Jesus was in my mom group.

One of the greatest joys of 2017 was the mom group I joined.

I was added to the Facebook group in the fall of 2016 while I was still pregnant with Molly by a casual friend from church. Molly was due in February and the group was for mothers in the city due in March or April. I was due in February, but the group was small and in its early stages then, so they pushed the date back to include February. 

The group wasn't super active in the early days, or maybe I just wasn't very attentive to it. This was my second pregnancy and I had a decent grasp on what was going on. The group tried to get together once or twice in late 2016, but I wasn't very interested. Some of the parents had other children, but most of them were a bit older than Parker and our weekends were kind of our family time anyway. I commented on the page once in a while, but most of the people were total strangers to me, and I had enough going on at home to not really feel the need to get involved.

By the time Molly was born in January, making her the old lady of the group, I was committed enough to the group to not feel the need to leave and find a local January group. The next baby was born  in February, then the momentum grew and, by the end of April, there were over 50 us in the group. 

Once the baby boom was well underway the play dates started. When you have a newborn, a playdate is an excuse for a mom to get together with other moms. Playing is optional, particularly because newborns are glorified paper weights, and it's more about the desperate need for social interaction. Moms with other kids would bring them and they'd play while the moms and babies sat around and visited. 

When Parker was a baby we went to a weekly group at the Y. It was lovely, a huge sanity saver, and how I met other moms. It wasn't something I could attend with toddler Parker and baby Molly, though. Enter the mom group.

My maternity leaves were so different from each other. With Parker, I loved the downtime we had, and how easy it was to stay home and do our own thing. I loved our weekly visit to the Y, but didn't feel the need to do much more. With Molly, I needed to do far more to fill the time because it wasn't just me and a sweet little newborn anymore. I had a toddler to entertain as well. Parker's not a high needs kid, but being home with toddler Parker all day was very different than being home with baby Parker.

I hosted my first play date in April. I've always enjoyed hosting, and I found it so much easier to stay home with the kids than take them to someone else's house, a community centre or a park. Parks in Regina in April weren't exactly the nicest places to go anyway. 

I took the plunge and invited the group of (mostly) strangers to my house to come hang out. Many of the moms had not met each other in person before, and only one of them actually knew me. My living room was covered in bucket seats, moms, and babies. I loved it.

I love hosting. It can be draining depending on the occasion, but hosting those moms and their kids in my home felt like my calling. Whereas I had spent my year with Parker selfishly hoarding my time to myself, I suddenly loved having my mornings with those women. 

It started off slow, because I didn't want to make it weird. I hated getting my kids out of the house, so I assumed other people would, too. I later learned I'm a bit of an anomaly. It was so much easier to make sure the Keurig was on and put muffins in the oven than to wrestle my kids in clothes and car seats. Eventually it picked up speed and, instead of waiting for someone to suggest a play date and waiting to offer to host if no one else did, I just started making invitations to the group and whoever showed up was welcome.

Our group was amazing. I sometimes had people over once or twice a week. Sometimes someone else would host. Regardless the location, I saw them almost every week. There were around 20 active members in the group that I met at various play dates around the city. 

I have always felt incredibly insecure about myself. Growing up, I never thought people liked me. I struggled with bitterness for years. So many years. It wasn't until Molly was a baby that that bitterness finally started to seep away and my tendency to be judgemental started to wane. I started actively loving people and accepting them for who they were. 

We were a mixed group, coming from all sorts of different backgrounds, but being around that group changed how I approached the world.

There is no room for judgement in a group like that. Everyone was so different but fighting for the same goal (keep the little children alive and well) that it was hard not to feel united. I'm not saying I haven't struggled to come to terms with some of my friends' choices, but I could love them through it. Instead of feeling the need to snark about them behind their backs I chose not to. I let it slide. I focused on loving them instead.

If this is making me sound holier than thou, bear with me. I didn't always succeed. Sometimes, but surprisingly infrequently with my judgy track record, I did think nasty things. But more often that not I tried to just love them where they were at and be honest. 

I didn't have the great time with that group of moms because of myself. That was Jesus. 100%. 

There is no way that I, as an anxious train wreck of a person with two kids that weren't the picnic I'd been hoping for, could have hosted such a successful run of play dates without Jesus. He was 100% there for it all. I have no doubt in my mind.

He ran the Keurig. He baked the muffins. He sat on the floor and wiped the collective spit up of half a dozen babies off the carpet. He made sure there was no room for judgement and shame and insecurity and He wrapped those play dates up in so much love.

People seemed to genuinely enjoy coming to my house. They'd not so subtly suggest that I should host again. I couldn't believe it.

I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that those play dates were my job while I was home with my kids. It didn't feel like work. It was so easy it almost felt selfish. No one cared that my floors weren't clean or that I'd just wiped the bathroom counter off with a baby wipe right before they came over. They were there for the friends and community and muffins.

Our house wasn't huge, but it was the perfect size for those play dates. Some days there were 23 people including moms and kids in my living room or basement. It was cozy.

All my insecurities were thrown against the wall when we announced that we were moving back to Victoria. I couldn't believe the love that flowed out from people that had been total strangers nine months earlier. When we moved from Victoria to Regina, leaving lifelong friends, I didn't feel the amount of love I did leaving that mom group. I hadn't realized how much people valued those play dates, either.

Something happens when Jesus gets involved and takes the reins. I didn't used to feel likeable, but suddenly I was. I had helped cultivate something special without even meaning to. I took that awkward step out there of inviting strangers into my home, and in the process met some very dear friends, grew up (finally), and Jesus took over the rest. And it was surprising and it was good.

Living on a prayer.

Hi.

I am not crying over boiled potatoes anymore. Today. As much. The potatoes were edible, for the record, but I'm not sure I would go through the process again.

I am feeling so much more grounded and in routine than I was a month and a half ago. We can throw lunches together in less than half an hour now. We all have clothes that are fit and are seasonally appropriate. I took two naps this weekend. Things have improved greatly.

This season of life still ranks fairly high on the crappy scale, but we're getting there. My job is okay, Karl's job is okay, the kids do well at daycare, and we found a church to call home.

We also got approved for a mortgage earlier than expected, so house hunting has officially begun. It is the slowest, least eventful hunt in existence, but it's a thing. If it were a TV show, no one would watch it. Not even our moms.

Part of the reason that the hunt is so slow is that, while we are looking at houses that cost at least double what our last house cost (this is not an exaggeration), they are not as nice and there aren't a lot of them out there that fit our needs. Everything up until this point fell into place so quickly that I can only keep relying on God and trust that the right house in the right neighbourhood for the right price will come up at the right time.

On that note, I don't think I ever explained on here how quickly and easily everything came together for us these last few months.

We sold our house for a price we were happy with in 6 days in a buyer's market where the average house sells in 64.

Where I was struggling to find appropriate work in Regina, Karl and I both had jobs lines up when we moved to Victoria. He had three offers, and I had multiple interviews and was still receiving interview requests a few weeks after I started my job.

We found childcare. In a centre. For both kids. In an area that isn't too far out of the way. It's painfully expensive but they had room for our kids to start right away. Childcare here is next to impossible to get, particularly in a centre, for siblings, and especially infants. All of those things on their own are huge challenges and, somehow, we got in. People are on waitlists before their kids are even born. It took us less than 45 days. I contacted over 60 places and have the colour coded spreadsheet to prove it.

We got approved for a mortgage a few weeks ago. I've been at my job for two months. I have a six month probation period and, due to the nature of Karl's work, one mortgage broker told us it could be two years before we got approved.

God provided.

I have an opportunity coming up this week that I have been waiting on for over two years. Had it come four months ago, I would have said yes in a heartbeat. Now, though, it looks like I'll likely have to turn it down. This is really hard.

We're going through some things with Molly that we didn't with Parker and, while I've been mostly okay with it in the past, it's starting to get to me. It's hard.

Parker and I have been struggling lately, too. I'm not his favourite person (he's obsessed with my mom) and I'm okay with that. He's little, he's allowed to go through phazes and have preferences. Today Parker and I had a big fight (don't judge me, I parented and he pushed back) and it was really really difficult. In the end, though, it had the sweetest resolution. Parenting can be awful and hard and so unrewarding, but today it paid off.

I know sporadic, kind of downer updates like this aren't why people like reading blogs. Believe it or not, I started out with the intention of talking about a show on Netflix that destroyed me. Then I realized that I needed to give a proper update.

I'm doing okay. We're doing okay. It feels like we have a lot going on and pretty much nothing at the same time. I know that's weird. My mom's out of town tonight and Karl and I joked about having a party with all our friends over. Then we laughed and laughed and did housework instead.

I'll be back. I promise. I've got one more serious post rolling around in my head, but I also have a burning desire to share with you the inane and interesting thoughts going on in my head.

You guys, we're halfway to Christmas. We're halfway there. This year of chaos is halfway there.

Recent happenings

- I made a mobile for Molly's room when she was brand new. (I just realized we're almost 10 months in and I still haven't posted about her room. I know you're all dying to see it. I've taken photos, I just forget about them. Someday, friends.) I got the idea from Pinterest, and I got so many compliments on it that I thought it would be fun to make some to sell.

A much craftier friend than me suggested we do a craft show together. I spent most of September preparing for it, and explored my limited creativity to make some other mobiles, too. We decided it would likely be a one and done show, but we made a Facebook page and Angi saved us by making us some business cards so we didn't die out after the show. The show was fun and my friend sold a few things, but I don't think we'll do another.

- Parker is obsessed with Moana. My toddler has an idol. I downloaded a few of the songs for him and they are always stuck in my head. Fortunately, I don't actually mind Moana. It's a good movie, with a good moral, and the music doesn't make me want to rip my ears off. Every time I hear the song at the end of the movie, the "I am Moana" song, I get emotional. Every. single. time. And we listen to that song a lot. Thanks, Disney.

- October was hard month for Molly. She wasn't feeling great and it all kind of came to head this week when she got a cold and added suspected teething to it all. When Parker had days like that we'd just hit the couch and wait it out. I miss those days. Now we just try to survive.

Because she's been feeling not so great for a while, I put off sleep training Molly. A couple weeks ago she was up every hour for three nights in a row. I think that when it's time to sleep train you'll know, and I kind of knew then. It ended up being easier to do than I'd expected and I got five blissful nights without her. Parker, naturally, started waking up every night, something he hasn't done for almost two years, so that was fun. Because of the horrible pain trifecta sleep has gone out the window again. But, whatever, I know it can be done, and little miss has something coming for her this weekend. Assuming that something isn't teeth, of course.

- My Keurig is currently soaking a descaling vinegar bath and all I can think of is how much I want another cup of coffee. The struggle is real. 

- Karl wanted to take Parker trick or treating this year. I could not care less about Halloween now that I can't have Reese's, but I figured Karl wanted to get some free candy and Parker would be really cute. We got him a chicken/pimp costume if he refused to do up the jacket. I also scored Molly a flamingo costume at the thrift store for $6 so we decided to dress both kids up.

Molly had a hard day Tuesday but chippered up for the evening. Parker, on the other hand, cried every time we brought his costume near him. So he took his Darth Vader bucket door to door, dressed as a selfish toddler, and said "you're welcome" to everyone that gave him candy. He really got into the swing of things, but fortunately hasn't asked to do it again.

- I've decided to give up desserts for November. I think we need a break from each other for a while. You know, just some time apart to rekindle the fire in our relationship and get our priorities in check. When you have too much of a good thing it a) shows, and b) makes it less meaningful. My sister in law got excited about it and has convinced half her family to join in. I've got a couple other friends that jumped on board, too. I wasn't planning on making it a big deal, but clearly we need t-shirts (a size smaller than usual) and a hashtag. I'm thinking #nocaketilChristmas. It's a work in progress.

- We woke up to snow the morning of November 1st and just like that, all joy was sucked out of the world. Just kidding, but I still haven't taken Parker outside to play in it and he's going a little stir crazy. The problem is, I can't just throw him in the backyard in this weather and ignore him from inside. I should probably keep an eye on him because of hypothermia or abominable snow men. Friends, I'm from the west coast. We do not snow. I'm hiding in the kitchen while he plays with my blender (take a breath, it's not plugged in) on the other side of the cabinets.

- Now that it's November I need to start thinking about getting a job for January. Even typing those words gave me an intense amount of anxiety. I'm not made of the tough stuff that stay at home moms are, but I have a million feelings about starting a new job in a couple months and leaving my kids with someone else, and most of them involve synonyms for anxiety. This mother of two thing is Hard. 

- A friend recently told me she's expecting her third child and all I could think was, "WHY?" I love my kids, but I'm fairly certain that if I added another to the mix I would lose my mind. Case in point, Parker just put the plug for the toaster in his ear. He also put my hairbrush in the toilet this morning for the second time.

- I went for all you can eat sushi for the first time on Wednesday and I'm not sure why I'd never done it before. Not only was it incredible, but you got to order off an iPad right at the table. Technology! Next time you come visit, we need to go there. Karl "hates" (read: has never tried) sushi.

- I never go out for supper, but it's a wild week so I'm going out with my mom group tonight once the kids are in bed. I don't care how much snow is on the ground, there are fish tacos and a mojito calling my name. Especially because family flu shots are on the agenda beforehand. This group of strangers is helping keep me sane through the most chaotic year of my life and we're finally having our first kid-free outing.

- Have you seen Life in Pieces? It's my new favourite. I laugh out loud every time. I'm bouncing between that and rewatching The Office during naptime.

- Karl has to work every sixth Saturday and tomorrow is one of those days. I give myself a break from parenting on those days and we just watch movies. I might actually get us out in the snow in the morning if it's not too cold, but then it's Shrek all morning. Or Moana if I lose the arm wrestle.

- Finally, I joined a Zumba class. I've tried it a few times before and felt like a major fool, but this time is different. Maybe it's the lack of a mirror to see myself in, the larger class size, or the fact that I'm hiding in the back with a friend, but I love it. My moves leave something to be desired, but I take some satisfaction in knowing that I haven't fallen on my face yet. Close, but not yet.

The parade of shame.

On Tuesday morning I packed the kids up and took them to the library down the street for Toddler Time. I'd never been before, but have several friends that go on Fridays so knew it was a popular destination. Because I'm a terrible mother, I'm not particularly fond of cheesy mom and tot programs. I find the singing awkward and all the feigned enthusiasm makes me wonder if switching away from decaf and adding a healthy swig of Baileys might make me fit in more. Surely there must be a reason all those stay at home parents are so painfully chipper and involved after spending every single day with their toddlers.

We showed up five minutes late despite my best efforts to the contrary. We were in the parking lot three minutes before it was set to start, but I have a sneaking suspicion that most parents are actually early for these sorts of organized things, even though that flies in the face of all parenting logic I've ever experienced. It certainly doesn't happen with any of the play dates I've been to.

Getting out of the car involved nothing short of bribery on my part and a near tantrum on Parker's. I'm pretty good at not giving into his terrorist demands, but we were short for time and he wanted to bring his snack cup in. I was not about to waste all the effort I'd gone through of putting makeup on for a Shreddies fuelled throw down in a rainy parking lot.

Because Toddler Time was in a room in the basement and Molly is still in her bucket seat, it took us a full five minutes to manoeuvre ourselves into the building and into the elevator. It's not that I'm necessarily afraid to lug an 85 lb bucket seat down a flight of stairs while holding my toddler's hand, it's just that we were already late and I didn't want to add a trip to the ER to our list of things to do that morning. I threw my hip in August after getting stung by a wasp on my baby toe (makes sense, right?) so I was already a little off balance to begin with.

Getting into the elevator itself was an adventure as, apparently, I don't take Parker out of the house enough to know what the outside world looks like. He was enamoured with the buttons that opened all the doors, and that was just to the building. Once I wrangled him into the elevator, after missing the doors to it twice, it was all I could do to block him from pushing the emergency and alarm buttons all at once. I wish elevator designers had seriously reconsidered putting those buttons at toddler eye level.

When we finally made it to the room, a mere five minutes past 10, Toddler Time was in full swing. The room was full of singing children and parents, all wiggling merrily as they sat on the carpet. All of them, naturally, turning and looking at us upon our tardy entry.

Parker, like me, doesn't do incredibly well in new situations. I'm finding that, as the supposedly mature adult in our relationship, I have to resort to faking it more often than I'd like. While a large part of me wanted to back out of the room mumbling about that not being the bathroom, I'd been spotted so we sat down and acted like we belonged.

Parker flat out refused to surrender his snack cup or take his boots off in order to sit on the carpet, so we hung out on the floor, as close to the door as we could and faked it like our lives depended on it. I sang the songs, did the actions, and pretended to care about the story that I could barely see from across the room. Parker eventually got tired of my enthusiasm and shushed me every time I participated. I couldn't really blame him. All the other kids bounced around enthusiastically and Molly just sat in her bucket seat, still in her pyjamas, ready to make a getaway at a moment's notice.

At the end of the half hour session, the kids all got to take a "musical instrument" and march around the room singing. This is clearly a highlight of the entire morning and eagerly anticipated by parents and children alike. It's true, nothing sounds like more fun to me than watching a bunch of toddlers stomp around in a circle making as much noise as possible. Okay, I'm a little envious. Someone give me a maraca.

I got Parker some bells to shake and encouraged him to, at the very least, stand up and let loose. Instead, we stayed seated at the edge of the carpet circle shaking our bells while the other stylishly dressed children and parents paraded around us. The parents, bless them, seemed to get it and tried not to look directly at me. The kids, however, were looking at Parker and I like we were some sort of interesting stain.

"Why isn't that little boy participating, Mommy?"
"Well, Timmy, some people just don't understand fun."*
Not an actual conversation I overheard.

After Toddler Time there's some free play time. In our case, it was back-out-of-the room-as-quickly-as-possible-and-pray-to-God-that-Parker-doesn't-press-any-alarm-buttons-in-the-elevator-time.

I think we'll just stay home next Tuesday.

Yes I can.

Last time I left off, an embarrassingly long time ago, I had you all on the edge of your seats with the prospect of potty training Parker. Fortunately, my son had mercy on me and our imminent road trip and decided that, after nap time that first day, he wanted to go back into diapers. Fine by me.

We have now entered a reality where the potty is around if he wants and he knows that he gets treats when he uses it, but it is no longer controlling our lives. Praise Jesus! He can do it, we're just both highly uninterested in pursuing that lifestyle right now. So we aren't. He'll be done with diapers by the time he's old enough for preschool. Diapers are easy. I'm more than okay with them, especially now that we've discovered Easy Ups. Psychotic toddlers can't take them off in their sleep sacks.

We did, however, have another big life transition with Parker. When we got home from vacation we decided that it was time, for everyone's safety and sanity, to turn his crib into a toddler bed. He was climbing into his crib and teasing a head injury, never mind that it was exhausting having to watch him Houdini his way out of his sleep sack every night and make sure he didn't concuss himself while he was supposed to be sleeping.

I was team "crib until high school" but parenting is nothing if not humbling. He did really well with the transition and only fell out of his bed four times on the second night. He did fine, he just felt his way back to his bed and climbed back in. Nap times were a nightmare for a few days until I realized that as long as he can't get out of his sleep sack he'll, for the most part, sleep. Some days he doesn't sleep, but he has to stay locked in his room for 90 minutes because I'm the boss and don't hate my life.

I've been learning a lot about grace and parenting through the past month and a half. I can't control everything my toddler does, but I can control my attitude towards it. The run up to potty training was just as stressful as transitioning from one kid to two and losing my job. What looked like the end of Parker's naps gave me intense anxiety, too. Embracing the changes and finding a way to make them work for me was the only thing that kept me sane. So, judge away, but locking him in his room for 90 minutes a day while he rearranges his furniture and drawers is the main thing keeping me from becoming a travelling hobo.

Today's boring yet informative re-entry into my life brought to you by Peppa Pig. I've had a busy couple months, but have really missed blogging. In the grand scheme of things, it gets the chopping block. Today I finally figured out how to balance that parenting and blogging lifestyle. Thanks, Netflix.

Potty is a four letter word.

Yesterday I turned 29 years old. I feel like that can't be right, because I'm pretty sure the second I gave birth to Molly I entered my mid-thirties. That's how those things work, right? Either way, I was born allegedly 29 years ago.

I celebrated the lead up to my birthday with a weekend of strep throat and a couple trips to the clinic. Karl had plans to go away this weekend so when I woke up feeling like death warmed over on Friday morning I asked him to take the day off work so I could have an actual sick day. Because I wasn't feeling any worse when he left Friday night I told him to go and hopefully my antibiotics would work enough to bring me back to life. Praise the Lord they did, and I only missed out on one night of blissful time to myself. Because I love my husband but I also really love an evening all to myself.

I celebrated my actual birthday with a toddler that only napped for 20 minutes then woke up screaming and raging as I was halfway through a piece of cake. His mood did not improve.

I strongly suspect I will be gray by the time I'm actually 30.

This morning while I was getting ready to take the kids for a photo shoot for a friend's Etsy store I noticed that Parker was playing with the toilet brush. He had put my actual hairbrush in the toilet brush's holder. It's fine, I probably needed a new one anyway.

You know how they say to be careful what you wish for? I have long wished that my son would potty train himself when the time comes. We're going on holidays next week, starting with an 18 hour road trip, and guess who has decided that he's completely in love with the potty? I won't go into any details, aside from saying that I'm utterly traumatized by it all, and that mine and Karl's efforts to downplay any potty interest are not working. He's not even two and a half yet.

Because I've been strong armed by a 30 lb child into potty training this week I took the kids to Superstore to buy him underwear today. Did you know that Joe doesn't make underwear in Parker's age size? That's because normal two year old boys do not potty train this early. I had to buy him size 3T and hope to God that they won't fall down every time he stands up. They were, however, days of the week underwear (I am so deeply jealous) and 25% off. I'll be going back for more tonight because something tells me that seven pairs won't be enough.

I had a few other things on my grocery list that I completely forgot about after Parker started pulling shoes off the shelves and slapping all the displays. I checked out with the underwear at the self checkout, thinking I could make a quick, clean getaway with enough energy left over to stop at Booster Juice on the way back to the car for my free birthday smoothie.

I learned something new today. Life is all about learning. This weekend I learned that Americans and Canadians have different flour, and today I learned that self checkout scanners have buttons on them that only toddlers can see and push. I also learned that it takes three store employees, including one manager, to set that scanner right. I also learned that when you push the wrong buttons on the scanner it will shame beep at you loudly, repeatedly, and it will just add to the impending trauma of potty training a week before 18 hours straight in the car. But at least someone told me about a car seat insert to contain any system failures.

If you think of me tomorrow, send prayers and cleaning tips.

Mary, did you know?

Mary, what was it like to be the mother of Jesus? What was it like to carry the son of God in your womb for nine months? Did he kick you in the ribs? Did he press down on your bladder so that every time you stood up you had to excuse yourself? Was your pregnancy easy or were you sick for the whole nine months? Did you gain a lot of weight, or carry it all in your stomach? Did you get cankles? Did that little baby keep you awake at night, rolling, hiccuping, and kicking when you were trying to sleep? When did you first realise you loved him?

Was it excruciating giving birth? The conditions certainly weren't ideal, and there was no anaesthesiologist to give you an epidural, but did you feel like your insides were being set on fire? Did you have back labour? Did you tear horribly? Did your highly favoured status allow you any relief from the physical agony of childbirth or was it a long labour followed by many hours of pushing?

Mary, I doubt the songs are true, and I'm sure your baby did cry. Anyone would, entering the world in a dirty, cold and smelly stable. I think he did cry, Mary, because he was a human baby boy. I think if you didn't feed him on time he cried. I think if he was too hot or cold he cried. He wasn't a colicky baby, though, was he? 

Mary, I suspect that sinless little boy you gave birth to was easy to sleep train, wasn't he? He only woke up at night to eat when he needed it, and I'm sure he had a sweet little smile for you when he did. (Unless you took too long.) Did Jesus nurse well from the beginning? Did your nipples crack and bleed? How often did your baby boy throw up on you? Was it easy to burp him or did you have to get creative? Did he cry when he was overtired? Did he need extra snuggles to help him through teething pains? Did he ever pull on your hair while nursing or scratch your chest with his little fingernails?

When he was a toddler, did Jesus ever need to be told something more than once? Did he ever forget an instruction or rule, or was his young memory already perfect? Did he like all the food you put in front of him and eat it without complaint? Did he sometimes wake up with the sun for no reason, or did he sleep a proper amount and wake up when it made sense? Did he cry when he skinned his knee?

Mary, did you know what you were getting yourself into when you decided to have other children? Did you have any idea what trials were in store for you? Did you even have the slightest inkling what it meant to be the mother of a sinful toddler?

Mary, were you surprised when your children bit you while they nursed and laughed about it? Were you prepared to become a canvas for your children's flung food? Did you know the agony of disobedience? Were you ready to watch your seemingly innocent babies turn into wicked people? Could you pinpoint the moment when they started actively sinning?

Mary, did you know how hard it would be to have more than one child? I'm sure you never had to tell Jesus to stop hitting his siblings, but were you ready to watch your other children fail where your first succeeded? Did you feel like a bad mother for not raising a family of perfect children? Did you forget Jesus at the temple because your other misbehaving children were taking up the rest of your time?

Mary, did you know?

Mom thoughts.

I recently had a moment of clarity that was almost like a punch in the gut. Molly is the sweetest little thing, but she hasn't been the easiest baby. I've been beating myself up with all the things she doesn't do that Parker did at her age, mostly regarding sleep. If you didn't already know this, parents with infants obsess over their sleep like some people obsess over sports stats. With Parker we hibernated for the first year of his life and it was most beautiful of times. We did very little and practically all he did was nap in his crib while I kept a tidy house and did puzzles. It was freaking magical.

Molly just isn't Parker. She's more difficult. She's delicate. The nurse and doctor both bantered around the word colic, but I don't think it's fair to parents of colicky children to apply it to Molly. The thing is, once I really truly realized that she isn't as easy a baby as her brother through no fault or shortcoming of my own it was like a big old burden came off my shoulders. Mom guilt is so real, and we are our own worst critics. Usually.

Right now I'm focusing on baby steps with her and it's doing wonders for my sanity. Those first 2 1/2 - 3 months as a mom of two were the absolute hardest. Now, I'm just focused on what we are getting done. Molly goes to bed around the same time as Parker. Yes. Thank you, Jesus. She's starting to put herself down to sleep while she's swaddled. Hallelujah. She's not co-sleeping as much. Glory be to God. She is only napping for 45 minute stretches at a time. Well, you can't win them all. Baby steps. I figure that by the time she's 7 months old we'll have her on a spotty morning nap (second child problems) and a killer afternoon one like her brother. And that's really all you can hope for. At least we'll always have bedtime.

But enough about my daughter's sleep, let's talk about my jeans. There's this beautiful time right after you give birth where you feel like a sexy, slim beast. Your body is amazing, it just ejected a homegrown human, and DANG where did your jumbo belly go? That lasts a couple weeks, then you feel fat and milky and overtired and like you'd like to burn every reflective surface you see because your body is disgusting. Then that goes away, too, and eventually you just accept the fact that you need to do some work to fit your pants and that the body you once had is nothing more than a memory. For me that happened right around the time my belly band started to wear out. I tried and, magically, succeeded in buttoning up my pants. It was a big, fist-pumping moment for me. Then I ate something and they didn't fit anymore.

My weight has always fluctuated, but I'm currently in that stage of life where if I eat just a little too much junk my pants are too uncomfortable to do up. I'm really looking forward to the elastic waist shorts days of summer, but until then I'm in this weird limbo of wanting to do my pants up and wanting to eat cookies. I'm really glad my kids are too young to see this side of me. I don't want them to ever worry about their bodies, as long as they're healthy, and I certainly don't want them to complain about their or another woman's thighs. But right now,  their mommy just needs to lay off the doughnuts and she's got clothes to fit into.

While Parker and I enjoyed our time together when he was little, he now needs to socialize far more often. The weather still isn't fabulous and I'm not really interested in braving it with a newborn but Parker needs more stimulation than just me to facilitate epic naps. Last week we had four play dates, and tomorrow morning I'm having five moms and their kids over. I know one of them, but the other four moms are complete unknowns.

You know you've been momming for a while when you start just accepting a certain level of messy for having strangers over. Sure, I tidied and swept the floor, but I didn't do a real clean. I reserve that for visiting family members I need to impress. If everyone wears socks they might not even notice. I will, however, make muffins and coffee. That's all moms really need anyway. And hugs.

Speaking of affection, Parker has re-entered a sweet stage. When he hurts himself he instinctively knows that kisses make it better. I have no idea where he figured that out, but one day he just started asking. I am more than happy to provide as many as he'd like. It's pretty stinking cute. He also puts himself in a time out when I tell him to. It makes me want to laugh and cry all at once.

Oh, motherhood. It wrecks you and builds you back up all the time.

Currently. March "blizzard" edition.

wearing: A baby in a wrap, standing at the kitchen counter, hoping the toddler doesn't realize that I've got something cool that he doesn't have. Actually, he's being very quiet. Just checked and he's scooping flour out of the bag and onto the floor with a rogue measuring cup. But that's not what I'm wearing, because what I'm wearing is a newborn. There's really no other explanation for what is currently happening. It's like the heaviest sweater I've ever owned and it's almost guaranteed to give me back issues, especially leaning over the counter like this. But I'm also wearing joggers (the kind of sweatpants that are socially acceptable to wear in public) because we have a blizzard warning and the only people I'm going to see today have either slept in my bed or delivered my mail.

listening: I finished the Blue Babies Pink podcast last night. You can also read it, but at this stage in my fussy baby wrangling life listening is more up my alley. I very highly recommend it. He does such a good job of telling his story, throwing in some beautiful imagery, and I'd be lying if I told you I didn't tear up a couple times. If you don't know what it is, it's a gay Christian man telling his story, and no matter how you feel about that particular theological issue it's well worth a listen.

Now that I'm done with that I'll catch back up with Young House Love's podcast. It's my bedtime kitchen cleaning jam.

I'm also going through the Harry Potter audiobooks again. I needed something good to listen to during naptime and didn't have the energy to find another audiobook. They can be so hit or miss.

I also have The Elms' Truth, Soul, Rock and Roll in the CD player. I now relate to all those old people listening to music from their high school days. I don't think I will ever stop liking The Elms.

anticipating: A trip to Victoria later this week. I'm a bit nervous about our raging toddler being places that aren't Parker-proofed. He's going to be spending a whole weekend at my mom's without us while we go to a wedding in Vancouver. Someone told me after church yesterday that he's such a delightful kid and she loves having him in Sunday School. I almost cried. As a parent, that's kind of all you can hope for. I'm hoping that carries over into his time with my mom. 

I'm looking forward to time with friends, visiting the petting zoo, ice cream sandwiches, vegan doughnuts, and buying new shoes. My feet have gone up a half size and I feel like this month's clothing budget would be well spent on a new pair of nice footwear. 

eating: Chocolate right now, but also a lot of crock pot meals. Why I didn't use our crock pot every day for the first couple years we had it is beyond me. I use it at least once a week now and it's the best thing ever. Especially with the snow. Also, tuna wraps. 

making: Belgian waffles, book mobiles, pompoms, and baby blankets. Did you know real Belgian waffles are made with yeast and chunks of sugar? I burned my finger about 15 times cleaning the melted sugar off the waffle iron (with a q-tip) and eventually decided that the rest of it could stay on there for the next time. How are you even supposed to clean a waffle iron? Why doesn't the iron part come off for actual cleaning? Someone should lose their job for that design fail.

feeling: Tired, mostly, and sometimes overwhelmed. Looking after two very little kids is the hardest thing I have ever done in my entire life. When Parker was born I used to mourn my life before kids, wondering if it wouldn't have been wise to wait longer before having kids. Then I realized we weren't that interesting before anyway and got over it. The hard part about having two under two is disciplining the older one. He's too young to understand a ton of consequences, but not too young to know when he's doing something he shouldn't. It's a hard age, and while things have certainly gotten easier in the past few weeks as we all adjust to the new normal, I can't help but feel that if the age gap was even a few months bigger between the kids this would be a bit easier.

I was so tired on Saturday that, aside from accidentally burning myself multiple times on the waffle iron, I cut my finger while making pompoms. I was clearly too tired for depth perception. And basic intelligence. I took a half hour nap then proceeded to win a round of Settlers of Catan for only the second time ever, and I did so quite handily. Highlight of of my weekend. 

reading: I have a hundred pages left in the fantasy book I'm reading. It's the fourth and final in the series and according to goodreads the ending is the worst thing ever. I'm really looking forward to finding out what it is.

I'm also reading parenting books on discipline. Dear Lord, how have I come to this point in my life?

It's not very often I have more than one book on the go at a time, but I currently have three. I'm hoping to trim that down drastically in the next week or two. It feels like cleaning three rooms at a time and having nothing actually clean. Too many loose ends.

loving: Baby girl clothes and thrift stores. After reorganizing Parker's room there's a lot of blank wall space. I went to the Salvation Army the other day to try and find stuff to put on his wall, and ended up spending $8 on a dress, two pairs of pants, and a sleeper for Molly. I wish I had as much luck on finding clothes for myself there, but I went through the bins of my old clothes the other day and I have some great stuff in there. If that isn't motivation to lose the baby weight nothing is.

watching: Way too much TV and Netflix. That's the beauty of middle of the night nursing sessions and the newborn days. I've given up on The Magicians. I watched it last year because I read the book a while ago and was hoping the show would be better. It was, but not by much. I'm over it.

Riverdale, The 100, and Jane the Virgin are my weekly Netflix go-tos. I also watched Santa Clarita Diet and really enjoyed it. Nathan Fillion was a major highlight of it.

Do you watch Suits? We caught up on Netflix then realized we have the channel it comes on and are now totally caught up. I actually understood most of what happened this season and the finale was probably my favourite episode ever. 

We finished The Good Wife. I have a crush on Jeffrey Dean Morgan (except his waist is so tiny it makes me insecure) and it's rolling over into our Walking Dead watching. Is it wrong that I have a little crush on Negan?

missing: Spring and fall. I'm over winter (always am) but summer is too stinking hot here. I'm hoping the island sorts itself out and stops having winter and snow (what in the world?) and has balmy spring weather when we're there. Especially since I sweet talked my mom into taking me for a pedicure this Friday.

You win some, you lose some.

After a solid month of having family around, we are finally getting the chance to try our hand at being just a family of four. Today was the first day of just me and the kids at home, and there were no tears. (Even though only two of us are actually able to produce tears at the moment.)

Molly will be four weeks old tomorrow and, even though I'm not as much of a mental case as I was when Parker was born, I'm still pretty sleep deprived and, as a result, plain old stupid. My brain power is being used to change bums and ensure that anyone under three feet tall is fed in a timely manner. Everything else is secondary. Except laundry. I am a laundry doing fiend and when it eventually gets folded I put it away like a fiend, too. We're still working on getting back into a fiendish folding routine. We're only four weeks in though, and I know it was a solid eight with Parker before I felt capable of life.

When I dropped my mom off at the airport Saturday evening I managed to confuse myself enough with figuring out how to drive to Michaels afterward that I started thinking it was Friday and wow rush hour traffic was light and dang I might as well go to the thrift store on the way home to pick up some books since I have no kids. Except of course it was closed because it wasn't Friday at all and things close earlier on Saturdays. Then I went home and to bed at 8:30 because adulting is fun.

I cleaned my kitchen this morning, did laundry, and emptied the dishwasher so I think the second time mom is ahead of the game. I imagine moms with three or more kids are making dinner in the delivery room they're such pros.

Having a toddler and a newborn presents its own challenges. When Karl's around I like to negotiate my way out of changing all the diapers. I'll offer to do one kid in exchange for him doing the other. The question I find myself asking is whether I'd rather change one giant raunchy toddler turd or eight newborn ones. Usually there's no actual option, but these are the deep things I think about in the middle of at the night while I'm up at BFG o'clock acting as baby buffet.

I remember thinking with newborn Parker that he never napped when I wanted. Why did that kid just want to be awake and torment me? Now I can't help but wish he slept like he did when he was a newborn. Okay, I wouldn't trade the 13 Parker-free hours I get a night for all the diamonds in the world, but during the day? Yes, please, nap all the time. I didn't sleep while holding him until he got his first cold at two months because I had the fear of squishing him branded into my soul by the health nurses. This go-round Molly and I nap together regularly and we tend to co-sleep half the nights. She's got some gas issues (she doesn't like it) and I have some issues with being woken up every couple hours (I don't like it) so cuddling is mutually beneficial. She has someone to fart on and I can get up to three and a half hours of sleep in a row.

During the day I get to stare enviously at Molly napping in her vibrating massage chair, working to get the gas out, while I get fed pieces of chalk and pull a wooden bee around the house on plastic cord. Today the big game was helping Parker put on his hoodie and zipping it up everything 90 seconds.

With Parker I found I had to go easy on my ginger consumption, but I now I've had the horrendous realization that I may need to take a break from eating black beans with Molly. I was planning on making (and eating most of) a bean cake for her due date. I'm glad I realized the negative impact that can have on our lives/sleep before I went hardcore. I'm sad, but I've got coffee to comfort me so it could be much worse. And I'm fairly confident in my ability to make a decent chickpea cake.

Parker fell down the stairs yesterday before going to a Superbowl party with Karl. It wrecked me, hearing the thump-thump-thump-cry. He was fine, just scared, but we didn't see it happen and I had visions of him with a broken head or neck and then I contemplated getting our fireplaces removed and wrapping him in bubble wrap. I had a lot of that kind of anxiety when he was born, but I'm doing really well this time. I've never thought about getting a helmet for Molly, and she's only had one head injury so far.

Parker is very into his books, and the other day he got a little over zealous with the Toot book (his current favourite) and hit Molly in the temple with the corner of it while I was burping her. She cried, he cried, she had a tiny red mark on her head all day, but the real takeaway was that he loves her enough to feel empathy to whatever  extent a toddler can actual feel complex emotions. I just know they're going to be BFFs, he just has to stop trying to stick his fingers in her eyes and ears.

Molly and I had our own grand old Superbowl party. We drank milk, ate cookies, got tummy massages, and watched Sherlock. I even did laundry. The good life.

I have to say, I really wasn't sad to see the tail end of January. Excepting Molly, it was kind of a crummy month. Sure, I ate some amazing cake, but I spent a fair amount of time in a body that was, in all likelihood, trying to kill me. Without modern medicine I would have been a walking bag of infection (probably still would be, and super pregnant to boot). Nevermind the whole water breaking thing, but I also got a stomach bug last weekend. There is nothing more desirable than having a 2.5 week old infant and being forced to spend an embarrassing amount of time in the bathroom while also necessitating a giant mixing bowl beside your bed. It's okay, though, because I lost five lbs over night, and since I'd over indulged in lactation cookies my milk supply didn't seem to suffer one bit. I was also the only person in the house to get sick and had a good excuse to stay home from church with Molly and watch Netflix.

I've got to hand it to January, though. I surpassed my weight loss goal, and am now down 23 (okay, 20 since I started eating/drinking again) lbs. Take that, Christmas weight.

Speaking of food, our church has arranged a meal train for us, so instead of making supper this week I can do other productive thing instead of preparing food for my family. Like blogging.

Talk about poop storms.

Last week had a bit of an iffy start and it just kind of kept going. Karl was away until Sunday so it was just Parker and I. I will forever and always have all the respect in the world for single parents, because this week kicked my butt so hard.

When we were in Edmonton Parker hurt his foot. It looked fine, but you couldn't grab it and he wouldn't put weight on it. Tuesday morning came and it was no longer hurting him but he still wouldn't put weight on it. Since I figured he was just being overly cautious (a toddler rarity), I didn't bother calling the health line until Thursday night. While I was on hold, Parker destroyed the kitchen and discovered the pots and pans cupboard at exactly the moment the nurse came on the phone. We started off on the right foot.

Eventually she recommended that I take him in for an x-ray ASAP, seeing as how it had "already been so long" and he's just little. It was almost bedtime, and he was having a grand old time climbing on every piece of furniture we owned so I asked if she figured it could wait until morning. "Well, that's really up to you," she informed me, judgment seeping through the phone. She then told me a clinic with x-rays clear across town that was open until 10 I should take him to. Fab.

When I phoned the clinic I found out the x-rays were only open until for another half hour, so I put my rampaging child to bed and collapsed on the couch in tears.

I love the health line as a resource and I know that they have to err on the side of cautious, but she'd laid the mom guilt on thick enough to cut. I felt like my bad parent card was showing and I was so stressed out that when I went to bed that night I dreamt that my mom's house burned down, my dad had a stroke, and all my teeth feel out. It was almost a relief when Friday morning came.

Can we talk about how much I hate walk in clinics? I'm glad they exist, but I'm pretty sure their waiting rooms are what Hell is like. Take an energetic toddler with you and it's like a hellish outbreak waiting to happen. Of course I picked a clinic that took 90 minutes to get into with only three people in front of me. Of course they didn't have a children's area. (Although I'm not really sure how I feel about those. Let's get sick kids that don't know anything about hygiene to play with the same toys as other sick kids that don't know anything about hygiene and then let other sick kids put them in their mouths. Gross.) Of course the only things Parker wanted to play with were the filthy blinds and the guy sitting next to us. The guy was a good sport, but I wanted to ask him why he was there. No one goes to a clinic for fun, and the last thing I want is my potentially already broken child getting the plague from well-meaning strangers. I really hope he was invisibly broken.

When we finally got to see the doctor he was chill enough to diagnose Parker with exactly what I thought was wrong with him: nothing. He'd probably just stepped on his foot funny and was babying it because, well, he's a baby. He gave me an x-ray referral to use or ignore as I saw fit, so I shoved it in my purse and that was the end of that.

Two hours late for work I contemplated taking the rest of the day off with Parker, but then I realized that after a morning in a walk-in clinic with a rampaging 16 month old, a relaxing afternoon at work was probably the best thing for my sanity. So I threw him at the babysitter and ran away cackling. (In case you're keeping track, this happens at least once a week. The running away and cackling.)

Long story short, Parker woke up covered in snot Saturday morning but got over it by Sunday. I guess clinic germs are short lasting germs.

Speaking of Saturday, Parker didn't nap longer than 30 minutes all day. It was agonizing. I'd settle down to get something, anything, done (like a nap) and he'd let me know he was ready for me to come get him, no matter how much I ignored him. Bedtime was a blissful experience that night, I'm telling you. That said, we had a great morning. He let me read my book in peace while he destroyed the house. It was a fair trade off, except that I was pulling my hair out by 4:30 and had already kind of forgotten about how sweet our morning was.

I lost my keys on the way to church Sunday morning and only realized it as we were heading home. Our house has a keypad entry at the front door so I wasn't locked out, but we were definitely stranded. After running around the neighbourhood like a crazy person, I finally found my keys in the flower bed outside our front door.

This week involved potentially broken body parts, garages left open all night, agonizing plane rides and walk-in clinic visits, health nurse mom shaming, lost keys, fireplaces left on all night, undercooked shepherd's pie, and two bathtub turds. I'm done.

When Karl came home last night he bore a box of dairy-free doughnut holes from my favourite bakery and the opportunity to go grocery shopping and clean the house in peace. It was magnificent.

I can tell Parker was glad to see Karl, too, because from 3 to 5 this morning (when I finally had the brain power to turn the monitor off) he was laughing and chatting to himself in his crib. That or he was giggling about all the grey hairs I've got now.

How many doughnut holes is an indecent amount to eat? What about for a pregnant person? Never mind, I don't want to know.

Left. Right. Left.

We celebrated Thanksgiving this weekend and it was marvelous. Except that half the people at supper on Sunday were sick Monday and it snowed all weekend, but aside from that it was fantastic. The family and I drove to Edmonton where we stayed with friends and played games, ate dairy-free doughnuts, hit up IKEA, crafted with yarn scraps, and had a fabulous mom date that involved Starbucks, H&M, a children's consignment store, and two thrift stores. And then we ate turkey and it was good.

Parker and I flew home Monday. It was a bold move considering how well things went last time, but only involved 90 minutes of two children compressing my bladder instead of 7 1/2 hours in the car with just one kicking my insides. Let's just say, things went better, but I still had flashbacks. I also may have had to use the airplane bathroom on our 90 minute flight. It wasn't actually that bad, seeing as teeny tiny spaces don't really leave anywhere for crazy toddlers to go. I felt pretty accomplished and am surprised no one clapped and cheered when I walked back to my seat. I am Super Mom with an incredibly small bladder.

Parker stayed true to form and passed out with 20 minutes left in the flight.

When we got home I dropped Parker off at the neighbours' so I could run to the grocery store. It was snowing, I needed to install his car seat, and he'd already had a long day of travelling. I figured playing with other children would be more fun than picking out bananas. When I got back they were feeding him supper. When we move I'm taking them with us. I love them.

Normally Karl runs the bath time show while I clean the kitchen. Karl wasn't around, though, so it was up to me. I decided it would be the perfect time to introduce Parker to his first bubble bath. He didn't understand at first, then loved it. He also kept trying to put the bubbles in his eyes. The whole lavender scented experience was so relaxing for him, in fact, that he decided to just let it all out. In the poop department. I'm so #blessed.

This morning Parker woke up an hour early and decided to chase me around the house whining all morning. I was so excited to drop him off at daycare and escape to work that I put my boots on the wrong feet. I noticed two hours later after I'd taken my wrong footed feet to daycare, Starbucks (because the sun wasn't even up when Parker was), and around my office for two hours. I miss coffee.

We have our small group tonight, so my friend that watches Parker/is the pastor's wife/hosts small group told me I should just leave him there after work and take a couple hours to myself before coming over for dinner. I love her, too. Maybe she noticed my boots and didn't tell me.

Lately. Again.

The other day we decided to go Costco. As we were heading out the door I took out all the extra stuff from my purse, like my lunch, book, scarf, etc. so that I wasn't carrying around a million extra things for not reason. Reasonable, right? When we got to Costco I realized that I'd done such a great job of taking all the heavy stuff out of my purse that I'd left my wallet, and that magic Costco card, on the kitchen table. Thank God I'm pregnant so I can totally blame the baby.

A year or so ago I became a real adult and got on the "clean the kitchen before bed" train. I feel like most people know to do this intuitively, but it freaking changed my life. Now my kitchen is always close to being clean! The dishes don't stack up, the dishwasher doesn't sit clean for days on end, and I can actually find things on our kitchen table. Never mind that I'm not stepping on the whole week's ration of floor Cheerios every morning. If I had to make a list of the one thing you need to do to change your life for the better (aside from meeting my friend Jesus) this would totally be it. Life. Changed. I can also flop onto the couch at 8 p.m. guilt free knowing that the mess is gone. Amahhhzing.

We had our last weekend of livable weather this weekend and I had plans. Oh, I had plans. Okay, we were just going to wash our windows, but it was a big thing. We don't wash our windows ever (we're animals), so I was curious how much more natural light we could actually get into our house. Then, oh, the reality of being a parent happened in the form of a tooth. Yep, always with the teething.

After just getting over his awful molars, Parker had another front tooth come in on Saturday and it was a real demon. No one slept. No one could leave the house. He ate a lot of pumpkin muffin comfort carbs and I ate a lot of ice cream when he was in bed. We make a good team.

Now that toothmagedon is over, Parker has an ear infection. It's like it never ends. Karl gets to miss a couple days of work because it could be potentially contagious (HOW?) so I guess they get to enjoy some impromptu male bonding.

Speaking of children, we found out a couple weeks ago that the little kickboxer in my womb is a girl. I've been thinking of her as a girl for over month for no reason and couldn't believe when the tech told us. I cried. Also, when has looking at a labia ever been such a happy event?

I'm going to be honest with you, part of me is terrified of having a girl. I was nervous about having a boy the first time around, but now that I know I'm going to have one of each I'm not really sure what to think. Having a boy meant I'd have to deal with boy things. Figuratively and literally. I've already got one, so how different would having another be? Aside from having to get a second job to feed them when they're teenagers, of course.

Having a girl, though, especially second, means that I'm going to have to go through girl and boy puberty at the same time. Puberty was traumatizing enough going through it once, but having to go through body changes and bra shopping and the hormones all over again gives me the cold sweats. It was hard enough the first time! I'm just praying for a couple of late bloomers so I can delay the inevitable.

In all truth, it's going to be amazing having a little girl and boy. My family is going to be so Hallmark ready, unibrows and all. I'm also so glad that those big decisions like deciding the sex of my children are out of my hands. Like I told my doctor, if someone had put a gun up to my head and told me to pick whether #2 was male or female I couldn't have done it. My little boy is going to be amazing, and so is my little girl. And, bonus, now there's no pressure to have a third! Glory, hallelujah. It's the little things. And the tiny polka dot frilly bottomed pants I bought yesterday.

When having a baby hurts your career.

Sixteen months ago I had a baby. Two and a half years ago my husband and I moved to Saskatchewan for my career. If you do the math on that one, I worked for 15 months before going on my year-long maternity leave. I knew that my employer was probably not going to be thrilled with the situation, but I was not about to put my family on hold forever for a job.

Leading up to my maternity leave there were a number of instances where my boss made it fairly clear that he did not appreciate the situation. Without going into great detail, he lessened my work load, didn't give me projects, and no longer acted like he trusted me to do my job. It was a difficult several months.

Then, six weeks before my leave was scheduled, my replacement started. This wasn't a big problem, as I assumed my boss just wanted to make sure she knew the ins and outs of everything. Two days later, though, she took over my full position, including my title and work space, and I was demoted to an overpaid receptionist, a position that I technically supervised.

After crying about it after work that night, I contacted HR. I was informed that what had happened was constructive dismissal and that, if I chose to pursue it, I would be eligible for severance. An employer can't demote you by changing your responsibilities or who you report to like that. 

My boss was forced to apologize, but nothing changed. I decided to focus on the fact that I'd be having a baby instead of my frustration with my work. I told my boss in no uncertain terms that I expected to put back in my normal role day one my return, and he promised that I would have a job and be getting paid. I left it at that, aware that there would likely be a battle upon my return.

I popped into the office every month or so during my leave, not wanting anyone to forget who I was, and usually bringing baked goods. It's how I buy love. I was missing a very big organizational event and everyone was really busy, so I figured it was the least I could do. Banana bread and Timbits soothe the stressed out soul.

A couple months before my scheduled return, I phoned the office and spoke with the second in comand, confirming my return to work date, and requesting some end of summer holidays. She said she didn't foresee any issues, so I shot off an email to our HR guy to let him know about the conversation and asked to see if he knew what my job would look like upon my return. He had told me to email him around Thanksgiving and I still hadn't heard back from him in April.

HR replied back to my email the next day letting me know that he and my boss had been talking about what my return to work would look like and could I please come in for a meeting after hours the next Monday? Hello, red flags. I knew then that I would not be going back to the same job I had before. 

I contacted a friend that works as an HR manager for some advice and to be sure I knew what my rights were going into the meeting. When you go on a maternity leave your employer is required to keep a position for you. It does not have to be the exact same one you were in before, but any shifts have to be lateral in pay and responsibilities. That said, sometimes employers will restructure employees out while on leave. Yes, it is allowed, but it's complicated and employers need to be careful how they do it. Is it good? No, but done properly and legitimately it is legal.

When I went into my meeting that Monday night they handed me a letter letting me know that, due to restructuring, they no longer needed someone to fill my position full time. When I asked what they would be doing instead, they said they weren't quite sure yet, but that the position would be eliminated the day I was scheduled to return. In the letter they offered me one month's salary, to forgive my outstanding moving expenses and maternity leave top-up, provide me with minimal moving expenses should I decide to move back to B.C. before the end of the year, and offered some financial help to work on my resume.

When an employer ends their relationship with you and you have outstanding return to service commitments with them, it's their job to eat those costs. They were offering me the bare minimum, with some moving expenses thrown in to sweeten the deal.

I countered their offer, requesting a severance amount more in line with the standard for such circumstances, indicating that my husband and I had relocated specifically for this job and the five year contract I had signed. I also noted that I would be unable to find equivalent work and wages before my return to work date.

In their response, they politely declined, stating that their offer was firm.

My second letter was not as friendly. I laid out the list of reasons why they got rid of me because I was pregnant and had a baby. I was clear and unemotional, using concrete examples, of which there were many. I reiterated my counter offer and informed them that if they didn't change their offer I would be getting a lawyer.

It took a couple weeks to hear back from them, as I later found out they had hire an employment lawyer to deal with another lawsuit against them from a former employee. I really didn't want to get a lawyer, knowing that they're expensive and that it would be months before I would see any money. I also didn't want to back down. 

When the letter finally came, it was a big moment. My former boss wrote that my accusations were offensive and untrue, but that I was right about a legal battle being a waste of money, so they would give me everything I asked for. It was a big, victorious moment. I'm not saying I sang We Are The Champions, but I'm not saying I didn't.

A couple months later I had lunch with a former colleague from that office. She told me that my boss had hired someone to fill my eliminated position part time, and that she made significantly more money per hour than I had. I just laughed. Of course, right? Of course he hired someone else to fill the position that they didn't need, the one they kicked me out of due to restructuring. 

After that I got in touch with a lawyer. We had a good meeting and he didn't charge me for the time on the initial consultation. It turns out that, while what my boss did is despicable (not my word), because I had signed their severance agreement in my right state of mind there wasn't much I could do. He also told me that he was impressed with the severance amount I negotiated and that, had I come to them in the beginning, chances are that I wouldn't have gotten as much and would have had to pay legal fees on top of that.

When I went to the lawyer I wasn't looking for more money I just wanted to know if there was anything I could do to ensure that what happened didn't get swept under the rug while my boss essentially got away with it. The only thing I can do is send a letter to the head of the board that hired my boss, but the lawyer didn't recommend it as a wise career move. I took his advice and haven't done anything more and, while the situation still rankles me a little, it's over. 

The only thing I can do now is share what happened. I want to share my story and experiences because this happens much more often than we think it does, and a lot of women don't stand up for themselves. It's a lot easier to take the initial buyout and use it as an excuse to stay home longer with your kids. There is nothing wrong with that but make sure you're getting the best deal you can get. Don't let people walk all over you. And while you're at it, ask for a higher salary at your next job interview. Don't undervalue yourself. We are women, let's roar.

Remember, I'm Canadian and speaking from a Canadian perspective.

15+ months of breastfeeding

We did it. We survived over a year of keeping a tiny human alive thanks largely to my breasts. If that's not impressive, I don't know what is. It will never stop blowing my mind that at some point that kid survived in and then off of me. Growing people is weird.

We were fortunate that breastfeeding came relatively easily to us. We never needed to supplement or stress that Parker wasn't getting enough. I also, thankfully, never had any clogged ducts or mastitis to deal with. Thank you, Jesus. That said, breastfeeding still had its ups and downs.

From the very beginning I wanted to approach feeding my baby realistically. Yes, I think breast milk is best for your child. It's the easier, more natural way of feeding the spawn of your loins. Sure, the concept can seem a little strange, but when it comes down to it your body kept that kid alive for nine months on the inside so it makes sense that until he can eat actual food your body just keeps on doing its thing. That said, I know that not everyone can breastfeed. Some people just don't have milk come in, some people have difficult recoveries, some people just aren't given the support they need to do something so natural but so very new and challenging.

My ultimate desire was to breastfeed for a year, but before Parker was even born I knew that I wasn't going to beat myself up about it if that didn't happen. So I started with baby steps. First, we'd just see how it went. Then we'd shoot for six months. Then a year. Then, as time went on, the goal was two years, as recommended by WHO.

Everyone tells you right from the get go that if you're doing it right, breastfeeding should not hurt. I just want to stand up right now and publicly debunk that nasty rumour. Breastfeeding, in fact, does hurt when you first start it. We spent an extra day in the hospital because I was convinced we were doing it wrong, even though the nurses kept saying Parker's latch was great. If everything was going so well, why did it hurt so much?

Enter common sense. A sensitive part of your body is suddenly being sucked on by an unrelenting leach for eight hours a day. That sensitive part of your body is chaffing like you wouldn't believe, and there's this toe curling pain that happens every time that leach hooks onto you. Looking back, I feel like it's so obvious that breastfeeding is going to take some adjustment, but I wish the information out there was more realistic. You and your tiny new stranger are learning new skills and your body is adjusting to them. Eventually you'll have nipples of steel, but it takes a couple weeks and a lot of nipple cream to get there. And, remember, that's assuming everything goes well to begin with.

So yeah, breastfeeding was not the most comfortable starting point. I also didn't know that it can take some kids 24 hours to actually want to eat after birth. After labour I was inhaling muffins like they were going out of style, but Parker seemed to deal with his trauma by ignoring it. It's okay, he's since learned to be an emotional eater. It took a full 18 hours of life before Parker even tried to nurse. No one told me that was a thing, they just told me that I needed to feed that little baby every three hours, even in the middle of that first exhausting night. 

Let me tell you, there is nothing better than having been awake for 30+ hours, pushing a human out of your nethers, then having the best sleep of your life for an hour before trying to breastfeed an unwilling baby. Every story you've ever heard about kids feeding successfully right after birth is running through your head and you feel like a big old failure because the most natural thing in the world is just not happening.

Eventually we got ourselves sorted out and went home. When Parker was about three days old we hit our next breastfeeding hurdle: milk. Can I just say, that there is nothing more terrifying/impressive than your milk coming in. All of a sudden I had rock hard boobs that reminded me of Bane from Batman and Robin.

Source

They also leaked everywhere. I would be getting dressed and all of a sudden there would be a puddle of milk on the floor. From my breasts. Hello, side show. And that, I kid you not, is what life was like for weeks. Breast pads were my bffs and constantly being changed. I got used to smelling, like Parker, like sour milk. 

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. Mostly because I had to bring a clean shirt, nipple cream, and breast pads with me everywhere I went. Yep, life as a mom really changes things. Eventually things sorted themselves out and it became more manageable. 

All that milk did not just end up on the floor or in my clothes. I was blessed with a very generous milk supply. At the risk of oversharing, Parker could have just opened his mouth and said "Ahhhh" and gotten a full meal. Fortunately, after two or three months, that sorted itself out, too. Until he started sleeping through the night, of course.

It was around that time that we started having some issues with breastfeeding. First of all, I was very uncomfortable feeding Parker in public without his nursing pillow. I definitely relied heavily on that pillow, and couldn't figure out how to discreetly feed him when we were without it. It was also the middle of summer, and way too hot to nurse with a cover on. That, and I'd get the nervous sweats whenever there was the possibility of a nip slip. Let me tell you, feeding my son in public was one of the most stressful things I had to do, especially when it resulted in me flashing an entire Tim Hortons.

Parker, my wonder feeder, also developed a lazy latch. This was probably a result of my generous supply and just laying him on the nursing pillow so I could be hands free. It was a good setup for cookie eating and Netflix watching, but led to some issues. I almost saw a lactation consultant about it, but was told by my health nurse to look into biological nurturing/laid back breastfeeding.

At first I was skeptical because it was just another breastfeeding position (and, hello, not one of the ones they tell you that you must use when you have a baby), but it was like hitting a magical reset button. Parker couldn't be lazy anymore and latched right on. Never mind that it's the perfect baby snuggling and lounging about position. That, combined with practicing not using my pillow, made breastfeeding so much easier. I still used my pillow until Parker was about six months old, but I didn't need it anymore.

Another thing that saved my sanity when it came to nursing happened when Parker was about four weeks old. I read a book on sleep training your kid. The big takeaway for me, though, was making sure he had full feeds. Parker has always been a sucky kid and would always look like he was trying to suck or nurse, and all the health nurses tell you that you need to feed your newborn as soon as they start giving you those hunger cues so they don't freak out. After a few weeks of doing that I was losing my freaking mind. Parker constantly looked like he wanted to suck on something (my boob) so he was constantly nursing. It was exhausting and frustrating, especially when he'd throw up from having eaten too much. 

I learned that instead of letting your kid snack, you can try to give them a full meal. I also gave my kid a soother, something I swore I never would (health nurses say it's sin). Glory, hallelujah, life got better. Parker was no longer attached to me 24/7 and was eating every 2 1/2 hours like clockwork. I also didn't let him fall asleep while nursing (for the most part, it's hard with newborns that sleep more than cats) and it saved my sanity. He didn't need me for sleep, and I could get some (sleep).

We were also really lucky that when we introduced the bottle at six weeks Parker took it like a champ. I know a lot of people give bottles earlier, but we were told that giving him one before then would cause nipple confusion and that would be the end of our breastfeeding journey. Same with soothers. Basically, we were scared to do anything wrong so tried to go by the health nurse book. 

Parker would take the occasional bottle during church and on Friday nights, and when I left the house for more than an hour. Breastfeeding still went really well.

When it came time to start cutting back on nursing with the inevitable return to work, it was pretty easy. I'd just stop offering and give him more food instead. I was nervous at first because it felt like it took forever to get solids really figured out, but everything happened with enough time. 

When I went back to work, we were nursing in the morning, before afternoon nap, and before bed. We just dropped the afternoon nap and eventually the before bed one, too. It was easy. I wasn't there in the afternoon and Parker was too distracted to really get into the before bed one. On Saturday, we had our last morning feed. 

Being pregnant, my amazing supply is starting to dry up. It's still there, but there isn't much and it's mostly colostrum. I'm kind of sad, but at the same time looking forward to having only to supply for one kid at a time. I let Parker decide when it was time, which was nice, and he doesn't seem to miss it at all. We didn't make it to two, but never had to supplement and I like to think that some of those breastfed super powers will linger for a while. We're over a year, it's not essential to keep him a live anymore, and I get a little more personal space in the morning. 

And in five months I get to start it all over again. Oh boy!

Free hugs.

I woke up yesterday morning with pink eye. So good, right? If Parker hadn't had it last week I would be so humiliated I'd hide my head under my incredibly infected pillow and never come out because of all the shame. What kind of 27 year old gets pink eye? I know how hygiene works, I swear

So that's been fun.

My sore throat from last week morphed into a full fledged day of aches and moaning, followed by an extra strength headache due to lack of hydration from pain of swallowing. I also got into a fight with our glass door and have a 3" long gouge on my heel and got blood on my TOMS. Then, just to be more fun, I got the hacking cough from hell that only appears when I'm trying to sleep, or occasionally breathe like a normal person.

Do you know what happens when you go to the clinic and have an inconvenient sporadic hacking cough? You get to wear a SARS mask and people move away from you like you have the plague. Do you also know what happens with pink eye when you cough a lot? It oozes. Basically what I'm saying is, I made a lot of friends yesterday and strangers kept asking me for hugs.

On the plus side, aside from being a germ-ridden freak, good things have happened, too. I've had a couple interviews, had a couple job opportunities come up, and have accepted a part time position. I also came to an agreement with my former employer as to what a fair severance settlement looks like, and it was remarkably painless. Thank you, Jesus.

I dread the prospect of having to brush my hair and put on pants every day, but I'm really looking forward to sending Parker to daycare so he can realize he isn't the king of the castle all the time. I'm also looking forward to getting off at 3, like some sort of high school kid. Cha ching.

I'm going to go throw out my pillow now and burn all my makeup.

Whomp whomp #2.

Last week was a really hard week for me. I was hit full on Monday morning with a case of the sads. I was just so, so sad. I ended up phoning Karl and telling him he needed to come home from work. I went back to bed until noon, and the afternoon was better. It wasn't until Wednesday or Thursday morning that I started feeling better again and it had completely gone away.

I've been having a bit of an identity crisis. I'm a mother. I'm a woman with a career. I'm a person that really enjoys books and movies and knitting and half an hour on the treadmill. I'm a freaking onion with layers upon layers. But I'm a mom.

I love being a mom more than I ever imagined. That's not to say I didn't think I would enjoy it, it's just that I didn't realize how much I would. Parker is one of the greatest things ever invented. I love, and feel incredibly blessed, that I get to spend a year with him at home, just doing our thing. I wouldn't give him up for all the camels in the desert.

But there's more to my identity than being a mother. I struggle so much, though, with the desire to be a mom and stay home with Parker and my will to have a career and continue to be a bread winner in our family. Also to have an excuse to wear jewellery again and clothes that aren't easy access. It's called mom guilt and it's real.

Before Parker, I figured I would be a career mom. I'd take my year, love it and embrace it, but then I'd go back to my job because I'm not the kind of person that likes hanging out with kids. Except now I know, of course, that it's different when they're your own. Parker is a superior breed of child (obviously) and I really do love spending time with him.

Tomorrow Parker will be 11 months old. That means June 1, the end of my maternity leave, is fast approaching. I was faced with the prospect of sending Parker to daycare while I went back to work. He would go to a daycare where I knew he'd thrive and be loved, and I would go back to a job where there were a lot of things I loved, but a lot of struggles as well.

And all those feelings came to a head last Monday and had me questioning every choice I've ever made.

We moved to Regina just over two years ago for my job. We know now, though, that God used my job to bring us to Regina. He brought us here and plunked us down, while we were in the midst of trying to buy a house in Victoria. We thought we were going to spend the rest of our lives there, and a few months later we were living in the frozen Saskatchewan tundra. We learned in that to trust God's plan for us, because he's always got our backs. And last week I had to put my trust in Him that it was going to be okay. His plan is the best plan and I'm kind of just along for the ride.

Fast forward to this week.

I am no longer returning to my job. I have options out there, and they're all kind of terrifying, but so was returning to work a month from now. A week ago I felt like I was being crushed by sadness, unsure of what I should be doing with my life, doubting myself and my abilities as a mother and working woman. And now I'm being faced with another opportunity to trust that God's got a plan for us.

Two things have been running through my head this week on repeat. The first is Philipians 4:13. I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. I may not "got this" but thankfully someone else sure does. The second is that old hymn, Great is thy Faithfulness. I may feel like things are spinning into scary uncharted territory, but God is so faithful. So it's going to be okay.