The kids are alright.....right?

Worry.  We are all guilty as charged.  Some of us worse than others.  Some of us hide it better than others.  But it's there.  It's part of everyone's life.

There is though, a special kind of worry that comes with motherhood.  Actually, I'm fairly convinced that it's some genetic mutation that occurs upon conception.  Something about sperm meets egg also sets off a worry gene that knows no limitations on the scale.....and that never seems to change. 

I had my first major round of my new found mama worry when I was pregnant with the Princess.  What most people don't know is that at 16 weeks into my pregnancy, I had a placental abruption.  It was terrifying.  The moment I saw the blood, I threw up.  For the last four months I had loved and cherished with an abandon I had never felt before, this new little life I was growing inside me.  From the first ultrasound where her father dubbed her a "grain of rice with a heartbeat" I was in love.  I was more than in love.  I was her mom.  And as each day passed (and really each hour, at times even each minute) that she hung in there for me, I grew more and more fiercely protective.  But when the worry really smacked me in the face was at our next ob/gyn appointment.  I remember her dad asking the doctor when we could relax and know that she was going to be ok as we dealt with the abruption.  His answer...."when you're holding her in your arms.  But that's when a whole new set of worries begin."  It was as if my innocence was lost as hers was growing inside of me as I faced an entire universe of what if's that could tear my precious baby away from me. 

Somehow, and thankfully so, there seems to also be a coping mechanism you gain that combats the irrational fear that lurks behind every corner and allows you to move forward with a sense of normalcy as you stave off what could become crippling fear.  As the days passed and my relief grew that my little bean was staying put in Hotel Mommy (so much so that she overstayed her welcome by a grueling two weeks.....but that's another story) I was able to move on to the much more intangible and mundane worry of the average set.

You see, the decision to leave my marriage wasn't easy.  Even though the writing was on the wall for a long time prior....there were two little people who were unconsenting passengers on the train ride.  Every decision I made had not just an impact on me, and my ex.....but what feels like a lifetime impact on the Princess and the Pirate.  Growing up in a family that most closely resembled the Waltons, I had in my head a very strong picture of what my family would look like.  We were going to be nuclear.  Mommy, Daddy, 2 kids, dogs, and a white picket fence.....we would spend Sundays as a family delighting in exploring nature, and farm life, and picnics, and long walks.....well....you get the picture.  I spent a lot of time trying to convince myself that I could do it - that I could stick it out for the 'sake of the children'.  I wanted desperately for them to have the same storybook childhood I did.  I still see a Mom and a Dad who love each other dearly after 40 years of marriage.  They hold hands.  They cherish each other.  They are truly partners in life in every sense of the word.  When I was separating from my husband I spent a lot of time staying with my parents.  One night, my Dad was making dinner in the kitchen while my mom was also working in there at the same time.  At one point they bumped into each other in front of the kitchen sink.  She said something to the effect of she would get out of his way....and he looked at her and said "Dear, you've never been in my way a day in your life."  I will never forget that moment as long as I live.   I think I cried for over an hour that night after hearing such little words that held so much weight.  That was the love I was after.  That was what I needed to have.  That was nothing close to what I had in front of me.....and it didn't take rocket science to see that it wasn't ever going to be. 

As you go through a major life change I find that the people you need to be there, are there, if you open yourself up.  I really struggled with this notion of splitting up the family.  I wanted my kids to have a whole family.  A Mommy and a Daddy who lived in the same house in domestic bliss....or even a reasonable facsimile.  There were two pivotal pieces of advice I got from two separate friends that I hold very dear to my heart.  The first was a blunt statement from one of my favorite people.  She simply said, "My parents stayed together for the sake of the kids.  They shouldn't have."  The other from an equally dear friend was after my musing again about splitting up the nuclear family (dear god, I still haven't figured out my fascination with that) and she said, "don't you want your daughter to see that you can provide happiness for yourself.  She would want that for her Mom"

So....we all know the ending to the story.  And of course, with that cropped up a whole new set of things to worry about.  Children of divorce.  Broken home. (And after I came out so late in life....well that cropped even more worry into the mix.)   Those are such ugly words.  And I spent a lot of time worrying about the stigma that comes with them.  I work full time....I run a household alone....I'm the primary custody parent to the kids.....it's a plateful.....and I don't spend as much time just hanging with my kids as I'd like.  In fact, I don't spend as much time with my kids as I'd like period.  There are constant reminders of it everywhere.  The day the Princess was singing the theme song to a TV show I wasn't aware she'd even seen.....the day on the ride home when she gleefully told me babies come from vaginas (followed by maniacal laughter....oh yeah, that one was a doozy).....when she told me a knock-knock joke (or a close approximation to what I assume was a knock-knock joke because it contained the words knock-knock what felt like a few hundred times).....or any of the other little reminders that it is actually a village that is raising my children (thanks Hilary) and not just me.  Every time these things happen it's a little knife in the heart that I've missed that discovery in her life.  I wasn't there to share that magical moment of newness she stumbled across.  I missed it. 

I hope in my heart with every fibre of my being that the lessons I'm teaching them are enough.  That even though I won't always be there for the little day to day discoveries, I can shape the big ideas in their lives.  That they'll see that hard work pays off.  That it's okay to find happiness for yourself even if it's not conventional.  That if you're not getting what you need in life, that only you can make the changes that take you on a path to where what you need is.  That you are responsible for you.  That please and thank you are two of the most important words going.  That Mommy is only one person but she loves you with everything in her existence and would move mountains to make you happy (and after the sheer volume of firewood I've hauled this winter I may actually be close).....and that teaching them to be strong, capable, confident, and self sufficient are the biggest gifts I can bestow upon their little lives. 

This afternoon, after returning to the living room from about 4.8 seconds (yes, I can actually pee that fast....one of the other skills of motherhood not widely discussed) of absence to find the Princess in a precarious mid scale of the baby gate around the woodstove using a complex two step stool invention she had concocted to rescue the Pirate's blue elephant that had either been dropped or 'lovingly' placed there by the Princess (jury is still out on that one), like any mother "Get down!" came reflexively barking out of my mouth.

The immediate response as her mission continued for another second until I could physically intervene...."But mo-om.....I'm a superhero!!"

oh yes.  I think the kids are definitely alright :)





 

For the love of.....love.

Let's face it.  We're a collective grouping of love junkies.

Happy Valentine's Day peeps......

Now, I thought long and hard about a Valentine's Day post.....because realistically, there may not be anything more stereotypical than a divorced chick talking about her disdain for the day of love.....but actually, as long standing as my aversion to this day has run, this year I feel it's actually the least offensive it's been in a long time,  which of course gave me license to muse away.  I mean really?  A day where we all wallow in our glory as huge bouquets of roses, romantic dinners, diamonds and sexy lingerie are not only expected, but have come to be the norm.  It's as bad as a bunch of high schoolers worrying about prom.....and quite frankly, I'd rather not get one more email with some hot, young, scantily clad model wearing the sexiest get up I've seen in a while captioned with the likes of "play sexy"....or my personal favourite "bling it on and show off this V-day!"(I know, I'm really not their target market, and well, I don't really dig that stuff anyhow).....but seriously - I'm 37 and I've had two kids.....I'd like to show her I love her, not give her nightmares for the rest of her life as I bust out in my rhinestone thong.....sweet jesus people - time for a reality check here.....

After I strip away (ok, pun intended) all the excess of the day, the notion is pretty sweet....I guess?  Yes.  Showing your love for your significant other is very, very essential.  But shouldn't that be kind of an every day thing?  Am I the only one who would appreciate a gesture that wasn't so contrived?  I have to tell you, at this stage in the game I'd trade any number of dozens of roses for a shower in which I didn't have to a) rush through or get up at 5 am to take, and 2) keep one ear cocked for the inevitable disaster that is occurring in the wake of two unsupervised toddlers.  Throw in a huge bonus prize if anyone is willing to pick up the resultant tornado of toys, clothes, and god knows what else they manage to destruct during five minutes of shoddy supervision (or just in the course of the day for that matter).  How about an hour or two to......hmm....I'm not sure what I'd do with that kind of alone time.....I'd be drunk with the freedom, that's for sure.....but again, I'd trade your fanciest set menu dinner in any restaurant tomorrow night for a bit of time.....and quiet.....and well, just togetherness.....because at the end of the day......I think that is love.  It is really the sum of all those little things.  Remembering it's garbage day.  Putting gas in the car.  Picking up milk because we needed it.  Sitting on the couch once the kids are in bed and just holding hands in the quiet.  Going for a walk together.  Just a touch for no reason.  All of those things are so....easy....and it's just so easy to forget all of those things too.  And it's even easier to continue to let them slide to the bottom of the priority list because life just has so many other things that keep coming at you relentlessly.  And maybe I'm just so much more sensitive to it this time around because I've seen first hand what can happen.....and just how many things grow that can't be fixed with a fancy romantic dinner and a dozen roses....and then can't be fixed at all...... 

So....to all you love junkies out there who have big plans tomorrow night - enjoy them my friends.  I hope everyone has something in their day that makes them smile and feel loved, not matter what or by whom.   I have a hot date with a Princess and a Pirate tomorrow night.....and a dozen pale pink tulips that my Princess picked out herself for "us".....and even though there is someone that I'd kind of really like to be with tomorrow night,  life has other plans.....and that's just fine......because somewhere in the future there will be a Tuesday night and that will be just as good....in fact, it might even be better ;)

And then we were three......

Hiatus.  That's a word.  It's also what I took when my life derailed.  It's been a long time my friends, but I've come through the storm and I'm standing in the calm (sort-of) aftermath surveying the damage.  Like the end of any raging storm, there is that sense of renewal now that the pelting rain and the punishing wind has abated.  The sunshine is starting to peek through and I have a cautious optimism that we're going to be ok.  Well....that cautious optimism may be more like the desperation of survival instincts that kicked in....but regardless of the source - it'll be ok.

Some of you know, some of you are just finding out.....but the Princess, the Pirate and I are now a trio.  The details of what happened are, and will remain private, but I will say that sometimes in life there are problems that are just bigger than "us".  And so "us" become "me" and "your father" (which is what I call him on a good day) and so starts the next chapter of life as becoming mom is suddenly becoming everything.....and that my friends is a big ass job.

I have to tell you.....I was like what I assume everyone else was when they got married and started a family....in it for the long haul.  I prided myself on the thought that my marriage was impenetrable and that with hard work (that I was more than willing to put in) and perseverance we could and would weather any storm.  I was what I like to now refer to as really fucking wrong.  When you spend a long time building a life with someone, it is more that a daunting task to start to unweave all the intertwined pieces.  There's a lot of hurt.  There's a lot of anger.  There's a lot of assigning blame.  There's a lot of deflecting blame.  And even more when it sets squarely on your shoulders in so many ways.  There's a whole lot of irrationality.  There's even more exhaustion......because as all the pieces come apart they leave holes.....which are the pieces of you that get taken away.....and those pieces take some work to rebuild.

I guess the silver lining in all of this (oh god, I am tired, I just used the phrase silver lining) is that I have Princess and the Pirate.  Having my two monkeys leaves me approximately zero minutes a day to feel sorry for myself or attempt anything resembling self pity.  From the moment my feet hit the floor at around the 5am mark it is a non stop whirlwind of laundry, dishes, lunches, dogs, cat (yes, I at some point decided I didn't have enough on my plate and therefore Fred joined our family), breakfast, bags packed, shoes and coats on, out the door to daycare....at some point in there I do shower and slap on some make up - just enough to not scare anyone from the heavily accumulated bags under my eyes.....then it's off to a nine hour day of work, pick up kids, dinner, dishes, dogs, baths, more laundry, bedtime, clean up the aftermath of the tornado of toys and then a moment to think about.....wait, what's my name again?  This would explain a few things such as finding my missing wine opener (I know - panic was setting in) in the vegetable drawer in the fridge, and the day I was loading dirty cutlery into same said vegetable drawer instead of the dishwasher.....seriously, some days it's worse than when I was in the fog of having a newborn.

But, like every other part of life, you soldier on.  Try to think about the fact that someone is always having it worse than you.  Try not to think about the fact that it seems as if everyone in the world has it easier than you (wait - I did find time for self pity!)......and survive.  Because despite the bone crushing exhaustion and the fear that if you stop for a second you won't find the momentum to carry on, there are moments like tonight when baths have been had, fleecy jammies are on, and my two monkeys and I piled into mommy's bed for a hug and giggle fest.  Those are the moments where I draw my strength from.  Those precious moments of unadulterated joy.  Moments where the world stands still and there is nothing in your heart but happiness and love regardless of how brief or fleeting......and that's what I cling to.....because going from moment to moment strings together enough to keep me going.  And it won't always be like this.  It won't always be this hard.  Sometimes it'll be harder......and seriously, sometime it'll get easier. So, as I start to feel more and more like a somewhat reasonable facsimile of my old self, I'll be around a bit more.  I've got some explaining to do like my love affair with a minivan (details to come) and of course the many parenting wins and fails that I've experienced.....

A quick note - to all my friends who have been so loving and caring and supportive.  You guys are all amazing.  Seriously.  Amazing.  I know I don't always respond to your messages or keep in touch the way I should but please know - your words make a difference and I love each and every one of you for thinking about us. 

For the Love of Dog.....

Bear with me if this particular post feels like the ramblings of a woman coming undone....realistically, it kind of is......

In a past life (before I had kids, not some spiritual transcendence) I was into dogs.  Ok, mind out of the gutter ladies, I was involved in a lot of things dogs.  Obedience Trials, Shows, Protection Sport - I did it all, and I did some of it really well.  I spent every spare moment, and lots of moments that I didn't have to spare, dedicated to it.  My competition dog is Arson, who you'll meet in a second.  He is one of the true loves of my life.  Arson and I have spent hundreds of hours together travelling, have stayed in some lovely hotels, have stayed in some far-from-lovely hotels, we've won together, we've totally lost together, he's let me down, and I've let him down.  We've fought, we've triumphed, we've celebrated all sorts of things....he is what is commonly referred to as, my soul dog.  I have other dogs, but they are not Arson.  And for some reason from the first time I met him as a little puppy (who actually had an owner, which is a long story I won't tell here) I loved him.  A lot. Like, I don't have any of my children's names tattooed on my body, but you guessed it - I've got his.

So, as every first time mom thinks (cough, naively) when baby comes, life will continue on as usual with the blessed addition of your little person who will not interrupt the flow of said life in any way at all other than adding the most adorable presence to all activities that you will seamlessly carry on with.  Right.  We know how that goes.  Suddenly brushing my teeth was an accomplishment.  Dog training 20+ hours a week??  Hmm....

Days turn into weeks, which turn into months, which turned into years (and the addition of the Pirate) and my best intentions had yet to materialize. 
Not wanting to abandon my passion altogether, I attempt to take every opportunity to stay pitifully involved however I can.  Last weekend was a great example.  I decided to take Princess on a road trip so she could attend her first dog show.   Although she had no idea what it was, she talked about it gleefully for days prior, and on dog show morning could barely contain herself.  We drove the hour to the show and when we got there, Princess was in heaven surrounded by all the puppies.  As we were approaching the show building I ran into a friend of mine from the kennel club I belong to who had just been in the ring and gotten her first let of her Utility title.  Now, for those of you not in the know, in the world of dog obedience trials, Utility is really as high as you can go.  Not a lot of people get there, it's really tough and takes hundreds of hours of training time to teach your dog some pretty complex exercises (I won't bore the non-dog people with details - if you're curious use our dear friend google :)  Needless to say, she was thrilled.  So was I.  It was an awesome way to start our day.
Well, we didn't last long at the show, two year olds don't find too much enthralling about a dog show once the novelty of petting dogs wears off.....which happens pretty fast when two hundred dogs are packed into a building.....so we didn't get to stick around for much.  But, thanks to social media (what was the world like before FB??) I found out that my friend had earned her Utility title that weekend passing 3 of 4 trials.  Once again, for non dog people you won't get this, but that is a serious accomplishment.  Like serious.  Doesn't happen often.  And not only did she pass, but she did it with some pretty awesome scores.  (Congrats again my friend - you rock!!)

That night, as I laid in bed I couldn't sleep.  All of a sudden it was like the heavy weight of sadness had unpacked it's bags in me and I couldn't figure out why.  Actually, I could figure out why, I just didn't want to admit it to myself.  I was sad.....no, I was mourning.....
Motherhood wasn't the most graceful transition I've ever made in my life.  It was more like I tripped over two left feet while drinking heavily, fell, and motherhood was where I landed. It was in that moment that I finally admitted I missed me.  I missed the person that I was before I had kids.  I missed being really good at something.  I missed being selfish and spending ridiculous amounts of time and money on something that made me feel good.  Hell, I even missed the seedy hotels and the gas station sushi.....but more than anything, I missed my dream.  You see, that title that my friend got, was one that a lifetime ago I was training for.  And it wasn't until that moment that I finally realized (or at least consciously admitted to myself) it wasn't going to happen.  At least not with Arson. 

I'm going to be totally honest.  That hurts my heart.  And even as I write this, the tears are flowing.  There is a part of me that feels sickeningly guilty for the way I'm acting over the whole thing (guilty enought that I actually pulled over on the highway while driving home and texted a friend to unload this onto someone else), and there probably aren't a whole lot of people who will understand.  I have a beautiful family.  I have two gorgeous and healthy children who I have been blessed with.  I have hopes and dreams for them and our future.  But I no longer have that dream that's just for me...not the way I wanted it anyway. 

This is the part of motherhood that no one talks about, and certainly no one tells you about.  This is the kind of thing you say to a group of mothers (and I can almost hear the collective sighs of disapproval as I type this)....and everyone gets all uncomfortable at the thought that we should be anything other than delighted at our role in life.  I don't care who you are, or how infatuated you are with your role as a mother, I know....I absolutely know that at some point, even if for just a brief fleeting second, we've all felt that loss.  I know that not everyone has felt it like I did, and weeped on and off for days, but it's there.  In all of us.  And maybe if we all talk about it a little more, and judge each other a lot less, it wouldn't be so hard to take....maybe it would be, but at least we wouldn't feel like we had to go it alone.....I'm not sure how long it'll take for me to finish mouring the loss of this particular dream....it doesn't help that when I look at my love Arsy I see the grey in his muzzle, or know that when I enter him from now on he'll be a Veteran....and that really, I have far less free time in my life than I did before the Pirate came.....all I know is that I'm going to give myself permission to take this road of indulgence.....and I'm going to talk about it for anyone else who has something they've been holding close to their heart that they miss.....because really those secret things we hold onto do make up the pieces of who we really are.  Regardless of how trivial it seems, this is me.  I'm okay with that.  In fact, I'm kind of proud of that.  I had, and will one day have again, something in my life that I worked really hard for.  I got to see the payoff from all my hard work.  I was invested, I cared, and I was successful.  I got to travel, meet incredible people who shared my passion (and who I miss terribly - cue the waterworks).....I got to spend time with my buddy doing something we both loved.  As I look at him, it seems like he's made the transition pretty seamlessly.  Kids, and walks, and toddlers with food....life still seems pretty good for Arson.  Maybe I should take yet another lesson from my boy....and you know, judging from the glee in which Arson is currently tackling his beloved squeaky toy that he actually won at a trial....I think he'd tell me it'll be okay too.

Thank god for the love of a dog.

Meet Arson.....

Ch. EternalFire's Ignite My Soul Sch1 CDX BH CGN TT

Rottweiler Club Of Canada Hall of Fame

Multi V Rated

Best Puppy In Specialty Show

RCC Regional Specialty Best of Winners

(and love of my life)

you can visit Arson's awesome breeder here.

My Fabulous Mommies.....

To all the Beautiful Mommies out there....

To the world you are just one little person, but to one little person you are the whole world...

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY MY FRIENDS!

Take the day to be the fabulous women that you are - enjoy, get pampered, spoil yourself, and remember that sometimes it's okay to find happiness at the mall!

 (especially when that happiness is funded by your significant other's credit card while said significant other is home with the children!!)

If only.....

There have probably been a million times (and I really don't think I'm exaggerating for effect here) that I have said "if only..." since becoming a Mommy.  Recently I've been feeling like this whole job is seriously kicking my ass.  I'm tired (thanks Pirate).....like tired to a point that I don't think I've ever been before and as a result my overall parenting skills have hit the skids big time.  The last few days have been epically bad and I have found myself breaking every cardinal rule that I had dealt myself before becoming a mom.  This is far from a cry for pity, rather just some humbling honestly for anyone out there who is in my shoes (or worse off - because sadly I know you're out there too).....and I thought I'd start by sharing my list of "If only I was as good a Mommy as I was before I had kids"

1. I will never let my child sleep on dirty sheets.  I read recently, and it made me laugh, "Don't worry, you're not the only Mother to throw a towel over the peed on sheets and go back to bed."  Hell, I'm so tired these days my kids don't even get a towel.  Sorry Pirate - Mommy will just shift you out of that puddle of spit up....really you've got your whole crib mattress to work.....

2. TV is not a babysitter.  That's right - TV is better than a babysitter - you don't have to pay your TV by the hour!!  And really, my sanity is already so broken at this point that watching 101 Dalmatians for the fourth time today isn't doing the kind of damage it once would have.....Oh wait, I should be thinking about my children's well being?  Hmmm......

3.  My kids will not eat unhealthy food.  Ok, my kids will not eat unhealthy food before a nutritious breakfast and lunch.  Right, well, they won't eat crap before breakfast......Alright - the mall opens at 10 and Mommy desperately need to go into a fitting room so eat this frozen yogurt pop in the car and we'll crack into the chocolate in the parking lot.....fine, if you're going to be like that just eat the damn chocolate......

4.  I will not touch any alcohol while breastfeeding and/or being the lone parent home with my children.  Right.  Enough said. 

5.  Everyday we will plan some enriching and educational activity to do as a family.  Sure.  While working on approximately three hours of broken sleep has significantly reduced my ability to, well, be coherent at times, I have now begun to consider viewing any of the Disney classics as educational.  And really, making letting your toddler engage in a fun game of  'let's vacuum the kitchen' is always enriching.....

6.  I will not lose my temper, or ignore my child who is in an obvious attempt to engage me.  Alright, some background on this.  I have spent a lot of my life working in the retail sector, a significant amount in a children's retailer.  I had, previous to having my own spawn, witnessed frazzled parents attempting to tune out what I at the time perceived to be delightful toddler antics, and was very judgemental of these obviously inferior parenting skills.  Trust me - until you've played 6821 rounds of "why?" that hour, or heard for the umpteen-millionth time about how Princess' balloon popped three weeks ago you can't appreciate the finely honed skill of selective listening.....seriously, it's a testament of a truly skilled parent to be able to tune out a three year old.....kudos to you if you've acquired it - well deserved my friends.

7.   I will not give into whining.....that will just enforce the behaviour.  Ok.  I was partly right.  It certainly does enforce the behaviour.  But, when it's a choice of giving into that hair curling pitch only a toddler can hit while in a committed state of getting-what-I-want-by-whining-in-a-frequency-reserved-only-for-bats.....well, that round goes to you my toddler friend.  Mommy wants us both to live to see tomorrow.  Game.  Set.  Match.

8.  We will establish and follow a set bedtime routine to allow for easier bedtimes and better sleep quality.  Actually, when I had only one child this was pretty standard fare.  Bath, story, bed.  However, add in another and look out - especially now that Princess can open doors.  Fabulous skill for a toddler to acquire....really.  So the choices are - childproof door covers on the inside of the bathroom doors to lock all three of us in while I bath the Pirate and Princess screams the entire time so loudly that the paint peels off the walls, or bathe Pirate while Princess roams the house unsupervised which has resulted in, but not limited to, the following:  crayon on suede couch, crayon on approx 100 sq/ft of flooring, indelible ink on window sill, consumption of three chocolate bunnies left over from Easter,  removal of diaper followed by peeing on suede chair, ripping the window screen out of living room window, emptying entire contents of dresser onto floor, tipping over now empty dresser......ok, you see the pattern.  So bedtime routine now consists of pyjamas.  Done.

9.  I will keep a clean and organized house so that my children have a friendly and full access place to play.  Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!!!!  On a serious note, I have discovered that playdough, much like peas, kraft dinner, corn, chicken, rice (just to name a few) all dry to a lovely vacuumable consistency over night making clean up much more efficient.  Mom, if you're reading this I'm sorry.  Somewhere you clearly went very wrong.

10.  I will love my kids.  I wasn't aware that an emotion like the one I feel for Princess and the Pirate existed.  I don't think love is a big enough word.  I look at those two and they bring tears to my eyes (the good kind!  It happens - really).  I am overwhelmed with the way I feel about them.  I heard something once, to the tune of - having a child means forever wearing a part of your heart on the outside.  For those of you who are parents - you know what that means.  For those of you who aren't, I'm sorry that I can't explain it other than it is the single strongest, most amazing emotion and love I have ever experienced in my life.  And even though there are moments when jumping off the roof seems like the least painful option of the day - I adore my monkeys - more than I have to words to express.  And then I think maybe I am as good a mom as I was before I had kids.....maybe I'm even better......

Sleep is for the weak......

The last couple of weeks of my life have been....well, for lack of a better word, hellish.

The wee Pirate has decided that he no longer needs sleep to exist.  More specifically, he no longer needs sleep in anything greater than a two hour increment, around the clock.  Now, the Pirate has never been a great sleeper, unlike the Princess who reliably slept through the night at about the four month mark.  I remember hearing horror stories from other parents who were blessed stuck with these wee non-sleepers and somewhat snidely thought to myself that they must be suffering from some parental skills deficit which clearly I did not have.  I mean, they are babies.....haven't we all heard the phrase 'sleep like a baby'?  Babies were meant to sleep.....or so I once foolishly thought.  If I had the ability to get my hands on whatever genius coined that phrase, I would love to tie him to a chair (because no woman could come up with that gem) and let him experience a night at our house.....sleep like a baby, my ass.....sleep like a meth addict jonesing for a high is more like it.

Being the eternal optimist definition of ignorance, each night as we head to bed I think to myself with renewed vigour - this will be the night!  tonight we sleep!  My optimism, which at this point is already clinging to a thread, is quickly crushed night after night by about the forty-five minute mark which is reliably (the only reliable thing about this kid) when the Pirate wakes for his first round of let's drag Mommy thru hell.  Round one is followed shortly thereafter by rounds 2 through 84 as the night wears on in yet another sleepless blur.  The torture is only ended at roughly the 5am mark when the Pirate decides he's fully rested and ready to face another day.  And Mommy drags her increasingly weary ass out of bed yet again, looks at her spawn, and thinks for the 4382nd time that night how lucky I am that this kid is as cute as he is.....nature built in a genius species preservation method on that one.

What I love most about this entire endeavour through the depths of hell?  The advice.  Oh Lord, the advice (which I am secretly compiling to write my best selling novel cracking the code on why babies don't sleep because clearly every other parent and non parent on the planet has the solve for why my baby won't sleep).....but let's keep that between us, because as soon as I tire of the nights of endless awakefullness and decide to put an end to this nonsense using one of the oh-so-many tidbits of delightfully helpful and effective advice that has been bestowed upon me I intend to end the suffering of every other sleep deprived parent on the planet by sharing these gems of wisdom which clearly have been overlooked by all of us less that intelligent parents who, with a bit of effort, could easily be sleeping through the night.  Right.  Glad we sorted that out.  For the record - letting him cry, not letting him cry, letting him comfort nurse, not letting him comfort nurse, letting him sleep in my bed, making him sleep in his own bed, darkening the room, lightening the room, adding rice cereal to his last bottle, feeding him a jar of baby food before bed, swaddling him, not swaddling him, giving him a warm bath, rubbing lavender oil on his temples, massaging his tummy counter-clockwise, giving him a pacifier, not giving him a pacifier, moving his bedtime earlier, moving his bedtime later, using white noise, using music specially composed and "scientifically proven" to help babies sleep, silencing the room, and standing on my left foot while singing kumbaya and hopping in a clockwise circle have all not worked.  This has lead me to the shocking realization that......

Some babies just aren't good sleepers.  Period.  Add Pirate to the list....hell, make him the President.

And so, just like every other night, we head to bed in what will most likely be a futile attempt at anything other than very broken sleep, and very sore nipples as I feed my wee piranha for the bazillionth time.....but what I do get are those very few (and I mean very few) moments when he is asleep and I can take in the breathtakingly beautiful and peaceful look on my baby's face while I marvel in what a miracle he actually is.  And whether it's the sleep deprivation or just the sheer joy of his being in my life, it always brings a bit of a tear to my eye.  And I remind myself that as much as each exhaustion filled day is beginning to blur, so too will this time in our lives as the years pass.  These memories of sleeplessness will be just that....memories....along with the memories of how I once rocked my baby until he fell asleep....and when he's a teenager and I can't drag his butt out of bed, I'll probably long for these days when I held him tightly in my arms and sang him to sleep.....and so while I wish these endless nights were a memory.....

maybe I don't wish them away too soon.