Expectation vs Reality: The Anniversary Edition

This weekend was a special anniversary for me. I’ve been with my partner for 17 years. Call me sentimental but i like to honour that. So, when our favourite summer music festival changed the dates on us, we (naively?) thought we could still all go and enjoy ourselves.

Typically, my partner and i go to the Hillside by ourselves for most of the weekend, and bring the kidlets on Sunday. It’s a win-win: we spend the day outdoors listening to music we love, and the kids stay at a pool with their cousins for the day. This year, as the festival dates fell right on our special day, we tried to have the best of both worlds – take the kids to the festival AND be all romantic like.

It almost worked.

We decided to take the kids camping at a nearby conservation park. One that was part of the early days of my dating life with my partner. We are by no means camping experts, but we go each year. This year, we jumped on a recent sale and bought a 6-person tent. One that my partner (all 6 feet of them) could stand in. We also treated ourselves to those fold-up chairs. So fancy. What we didn’t plan was the tantrum both kids threw when we told them there were no more caves to walk to and discover. That the first night away from home is always a shit show. That the Elora Quarry was too full at 2:00 to allow us to go swimming. That they couldn’t finish that world’s biggest lollipop on an empty stomach. All this was on the Saturday, which was my special day. MINE.

In the midst of all this, my son lost his newly bought souvenir. He’s been wanting ‘real gold’ for a while: why, i have no idea but it’s a thing. And so when we found this dig-your-own gold nugget toy, we treated him to one. In the span of an hour, he forgot where he left it. We were already back at the camp site when he wanted to dig for his gold. Our tensions were already high from the shit show i mentioned above. A part of me really just wanted him to Learn His Lesson for losing yet another belonging. But another part of me wanted to just turn the day around. I went with that decision. He and i ended up having a lovely scavenger hunt for it in town (kind of like pirates we are!) and no we didn’t find it. So what did this great and understanding parent do? I bought him a new one. Yes i did. We told the store clerk what happened and she said ‘you’re the world’s best mom.’ No, i’m not but i did tell her i did it for me too – it would make MY day better too: and he did learn a lesson – we agreed he was going to pay me back

Call me selfish i guess. I did get the best hug ever after from lil c, and he made sure that all his body was hugging mine. And, did he found gold? No. He lucked with a plain ole rock. Has he left it in his pocket and forgotten about it? Yes he has.

Ahoy matey!

But, we all had a good night’s sleep in this massive tent, with our cozy sleeping bags. And we went to Hillside recharged and refreshed. We selvedged the weekend and had a glorious time at our annual summer music festival.

One thing that i will especially treasure if my older kid (lil c) has recently discovered his own style of music. He appreciates music and performance and jumped right in there appreciating it all: This is what i hope to give him with our annual ritual of going here. My youngest (Miss M) was happy just to go around and around (and around) on the homemade Merry Go Round.

While it wasn’t exactly what i wanted, i did get to enjoy a favourite musician, eat great food, and see the night sky. I got to cuddle with my sweetie and remember why we are still going strong 17 years later. That counts for something and i’m so glad we honoured our tradition. I love this chocolate – the names were as much action as i got this weekend. But the chocolate was amazing.

All the Feelings- Part One: Mom Rage

I never thought I’d be this angry. Or this often.

Who knew that things like
– My daughter not wanting to wear underwear under her dress
– My son refusing to get dressed for school
– My children bickering with each other for the 100,000th time this week
– My daughter threatening to not eat dinner/lunch/breakfast unless she gets candy
– My son tripping over the Lego he didn’t put away
– My children bickering for the 200,000th time this week
– My daughter refusing to pee even thought it’s been hours since the last time
– My son refusing to poo even though his whole body is ready to explode
– My children bickering for the 300,000th time this week

Really, I had no idea that I would be this mad when I became a parent. It’s a bit of a regular thing these days. I am working on it: I have to, I know. If not for the fact that I help others with their feelings, but also so that my neighbours don’t wonder why my daughter is calling me a stupid butt face. Again.

I used to be so happy, relaxed, easy-going… Well, maybe not all three all the time. But each concept is definitely something I remember feeling pre-kids.

I love all the books out there. I especially love the idea of Peaceful Parenting ,Playful Parenting and Simplicity Parenting. See the trend? It sounds so easy! They all sound good and I know they work. I also know that my kids, especially my youngest, are just not developmentally at a place where they know how to regulate their emotions and problem-solve. I also know that Non-violent Communication works and it takes time. But kids’ attention spans aren’t so conducive to long chats about feelings and compromises.

I have learned over the years that my children’s bickering is a trigger for me. While in know i must have bickered with my own sister, i remember more clearly that i wasn’t allowed to be angry with my parents. I also know that the trigger i feel in my body in response to their defiance/stubbornness/automony is that i don’t recall having a right to those feelings when i was a kid.

So, it’s a bit of dance. These feelings of wanting them to not be afraid to speak up for themselves, and to be ok with feeling angry. I know that anger is not a bad feeling, and i’m trying to teach my kids to catch it in them before they explode. And i’m trying to do that for myself too.

I love the charts and posters and reminders i can find on Pinterest that give me pause to explain why Child A is upset. I also love all the suggestions on Pinterest that encourage me to walk away, hold my rock, breathe, and be Zen with my anger. But hello, have you met a quick tempered 5 year old who does. not. allow me to go to my room for a minute? I remind myself that she hasn’t learned to regulate her emotions yet, that her brain literally hasn’t developed that oh so important tool.

I am a bit of a brain geek right now and i love how it is keeping me present with what is going on right before my eyes. The book Whole Brained Child is a great tool for instance. There is a great summary of the book here, that highlights some good tools to use to help your kids with their own feelings.

As to my own journey, one thing i’ve learned is that i can forgive myself for being human, to repair my relationship with my kids after we bicker, and i can model both how to take care of myself and be in control of my anger. I’m not such a fan of the term ‘mom rage’ as it minimizes the anger, and it assumes that only moms can be angry over trivial things like all the times my kids hand me their garbage to put away. I’m not a garbage can. I guess that’s another story. But my point is that i have learned how to catch my anger rise, and to take care of myself. Its’ not so ugly or scary anymore. I just wish my kids could just hurry up and develop this tool as well.

What are some things you do to help you when you’re about to lose your shit? I could use some new tools.

My Birth Story: Birth of a Mama

My eldest child was born 8 years ago this week. Looking back on the birth, i credit the experience i had personally with what motivated me to do the work i do. It wasn’t the birth i wanted, and while i have moments of it that i treasure to this day, parts of it were really scary and it’s taking me time to heal from them. I know i’m one of the lucky ones and my birth trauma is my own story. I also know that i have more tools on hand to heal and delve into the trauma than most of us have. Please read on only if you want to.

I went into early labour on the Friday of Pride weekend. It was exactly my estimated due date so i was pretty excited about that. The labour slowed over the course of the Saturday, so i napped, watched Goonies (my all time favourite movie growing up so i thought i could get into it). Looking back on it, i can’t believe we didn’t name our baby Mickey or Andy or even Sloth. I remember the awesome Labour Mix my partner made (a former DJ and full-time lover of music). I remember the nice bath. I remember snacking on cold drinks and smoothies, walking at 10PM and 2AM. And then things started to turn in the wee hours of Sunday morning. By then our amazing Midwife Mary was with us. The pains of labour just seemed to intensify in a way that i knew wasn’t what i needed to feel. Next thing i knew we were rushing to the hospital at 4AM, after seeing what we thought was meconium. It turned out not to be, but it was a preamble to needing to be at the hospital i guess.

Between 5AM and 11AM my care had to be transferred over to an OB doc. This was devastation #1. I so admired my team of midwives and felt so connected to them, having to be transferred felt like a betrayal even though my Wise Mind knew it was necessary. The doc did not have the same bedside manner or a trauma-informed framework. Ironically, it was the anesthesiologist that helped me get through the discussion that i ‘needed’ to have an emergency C-section. I remember being told that my son’s head was stuck and i was too swollen to give birth vaginally. I remember thinking that in his excitement to meet me, my baby turned a bit too much and got stuck. I remember the pain before the epidural and thinking ‘there is no way that those of us that birth can do this.’ The pain was surreal.

Devastation #2 was to learn that i had to have a C-section. Just like my mother did with me. I had prepped my body to birth vaginally. I had convinced myself of this, so did not read enough of a birth plan for C-section. I had no idea that i would be strapped down, that the medical team would be too busy chatting about their weekend plans, that i couldn’t immediately hold my new baby, and that skin to skin was impossible until in the recovery room. Devastation #3 is learning that my arms had to be strapped down. #4 was learning that i couldn’t hold my newborn. #5 was knowing that my partner’s role in the room was even less active. And devastation #6 was realizing that my voice just didn’t matter in that room. I was not an equal or key planner in the birth of my baby. In the birth of me as a mama.

My baby was born that Sunday afternoon, just as the Pride parade was starting. We saw a rainbow out of our minuscule window. It overlooked the lake and i worked hard to rid the delivery/surgery room from my mind. My baby and i worked hard on our latch, our breastfeeding, our bonding. We worked on our rest and healing. We stayed at the hospital for 3 days. We stayed together in our small shared room. We saw other families come in and out. I worked on getting to the bathroom. Devastation #7 is learning the incredible feat of getting out of bed to walk across the room to pee. Devastation #8 is being told i had to work on a poo before leaving the hospital. Yikes, how was that supposed to happen. Devastation #9 is being told that my baby wasn’t latching so wasn’t getting what he needed – i have had my period and big boobs since the age of 9, if nothing else my body was born to breastfeed! He had one dose of formula to get us through that night shift with that 1 nurse. And then i worked my butt off to get him to latch.

What i loved – having friends visit on Day 2 and 3, bringing us homemade food and changes of clothes, seeing my parents hold their new grandson, not having to change the meconium diapers, being able to just nap, nurse, and snack for a week. I loved being able to reflect on my strength, and to ask for help. I love that i had a team of cheerleaders who were at my side through it all. Recreating the birth story i wanted as soon as we got home. Looking at and mesmerizing all the details on my new baby’s face. His feet – oh my goodness, newborn feet!

In my work as a therapist who supports others who have birthed, i bring my tools for triggers, negative thoughts, anxiety attacks. I carry with me the story of resilience, be it a birth tunnel, a birth house. I have visited the rooms that i needed, and i have come out of the tunnel to the other side, where there is light and strength. After my first-born’s birth, i did the work i needed to in order to reclaim the birth. I did the work so that i could birth again – and this time it was a planned home birth. Beside the birth pool, in the kitchen, under a full moon. That is another story for another time. But i did the work to get there. It can be done.

Now 8 years later, we have to go to the same hospital for the periodic emergency trip (hello parenthood) and the former birth ward is gone. I hear it’s better and the team is more aware. I hear that good changes have been made so that women are part of their birth even when it’s a more medical one. My birth story includes a chapter that was scary and made me feel silenced and irrelevant. I realized after that process of becoming a mother that i would work hard on not being silenced and pushed aside. I need to be an advocate for my children, for me, and for you. I want to be that support.

We are the authors of our stories and they are powerful – there is no right or wrong story. May yours bring you strength.

Don’t Put that Bead in Your Nose!

I wanted to share something that happened this week at chez moi. I’m not proud of everything that happened, but the outcome and learning moment make it all worth it for me to be vulnerable with you here.

So, as a preface to this, my youngest had a similar story where she put a (linden) seed up her nose on Labour Day weekend 2 years ago. It ended up at the emergency ward of our local hospital, right before we were to empark on our end-of-summer weekend excursion. Even the doctors there were baffled how to get the seed out of her nose, it was that much of an ordeal. So, you would think we all learned from that experience.

You would think…

So now, picture us this week, at 8:15 on a school morning, frantically running around getting ready for the day – 4 lunches, 4 snacks, 4 bags, morning layers for the cooler weather, slurping up a few sips of almost hot coffee, brushing teeth, getting vitamins, finding keys: You know the drill, mornings are not the friend of parents with wee kids.

My son happily declares he found a bead under the table. Why he was there i can’t tell you. I know it’s not his bead but it’s not common for him to be the finder so i congratulated him on the find, like it was a gold coin or something. I look at it and then promptly continue dashing around finishing my morning routine on speed. I then hear this –

“Uh mom, THE BEAD IS STUCK IN MY NOSE.” Yes, the capitals are there for the frantic sound in his voice.

My partner is in the same room as him but had his back turned as he was washing the dishes. I am down the hall. And i react to his plea. Ready for this: This is the part i am not proud of but i have learned from it, i promise. I say (i mean yell from the other room) –

“Are you kidding me?! Really!? Do you not remember your sister and how we had to take her to emerg! We don’t have time to take you there, we need to get to school and work today! You are the big brother, you should know better!” To be far, i don’t know if i actually said that last line but i said the rest almost verbatim.

I think sweep in and say “i got this” out loud. I know just what to do. My partner and daughter are getting a wee bit excitable too, and now we are all thinking of running to emerg. After i try to get him to blow his nose, unsuccessfully because he HATES blowing it and would rather snort boogers in, i then remember this gem of a video i watched recently. Thank goodness for social media because i voluntarily watched a video of a mom and her sweet baby happily clean her nose like a pro. I dash upstairs for my medicine syringe and neti pot. I dash downstairs and get my son to breathe with me first. He is clearly scared so I tell him it may be uncomfortable but “i’ve got this.” I then walk him through it and after 3 separate squirts of water in one nostril, out pops the bead out of the other side.

Brilliant.

We all hoop and holler and celebrate. I dance for my son and myself – i am not usually the one that is quick on my feet but i felt like Wonder Woman that day. My son comes up to me and says “thanks for helping me with that.” And i look him squarely in the eye and say “i will always be there for you, to help you with anything. And i’m sorry that i was not more supportive right away. I regret my first reaction and i know it wasn’t supportive. I over-reacted and was worried for you. Will you forgive me?” We hugged and he said of course. Later that day, i again apologized for my less-than-supportive initial response. He said “Mom, you already said that.” I just really wanted him to hear that i was sorry – i don’t want him to ever feel like he can’t come to me for stuff. That is not the parent i want to be.

I know it was a mistake, and i partly blame my flight or fight reaction to the crisis. I’m human too, even when i know better. But i’m sharing this with you as it was a great learning moment for me on how to really say sorry, and to show my kids that i have their back. And how to clean out a nose of course.

PS. We got to school on time too.

It Takes a Village

I’ve been thinking a lot about the support we need to be on top of this whole parenting gig. I think we have swung a bit too far away from being there for each other and instead merely being there on the periphery. I think our need to feel independent, successful, competent, and strong baits us away from asking for help, being vulnerable, and reaching out to give support too.

Recently, a friend of mine told me that she had been in my daughter’s class when a fire drill happened. My friend shared with me that she was present and noticed that my daughter was reacting to the shrill sounds. I love that they found each other, and my friend (a seasoned mom of 3 herself, among other amazing skills and accomplishments) was able to provide my wee girl with the reassurance and safety net she needed.

This is the village i speak of: One where my daughter can look to another adult in the room and seek comfort. She knows this woman as a friend of mine, as an ally to her, and as another mom herself. I love that my daughter can go to someone for cuddles when she needs it.

I also need this support sometimes too. I’ve shared already about the nurturing acts of self-care i so rely on, and the activities that provide me comfort (like going outdoors, music, creative art expressions) but i also just need a break sometime so i can come back refreshed. I realized recently that the village i need is one that provides me with a break when i ask (and also when it’s intuitively offered), acknowledges the hard work it is to raise children, and allows me to be raw – honest, messy, vulnerable, authentic, and imperfect.

So, for me the village is not one that is trying to also parent my children. It is not one that is telling my kids to eat their dinner or to discipline them for me. It is not one where i feel even more judged and ostracized. It is not one where the villagers have such different family values and parenting styles. I would love a break from the anger i am starting to feel rise up, from the frustration of yet another argument. I’d love an offer of taking my kids out to play, or to have someone else take the lead when my energy is tapped out. I need a village with others who share similar values and styles. Or at least have empathy and a loving ear to listen to me complain.

I really appreciate the great groups that have formed that find solace in our struggles, and offer a chance to commiserate as well as empower. I really appreciate when someone can pick up on another person’s struggle and offer a cup of tea, an active ear, a playdate, wine in the front yard. Groups can be on-line, in-person, formal, drop-in, or just merely a chance meeting.

If you don’t yet have a village, start small. A village needs to start somewhere – Be it a deserted island, a party of one for dinner. Find ways to build your village, create a circle of support where you know where to turn to for what support. I love this tool and use it a lot in my work, when i’m learning more about the support someone else has, or doesn’t. Having never lived in a village, i admit i have a warped sense of it. I assume there’s a vulnerability in having your dirty laundry aired out (like when you yell and your neighbours hear, or when you dump your kids’ toys in the trash for all to see). But it is also a way to show solidarity, and to feel united, and to also feel human. It can be a village that you create, grow and nurture rather than one that you are stuck in and cannot leave. You can set the tone and create your own village with a clear intention of what you need.

Do you have a village? Want to join mine? New members are always welcome.

Happy Mother’s Day

As today closes, i wanted to take a moment to honour the day. I know there are some of us that today would have been hard – both for our own relationships with our mothers and also because we are not mothers as we wish we could be.

I work with women who are mothers but don’t have their children in their lives. I support women who are wanting to be mothers but haven’t yet be given this gift, i also am a mother who has experienced miscarriage as so many of us have. There are families who have had to go through IVF and advocate for their right to be parents. And there are more still of us who have lost our own mothers. Today may have been a ‘made up holiday’ as some are quick to mention. But it is a special day nonetheless, where classrooms, storefronts, and TV spots alike all highlighting the fact. It definitely makes it hard for those of us that are triggered by today.

I read about the history and significance of Mother’s Day. Did you know it has some roots in peace and anti-war work? While it has been celebrated for even longer, our more recent version was created by a mom in the late 1880s who was frustrated that she had to mourn the loss of her child. In fact, the first era of Mother’s Days was to acknowledge the loss mothers feel when their children die. It sure has changed since then.

This year, i made a point to request (demand?) what i wanted to do for today. I got to stay in bed and read. I got a delicious homemade brunch in the comfort of my own home, and we got to stroll around a neighbourhood i love. Yes there were sibling squabbles between the kids, yes there was a near-disaster when having dinner out, and yes i had to remind the kids it was my special day. But for all that, i did create that time for me. I am one of the lucky ones. And i got to hear that i was the best mommy from both my kids. My son’s tooth fell out, and i got to carry my 5 year old for a few blocks more than i should have. All in a day’s worth. And very fitting for today.

I bought this shirt recently. It was a gift to myself. I love the way it calls to me – both that it reminds me that i am strong and that being strong to me is a personal thing. I don’t want to be strong like anyone else, or to feel that being strong means to not cry, to be invincible. I also know that mothers can be strong for using an epidural, for not using any meds during birth, for adopting, for nursing for 3 years, for weaning when it was best for us, for yet another month without conceiving, for challenging someone’s oppressive view of who a parent should be. Strong means sometimes asking for help, and it can also mean just letting go of our own expectations and giving in to the tears. Strong mama does not mean being strong like a man. Whatever that means.

I wear this shirt to remind me to be strong when i don’t feel like it. And it remind you too, that we are in this today – we can be ‘strong like a mother’ in any way that works for us. It’s a good mantra. We may need that reminder at times, and that’s okay. Being strong is knowing what we need, and doing what we have to do remain strong. It doesn’t have to mean stubborn, but rather staying true to what’s important to you.

How can you be strong as a mother? I encourage you to find a way that fits for you. Happy Mother’s Day to all of us.

A Day to Recognize

Today marks World Maternal Mental Health Day. It’s part of Mental Health Week that is honoured here in Canada. I wanted to take a moment to honour and play tribute to the many women and parents who have experienced any form of hardship, pain and suffering in their identity as a parent. It can be ugly, isolating, and scary at times for sure.

Our society definitely still paints an unjust and judgmental lens on mental health issues in general. This makes it so hard for new parents to reach out for support. New mothers are told that they should be in love with their newborn at first site, that the pain is worth it, that they will get sleep when their kids are teens, and that we are to suck it up.

That is so far from the truth and the opposite of supportive. As a mother myself, i definitely had to learn as i went when my children were newborns. I feel like i was a lucky one when it came to my postpartum life, even with a somewhat traumatic birth of my first. That said, there are still things that i felt too scared to voice and ask for support with. Like i was supposed to love being alone with my baby all day long. Each and every day. Like we were supposed to nap all the time, and i never felt (internal or external) pressure to have it all and do it all.

I’m not sure if it’s because i am immersed in supporting new parents now, or if it’s really the case, but i appreciate seeing all the blog writers, the celebrities, the ads and documentaries on this topic that is do dear to me. Maybe it was there 8 years ago when i was pregnant with my first. But maybe not and we are doing better now.

In my work, one thing that i really love is helping the women i support to build a wellness toolkit for themselves. I know one of the hardest things is to feel like we have or deserve time for ourselves. But we do – we can’t give from an empty cup (oh how i love that quote!). So, my gift to you today, on World Maternal Mental Health Day is this tool: Building Your Wellness Toolkit. Feel free to download and print it. It’s a worksheet that helps you look at ways you can provide yourself with some good self-care. When you need it. When you deserve it. Each and every day. Fill your cup.

The Resilient Butterfly

“Perhaps the butterfly is proof that you can go through a great deal of darkness and still become something beautiful”

I’m not sure who the source to that quote is but i love it. And, i love butterflies. Not just because part of my name stems from the word butterfly, nor because they are pretty and whimsical – though both are true. But, rather, they are a perfect symbol of resiliency, vulnerability and exquisite risk.

I recently updated my logo to connect to this path that women take when finding themselves, re-finding themselves, and taking time to take care of themselves. The butterfly is you, and it’s perched on my name, as i feel like i am here to hold space for you while you are on this journey to heal. I act as a tool to help ground you, but really believe that you are doing the work yourself to heal, connect, move forward, and take risks. I am so honoured to be a part of this journey with you.

I like that the butterfly is perched and yet still in flight. Like she is ready to take off when needed, and to hold the power of her own safety and path. Very symbolic as it connects to our journeys in healing and being in therapy. It’s not by chance that i landed on this butterfly image. I had lovely and long chats with my pal who is a creative designer to get to this place that feels like it speaks to the work i do.

A few years ago, i attended a training on post-traumatic growth and resiliency. The presenter is a social worker from the States who shared more about the steps we take in order to heal and hopefully reach resiliency. She spoke of the butterfly’s journey from caterpillar to chrysalis to butterfly. To think of how such a fragile and yet strong creature can show such strength and resiliency!

Recently, Tara Brach posted a great podcast where she spoke about the exquisite risk people take when actively engaging in their vulnerability. I loved how she too connected the narrative of a butterfly and the path they take. She goes further to say it’s actually arrested development when we don’t take these risks in being vulnerable. Take a listen when you have a moment.

I’m starting to see the Spring moths and butterflies dance by me as i’m outdoors. I love to take a pause in what i’m doing to say hello and thank them for their trust in the world. I know that may sound cheesy, but their greeting is also a chance for me to slow down, take stock in my day, and to honour my own journey too.

Next time you see a butterfly, say hello!

(image above by From a drawing by W. I. Beecroft: THE SILVER-SPOTTED SKIPPER)

Spring is in the Air – Baby Blessings

I walked by 2 robins this morning on my way to work. And it seems like it was overnight that crocuses (is that the plural form?) started to sprout out of the Earth. It gave me pause to notice that Spring is here, even if in baby steps.

Speaking of baby steps, i shared a vulnerable post for my last blog entry and am so moved by all the wonderful feedback and support i received. My daughter has since turned 5. We tell her birth story each year on her birthday, and this year it seemed to mean more to her. Things are starting to take shape in her memories and the women who have been my village have now also become hers.

About a month before she came Earth-side, i had wanted to have a blessingway for myself. I know it’s not usually the pregnant lady who hosts her own shower, but i didn’t want a traditional baby shower this time around. I had already had one with my first child and really treasured it. But as i didn’t need more stuff, i wanted to be able to honour the pregnancy, labour and birth in a more spiritual and holistic way.

So, after during some research (like reading this helpful book), i asked a lovely friend and community organizer to help me. She offered her home as host. With a circle of about 10 women we danced, we ate, we chatted, and they made this beautiful Blessing Necklace for me. I wore it during the final days of my pregnancy, and i had it close by during the labour and birth. It still holds space for me by my desk. The necklace is made of special beads that each friend brought – buttons from their own grandma, crystals that bear meaning, and beads that bring joy.

I’m sharing this part of my own birth story as a way to remind us that we have a choice in how we honour our birth stories, right from when we become pregnant to after we bring our baby Earth-side. If you don’t want to do a baby shower, don’t; if you don’t want to cover your belly in a belly cast, don’t. But if you want to dance and have a foot bath in rose petals – the world is your oyster. Having choice in your story allows you to feel more present in the birth and postpartum.

I am NOT Your Servant

bunniesI’m going to share something with you that feels a bit vulnerable. As a therapist and someone who helps others keep their shit together, I want to be authentic that I also make mistakes. And that self-care is something that is right up there in importance to me, but I too need to work on creating a better balance.

My youngest is about to turn 5 in a mere few days’ time. She is my sidekick mini-me. But she is also the one that can push my buttons like no other. I relish the idea of her being fierce (my eldest child’s favourite word to describe something powerful), and I also feel so torn that she is displaying her fierceness at me.

I love the new saying “…nevertheless she persisted “not only for the feminist in me, but also because it describes the relationship I have with my fierce and strong-willed little girl. I can’t wait for her to release this power on others as she grows up, but until then, her dad and I are getting the brunt of it.

This weekend was a busy one for our wee family – I think we had a record 3 birthday parties to take the kids to. I know it was also a special New Moon this weekend, with an eclipse that was told to pull our energy and resources. So…I know all this in theory.

But, come 4:00 on Sunday, my energy was tapped. And my sweet girl’s body was feeling the tug and pull of sugar highs and lows. As a parent, I like to think I have a good insight to why my kids act they way they do. As a therapist, I like to think I know how to take care of my own personal needs too.

As a human, I did not listen to either of these wise hats but rather reacted with pure raw emotion. My daughter’s incessant need for me to get her bag, feed her, make her something, fix something, carry her finally released my own fierceness. Not in a way I wanted but in the way that can come out at times.

So, in my anger I yelled at her “I need a break! I am not your mommy for the rest of the day.’ Knowing right away how awful that sounded, I promptly took that back and yelled instead ‘I’m not your servant for the rest of the day. I will make dinner and eat it with you but that’s it.’ Gotta draw the line somewhere right?

Well, we were both shocked. But she heard me somehow. Somehow she realized I needed some time to myself. So, while I baked cupcakes to feel better, my daughter kept herself busy for over an hour by making herself some new stuffies. She found the paper, staple, stuffing, and made 3 adorable little bunnies all by herself. For an hour I had the time I needed to work on decompressing.

I’m not going to bore you with the details of the other argument I had with my kids later that night, that ended up with no one eating the cupcakes I made. It was ugly but I can look back and see that I needed to let this out – to take care of myself and to show myself and my sweet kids that I too have a limit and my window of tolerance was too small.

I share this to show that no one is perfect, and to also highlight why self-care for us as parents is so important. I love the analogy of the oxygen mask on airplanes – we are indeed supposed to put the mask on us first so that we can better care for others. I share this with you to show just why we need to.

I blame the New Moon Eclipse in Pisces.