The Tornado’s Origin

I am obviously a very zealous and over-active blogger.  My followers cannot keep up with all the posts I write.  Oh wait.  I have only one follow – and I text her every day, all day long – and it is obvious that I do not blog often because a) as you can see I only have one post. And b) I can’t remember how to log into my blog.

Moving on…I am blogging today.  It’s -42C and there is nothing to do.  My kids are bored, their nap schedules are off, I have a searing pain in my shoulder which enables me to do very little except to sit on my butt.  These condition are ideal for lazy bloggers such as myself.

In general I am not a lazy person.  The fact is, I think I do too much.  Now before you go thinking I am quite full of myself, let me clarify. I do not brag that I do all these things because I think they are making me slightly OCD (is being OCD the new thing, along with having a gluten-free diet?).  But seriously.  I think I am slightly OCD in a few things.  Mainly, in organization.  Right now I am looking at my house and wondering how a tornado passed through when the temperature outside is -42C!  The weather conditions are simply not right.  Then I hear my 21 month old daughter upstairs in her crib hucking books and toys out of her crib and I remind myself of the tornado’s origin.

I hate disorganization, messes and broken routines.  My unfinished basement was organized a few weeks ago.  Now, it’s a big mess again.  I did a quick clean and managed to fill an entire recycling bag with store grocery bags.  That is kind of embarassing.

My living room is a mess no matter what.  I read articels on motherhood that say, just accept the mess, and I try.  Believe me I do, but it would be so much easier if that mess were contained in a play room.

Today’s routine is off.  Something threw it off and I don’t know what it was, but when routine’s go out the window I feel anxiety well up within me and try to stay calm and relaxed.  Right now I’m listening to the tornado’s origin – aka Chloe – cry upstairs in her crib.  She is obviously tired and needing a nap, but is fighting it with every ounce of energy she has left.  Ben – not quite a destructive tornado yet – took his 3 hour afternoon nap at 10:30am and so has been up since 1:30pm.  I hate when they don’t nap at the same time.  It means I don’t get a much needed break.

I like my routine because it helps my day go smoothly and makes me a bit more of a cheerful person for my husband to come home to.  Today might not be his lucky day.  Maybe I should text and warn him.  Or should I just let it be a surprise?  Everyone likes surprises right?



The Perfect Mother…is Not Me

A couple of years ago I started a blog to help me deal with my miscarriages. I thought writing would be a way of helping me heal, but instead I think it helped instill bitterness in my heart. Now I’m starting a blog to help me maintain whatever creativity or brain smarts I have left (though I’m pretty sure Ben, my son, drained what was left).

When I was newly married and eager for children, I dreamt of being a wonderful and perfect mother. During my pregnancy with my daughter Chloe, I still had those unrealistic dreams and expectations. After she was born, I felt like I could accomplish a decent amount on the list of “Perfect Motherhood”, but after Ben was born 3 months ago, I have lost whatever hope I had to coming near to my ideal perfect mother.

Before I start on who the perfect mother is, let me tell you a little bit about myself.

I am a 25 year old mother of two babies under two. I say two babies because they are both still in diapers and can’t speak yet. I married my husband, Ryan, 3 ½ years ago at a very simple wedding. We moved into our current home only a couple weeks after our wedding and are still here. I am not too fond of our tiny little place especially now that we have two babies. Everything is cramped, cluttered and disorganized. I grimace just saying this because I am a very organized person in general. Disorganization and clutter gives me an eye twitch which causes me to spaz out a little bit from my OCD. Right now I’m staring at a pile of flyers and coupons on my kitchen table and it’s causing a slight raise in my blood pressure. Anyways, aside from this I used to play the piano but don’t have time anymore. Instead of pounding the keys with melodious tunes, I dust them. Ok, who am I kidding, I don’t dust them. I used to run for fun. Now I run after my children which is just fine, but far more exhausting than running for an hour. I try to be girly by dying my hair, waxing my body, whitening my teeth and using hand cream, but these days I find it a luxury to take a shower (having a hot one is really hit or miss). Going out right now requires too much effort or a babysitter or both so I watch a lot of Veggie Tales with my daughter and eat cookies (bon bons are for those who have hot showers).

Who I wanted to be is nowhere near who I am. I wanted to be the mother who served the best diet to her husband and children, and remembered to distribute and consume vitamins daily. The wife who looked perfect when the husband walked through the door, and treated him like the king I see him as. To bring in a decent pay cheque, and enjoy being a working mother. I wish I prayed more during the day and watched a lot less TV. I guess for today that’s who I see the perfect mother as, but I also realize how silly it is to expect that from myself. These are qualities I admire in women I know and instead of coveting those qualities, I suppose I could strive for them, but not to the point where I sacrifice what true motherhood is. Yesterday, I believe I was the perfect mother because I played with my children all day long. To them that was enough. My husband came home from work to find his wife with no make-up and wearing the hated ponytail. But he found a smile on my face and that was enough for him. Today, I’ll give myself a break and focus instead of what makes my children and husband happy. I may not be perfect, but I’ll be happy.