A Mother of a Day

Mother's Day - a day for mothers to bask in the glory of our grand achievements. We are told that we should be pampered, get to sleep in, have a lazy day, and our kids will be perfect little angels. And then there's Mother's Day at my house. My darling son woke up at 7:00 (which for him is sleeping in) and Tim wouldn't get up with him. Excellent start to the day. Vaughn, however, was in good spirits and we had some excellent cuddle time in the big chair before I woke Tim up at 9:30 because I had to start getting ready to go.

At about 10:30 Tim decided he was going to start putting together Vaughn's new tricycle that my Mom and Dad got him for his 2nd birthday. It's an incredibly cool trike and I know Vaughn is going to have a lot of fun riding that bad boy around. However, it requires a lot of patience to do something like this and even more patience when you have a toddler trying to grab at all your tools. Not sure if Tim had that and I had to get going.

Leah and I decided to go out for brunch and pedicures which I thought was an awesome treat for Mother's Day. We had beer with breakfast and a lovely relaxing time at VJ's nail salon. The only thing I don't like about these "express" mani/pedi salons is how they don't even say hello to you when you come. Their greeting is "pick a colour", then "sit down here" and that's it - they get right to it and don't even really look up. But my feet are happy today because of it, so I'm not going to complain.

After that was done, I dropped Leah off and she was off to Costco - she was going to pick up Tim and take him with but when I got home he hadn't even showered yet. I decided to go along with her because I didn't want her to have gone out of her way for nothing and I did have to get a few things for our barbeque later in the afternoon. I bought Leah some flowers and she in turn bought me some flowers. At least my home would have a little brightness and a small reminder that Mother's Day did actually happen.

I got home from Costco to a red-face child who apparently had been screaming since I originally left. He didn't nap, wouldn't eat and Tim was at his wit's end. I got Vaughn a snack, sat him down and he gobbled it up. He was super happy and a cheerful earful. Huh. However, I wasn't really looking forward to taking him anywhere if he hadn't had a good sleep - we all know how a well-rested child is a happy child.

We made our way over to Leah & Steve's place and Vaughn was actually really good for the first half hour or so - we were playing Rock Band and he was sitting happily on the couch. That didn't last long and he wanted to get up and move around - he danced with Madison while I sang but then that got tedious and he decided that all the buttons on the stereo system looked really neat and the control for the game was fun and so on. Vaughn got himself banished from the family room and started to lose his little marbles.

We decided to start cooking the kids' food because we didn't think Vaughn would last very long and sent everyone outside to play. He had a great time, was having a ton of fun but of course, was testing the boundaries and touching things he wasn't supposed to. This is when Leah said to me "boy, he just goes renegade when you guys are around" which I heard "you have no control over your child". And this is where my day went completely downhill.

It's hard being a full time working mom - I don't get to see my child near as much as I would like. So maybe I am a little more relaxed with him. I certainly do not let him run wild and if he is causing problems, I have no qualms about putting him in the corner to chill out for a bit. We're at the house he comes to every day with the woman who gets far more of his time than I do and she's unintentionally making me feel like I'm the worst mother in the world. It's hard to be his mother around her because she steps in and disciplines him before I get a chance to. Her house, her rules, but when I'm there, shouldn't I get to be his mom?  It breaks my heart to hear my baby call someone else "mom" because he hears Leah's kids call her mom so isn't she mom too?  I know Leah corrects him but he still doesn't get it. 

And to top it all off, whenever Vaughn was having a mini-meltdown, Tim was trying to soothe him by offering him 20 different things to get him to calm down. What he needs to do is put him somewhere and ignore him. Toddlers don't always know what they want and the best thing for them is to not have a big deal made of their episodes and move along. The more attention you give them the more they will freak out. He was super tired and I'm sure a little confused being with both Leah and I and wondering who was the boss.

I was able to get Vaughn to sleep about 6:45 which was awesome and then we set to work on our dinner. We didn't eat until about 8 and then at 9 after the hockey game was done we headed home. Larry had puked on my bed earlier in the day and Tim took all the bedding downstairs and didn't replace it, so when I went up to bed at 9:30 there were no sheets on the bed and I had to make everything up before I could pass out.

It really truly was a Mother of a day.

2

2 years have gone by since Vaughn came into our lives.  We didn't want to find out what we were having so he was a totally wonderful surprise.  I was so happy, so proud.  What an incredible amount of pain, hard work and strength it took to get him here with us. 

I was so excited to share our news with the other couples from our baby group and e-mailed them all within minutes of getting home with Vaughn.  It was about a day later that I received a message from one of the other gals to call her because she had some news that she would rather not send by e-mail.

The first thing I thought was there was a birth defect of some sort - what could have gone wrong - she was young, healthy, and one of the most beautiful women I have ever met.  I never expected for her to tell me that she and her boyfriend were home but they didn't get to bring their baby boy home with them.  He would never come home with them because he didn't make it.

At the time, they weren't entirely sure what happened, just that the blood supply to the baby had been cut off when she went into labour.  Since then, it was determined that she had a condition called Vasa Previa that had gone completely undetected.

We were both in the same hospital at the same time only I got my baby and she didn't.  I can't even begin to tell you how screwed up that is.  Imagine going in to the hospital knowing your life is going to be forever changed only to have to everything turned upside down and your first job as a parent is to arrange your baby's funeral.

It is f*cked up.

2 years have gone by and my heart still aches for J & J.  Vaughn should have a best friend named Spencer.  They would have been rough and tumble wrestling buddies, muddy little boys. 

I think often of Spencer, his parents and their love.  Their love.  What an amazing young couple.  If you didn't know them, you would think they have it all.  Spencer will always be missing for them and it hurts my heart. 

So on Sunday, when everybody is eating chocolate, finding eggs or talking about a guy who came out of a cave 2000 years ago, I'll be thinking of my beautiful friends and their gorgeous dark-haired baby boy who never got to come home.

Spencer, you are remembered and you are so loved. 

Where Have All The Good Friends Gone?

I can be pretty judgy at times.  My judginess (or perceived judginess) got me in trouble this past year and I think I've lost some pretty good friendships because of it. 

I am sitting trying to think what makes me so much better, and it's really not that.  Judging comes from being uncomfortable in a situation and trying to make one feel better about one's self.  It's so much easier to pick apart someone else than pick apart yourself.

I struggle a lot in my life to just chill the frig out, and it's hard.  I've made a lot of mistakes in the past and I'm trying to be a good person for my son and for me.  Not everything I do now is right but I'm trying.  Some decisions I've made or things I've said or done have been taken the wrong way, but I do have the best of intentions.

I don't have the same life as a lot of my friends and I think that's also gotten in the way.  I can't go out at the drop of a hat.  I can't party until the crack of dawn - in fact, I'm lucky if I make it past 2 drinks.  I feel like people have stopped asking me to go out because I can't always do what they want to do.  But I try, and sometimes I wonder why people can't put their lives aside for a few hours when I ask them to do something so we can spend some time together.

I try too hard to be friends with everyone.  I know that.  I struggle with that.  I want everyone to like me and often stretch myself too thin to be the one that people like.  To my detriment.  I know that not everyone will like me, but if I feel like I've offended someone, it's always me that apologizes even when I don't feel like I was in the wrong. 

Not to say I don't have good friends, because I do.  I have amazing friends.  Some of them are new and some are old but all are cherished.  If I don't tell my friends enough how much they mean to me, that's my bad. 

So why write this now?  Well, I've had one particular friend in the past while who I thought had become very close but she is now being very distant.  Her friendship means a lot to me and I wonder what I've done or if I've done something or if it's nothing to do with me at all.  So I started thinking about other friendships and how I almost never hear from some people and yet seem to talk to others all the time.

All I'm trying to say is that it's hard to think a relationship matters more to me than it does to the other person and it's really hard for me to let go.  I get really emotionally invested in people and it hurts when they can take me or leave me. 

So, 2011, I'm going to try and just focus on the friends who are good for me and try so hard to just let go if someone is obviously just not that into me.  Easier said than done, but I'm going to give it a go.

Peace. 

I'm In Love With A Girl

...and her name is Iliza Shlesinger.

We decided to go out for another Saturday night, just us.  I'm really beginning to enjoy these nights out.  We got ourselves a sitter and went out for dinner at the Black Swan (thank you SUTP coupon book!) and had reserved seats for the show at Yuk Yuk's - it's not every day that a winner of Last Comic Standing hits your fair city...

First and foremost, I have to say how enjoyable it was to see Lori Gibbs as our host and MC for the evening.  I don't see her near enough, and just being in the same room as her does something for me.  When I was pregnant, I always had high blood pressure every time I went to see my doctor.  I really disliked my doctor and she didn't care for me much either.  One day, Lori just happened to be in the waiting room (her son goes to the same clinic) and we had a lovely chat.  That day, my blood pressure was the lowest it had ever been.  Coincidence?  I think not.

Anyway, the show was late starting and Lori had so many celebrations in the crowd to acknowledge she didn't get to do much of her actual material.  So we had to settle for crowd work and she brought up Erica Scott from Ottawa.

I have to say I wasn't feeling Erica.  I don't know if the volume wasn't loud enough or if it was the wait staff chatting loudly in the kitchen right next to where we sitting, but I couldn't always hear her and when I did, didn't really think she was that funny.  There's a point when self-deprecation gets tedious and about 5 minutes into her set, it tipped it over the edge for me.  Does every larger woman's set have to be entirely about her size?  No.  Please, no.

Or maybe I was just so excited to see Iliza that I couldn't wait for Erica to end. 

Once Iliza hit the stage, everyone was quiet (finally) and she took control.  You don't get to see comedians of her caliber that often - she's not old and jaded and brings a fresh face to the stage.  She's a little on the dirty side, but her presentation cuts the edge off.  We could tell that she had been listening to both Lori and Erica, as she did call-backs to their material throughout her set. 

Iliza did a great job of relating to the crowd, and really got us all on her side when she brought her dog Blanche out and incorporated her into the show.  We all loved Blanche - I couldn't believe a dog would be so mellow in front of an audience, but she did a great job and was really well behaved. 

Iliza kept going high-energy for a whole hour, and I could have sat there all night.  I have not laughed that hard in a very long time.  Thanks for putting on such a good show!

After everything was over, Iliza stood at the door and was doing autographs, selling t-shirts and was gracious enough to pose for a picture with me and Blanche. 

Aren't they adorable?

And tonight I get to go see Simon King at Derek Sweet's Going To Hell Sundays.  Life is good.

"You Look Like Crap"

That's what I hear when people tell me I look tired.  I hear "you look like crap".  Because I know I do.  I just don't need other people to tell me that.  One lady at work tells me every day when I walk in the door.  This morning, I actually told her to stop saying it because I'm always tired and don't need to hear it from her every day. 

I wish I wasn't so tired all the time, but I have a 17 month old baby who, when awake, is moving.  I get up every day at 5:30, get myself ready for work then get Vaughn up and ready to go to dayhome.  I drive 25 minutes to the office, fighting in rush hour traffic.  I work a full day, take 35-40 minutes to get home, pick Vaughn up from dayhome, make dinner, play with Vaughn, bath Vaughn, get him ready for bed and then at 7:30 try to relax for a few hours before I go to bed at 9:30 for what will probably be a crappy night's sleep.  Vaughn may or may not get up in the middle of the night for what I call a "soother rejam".  Regardless of whether he's up for 30 seconds or 30 minutes I still hear him, I still wake up and I still can't get back to sleep.

Now, some, if not most of you, will say "Where's Tim in all of this?  Why doesn't he help?"  Good question.  I have no idea.  I'm sick of asking for help and not getting it.  Why should I even have to ask?  Why shouldn't it just be offered?

Last weekend, I was supposed to get to sleep in both days and ended up getting up both days with Vaughn at 6AM.  At what point do I just let my baby cry until Tim decides to be a father and get up to deal with him?  I can't just let him cry, I'm his mother and it's not right to make him suffer for me to prove a point.

I'm tired.  I look like crap 90% of the time.  And from what I hear, it's common among women - we do most of the work with the kids.  I wouldn't mind so much if I felt like I was appreciated or did a get a chance to sleep in.   That is why I like going on business trips, it forces Tim to take responsibility and do it.  I know he can do it, why he doesn't on a regular basis blows my mind.  If anything, you would think he would do it for me, knowing how tired I am. 

I just wish we as mothers got more recognition for the work we do.  I work full time and am a mother.  Other mothers I know are tired all the time too.  We do it because we love our families.  We do it because we know it needs to be done.  I just wish the men in our lives would appreciate us a little more.

I know some guys reading this are going to say "whoa, I do all that, I'm a big help".  If you are, then you are certainly the minority.  And good for you.  Go help yourself to a cookie.  I'm talking about me and my situation here and it ain't all sunshine and roses.

One step I have taken in what I think is the right direction is that instead of asking if I can go do things, I am telling Tim I'm doing things.  And this weekend, I'm going for a mani/pedi/massage on Saturday afternoon.  Hopefully I'll get to relax a little and won't be such a raging b*tch when I come home.  Happy wife, happy life, yes?

So next time you feel like you want to tell someone they look tired, please don't.  Chances are they know, and chances are they will hear "you look like crap" and nobody wants to hear that.  And before you tell me to make Tim start doing things because you're so perfect and you have such a perfect life, know that it's easier said than done, know that I'm trying but it's 2 steps forward, 1 step back.  He does a lot of things right, but when it comes to raising this child of ours, many days I feel like I'm in it alone. 

Am I complaining?  Yes, today I am.  Because I'm tired.

Mommies Gone Wild

Next Saturday is my friend Paula's birthday.  She wanted to celebrate it a little early and go out for dinner with a group of friends.  Turns out most everyone was busy so she and Lorne decided to go out alone and she was going to do a spa day - did I want to come?  Did I?  Does a bear?  Is the Pope?

Tim was excited to take care of Vaughn because that meant he didn't have to leave the house and go out with people he didn't know, I was excited to get out of the house and hang out with Paula sans the children.  Every time we've gotten together over the past year, there's been kids.  We both love our children oh so much, but we were friends before kids came along and promised each other we would have some time to ourselves before we were old and crusty.

So yesterday was that day.

Let me take you back about 10-11 years first.  I had zero people depending on me, I was in my mid-twenties and had just joined a rugby team.  These girls were my life - all I did was work, practice and play rugby and party.  Every weekend we were out at The Rose & Crown, partying it up.  Saturdays and Sundays were spent feeling sorry for myself but we usually mustered up enough energy to go out for dinner at Fiore's or Singapore Sam's on Sunday nights.

Paula and I used to play rugby together.  She was a back, I was a forward, so we didn't see too much of each other at practices, and she was living with Lorne when she joined our team so didn't come out with us all the time.  Here is why Paula is such a dear friend to me - one year at Rugbyfest in Edmonton, I sprained my ankle and was in horrible pain.  There was a big party down at OTS Park and I couldn't go.  Paula stayed back from that party to hang out with me and keep me company.  Then, when we got home, she drove me to the high school I was coaching at every day until I could drive myself so I didn't miss practices with the girls.  I will always remember and cherish her for that.

Paula only lived a few blocks from me, so we saw each other quite a bit.  We had a lot of good times and good memories.

However, I'm no longer even close to that person I was 10 years ago.  Tim hears stories from back then and can't imagine I was ever like that.  Yup, I was.  I'm sure not proud of everything I did, but it was my life and I lived it.  Just like I do today.

I'm also sad to say that a lot of the friendships I had from back then have dwindled.  I moved away, lost touch and grew apart from many of the girls I was once so close to.  I'm not going to lie, it hurt and it still hurts sometimes to know that they could cast me aside so easily.  However, I started to focus on the friendships that do matter and people that want me in their life, and now I'm in a great place.  I'm still very close with a few of the girls from the team, and those girls will be my friends for life. 

Okay, back to the present.  So, Paula has 2 kids, I have 1 and the time we get to spend together is always kid-centric.  Yesterday, it was all about time to ourselves.  We met in Kensington at Purr so Paula could do a little shopping for her birthday dinner.  I've always loved shopping with people - especially ones that will humour me and try things on that I like but would never be able to wear.  It was a lot of fun and Paula got a really nice outfit.

Then, it was lunch at Molly Malone's.  We had lunch at a pub.  We were by ourselves in there - it was glorious!  The food was fantastic and the cider was nice and cold and went down just a little too fast...

We arrived at Riverside Spa - I had a bit of a wait because my appointment wasn't until 3:15 and Paula was getting a massage.  I went in to their eucalyptus steam room for about 20 minutes or so and then had a nap (a nap!  In the middle of the day!!!) until just a few minutes before we had our manicures.  We then each had a mineral pedicure, a good visit and some more laughs before we had to say goodbye to eachother.

As my life has changed, so have my priorities.  Family is so important to me, and I never realized just how much until I have one of my own.  I no longer have the desire to "party til I puke" because that's not me anymore.  I usually have one or two, and then I'm done - I have to get up and be a good mother to my son, and I'm no good to him when I'm tired, impatient and cranky. 

I'm so glad though that I still have friends who knew me back then, can see me for who I am (then and now) and still love me just the same.  Going wild means something completely different now, but I am so happy I got to do what I did yesterday.  There's a saying - if momma ain't happy, nobody's happy.

Well, I'm happy.

Cooking With Phyllo

Last weekend, we were invited out to our friends' cabin.  They had just finished building a porch and wanted to have some people over to warm it.  I love a good warming party, and everyone knows if there's a potluck, I'll be there.

So, there I was on a Friday afternoon trying to figure out what I was going to take the next day.  I knew I had a half case of pears in the basement so my dish had to incorporate them in somehow.  After much poking around http://www.tastespotting.com/ I came up with an idea that seemed doable.  Off to Safeway I went.

I couldn't find puff pastry for the life of me, and the bakery department told me that phyllo was just as good, it was a puff pastry also.  Super!  They only had it in the freezer section but I grabbed it anyway.  I got the rest of my ingredients, and merrily rushed home to transform my pears into a piece-de-resistance.

Turns out the phyllo has to thaw for 5 hours or overnight in the fridge.  It was 7:30 PM and there was no way I was going to attempt baking at 12:30 AM.  Oy vay.  I decided that if I got up at 6:00 I could get everything done before we had to leave for the cabin.

Did I mention that I had agreed to go to a playdate with the kids from our baby group at 9 until 11?  No?  Well, yes, I did.  I wanted to see the kidlets and their moms and wanted Vaughn to play with his little friends so I knew I had to find a way to do both.

Since I am in the logistics business, it shouldn't be too hard to do this right?  Sure, but when you add a little bright-eyed and bushy-tailed toddler in the mix, it kinda throws you for a loop. 

I got up right away, took the phyllo out of the fridge, as the package stated the pastry has to be room temperature.  No worries, I thought, I'll just go have my shower and by the time I get back, it will be ready for me.

I prepared my pears with ginger and lemon juice, took out the ricotta cheese and rubbed my hands in delight.  My first time with phyllo pastry - how exciting!  I took the box apart, quickly scanned the directions, blah blah, wax paper, blah blah de blah, butter, uh huh, do de do, 350 degrees, roll, yup, okay.  Got it.

Wax paper on the cookie sheet?  Check.  Except I don't have a cookie sheet, so the bottom half of the broiler pan will have to do.

Melted butter?  You know it.

Room temperature phyllo pastry?  Not quite.  Turns out they really mean it when they say room temperature.  I discovered at 7:00 on a Saturday morning that if you don't have room temperature phyllo pastry, it will stick to itself, be impossible to peel off the pile, and you might have to throw away 8 sheets of it before you can get one useable one.

I had a big pile of gooey pastry, a hot oven waiting to bake, a needy baby and a clock tick tick ticking away on me.  Focus Kerry! 

I finally got 4 sheets done and buttered, ricotta cheese spread, pears sprinkled over, brushed with butter, sprinkled with cinnamon, drizzled with honey and rolled up.  Brush that with butter, drizzle with honey and ready to go again.

#2 went much better than #1.  Ah ha!  I got the hang of this now.  Wait?  What's that funny smell from the oven?  It smells like when my dad used to wax skis in the garage.  You mean you're not supposed to put the wax paper in the oven?  Oh crap.

Open oven - remove strudel-like pastry items and transfer to a non-stick surface.  Sounds easy in theory, not so easy when they are delightfully warm and gooey but not cooked yet.  One of them split in half, so a repair job was in order.  Having never worked with phyllo pastry before, it didn't go well.  I was hoping that they would taste really good and the appearance wouldn't matter so much.

That's done - back in the oven they go.  Good, on to #3.  Reread directions on box.  Wait.  What?  I'm supposed to slice it before I bake it?  Oh for crying out loud.  Here we go again.  Remove from oven, slice to halfway point and put back in the oven for hopefully the last time.

It is now 8 AM, I have one more left to make and I want to get out of the house by 8:30.  I have yet to dress and feed Vaughn his breakfast.  I can do this.

Deep breath, in, out.  And begin.

#3 went like I had been doing it my whole life.  I buttered, spread and drizzled with panache.  #3 was perfect and I couldn't wait to present it at Julie's cabin. 

While #1 and #2 were almost done, I rushed upstairs and changed Vaughn.  Pulled them out of the oven to cool - they looked so messy, but so delicious.  While #3 was coming to a perfect golden finish I shoved a bowl of cereal and some fruit down Vaughn's throat so fast he didn't know what was coming at him. 

I left #'s 1, 2 & 3 on the stovetop to cool while I was at baby group.  We had a great time, but of course, I felt a little pressured for time because we had to get out to the cabin.  I walked in to our house, ready to see what they looked like, and half of #3 had been eaten.  Yup, the best one.  Half gone.  I couldn't believe my eyes.  Tim thought I had made him breakfast. 

Breathe Kerry.  It's only a strudel for Pete's sake.  #1, #2 and the remaining piece of #3 were transferred in to a container for transport.  Pack up the car and away we go.

We had a super fun day at the cabin, great food, great company and by the time it was time for dessert, the stress of the  morning had completely melted away and I was happy to hear people tell me how wonderful my pear strudel was.  Knowing the effort I put in to it was worth it to hear one yum after another.  Yay me!

So why am I writing this?

Well, strudel #4 went in the oven just 25 minutes ago and I wanted to see if I enjoyed phyllo a little more when the pressure was off.  I pulled the pastry out of the fridge this morning so it was the perfect temperature - one sheet after another peeled off the pile like paper - still quite delicate, but not sticky and easy to work with.  I still had pears and ricotta cheese so I knew what I was doing with those. 

I'm here to tell you folks practice makes (almost) perfect.  I'm no longer afraid of phyllo and ready to try different things.  Tomorrow night will be a strawberry and brie concoction and who knows what comes next? 

I, Kerry Rasmussen, conquered phyllo.  Here's the proof: