears ever again either.

As you can see, I don’t deal with confrontation well.  I’m a gentle soul (as my dad says) and when someone yells, I back down.  After the fact, I can think of everything I should have said to him about it being a yield, not a merge and about my speed and whatnot, but I wish I was able to clearly state that at the time instead of becoming a blubbering idiot who ended it with a solid F bomb yelled back at him.  Not my proudest moment, but I’m sure it wasn’t his proudest moment either.  I’ve never understood why some people with road rage actually get out of their vehicles to verbally attack someone.  You see it in the news all the time.  Maybe he thought I followed him into work but wasn’t a staff member.  Maybe he was prepared to really get into it because of that.  Maybe he thought I was a guy because I drive a giant black pickup truck and he was prepared to argue with a guy.  But when he saw it was a woman driver, he decided to still go at me.  Either way, man or woman, it doesn’t matter.  Just stay in your freaking vehicle, take a deep breath, chalk it up to someone being a shitty driver, and keep driving.  What good is going to come out of getting out and losing it on someone else?  Is your life that shitty that you think that is the way to deal with things?  It’s mind boggling to me, to say the least.  I’m now worried that he’s going to egg my truck or do something to it because clearly he has anger management issues.  It’s parked right on a ramp where company outside workers drive up and down numerous times a day, so it’s going to stick out like a sore thumb as it’s the only truck that parks there.  Big ol’ target right there.  I’m probably worrying about nothing.

But, I have some amazing coworkers who are jumping to help me get this dick head dealt with and who have offered me coffees and treats to stop my tears earlier, which is all really nice.  It isn’t that big of an incident.  In fact, it’s tiny in the grand scheme of things.  But it’s nice to know that I have people who care enough about me to help me out.  So that is one positive I can take from this shitty, shitty morning.

We have some fun things in the works for the weekend, so I’m trying hard to focus on that so I can finish off this month with some positivity.  I know Hunter will get back to his old sleeping habits.  I know my sanity will be restored.  I know this isn’t an indicator of how the next however many months are going to play out.  I know that it will all be ok and that this month has just simply been a test of my own strength and ability to overcome things.  As one of my favourite quotes, from a kids movie goes, “just keep swimming.  Just keep swimming.”

He’s Hooked!

The husband and I have finally found a show that we actually want to watch together.  We rarely, rarely settle down on the couch in the evening and watch tv because I’m normally bustling around getting chores done or preparing Hunter’s lunch and my meals for the next day.  But since I’ve become more efficient and have been doing meal prep for the entire week for my work day meals, I have found myself with some extra time in the evenings.  Usually Eddie will be watching something man-ish that I have no interest in so I will grab the iPad and head upstairs to the bedroom where I will watch some Netflix and a show that I actually enjoy but he doesn’t.  It doesn’t create any great bonding time between us when we both spend the final hours of our day in separate rooms, but neither of us seemed to mind as we both get to unwind the way we wanted to.

But….I then made the mistake of throwing an episode of Grey’s Anatomy on Netflix one night.  A show I have been watching on my iPad.  It’s been fun catching up as I haven’t watched it since probably season 2 ended.  It’s good, mindless fun.  Exactly what I need at the end of the day.  However, on this particular night where I settled in for a small binge watching session, Eddie came home from his meeting earlier than expected, heated up some dinner and plopped down next to me on the couch and started watching.  He was asking questions to get caught up.  He was doing running commentary of “Ohhhhh SNAP” when characters were being bitchy.  He was that guy that you don’t want watching tv with you because he’s frigging annoying!  But after about 45 minutes he suddenly went quiet and was totally absorbed into it.   He.was.hooked.

We are now a week later and in the evening he will sit eagerly on the couch and look back at me in the kitchen and ask when I’m coming to sit down.  I poke fun at him saying he just wants to watch more Grey’s Anatomy.  He tries to deny it, but I know the truth.  Because once my butt hits that couch, he’s loading up my Netflix account and turning Grey’s on.  I never thought of it as a man interest type of show.  It’s a drama full of love triangles but with blood and guts and gore and weird medical mysteries.  He is weirdly involved in their love life story lines and opinionated on who is a better fit together.  This, coming from the guy who loves the Narcos gang land series that is on Netflix or more deep shows like House of Cards.

His infatuation with Grey’s Anatomy has become so strong that when I pull the plug at 10:00….he stays up and keeps watching.  He made me stay up until 11:30 with him the other night because he couldn’t pry himself away.  I’m finding that I’m having to sneak in some watching time when I do cardio at the gym or when he isn’t home so I can watch the episodes I missed when he stayed up later than me.  Because no way will he re-watch those with me….or wait to watch episodes with me!  The guy is an addict!  And when I tell him I’m shutting it down for the night or don’t have time to watch one evening, he will sit there and whine to me about how it’s “our thing” to watch it together and that we are bonding.  I might be the only one to find this amusing because I know how my husband is this big strong man who likes dude things….but then has this little Grey’s Anatomy secret.

In a month where things have been a little (or a lot) on the challenging side, I have to find little things like this to enjoy and laugh over.  It will help me somehow keep my sanity!

Lots O’ Thoughts

I’ve mentioned a few times in my blog that I’m in the “one and done” group when it comes to having kids.  I’ve also mentioned that my husband would love to have a second child but has been staying oddly mum over it which has left me wondering what his thoughts are on it.  So on Saturday evening, after our dinner guests all left, I found a way to bring the subject up with him.

And let’s just say, I was met with more or less a brick wall.  I couldn’t get anything out of him.  He basically said that he knows where I stand on it, he doesn’t necessarily like it or agree with it, but I’m his wife and he has to respect my choice.  I tried a different angle, and I got the same response word for word.  I tried to ask him if one day he is going to resent me for making this decision for us, and again, I didn’t get much of an answer out of him.  He just plain and simple didn’t want to get into a conversation about it.  I told him that someday we are going to have to have a conversation about it so he can truly understand where I’m coming from and so he can learn to respect my decision.  Right now, if I’m not with him, he tells people that we haven’t decided on having more kids, when they ask him.  If I’m around, he leaves it up to me to answer and he just stays quiet.

I’m wanting him to respect my decision and appreciate that I’m strong enough to actually come to this conclusion on my own.  That I’m listening to my own self and not making my own life suffer because society says that families should have more than one child.  That the child will need someone to help them out when we pass over to the other side.  But watching Eddie during the passing of his own father, and how little his brother did to support him or take some of the burden of all the work that needs to be done, and now how they are already back into not really speaking to one another again…it makes me shake my head that people use this “a child needs a sibling to help deal with a parent’s death” theory.  There are no guarantees that as kids, teenagers or adults our kids will be remotely close.  So why push out another kid hoping for a companion for the other one?

I’m digressing a bit here.  I want Eddie to try to understand where my head has been at mentally for the last two years.  How much I struggle.  How much of the job I do myself and how little he truly does in comparison.  Don’t get me wrong, he is a good dad, loves his son, loves spending time with him, but in the grand scheme of things, it’s me that has fed and diapered this kid the most and spent endless hours on weekends entertaining him because eddie is doing work on the house or working on the start-up of his own company.  I do wonder how much of that he truly understands?  Because if he did….wouldn’t he be ok with my decision?

But then I realized the other day that just like I have my own strong desire to not have any more kids…Eddie has his own paternal instinct of wanting more.  He loves his son so much that he wants to spread that love on to another child too.  So I have to find some way to respect what he wants too.  It doesn’t mean that I’m going to have another kid just to keep him happy.  It just means that I will have to find a way to make one child work for him, to the point where he can’t imagine having to share his love with anyone else.  That’s attainable right?!

When Hunter was born, Eddie was immediately besotted with him.  He wanted to hold him, cuddle him, nap with him and do everything father and son should do together.  He told him numerous times a day that he loves him.  Then there was me….a few days in I told my mom that I didn’t want him and wished I could change my mind and send him back.  This wasn’t because he was a bad baby.  He was actually pretty good.  This was my own postpartum depression or baby blues (hard to say which it was as it lasted quite some time).  Part of the reason I feel so strongly with the “one and done” is because I didn’t get that immediately in love feeling that so many women post all over their facebook accounts the moment their child is born.  I did obligatory photos, but they were never about how much I love him.  Heck, it took me almost 3 months to tell him I love him.  And even then, it was hard to do.  I didn’t bond immediately to him like a woman is supposed to.  It was a hard mental game to deal with.  I never sat there staring at his sleeping self with heart exploding feeling.  Sure, I took the pictures because he looked cute, but not because I wanted to squish him I was so in love with him.  I didn’t truly love the baby phase of life because I emotionally missed those first few intense emotions that so many others get to have.  So is it because of this that I’m kind of “meh” about having another baby of my own?  Is it because I was, and still am, so tired that I couldn’t imagine having to deal with a small baby as well as a toddler when I’m already so exhausted?  Is it because if I were to have a second, I would likely quit my job and become a stay home mom because with how little I earn, I would be going to work for free because it would all go to child care.  And being a stay home mom holds zero interest to me so is that a big pulling factor?  Is it because I hated being pregnant one of the reasons?  It is the intense migraines I was getting during pregnancy that landed me in hospital twice the reason?  Is it how pregnancy destroyed my body to the point of being unrecognizable to me?  Is it because quite often I mourn the loss of our freedom as a couple without kids?  Is it because I’m 34 years old, turning 35 next May, and if I was to get pregnant early next year, I will be nearing 36 years old by the time baby is born, and I have never in my life envisioned myself as an older mother?  I’m pretty certain it is pretty much everything I listed above…and then some.

I just wish that my husband would explain that he respects my decision even if he doesn’t like it.  Isn’t that what husbands are supposed to do?  I feel like I’m letting him down in a way.  I now worry that one day he’s going to resent the fact that I wouldn’t give him another child and it’s going to affect our marriage.  I know it’s something we can talk through, but I just hope that he will actually talk to me about it instead of burying it deep so one day it comes out in an argument and ends up hurting me.  I guess I just need to gently press on it every now and then to ensure that our understanding is on solid ground right now.  It’s tough.  I don’t know many people in my situation where the woman wants to stop but the man wants more kids.  So I don’t even really have anyone to talk to about it.  One day I will want to have the conversation about a permanent birth control with him, but how do you convince the guy who still wants more babies that one of us needs to get something done to prevent future unwanted babies from only one of us?  That will be a big “hell no” from Eddie.

I guess I tried to have the conversation, he didn’t want to have it, so I have to chalk it up as a failed attempt and we will just continue along as we are.  He isn’t pressuring me to do something I don’t want, and I’m not bringing it up with him to make him uncomfortable.  Maybe I will try again in a few months. Now if only the entire world would just stop asking us if we are going to have another kid.


I’m tired.  So tired.

This whole full time working mom gig is running me ragged.  The dark, rainy days are sucking everything out of me.  Sitting all day at work is making my body hate me.  I’m feeling like the happy, lighthearted moments aren’t existing as much in the last few weeks as they have been in the past.  Sure, we have had some heavy stuff to deal with, with my father in law’s unexpected passing.  So that really doesn’t help things.  But the thing that is killing me the most, still, is Hunter’s sleeping.

This weekend he woke up both days much too early.  On Saturday it was 5:45 and on Sunday it was 6:15.  Both times I went into his room and explained to him that it’s still night time (a slight lie) and that he needed to go back to sleep.  Both times he laid back down and then pointed to the reclining chair in his room and demanded mama sit.  Both times I was too tired to deal with him sobbing when I left the room so I caved and reclined the comfy chair, tossed a blanket over me and tried to sleep some more while he lightly snoozed in his crib.  On Saturday I managed to keep him in his crib until around 7:15, but Sunday he was up and ready to party by 6:50.  This makes for a very.long.day.  Especially considering he only naps for maybe an hour during the day, so it’s not even a decent enough break.  On Saturday morning he actually wanted his dad for a little bit, so I eagerly climbed back into bed while he finally got the call out from him son.  But within ten minutes he was back in our room saying Hunter was now crying for me.  *sob*

 The worst part about this is that I can’t even drink coffee to help me get through the day.  *double sob*

The long days were filled with too much screen time while I bustled about trying to finally get on top of household chores that got abandoned while we dealt with the death in the family.  Then I would take Hunter out into the bucketing down rain while he gleefully splashed in the endless, deep puddles in our neighbourhood.  He didn’t care that he was soaked to the bone.  Mama did care.  Overall, despite these early wakeups, he’s still a pretty happy kid, so I gotta give him some credit on that.

But this morning I hit breaking point.  I woke up early so I could throw a headlamp on and take both dogs out for a good walk before leaving for work.  It wasn’t raining, the stars were out…it was gearing up to be a great idea.  This was 5:15.  I let the dogs out of the room at 5:25 and was trying to be super, super sneaky not making a sound so Hunter would stay asleep.  Our shit for brains puppy (she’s 1.5 years old) decided it was an optimal time to start making a ton of noise right outside of Hunter’s bedroom door AND wack her long tail on the door repeatedly.  Cue the calls for mama coming out of Hunter’s room.  5:30 in the morning and the bleeping dog was responsible for waking the kid up this time.  I rushed the dogs downstairs, where the dog we just took on board (my late father in law’s dog) promptly lifted a leg and peed on the laundry basket at the foot of the stairs.  I lost it on him and shoved his face into the pee puddle.  I know you’re not supposed to do that these days when it comes to dog training, but he’s been peeing in the house so much that I’m at my wits end with cleaning it up.  So there I was, 5:30 in the morning, scrubbing the floor downstairs, while my child wailed upstairs for me.  I ran upstairs and Eddie was just going into Hunter’s room to get him, so I ran back downstairs and put the dogs out in the yard.  Of course this is when the shit for brains puppy decides it’s time to start barking incessantly.  Our neighbours houses are quite close to ours, and on one side of us are a couple with a 6 day old baby.  They are already sleep deprived and now the shit head dog next door is losing her mind barking.  I ran out into the yard in my slippers and pyjamas and scolded her and hauled her back into the house.  At this point Hunter and Eddie were downstairs and I warmed up some milk for Hunter and tossed on Peppa the Pig.  I broke the morning rules of no TV.  But how else was I supposed to get ready for the day?  Stress levels were still high.  The dogs were still being brats.  I ended up leaving for work and I forgot my breakfast and lunch in the fridge.  It was just a bad start to the day and we were all already tired because of the early mornings all weekend.  I ended up caving and I stopped at Starbucks on my way and got a mocha.  Which goes against the “no sugar” rule my food coach has for me.  What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

The other thing that is draining me completely is having two needy dogs following me around all the freaking time.  I got used to having our puppy be my shadow and I assumed that the other dog would actually glue on to my husband considering they were more bonded prior to him coming to live with us.  But no…it’s the opposite.  The dog bonded to me.  Everywhere I go they are both with me.  If I close the door to a room, K-dog is pawing at it, whimpering trying to get to me.  Our puppy is used to the routine so she goes and lies down nearby if the door is closed.  But Kiefer dog continues to whimper and is distraught that he can’t see me.  From wake up to bedtime I always have someone with me.  And during those hours I’m not at work and Hunter isn’t in bed, I have three someones all trying to sit on my lap at once.  If I’m in the kitchen cooking, there is always a dog under foot that I’m constantly telling to get out of the kitchen.  It’s like I can’t catch a break where I’m just, simply, alone.

I wish I could say that things will calm down and we will become more rested and sane, but we are now headed into the thick of Christmas and things are, no doubt, going to end up staying busy.  I had Hunter booked for a 9 week, Saturday morning dance class.  We have attended two of the classes.  Next weekend is the last day for it.  I paid $75 for this class and we will have only attended ¼ of the sessions.  That’s how busy things have been.  How do people sign their kids up for things when their lives are so busy?!  I’m so disappointed about the dance class as on the second session Hunter was starting to get more independent and he was starting to follow the leader’s instructions.  He’s the only boy in the class, which I kind of loved.  He was lumbering around like a total boy, while all the girls were wearing pink tutus and prancing daintily around.  Cutest.thing.ever.  But now I’m hesitant to sign him up for anything for a while.  I might wait until Spring and give it a second shot.

The goal can be to just get through winter, stay sane and maybe one day get a bit more rest.

But let me focus on a few positives for a moment.  Pictures always help with that!

We celebrated surviving 4 years of marriage with a carby-delicious dinner out! 
all blacks
My mom (left) me (middle) and my sister were able to get tickets when the New Zealand Maori All Blacks came to town for a game against Canada. We donned our All Blacks apparel and went and cheered on our team
food prep
I have been on my game with my meal prep each week since getting home after the funeral. All clean eating (besides the cheese on the eggs) and the turkey sausage with breakfast. I’m a little obsessed with cauliflower rice.
This handsome little face that photobombed a scenery photo I was trying to take ❤ ❤
hunter boots
He decided he wanted to wear my Hunter boots yesterday morning. He could have used these in the deep puddles!
I tried to relax for a few minutes the other evening and this is what happened. Shit for brains puppy (the black one) staring at me on the couch and Kiefer dog right in my face demanding attention. So is the pile of laundry behind them.