50s tween-age angst.
Friday, September 26, 2008
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Kids and self-absorption
In many ways, I am very self-absorbed, and I always was. Ask my parents or brother or husband. It's true, although many people seem to think I'm not.
I was the kind of kid who was always very focused on my own goals and needs. This kind of focus is very much encouraged nowadays. We tell kids to reach for the stars, achieve their dreams, do their very best. Most of the time, there's nothing wrong with that. However, I know the effect on me (and on lots of other people I knew) was to think personal achievement was the most important aspect of life. In other words, self-absorption is necessary if I didn't want to waste my potential.
A good upbringing kept me from thinking I was the centre of the universe. I think having my kids young helped me get over most of the rest of my self-absorption.
A lot of my extended family was horrified when I chose to marry "young" (I was 23) and have my first child soon afterwards. The family was proud of my academic and professional achievements. They fully expected me to be the next Peter Mansbridge. And I was also confident I would achieve great things in journalism.
But after I married the Hubby, I wanted other things. Most of all, I wanted little smiling faces that looked like him.
Those little ones needed me. They didn't need me to file stories to the National. They didn't need me to be famous or successful. They needed me to be around. They needed my love and attention and cooking and cleaning. They needed me to read them books and put them to bed and nurse them.
They still need many of those things. For them to have what they need, I have to give up a lot of what I want.
Here's the hard part: I still rail against giving them what they need over what I want.
I want to read for hours in peace and go to yoga and write freelance articles. I want to be admired for my writing. I want to have lots of money.
My kids are often the only people who can save me from my own selfish self-absorption, in all their clingy, whiny glory.
I know lots of childless people who are giving and generous and selfless. I don't think I would have been one of them. think I would have been a miserable person.
And in the end, when I need it to be all about me, I can always blog. Let's be honest, what else is this blog but a showplace for my thoughts?
I was the kind of kid who was always very focused on my own goals and needs. This kind of focus is very much encouraged nowadays. We tell kids to reach for the stars, achieve their dreams, do their very best. Most of the time, there's nothing wrong with that. However, I know the effect on me (and on lots of other people I knew) was to think personal achievement was the most important aspect of life. In other words, self-absorption is necessary if I didn't want to waste my potential.
A good upbringing kept me from thinking I was the centre of the universe. I think having my kids young helped me get over most of the rest of my self-absorption.
A lot of my extended family was horrified when I chose to marry "young" (I was 23) and have my first child soon afterwards. The family was proud of my academic and professional achievements. They fully expected me to be the next Peter Mansbridge. And I was also confident I would achieve great things in journalism.
But after I married the Hubby, I wanted other things. Most of all, I wanted little smiling faces that looked like him.
Those little ones needed me. They didn't need me to file stories to the National. They didn't need me to be famous or successful. They needed me to be around. They needed my love and attention and cooking and cleaning. They needed me to read them books and put them to bed and nurse them.
They still need many of those things. For them to have what they need, I have to give up a lot of what I want.
Here's the hard part: I still rail against giving them what they need over what I want.
I want to read for hours in peace and go to yoga and write freelance articles. I want to be admired for my writing. I want to have lots of money.
My kids are often the only people who can save me from my own selfish self-absorption, in all their clingy, whiny glory.
I know lots of childless people who are giving and generous and selfless. I don't think I would have been one of them. think I would have been a miserable person.
And in the end, when I need it to be all about me, I can always blog. Let's be honest, what else is this blog but a showplace for my thoughts?
Monday, September 15, 2008
OK, enough about the States!
That's enough politics around here. Back to crowing about my children.
Toddler N. told me yesterday I'm "boo-ti-ful." Thanks, baby girl!
Toddler N. told me yesterday I'm "boo-ti-ful." Thanks, baby girl!
Thursday, September 11, 2008
SOGC worried Trig Palin will prevent abortions
First read this, and note the response of the vice-president of the Society of Obstetricians and Gynecologists of Canada:
http://www.theglobeandmail.com/servlet/story/RTGAM.20080909.wxldown09/BNStory/lifeFamily/home
Then read this.
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2008/09/09/AR2008090902519.html?hpid=opinionsbox1#
There is something wrong with an obstetrician who wishes more parents would abort babies they might actually want, who is lamenting a role model that belies the scare tactics many geneticists use when counselling the parents of unborn babies with Down Syndrome. And there is something wrong with the SOGC for allowing a V-P to say this in public.
Let me say this: I have no desire to ever be pregnant again because of how ill I get, but if God told me tomorrow He was giving me the blessing of a child with Down Syndrome, I'd sign up for my PICC line the next morning. Different and challenged is NOT wrong or evil or unwanted or unneeded. I think the world needs people with Down Syndrome in it. They are teachers.
Full disclosure: I won a reporting award from the SOGC in 2004.
http://www.theglobeandmail.com/servlet/story/RTGAM.20080909.wxldown09/BNStory/lifeFamily/home
Then read this.
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2008/09/09/AR2008090902519.html?hpid=opinionsbox1#
There is something wrong with an obstetrician who wishes more parents would abort babies they might actually want, who is lamenting a role model that belies the scare tactics many geneticists use when counselling the parents of unborn babies with Down Syndrome. And there is something wrong with the SOGC for allowing a V-P to say this in public.
Let me say this: I have no desire to ever be pregnant again because of how ill I get, but if God told me tomorrow He was giving me the blessing of a child with Down Syndrome, I'd sign up for my PICC line the next morning. Different and challenged is NOT wrong or evil or unwanted or unneeded. I think the world needs people with Down Syndrome in it. They are teachers.
Full disclosure: I won a reporting award from the SOGC in 2004.
Saturday, September 06, 2008
Couldn't have said it better myself
I wish I'd written this calm and logical rebuttal to those people who treat me like one of Satan's minions for having kids.
http://www.slate.com/id/2143659/
HT to Pansy.
http://www.slate.com/id/2143659/
HT to Pansy.
Friday, September 05, 2008
Finally, my thoughts on Palin
I've been chewing over Governor Sarah Palin of Alaska's vice-presidential nomination on the Republican ticket for days and days. While I'm not obsessed with American politics, I do follow them during presidential races, since the American president affects the world entire (and it's like a reality soap sometimes.)
I know Palin's selection has more to do with cynical pollster politics than anything else, really. McCain was desperate to liven up his campaign, to steal some of Obama's excitement and wonder. He's succeeded for the time being.
But I still find Palin a fascinating person and a role model.
A mother of five children who ends up as a mayor and then the governor of a state with some of the dirtiest politics in the country. An unapologetic career woman married to a normal dude -- he belongs to a union, has worked in oil at the bottom of the industry and loves to snowmobile, but also actively helps with the kids. A woman who can shoot a gun, who loves to hunt, who is sporty.
A woman who has walked her talk, who chose life for Trig when most babies like him are now aborted simply because they have Down syndrome. A woman who is trying to become the vice-president while raising a child who will need her ongoing care for the rest of his life.
A woman who supports her teenaged daughter after a bad decision to have sex and the resulting unplanned pregnancy, rather than kicking her out, shipping her off to a home for unwed mothers or pressuring her into an abortion because the pregnancy will embarrass Mom.
This is impressive to me. This speaks to me. This is the kind of woman I try to be every day: a pro-life feminist. A woman who believes we can run the world while having kids. A woman who believes, truly believes, taking care of a large family should never be the end of a woman's potential.
We can breed. We can also lead.
However, I would never vote for Palin.
She supports drilling the Arctic Wildlife Refuge. The refuge is the calving grounds of the porcupine caribou herd. That herd isn't just a bunch of pretty animals. It is the food source and cultural anchoring point for many people in the North, especially the Gwich'in. If those animals go, the Gwich'in culture and language, in all its complicated beauty, will die.
Food is culture.
I can't support someone who thinks the life blood of the Gwich'in is unimportant, especially when she is a hunter. She should know better.
Finally, I think she needs some more time as governor -- at least a complete term -- before she should be trying to help run the U.S. Experience is not everything, but a little bit more would help her.
So that's what I think. I also think the press has been apologetically sexist and two-faced about Palin in a way it was not for Clinton. And that makes me sick. I thought journalists aimed for balance. I always did (and hopefully will again.) This "bring down the Republican MILF" thing is garbage. And don't tell me the GOP started it and deserves it. They're politicians. They play dirty. Journalists should never act like politicos.
Finally, the coverage shows me how completely out of touch reporters are with normal people. Get this through your head, former colleagues: there are lots of pro-life people in the States who want medicare and a living wage and a social safety net. Most people are not red or blue -- they're each a different shade of purple. Until journalism learns this lesson, reporters will never understand Sarah Palin's appeal.
I know Palin's selection has more to do with cynical pollster politics than anything else, really. McCain was desperate to liven up his campaign, to steal some of Obama's excitement and wonder. He's succeeded for the time being.
But I still find Palin a fascinating person and a role model.
A mother of five children who ends up as a mayor and then the governor of a state with some of the dirtiest politics in the country. An unapologetic career woman married to a normal dude -- he belongs to a union, has worked in oil at the bottom of the industry and loves to snowmobile, but also actively helps with the kids. A woman who can shoot a gun, who loves to hunt, who is sporty.
A woman who has walked her talk, who chose life for Trig when most babies like him are now aborted simply because they have Down syndrome. A woman who is trying to become the vice-president while raising a child who will need her ongoing care for the rest of his life.
A woman who supports her teenaged daughter after a bad decision to have sex and the resulting unplanned pregnancy, rather than kicking her out, shipping her off to a home for unwed mothers or pressuring her into an abortion because the pregnancy will embarrass Mom.
This is impressive to me. This speaks to me. This is the kind of woman I try to be every day: a pro-life feminist. A woman who believes we can run the world while having kids. A woman who believes, truly believes, taking care of a large family should never be the end of a woman's potential.
We can breed. We can also lead.
However, I would never vote for Palin.
She supports drilling the Arctic Wildlife Refuge. The refuge is the calving grounds of the porcupine caribou herd. That herd isn't just a bunch of pretty animals. It is the food source and cultural anchoring point for many people in the North, especially the Gwich'in. If those animals go, the Gwich'in culture and language, in all its complicated beauty, will die.
Food is culture.
I can't support someone who thinks the life blood of the Gwich'in is unimportant, especially when she is a hunter. She should know better.
Finally, I think she needs some more time as governor -- at least a complete term -- before she should be trying to help run the U.S. Experience is not everything, but a little bit more would help her.
So that's what I think. I also think the press has been apologetically sexist and two-faced about Palin in a way it was not for Clinton. And that makes me sick. I thought journalists aimed for balance. I always did (and hopefully will again.) This "bring down the Republican MILF" thing is garbage. And don't tell me the GOP started it and deserves it. They're politicians. They play dirty. Journalists should never act like politicos.
Finally, the coverage shows me how completely out of touch reporters are with normal people. Get this through your head, former colleagues: there are lots of pro-life people in the States who want medicare and a living wage and a social safety net. Most people are not red or blue -- they're each a different shade of purple. Until journalism learns this lesson, reporters will never understand Sarah Palin's appeal.
Wednesday, September 03, 2008
I will blog about Palin, I promise
I will eventually post some of my thoughts about Sarah Palin's nomination as the VP candidate for the Republicans. I'm still sorting through how I feel about it. I've been commenting over on Megan's blog, but I need to think about it without anyone else's opinions getting in the way for awhile.
I'm feeling very conflicted.
I will say the woman's personal life impresses me mightily. And I still believe the personal is political.
I'm feeling very conflicted.
I will say the woman's personal life impresses me mightily. And I still believe the personal is political.
Friday, August 29, 2008
Homecoming
Hubby is home, which means I get a break from the kids and I get to enjoy his company.
I have to say this was the nicest homecoming I think we've ever had.
I have to say this was the nicest homecoming I think we've ever had.
Sunday, August 24, 2008
I love my kids (deep breath)...
I'm getting to that wiggy stage, where I just want to hide from them all and go get a pedicure.
Hubby gets back on Friday, thank goodness.
Hubby gets back on Friday, thank goodness.
Monday, August 18, 2008
Saturday, August 16, 2008
Friday, August 08, 2008
On prudes and mammary glands
At lunchtime today, about 60 breastfeeding mothers and their children crowded into H&M (a trendy clothing store) in downtown Vancouver to protest the treatment of a mom who dared to breastfeed her two-month-old daughter in the store a few days earlier. Employees forced that woman to hide in a change room.
A woman was also told to cover up on an airplane this month, while another Canadian woman visiting Florida was harassed at a theme park for breastfeeding.
Look, to all the people who think breastfeeding is fine as long as they don't have to be around it, let's get something straight here, once and for all. A baby's human right to eat as soon as it is hungry trumps your preference to be a prudish nitwit and never see a woman breastfeed.
I don't care if it makes you uncomfortable, or makes you blush, or even gives you an erection. I don't care if you stare, or tsk, or harumph and say, "disgusting!" I don't care if you think my two-year-old with a bloody knee and tears coursing down her cheeks is "too old" to nurse.
The simple fact is this: you can look away if you don't like it. Babies and small children have a right to nurse from mother's breast, and I have a right to not be imprisoned in my house like a woman during the Taliban regime in Afghanistan.
This society is sick and twisted if the comfort of men and old ladies comes before the rumble of hunger in a baby's stomach.
A woman was also told to cover up on an airplane this month, while another Canadian woman visiting Florida was harassed at a theme park for breastfeeding.
Look, to all the people who think breastfeeding is fine as long as they don't have to be around it, let's get something straight here, once and for all. A baby's human right to eat as soon as it is hungry trumps your preference to be a prudish nitwit and never see a woman breastfeed.
I don't care if it makes you uncomfortable, or makes you blush, or even gives you an erection. I don't care if you stare, or tsk, or harumph and say, "disgusting!" I don't care if you think my two-year-old with a bloody knee and tears coursing down her cheeks is "too old" to nurse.
The simple fact is this: you can look away if you don't like it. Babies and small children have a right to nurse from mother's breast, and I have a right to not be imprisoned in my house like a woman during the Taliban regime in Afghanistan.
This society is sick and twisted if the comfort of men and old ladies comes before the rumble of hunger in a baby's stomach.
Thursday, August 07, 2008
First meme!
I think this is the first time someone has tagged me in a meme. Here goes...
- Four places I go over and over: my workplace, the grocery store, Super A.'s school and Big I.'s preschool. Exciting life, I know.
- Four people who e-mail me regularly: Megan, the nanny agency, Stacers and Hubby texts me.
- Four of my favorite places to eat? The Vietnamese place around the corner (Saigon Harbour -- order the spring roll and the Chicken curry with rice, amazing), the Broughton Street Deli (great soup), any Thai place, but especially Sod Sai Thai on Douglas and Baan Thai on Blanshard, and the Noodle Box (Malay-Style Fried Rice, brown rice, no prawns, medium hot.)
- Four places you’d rather be? Close to my mother and father, back in Yellowknife during the summer, Paris in winter and working in a newsroom.
- Four TV shows I could watch over and over: Entourage, The Hills (guilty obsession), the fifth estate and (this is a radio show, but I'm putting it in) White Coat, Black Art on CBC Radio One.
- This tag is passed to four people I know in person: I don't know any other bloggers in real life except the ones Megan tagged, so I'll tag the Catholic women blogger I read: Arwen, the Summa Mamas, Pansy and Alicia.
A day as a solo mother
The Hubby sailed to Alaska on Tuesday morning, so I am alone with the kids and a temporary live-out nanny for the month. (for those of you who don't know me in real life, we have had child care hell the past few months. I can't get into it here for many reasons, including legal ones.)
People often say, "I don't know how you do it." Well, let me tell you! Here's what happened today.
5:30 am: Alarm goes off so I can get up and exercise. Toddler N. wakes up at the sound, demanding baba. I'll just nurse her for a few minutes in my bed and then sneak downstairs to do my Pilates....
6:55 am: Dang, dang, dang.
7:00 am: Shower, dress and blow dry.
7:20 am: Head to the kitchen, empty dishwasher, plug in kettle for children's oatmeal.
7:40 am: Go and wake sleepy heads. Convince boys to get dressed ("No, Big I., your penis is not supposed to stick out of the underwear hole. Put it back in. Now.")
7:45 am: Change Toddler N.'s diaper, convince her to sit still so I can put her hair in a ponytail. Give up trying to put her in shorts and cede to her demand for a "pwincess dwess."
7:50 am: Breakfast for the kids while I desperately brush teeth and throw on makeup.
7:55 am: Nanny arrives on time, like clockwork. Realize we have no bread.
8:00 am: Tear out of the driveway in minivan to the corner store for bread, head back home, drop off bread. Kiss oatmeal-eating children. Deal with last-minute Big I. tantrum. Run out door at 8:15 am.
8:38 am: Arrive at work after taking every shortcut I can think of. Still have not eaten breakfast.
9:45 am: Sneak down to the Starbucks for a low-calorie, high-fibre smoothie (4 Weight Watchers Points.) Ask for a shot of espresso in smoothie (o WW points.) Pick up cup by lid and drop it on floor.
9:50 am: Starbucks barista remakes smoothie (with double shot now) for free while I sponge smoothie off myself and another 'Bucks worker mops the floor.
10:00 am: Think about lunchtime. Continue writing news releases.
noon: Go out to lunch with office staff, have a salad (yeah me, on diet!) and have a great time. Also drink a cosmo (bad girl, alcohol at noon.)
4:40 pm: After quiet day at office, run like mad thing toward parking garage. Wish I was riding my bike but takes too long.
5:15 pm: Arrive at home, receive hugs, kisses and nanny debrief.
5:30: Start cooking supper while trying to load washer and listen to kids talk about their day.
6 pm: Supper of low-fat burgers and veggies with dip. Kids actually eat everything served, including vegetables. Sit in stunned silence.
6:45 pm: After kitchen clean-up, brave the grocery store with all three kids. "I., don't sit on the bread. A., come back here and stop flapping your arms and head around [Someone is going to think there's something wrong with him, heck sometimes I wonder.] N., Bella [her doll] does not need her own cookie; share yours. I., you need to pee again???")
7:45 pm: Arrive home, chat with neighbours, put away groceries. Catch N. eating cookies out of one of the bags, shrug and let her.
8:25 pm: Clean-up of bedrooms and living room; kids actually help!
8:35 pm: Bedlunch.
8:45 pm: Send them upstairs to brush teeth while I prise Cheerios off the floor. Wonder why cereal bonds with hardwood on contact.
8:55 pm: Find kids brushing teeth instead of fighting as expected. Hug them all, help them finish.
9 pm: A full hour after bedtime, put the boys in bed, tell story about Daddy sailing, say prayers, turn out light, turn on music.
9:15 pm: Prepare for Toddler N.'s bedtime showdown, and am shocked when she asks for baba. She falls asleep nursing, an almost unheard-of occurrence lately.
9:30 pm: Sink into office chair and drink Coke Zero.
So there you have it, an easy day when Hubby is sailing. You don't want to know about the ones when I end the day sobbing and begging the two-year-old to go to sleep. Feel free to send wine, though.
People often say, "I don't know how you do it." Well, let me tell you! Here's what happened today.
5:30 am: Alarm goes off so I can get up and exercise. Toddler N. wakes up at the sound, demanding baba. I'll just nurse her for a few minutes in my bed and then sneak downstairs to do my Pilates....
6:55 am: Dang, dang, dang.
7:00 am: Shower, dress and blow dry.
7:20 am: Head to the kitchen, empty dishwasher, plug in kettle for children's oatmeal.
7:40 am: Go and wake sleepy heads. Convince boys to get dressed ("No, Big I., your penis is not supposed to stick out of the underwear hole. Put it back in. Now.")
7:45 am: Change Toddler N.'s diaper, convince her to sit still so I can put her hair in a ponytail. Give up trying to put her in shorts and cede to her demand for a "pwincess dwess."
7:50 am: Breakfast for the kids while I desperately brush teeth and throw on makeup.
7:55 am: Nanny arrives on time, like clockwork. Realize we have no bread.
8:00 am: Tear out of the driveway in minivan to the corner store for bread, head back home, drop off bread. Kiss oatmeal-eating children. Deal with last-minute Big I. tantrum. Run out door at 8:15 am.
8:38 am: Arrive at work after taking every shortcut I can think of. Still have not eaten breakfast.
9:45 am: Sneak down to the Starbucks for a low-calorie, high-fibre smoothie (4 Weight Watchers Points.) Ask for a shot of espresso in smoothie (o WW points.) Pick up cup by lid and drop it on floor.
9:50 am: Starbucks barista remakes smoothie (with double shot now) for free while I sponge smoothie off myself and another 'Bucks worker mops the floor.
10:00 am: Think about lunchtime. Continue writing news releases.
noon: Go out to lunch with office staff, have a salad (yeah me, on diet!) and have a great time. Also drink a cosmo (bad girl, alcohol at noon.)
4:40 pm: After quiet day at office, run like mad thing toward parking garage. Wish I was riding my bike but takes too long.
5:15 pm: Arrive at home, receive hugs, kisses and nanny debrief.
5:30: Start cooking supper while trying to load washer and listen to kids talk about their day.
6 pm: Supper of low-fat burgers and veggies with dip. Kids actually eat everything served, including vegetables. Sit in stunned silence.
6:45 pm: After kitchen clean-up, brave the grocery store with all three kids. "I., don't sit on the bread. A., come back here and stop flapping your arms and head around [Someone is going to think there's something wrong with him, heck sometimes I wonder.] N., Bella [her doll] does not need her own cookie; share yours. I., you need to pee again???")
7:45 pm: Arrive home, chat with neighbours, put away groceries. Catch N. eating cookies out of one of the bags, shrug and let her.
8:25 pm: Clean-up of bedrooms and living room; kids actually help!
8:35 pm: Bedlunch.
8:45 pm: Send them upstairs to brush teeth while I prise Cheerios off the floor. Wonder why cereal bonds with hardwood on contact.
8:55 pm: Find kids brushing teeth instead of fighting as expected. Hug them all, help them finish.
9 pm: A full hour after bedtime, put the boys in bed, tell story about Daddy sailing, say prayers, turn out light, turn on music.
9:15 pm: Prepare for Toddler N.'s bedtime showdown, and am shocked when she asks for baba. She falls asleep nursing, an almost unheard-of occurrence lately.
9:30 pm: Sink into office chair and drink Coke Zero.
So there you have it, an easy day when Hubby is sailing. You don't want to know about the ones when I end the day sobbing and begging the two-year-old to go to sleep. Feel free to send wine, though.
Saturday, August 02, 2008
Two, four and six
Big I. turned four yesterday, and Toddler N. turned two today.
That means my kids are two, four and six. It also means there are no more babies living in my house. I'm having a hard time grasping either of those statements.
Here's some pics of the birthday kids today, below.
Happy birthday, my Sunshine and my Little Star!
That means my kids are two, four and six. It also means there are no more babies living in my house. I'm having a hard time grasping either of those statements.
Here's some pics of the birthday kids today, below.
Happy birthday, my Sunshine and my Little Star!
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