Tag: parenting

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Mom Life

Can I Really be a Pinterest Mom?

Photo by micheile henderson on Unsplash

I so badly want to be a Pinterest mom. Not badly enough to stress myself out and ignore my own rest breaks, but badly enough.

I love looking up cute holiday crafts to do with my daughter, or for when we have playdates. I love balloon arches. I love the little wooden toddler knife I bought her. I love the tiny footprints I had made when she was an itty bitty newborn. I love scrolling Pinterest to find cute things to do and cute décor for every occasion.

What I don’t love is the pressure.

The pressure to have to do these things. To look like a good mother if I cut her food into cute shapes. For some, it helps those picky eaters. For most, it’s just more damn work on an already busy day. Every time I see pancakes in the shape of candy canes or snowmen, I think I could totally do that. Then, I wonder why I would take the time only for her to eat it in three seconds, demanding more. Pancakes are like cocaine to toddlers.

Maybe my comparison there is why I can never be a Pinterest mom.

Sure, I can put in the extra work and make things more things special in her life. But, could I mentally handle it? Probably not.

I’m a big fan of mixing things, though. When she was a baby, I breastfed and formula fed. I’m a stay at home mom, but she also goes to her grandparents two days of the week so I can write (and, to be honest, take a break). I plan fun parties with tons of balloons, streamers, AND a balloon arch, but we don’t have 1,000 activities or so much specialized décor I’m stressing the entire time. She gets healthy snacks for school packaged in a bento box, complete with little appetizers picks (I found this was great for her to keep her hands a little cleaner when eating certain foods), but there are also gushers or just a buttered piece of bread some days.

As she’s gotten older, I’ve realized that I can do the Pinteresty things without going fully overboard. I can buy a 3 foot Christmas tree for her room, let her pick out decorations, and decorate it. I don’t need to make every decorate, or have it be themed (what’s the fun in that for a child, anyways?). I can bake the cookies with the fancy sprinkles and try a new recipe, but I don’t need to make frozen whipped cream snowmen for hot chocolates.

I can save the receiving blankets and sleep sacks of hers, but maybe wait until she’s a little older (and thus giving me more time to do projects) to finish the quilt. I can have the aesthetically pleasing wooden toys and hand-made items, but also the plastic toys that make wild amounts of noise.

I can protect my time because who is going to make these crafts with her if I’m too stressed from the one last week? I can take a little bit of everything, like I love to do, and go at my own pace, making sure to keep my own sanity.

Until I get caught up in the next fun Pinterest project.

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Toddler Favourites

Toddler Favourites

Photo by cottonbro studio on Pexels.com

Some links are part of the Amazon affiliate program, and if you buy something from the link, I will make a bit of money.

Go Coconut Play Couch
I absolutely love this thing. I was super excited to buy my daughter one as it looked so fun, and it’s come in handy so many times! We both sit on it when we play on the floor, it’s been used as a makeshift bed when we were trying out a floor bed before buying a full frame (and would be perfect for any sleepovers or mini guests!), my daughter loves to climb all over it, it’s been used as a tunnel and fort set-up, and now it is sitting in the corner of our living room, set up like a little chair, perfect for adults and children alike to sit and read or play on.

We’re not millionaires, so we only bought a half coconut, which has been great! Do I wish we could have had a full one, complete with the fun extras? Yes. If you can afford it, go for it all! But, if you’re wondering if even spending a few hundred bucks on a play couch is worth it, just do the half. Still tons of fun and so useful – without fully breaking the bank.

Oh, and it’s Canadian, so yay! Shop here.

Pikler
I saw one of these on Instagram and thought how ridiculous it was that someone had this in their living room…and then, my daughter got older and I realized how amazing it is to have a tiny climbing structure for her to play on and get her energy out – especially in the winter months. We’re building a kind of playground downstairs so that when we get snowed in, we won’t lose our minds.

Anyways, this is the pikler we have and we love it!

Toddler Cushion
We have a pretty low table (the plain pine table from IKEA), so she outgrew her Stokke Clikk high chair quicker than she should have. Her knees started hitting the table and didn’t look very comfortable, at all. So, we bought her a little cushion, in this super cute design, to put as a booster seat for her on a regular ‘big girl’ chair. It’s perfect! Easy to wipe clean, and the cover can be washed.

Indestructible Water Bottle
At first, I thought it was a bit much spending over $20 on a water bottle for my 1 year old, but it turned out to be the best thing. She has thrown that thing all over the place, and yet, it’s still looking fine! Yes, a couple of dents, but they’re small and at the bottom, and the function is a-okay. I didn’t want a plastic bottle, and love that it’s stainless steel.

Mega Blocks
My daughter got a pack a of these for her birthday and she absolutely loves them! They’re easy for little hands and do not hurt if stepped on, like Lego does. Buy them here.

Goodnight Goodnight Construction Site
A bedtime favourite in this house. It’s fun to read, long, without being too long, and my daughter loves it. One of our favourite books, for sure!

Also, need another book recommendation? What about the one that I wrote and my friend illustrated! Check it out here. And, buy a copy, if you want to be cool.

Magnetic Tiles
These things are seriously cool. I love playing with them, my uncles love playing with them, any engineer will love playing with them. Most importantly, toddlers love them. They’re also perfect for road trips as you can fit them into a small bag and they stick to one another. Buy them here.

Fat Crayons
I got these fat crayons at Zellers (a Canadian staple that needs to come back fully, not just a small pop up!), and they’re perfect for little hands. For those worried about what the crayons are made out of, these look great! I haven’t tried them, as the price tag is a liiiitttle more than I care to spend (and I already spent more than I needed to on crayons in a children’s store in Antibes), but for those with the right budget, something a little better for everyone sounds lovely.

Crayola also makes these egg shaped crayons that are perfect for little hands that aren’t yet sure as to how to hold a pencil or a crayon properly just yet. Perfect for scribbles and learning fun. These were in my daughter’s stocking last year and they’ve lasted a loonnng time!

Categories
Mom Life

I Used to be a Person

Photo by Samantha Garrote on Pexels.com

I used to be a person. I used to have my own dreams, my own desires, my own time, my own identity. I used to do things for myself, working hard on those dreams of mine, wondering if they would be attainable.

I’m now a mother and no longer an actual person. My time is eaten up by minding a — now — toddler, cleaning, cooking, taking care of everyone, and forgetting about myself. Even when you have all of the support in the world, it’s easy to get lost in it. Get stuck in motherhood and forget who you are, who you used to be. Because you’re not that person anymore. You’ve changed, some of it for the better, some of it not. There are so many things I’m happy for now, and yet, I’m missing the things that make me…me.

I used to be a person, but now I’m bogged down. I guess that’s the best way to describe it, because we know that other moms have done just fine and gone on to jobs and worked and achieved their dreams and goals. I try not to think about that, not just because it makes me feel like a shitty person overall for not doing everything so ‘perfectly’ or for getting so exhausted by day to day life, but because I still label those moms as career oriented women and moms separately. I still feel like my ‘regular life’ and my ‘mom life’ are two separate things needed to be kept apart so that both can flourish, and yet one of those quietly fades away.

The ‘mom life’ is always there because it is life, it is the mundane, the daily tasks, the behind-the-scenes work. There is the never-ending list of chores, the fun activities that take up most of my energy and day. The guilt that eats away whenever I do something for myself besides sleep.

It’s hard not to yearn for the person that I used to be. For the carefree life I used to live, for the freedom I had before everything revolved around one tiny creature. I know that some things will get easier in time, like drinking my coffee while it’s still hot, but will the person I used to be be waiting for me? Will she have turned, too tired of waiting for the ‘next weekend’ or the ‘tomorrows’ that always get pushed aside because something more important came up?

I worry that she will get lost, never to be found, while this newness and wonderfulness takes over my whole life. You better not forget the wonderfulness, because you’re not allowed to yearn for different times while you’re a mother. You’re not allowed to be the person you once were, barely allowed to be your own person. So, I tell her to hold on, that’ll one day I’ll reach out and take her hand, bringing her back to the here and now, but for now, she just needs to wait. Wait for a time when life isn’t so chaotic, isn’t so new, isn’t so all consuming. Like that time will actually come.

Once upon a time I used to be a person, but now I’m just mom.

Categories
Mom Life

The Best Mom Advice, Ever

Photo by Du01b0u01a1ng Nhu00e2n on Pexels.com

The best advice you’ll ever get as a parent: take the entire day, and night, to yourself.

Whenever grandparents would babysit, I would rush around trying to do everything. I’d clean the house, workout, work on some writing, study a bit of French. In the early days, I’d either sleep, or lay on the couch watching TV, half asleep, just trying to survive. There is no better feeling than sitting on the couch in your jammies, eating snacks no one is stealing, and watching your favourite TV show. To think I took this type of relaxing for granted.

I may have been getting some things done, but I still felt exhausted and like I was drowning, constantly. It didn’t seem worth it to continue to try to get everything finished as fast as I could in the little time that I had to myself. Besides, my house was completely trashed in ten seconds once my toddler returned home. The level of clean and tidiness I was reaching for when she was away was not sustainable, which is a completely different topic. So, when my husband was away on a trip and my daughter was at her grandparent’s for a sleepover, I did something I hadn’t done in a very long time: I did absolutely nothing.

I did some things that needed to be done like making supper and a few dishes, but I didn’t try to write 5,000 words, or study, or run myself into the ground trying to clean the entire house from top to bottom. I sat on that couch and watched TV and read and did everything I used to do when my husband went away on his annual snowboarding trip.

At first, I felt weird. The house was too quiet. I felt like I was wasting my time and that I should be taking advantage of the free time by trying to make last minute plans with friends, or do something productive. But, I held steady. I told myself to just relax and do whatever I wanted to in that moment. That meant lying on the couch, eating snacks, and watching that TV. It also meant that my mind start get bored (I also got a little fidgety and twitchy, which is a little concerning that that was my body’s response to total quiet and relaxation) I felt like I could write, again. So, I did that. Because it felt right.

I went to bed that night feeling a little weird, but relatively satisfied with my evening. The next morning, I woke up feeling refreshed, cheerful, and exactly how my old self used to. I got up and had my coffee, still hot, and read a magazine. Don’t worry, the lazing stopped there as chores needed to be done, but they didn’t feel quite as ‘chore-y’. I scooted through the list of to-dos, stopping to watch an episode of TV or read a little more. Even though I was being productive like I had originally that I had to be every single second away from my child, it felt good. I didn’t mind the chores because my mind was well-rested, and I had some actual time to myself.

It’s so easy to get caught up in the trap of trying to be as productive as possible every waking second, kid(s) or not. Once you have that free time as a mother, the whole perspective changes. What are you going to do with those few hours? See friends? Hang out with your husband/partner? Workout? Relax? Sleep? Work on fulfilling projects? The list is endless on what we feel like we have to do, but not what we want to do. It’s time we started thinking about ourselves and letting our own wants and needs take over. If all you want to do with your free time is absolutely nothing, then do it. You’ll reset your mind and feel a whole lot better about everything. Trust me.

Categories
Mom Life

You’re not a Bad Mom if your Daughter Plays with Barbies

Photo by Sachith Ravishka Kodikara on Pexels.com

I loved Barbies growing up. Loved them. I loved the creativity that came with making up stories to go with each Barbie. I loved making up their houses, perfecting them to my 8 year old mind’s dream. Obviously, it’s where I figured out sex, smashing my dolls together in fits of passion.

I also loved climbing trees, riding my bike, playing sports, watching WWE, and watching my favourite movie: Top Gun. All relatively ‘non-girlie’ things when all is said and done. I didn’t think it was weird that I played Barbies one day and scraped my knee climbing an apple tree the next.

My neighbour, and best friend growing up, was a boy. We’d constantly play together, running around playing X-Men (literally just us yelling Rogue! Gambit! Essentially playing a cross of tag and Marco Polo. Kids, amiright?), riding our bikes to the park and back. We’d play with his Action Toys, killing each other, playing the boy version of Barbies. Then I’d go home, bust out the Barbies and her dream home and decorate and make elaborte stories.

I never felt like I couldn’t do anything simply because I was a girl, simply because I wanted an Easy Bake Oven or a Barbie cruise ship for Christmas. I also received a microscope, Lego, science experiment kits, and rocks. All deemed ‘boys’ toys. It was a different time in the 90s where toys focused on learning were geared towards boys and housekeeping ones towards girls. It didn’t seem to matter what I was playing with, as long as it made me happy.

For years, my dad would be the one to play Barbies with me. My mom hated the idea of Barbies and would only play if my dad couldn’t and I wanted someone other than my imagination. She didn’t push me not to own Barbies, she didn’t push me to hate them like she did, instead she just opted out of playing with something she called ‘nauseating’ whenever she could. She simply let me play and explore the world of creativity.

Nowadays, the Barbies look vastly different from my childhood. They come in various skin tones and Barbie has a whole slew of accomplishments and careers she can choose from. While it’s awesome to see that they’re trying to be inclusive of body types and races and show that women can be what they want, they’re still what they are, what they have always been: Barbies. They’re still an instrument for children to explore creativity. Just a little more real life than before.

Never once did I think I couldn’t be anything I wanted to. When told from my dad that there would be hardships and stresses as a woman police officer, not just from criminals but inside the department as well, I scoffed and rolled my eyes. I would do what I wanted and any man who insulted me would live to regret it. A mindset I wish I had kept well into my 20s when my self-esteem could be shattered from a drunk 19 year old calling me a slut for doing nothing but kissing his friend (grown-ass men, amiright?).

Clearly, there were some errors in my ways of maturing. What adult doesn’t make mistakes in their youth? It’s how you learn, grow. My self-esteem had nothing to do with me playing Barbies in my childhood; it had more to do with society once you’re done playing with Barbies.

I had a great body not from starving myself, but from being healthy and working out. But, I still thought I was fat. I had to look great, even if just going to class, and I used tanning beds regularly to look better.

Besides feeling the pressure to look perfect, I still lived with the same type of mindset like I did as a child — for the most part. I drank with the boys and worked out harder than most of them in the gym, often benching more than they could and reveling in the glory. I rolled my eyes at their antics, then joined in, filling up the beer bong dutifully as our friend was, once again, scored on in NHL ’03.

Besides the fact that I wore a dress to the bar and took 30 minutes to get ready, and they just threw on jeans and maybe used some mouth wash, I felt as I had when I was younger. When I would play with Barbies and then go ride my bike with my best friend, arm wrestling with him to prove I was stronger. I could be that girlie girl, the one who was fine staying home and cooking, and yet the one who knew she could also go out there and be whatever, do whatever she wanted. It was a weird mix of low self-esteem and extreme confidence that got me through my 20s.

It was the obsession from fashion magazines, from the rest of society, that made me feel inadequate. From Cosmo, read early as a 16 year old that made me feel like I HAD to be the best I could be in bed. Even though I wasn’t actually having any sex. I had to be good my first time, though, Cosmo said so! I had to look great and talk beautifully, yet not too smart, never making a man feel like he wasn’t as good as, or better than I was.

Magazines have turned to social media, a place that’s constantly in your face, a place that can be toxic for adults’ self esteem. Think of how young girls feel as they watch their celebrities promote diet teas and take perfectly crafted photos of themselves. I never felt like I didn’t measure up when I played with a Barbie, when I looked at her — clearly — disproportional body, but I felt that way when looking at the women in magazines. I feel that way as an adult, when I look at certain celebrities on Instagram, their face filtered and angled to the nth degree trying to look as perfectly alluring as possible.

There was a time I wanted to look like a Barbie, but less in the flawlessly sculpted way she did and more in the fantasy life that Barbie built for me. I wanted the life I had made for her. Of course, I also wanted the blonde hair and perky breasts, too; what 12 year old girl doesn’t yearn for large, perky breasts? But, the constant need to look perfect never came when I was a kid, making up stories, it came from reading articles telling how to look perfect.

Just like a boy isn’t going to turn gay if he plays with dolls as a kid, a girl isn’t going to be a vapid idiot going nowhere in life if she plays with Barbies. So let her play, because a girl doesn’t need to hear, yet again, something else she can’t do. Simply because she’s a girl.

Categories
Mom Life travel

The Stress of Boarding a Plane with a Baby

Photo by Paul Hanaoka on Unsplash

When we decided to go on a trip to France with our 11 month old, it didn’t seem crazy or strange. It felt normal. I wanted to go on a trip, had been waiting for a time to come when we could travel safely and freely, again, and had felt pent up after two years of staying inside or close to home. Wanting a cute family trip, we picked France due to the amazing rate I found on an apartment overlooking the sea in Antibes, and the fact that we felt comfortable there. While it felt normal to go on a trip with a baby, I wasn’t ready to jet off to Morocco with one.

Travelling with a baby is hard and stressful at times, but it’s also a wonderful journey with your little one you’ll never forget. It doesn’t matter that they won’t remember it — some things you just do for yourself. Besides, the photo of my daughter sitting in the Mediterranean Sea or frolicking in front of the Eiffel Tower are some of my favourites. The memory of sitting with her in a cafe while it lightly rained outside is one I’ll never forget. It never concerned me about what we would do once we got to France, never concerned me that we would have to buy diapers there or formula or take it a little low. What concerned me was the flight.

After following numerous baby/family travel accounts on Instagram and researching everything I needed to know about bringing an infant on a plane, I felt confident in what we needed, but felt more anxiety than I had in a long time. I felt like crying thinking about people getting angry and making huffing comments to me about my child and my lack of respect towards them. The same type of people who would talk loudly while everyone slept or take up more than their fair share of space or recline their seat the second they’re in the air, I’m sure. I read all sorts of horrible things that people said about babies being on flights, essentially meaning that babies should be no where near humans or civilization until they are — at least — 8 years old and can sit quiet for a while, content with an activity book.

I was ready to be awake the entire flight, knowing that I’d be exhausted, but not wanting to be that asshole with a crying baby for the entirety of the flight. I brought so many snacks and toys and everything we would need, cramming in every last piece until our suitcases were about to explode. I readied myself for horrific comments, knowing I’d bite back with something scathing yet cry in the bathroom later.

So, when I boarded that plane with baby, I was surprised when the flight attendants smiled at her, entertained by her winning smile and all around adorable 11 month shenangins. On our first flight, a short-haul, no one seemed to bat an eye at the fact that a baby was sitting near them. No one made any comments, no one screamed at us. I breathed a sigh of relief and actually enjoyed those two hours in the air as my daughter ate her snacks, played with her toys, and then napped contently in my arms.

After hours spent in an airport lounge trying to get her giggles and energy out while eating as much as we could without feeling lethargic and icky, we boarded our second flight, a 9-hour long-haul. I was feeling much more at ease with a baby on a plane after having experienced it, even if it was short. Even though I was feeling pretty decent, the people around us may not have. As we boarded the plane, turning left into the premium economy cabin I had been adamant on (more room for baby, food constantly, great post-pandemic deal) I could see the stress and horror run across the faces of those who had paid more for a — hopefully — quieter and roomier flight. I didn’t blame them. Flying for 9 hours can be annoying and exhausting enough; no one would want to deal with a screaming baby for those 9 hours.

But, here’s the thing. A baby will — most likely — not scream for those 9 hours. They will maybe cry on take-off and landing if they refuse the breast, bottle, or snacks and water to help with their ears. They will maybe cry if they’re hungry. They may be a bit fussy and whiney every so often, but it is unlikely that they will scream for that long with no end in sight. And, with the right tools on your journey, you can cut all of that down to nil or very little.

I will admit, feeling the people around us tense up at seeing our baby happily boarding the plane, looking excitedly at everyone and everything, had my anxiety flare up. But, I held strong on feeling okay with it. Babies are allowed to be in public, and even though people act like this isn’t true, an airplane is public transportation. It is just a giant bus in the sky. Was I on edge a little more whenever she let out a peep? Of course. I always am when we are in public. But, I’d remain calm and calm her, getting what she needed to be happy and content. The flight attendant was amazing and so helpful, giving us extra tips and tricks and letting us know the best way to eat in peace.

At the end of that flight, the man across from us told us how amazing she was the entire flight as he took his luggage down from the overhead compartment. I beamed with pride, feeling like we had won family travelling, but if it wasn’t for the fact that babies needed to be ‘good’ and perfectly silent when in public, I never would have felt that anxiety or stress that society places on moms and babies.

Boarding a plane with a baby will be anxiety inducing every single time, even if you’re feeling pretty relaxed. There’s always that chance that absolutely everything will go wrong and there will be nothing you can do to stem the flow of pure shit — both literally and figuratively. As a society, we all have to remember that babies are part of our society and allowed to be out, too. Shutting up parents for years just so babies can look a part is cruel. If we remember this, maybe this anxiety will lessen and over time, become obsolete. A travelling mom can only hope.