Tag Archives: Parenting

I can’t clean up because…


The top ten reasons why my three-year old can’t clean up her toys…

10. “We still need these for our camp site.”

9. “It’s a lot of work,” or “It’s too tricky.”

8. “Uhhh, you first!”

7. “I can’t see my toys.”

6. “I already did.”

5. “I’m busy cooking onion strawberry soup for dinner.”

4. “My back hurts.”

3. “It hurts when I bend over.”

2. “The baby/sheep/horse/puppy in my belly makes it hard for me to bend down.”

1. “Because mommy likes to clean up my toys!”


One step


Before our sweet Madeleine came along, we got a lot of advice from other parents. Still to this day, the two most important pieces came from a colleague of mine, and a colleague of Eric’s.

A woman at my work said to me, “You are never going to be or feel ready. So just do it when you think it’s right.”

A man at Eric’s work said to him, “When things aren’t going well, don’t worry, they will get better. When things are going well, be warned, they will get worse.” The natural ups and downs described so easily.

When Madeleine arrived, people told us,

“Don’t worry, it will get better.”

“All babies cry.”

“You will get to sleep again.”

Amongst a number of other things. I often reflect on these comments and think that they need some changes.

Don’t worry, it will get better. It might not get better, but you will get better.”

It’s true that as parents, you figure things out, and you get better. But, it’s also true that those memories of the first time spent with your baby are engrained and tough to remove.  When you think you’ve been able to move on, you are expecting a second, and the fear and panic from those days comes rushing back. You remember the isolation, the loneliness, the exhaustion. You remember how it felt as though nobody believed you. You remember the feelings that to so many people, you are simply a carer-of-baby, and not a person who is equally as important as baby.

Then you cross your fingers and pray that next baby will be different. Next baby won’t have colic. Next baby will want to be soothed. Next baby will smile and laugh. Next baby will sleep for longer than an hour at a time when he or she is 9 months old.

But, then you’re hit with the realization, that next baby is the least of your worries, and that first beautiful baby of yours is who you are most worried about. Most people will tell you not to worry, first baby will adapt. But, most people have not lived in your home. Most people have not lived through what you have lived through. Most people don’t can’t understand.

All babies cry. All babies cry. Some cry more than others. Sometimes crying means that something is wrong. You are probably right if you think your baby is crying too much.”

Yes, this is true that all babies cry. It is actually not helpful to tell a new mom that all babies cry. She will be too polite to let you know that this is something she has known for many, many years. She will forgive you for saying something like this, because she knows that you’re just trying to be helpful. She won’t need you to know the myriad of reasons she discovered that her baby cried more than most. She won’t have to, because someone else will have validated her experience for her. She will share the bits and pieces that she’s comfortable sharing, with the people that she feels safe sharing them with.

You will get to sleep again. You will get to sleep again… in 18 years.”

The level of exhaustion I felt in Maddy’s first year is something I’m not sure I will ever experience again. It was a true life lesson in why sleep deprivation is used as a torture method. It was an experience where exhaustion played at sanity. I remember waking up to a crying baby, and physically not being able to move. I would try to will my body to get up, but it was not possible.

Over time, sleep does become more consistent. It’s true that you will sleep more than when baby is 3 months old. But, it’s also true that you might not sleep through the night again for many years. You might have a child that doesn’t sleep, no matter what you do. You might be woken 7 times in a night when your child is 3, on a regular basis. You might have a child who takes hours and hours to settle into sleep, no matter how consistent and routine-based your evening is. Your expectations of sleep will change – and you will somehow figure out how to be productive with all of that waking. You will let your body be your guide, and take it easy when it needs you to.

The last three years have been a time of ups and downs, with unexpected curves, and needed plateaus. It has been a time of wild growth, and of deep love. We have learned, we have been hurt, we have been tested, and we have been cared for.

There was a time that I wasn’t sure that I could manage a second baby. There was a hesitant decision to listen to our hearts. Now there is fear and uneasiness. We are entering a kind of work and preparation I never thought I would need to do to expand our family, but we are showing up each day, and taking one step at a time.



Peaks and valleys


I’ve been having a rough go emotionally the last little while. I’ve sat down a few times to blog, but couldn’t get the words quite right. The last couple of months have thrown us some twists.  A family vacation that was more difficult than we imagined, despite our endless preparations for it. Repercussions from our family vacation. Follow-up visits with some of our lovely doctors/therapists. Appointments that included information that we weren’t prepared to hear quite yet, and that have left me in a state of confusion and with a feeling of helplessness. A pregnancy that keeps moving forward towards the arrival of a beloved babe, but that sometimes feels like another test to add to our family load. These challenges followed a very lovely and emotionally positive and strong winter – it feels like the a temporary valley. A valley that has its own beauty, even though I’m actively working on climbing out of it.

There are many lovely, amazing things happening right now too – which are acting as an equalizer to this funk. My work hours have reduced to 24 hours a week. Even though I adore my job, I feel like I can breathe and I’m finding balance after a hectic work winter. We are enjoying the summer, spending most of it outdoors, as that is Maddy’s favourite place to be. I am finding strength in my closest friends, in my community, and at home. I have a lovely new haircut thanks to a very talented, long-time friend. Nothing like a new haircut to make you feel like you can take on the world 🙂

The hardest feeling that I’m battling is hurt. As I’m sure any parent reading this will understand, I hurt so deeply when things are hard for Maddy and I can’t fix them. I hurt so deeply when I run out of patience and am not the mom I want to be, especially when I know that the situation that I have lost my patience in is beyond mine, Eric or Maddy’s control. I hurt so deeply, when I’m on the edge of coping, and I have to leave Maddy in a time when she wants me. I worry that she sees it as a punishment for something that isn’t really her fault. I worry that she might use those times to assess her worth or value in this world. I always try to explain when we’re both in a place to talk, but I don’t know if my words are enough.

Parenting is amazing, exhilarating, and incredible, but it sure has tested me more than I expected. Some days it feels like one foot in front of the other is a success to celebrate. Other days I sit and look over the past 3 years and can’t believe what we have accomplished as a family. Every day I love Maddy for exactly who she is, a sometimes over-the-top silly, clever, very inquisitive, strong-willed, determined, active, beautiful little girl. But, there are some days that I wish more than anything that the road was not so hard for her, or us.


Throw a life preserver!


I am so fortunate to adore my job, and the people I work with. I have found a spot where I feel that I can contribute to my community in a positive way. I have found people who are passionate about the same things that I’m passionate about. I interact daily with people who constantly challenge my beliefs, and my assumptions about the world. I am learning every day. To top it off, I am given freedom and flexibility. I really couldn’t ask for much more.

One of the best parts about my job is how I am constantly getting the opportunity  to engage with a diverse group of amazing people. I had a work meeting in Coffee Culture this afternoon with an incredible woman. After the important work things had been accomplished, we had a little extra time to chat about non-work related things.

This woman is spiritual, energetic, passionate, quirky, and very funny. Her energy radiates, and creates waves in the room. She is a joy to be around.

We are very different, but also alike. We have one striking similarity – we both have bleeding hearts (INFP right here, folks). We talked about some of the strengths our sensitivity brings to our life, and also some of its challenges.

We talked about how we often feel as though we’re perceived by others as too soft, too feely, too emotional, too sensitive. But, we connect deeply with those who don’t see us as ‘too’ anything (insert amazing hubby and my dearest girlfriends here). They seem to understand the seemingly irrational side I sometimes have when I can’t quite articulate what I can feel in my soul. 

life-preserverWe talked about the overwhelming emotions we feel when someone close to us is hurting, and how that can impede our ability to hold space for that person. She shared a great metaphor with me about this very situation. She said, “When someone else is hurting, we need to throw them a life preserver instead of jumping on the sinking ship with them.” In other words, we need to hold space for that person so that they can work through their own emotions. We don’t need to talk, or intervene, and we do need to let it be about them and not us.

It all comes full circle, because I shared with her one of the things I’ve learned as Madeleine’s mother. When Maddy is in distress, and unable to calm herself down I used to panic, fear that I was a terrible mother for not being able to help her calm down, and try to intervene. That was my instinct and my gut reaction, but it couldn’t have been more wrong. When I did that, I was making something about me that wasn’t about me. I wasn’t holding space for Maddy.

What I’ve learned, is that when we are in a situation like that, it’s best for me to not say anything at all, not to intervene, and to just be present. If I do say something, it’s likely one of three things, “You are very safe. Mommy is right here,” “I love you when you’re happy, sad and angry,” or “Let me know when you need me to help you calm down.” It’s my way of throwing a life preserver, instead of jumping on the sinking ship.

Now, I’m not perfect, and like all of us I do sometimes make things about me, and react in a way that’s not most effective, but now I am able to reflect back on those times and try to explore what triggered my emotions. I’m much less likely to cry with Madeleine these days, and unless Eric is on deck with Madeleine, I never bury my head under the covers any more. I have learned the skill of holding space.

I see the life preserver metaphor as applying not just to adult relationships, but also those with our children. Our need to want to fix something is about us, and we shouldn’t be putting those needs on someone who is already hurting, or having a hard time. Instead, if we hold space for the person, and we allow their fire to run its course. In the end, we’re all better off.


It’s buggin’ my ears


M: “Mommy, what is that?”

A: “What is what, honey?”

M: “It’s in my ears. What’s the noise?”

A: [Hears dead silence…] “Um, do you hear a noise?”

M: “Yes, turn it off. It’s buggin’ my ears.”

A: “It’s bugging your ears?”

M: “It’s in my ears. What is it?”

A: “I don’t know, bug, I don’t hear anything. I believe that you hear something though. If it’s hurting you, we could get your headphones. Do you want your headphones?”

M: “Yes. I need my headphones.” [Sits happily with headphones for 10 minutes]

People who have a sensory processing disorder do not process their sensory information, like auditory input, the same way people without a sensory processing disorder do. Sounds that don’t hurt us, can hurt them. It is not someone being sensitive, demanding or manipulative. It is someone trying to manage a difficult situation.


I’m an okay mom


I’m an okay mom. Sometimes I’m a great mom, sometimes I’m a lousy mom… so I guess that averages out to being an okay mom. But, you know what? I’m okay with that.

I’m not perfect. I’ve never claimed to be perfect, and I try to embrace my imperfection. I try to live in my vulnerability, so that I can be my genuine self. Imperfections are what make us human. They’re what make us unique. But, it’s a funny thing, once you become a parent, suddenly being imperfect doesn’t feel like it’s good enough anymore.

When I’m at work, if I make a mistake, I own up to it and apologize. If I forget to invite someone to a meeting or event, if I slip past a due date, if I am less than prepared for something than I should be… I say so and apologize. I will apologize to someone in a large meeting, if it is something that deserves that acknowledgement. I apologize, learn, and try to do better. I feel totally comfortable letting people know that it was my mistake, that it was unintentional, and that I am sorry.

When it comes to being a mother, I find it much harder to take that same breezy approach. The consequences just seem so much bigger when the mistake is with a little person who is absorbing what’s around them all day long. Those huge consequences feel overwhelming, and that feeling makes it hard to brush off parenting mistakes.

And, the thing is, raising kids, really brings out our imperfections. Even though they are awe-inspiring and beautiful, raising kids is damn hard. They test every one of our flaws. Sometimes, that testing means that we mess up. We mess up over, and over, and over. I mess up so much, but I think that’s okay, cause it makes me an okay mother.

When we have challenging moments, I sometimes look at Maddy and think to myself, “Yes, you are having a difficult time. Truly, this is something that is HARD for you. This is self-preservation, this is not bad behaviour.” I then remind myself that my reaction to the situation has nothing to do with Maddy and everything to do with my own shit.

This line of thinking has taken me to a great place where I can honestly not care that we don’t brush Maddy’s teeth (or wear winter coats, or wear shoes… you get the point). Teeth brushing is hard for Maddy. But, us wanting to force her to brush her teeth? Well, that’s just control issues. Maddy’s refusal to brush her teeth, that’s self-preservation. Choosing to not force it on her – that’s us dealing with our shit and understanding that this is not about us, it’s about her.

One of the things I’ve really been thinking a lot about is how as Maddy gets older, our number one priority is that she can advocate for herself. She can demand accommodations if she needs them. If she doesn’t learn that skill, life is going to be more complicated than it needs to be. But, in order for her to be able to advocate, she has to understand what her strengths and weaknesses are, whether or not they are related to ASD. On top of that, she will have to be comfortable shouting from the rooftops that she’s not perfect.

As a parent, I look at Maddy and believe deep in my soul that her weaknesses are not shameful. They are beautiful. They are unique. Having weaknesses makes her more like her peers than any of her strengths might. So, first and foremost, Maddy must learn that her weaknesses are not shameful, so that she can embrace them and advocate.

In thinking about how we can send Maddy that message, other than providing her with the unconditional love and support that every child deserves, I had an a-ha moment. Of course, Maddy will learn that her weaknesses are not shameful, if we are able to show her that we can embrace our weaknesses and still love ourselves. We are all worthy, weaknesses and all. I don’t know what you’re all thinking, but I think this just might be the best damn thing we can teach our kids!

We have the perfect opportunity, day in and day out, as we mess up as parents. We can acknowledge that we’re not perfect, apologize when needed, and still love ourselves as the imperfect parents we were destined to be. We can forgive ourselves, as many times as we need to. We can let go of the emotional baggage that keeps us questioning our parenting. What a great gift we can give our kids by showing them how we respond to the unexpected, how we manage our weaknesses, how we take responsibility for our behaviour whether intentional or not, and how we forgive and love our imperfect selves.

I’m a mom who doesn’t brush her kid’s teeth. I’m a mom who loses patience, even when her child is in an anxious and vulnerable place. I’m a mom who lets her kid go outside in the coldest of cold weather underdressed. I’m a mom who says no when I shouldn’t. I’m a mom who gives up and takes the easy way when I have nothing left to give.

I’m an okay mom. Okay, there… I said it.





Glowing fishing


We went fishing! Okay, okay, not real fishing… but it was real to Maddy. Bath time is a huge battle ground in our house. Not just a I-don’t-really-like-baths kind of thing, an epic, anxiety producing, meltdown causing, battle ground.

It causes enough anxiety, that sometimes the first thing Maddy says when she wakes up is “No bath,” even though it’s 12 hours (or more) from her bath time. She randomly talks about not having a bath during the day, sometimes perseverating on it for a half hour or so. It’s gotten to the point that Maddy is now afraid of Eric and I showering – and randomly says, “No mommy shower. No daddy shower.” She regularly cries now when one of us showers.

We know it’s anxiety. We’re working with our behavioural team, and a mental health counsellor who specializes in little ones to work through it. But, man, it’s tough. It’s tough seeing how anxiety provoking certain (and seemingly simple) things can be. Wide-eyed, terrified looks, panicked vocalizations, and an increased heart rate, that can ultimately lead to a completely rigid body and meltdown. Heartbreaking.

Hair washing seems to be one of the big causes of these issues. As a result, we really only wash Maddy’s hair once a week (unless we really need to because of a syrup incident, or something similar). We’ve tried putting a wash cloth on her back so her wet hair doesn’t touch her back…. not successful. We’ve worked really hard on looking up while we rinse her hair (a picture on the shower ceiling is quite useful)… not successful. We are really at a loss at what we can do to make the actual experience better.

So… if we can’t make hair washing feel better… why not make the bath tub more fun? It can’t hurt! A week or so ago we picked up a bag full of goodies to make bath time fun and special. Some of the things we got are oversized glasses that Eric and I will only wear during bath time. We bought special balls, balloons, bubbles, and fun purple goggles to see if Maddy likes them on. I’ve already started a new list of things to get: a baby we can wash in the tub together, and crayons she can colour on the walls with.

This week, we started with a magnetic fishing set, and glow sticks. The first night we started with the fishing set only. After we fished for a while, Maddy suggested that we wash the fish with soap. She soon realized it would be much easier to do if she got in the tub. She insisted she wanted to stand, but again, realized on her own if she sat down it would be easiest. Eventually it turned into a game of, “Can you wash your feet? Can you wash your elbow?” Maddy even asked me to wash her back for her! It was a huge success… until we washed her hair. I was tempted to skip it, but we had just come back from a weekend of camping, and it had been awhile. Mama fail.

Given the mama fail above, Maddy was no longer interested in fishing. I amped it up. I added glow sticks to the water and turned off the lights. I promised Maddy that there was no bath tonight, just playing, and she tentatively joined in.

photo (1)

By the end of our fishing experience, I was sitting on the edge with my feet in, and Maddy was standing in the water. This time I didn’t ruin the experience with a hair washing.

Honestly, I’m not sure who will have the most fun during Maddy’s bath time now 😉