Return to the Mothership--And Daycare.

Times have changed.

The kids are pushing four and six years old.  One is in full-time school, the other in part-time child care while Mommy works part-time too.  Had you asked me three years ago if this is where we would be right now, I would have replied with a vehement, "Heavens no!  My precious child shan't ever step foot in a *gasp* daycare facility!  I will raise my own children, thank you very much!"

Well, the money thing wasn't cooperating with our dream to avoid child care.  Something had to give, so when the baby was two and half, she started at child care two days a week so I could work and we could actually pay our bills, and do stuff like, you know, eat food.  

As it turned out, I got well lucky with the whole daycare thing.  I checked out a few centres and was feeling a bit trepidatious about the whole endeavour--kids sitting around looking dazed, staff barely minutes older than the little darlings I taught in high school.  I was suppose to trust my baby with these people?  Um, don't think so.

Then I went for a visit at one final place, and when I opened the door to the toddler room, there SHE was--a gorgeous friend I've known for years from mother's group.  Instantly, I was relaxed and relieved--she isn't a stranger, she's HER!  We hugged and chatted and caught up on the year we had spent in Canada.  She gave me a rundown on the place and we were able to stay and play until our heart's content, so my darling wild baby could feel comfortable in her new part-time digs.  I met some other staff members and they were delightful, young women as well as "more experienced" carers.  The centre was bright and cheery, and it just felt good--good to know my baby would be with someone I knew and trusted, in a place SHE knew and trusted.

That was a little over a year ago, and barring a few "clingy" days before realizing that "Mommy always comes back and picks me up," my littlest soldier has been loving life at her "school."  She plays and learns and creates--and I have no doubt the break from Mommy has been a relief for her some days. 

And it's a been good thing.

So thank you.  Thank you for lightening a load that was breaking my back.  Thank you for being the kind, caring and loving person you are.  Thank you for looking after my baby when I couldn't.  And you know who you are.

When Your Kid Hates You

Last week, Little Miss Pushing Five had a lot to say for herself.  The following is an excerpt from a conversation between her and the little sister:

"Who's your favourite grown up?  Mine is Daddy.  He's my favourite grown-up."

And then on a day when they were both home with me:

"Mom, I don't like days with you.  I like days with Daddy.  He's my best Dad."

None of this is a shock.  She's just never verbalised her dislike for me so clearly.  In all honesty, I have never felt the connection with my first born that other people seem to have with their children.  From the time she was a baby, it felt like she wasn't mine, like she belonged to someone else.  I thought it might have somthing to do with the fact that she is the spitting image of her father--which is great because I like him and think he's pretty cute--but maybe it would take me awhile to feel close to her because she looked nothing like me.  But time went on, and still I never felt that bond that I was waiting for.  When her sister was born, I felt a much stronger connection from birth, but I chalked it up to being a second time mother and not having that deer-in-headlights thing that some new moms have about them. 

Don't read this the wrong way though, I do love the kid.  I love the kid like crazy.  We were together 24/7 until it was time for her to start school.  I panic when she is ill, I cry when her feelings are hurt, I make sure she eats her vegetables, has clean comfy clothes, a warm bed and lots of toys.  When she is hurt, it's usually me she comes running to for comfort and a Bandaid.  I tell her I love her all the time, to the point where she tells me to stop telling her because she already knows and won't forget.

And it's great that she is Daddy's girl, because every little girl deserves that.  But the cold hard truth is, I've been a shit mom, and she's trying to let me know that in her perfect little girl way.  I only hope I can go up from here, be a better mom, better person.  The yelling has to go, the impatience, the irritation, the moodiness.  I can give her a better legacy than teaching her how to be a shit mom and a weak woman.  Because she's watching me, she's made that clear, and she is taking in everything I do. 

And I want to be her best Mom. 

"Raw" Cookie Dough! And "Raw" Fudge!

One of my biggest indulgences and favourite thing to binge on is raw cookie dough.  To some, that is disgusting.  To others--and you know who you are--it is awesome!  The butter, the sugar, the flour, the smooth, gooey and comfy consistency.  Forget the cookies, just give me a bowl full of dough and I am good to go.  Does it make me feel sick after a few heaping spoonfuls?  Yes.  Do I continue to eat it?  Oh, yes.  Love it.

I also love the idea of raw veganism, and if I had my way, I would be one.  I try, and some days are pretty successful, while other days dissolve into a horrifying mess of refined carbs and sugar.  One of the best things I have discovered while learning about raw veganism is "raw" fudge, and from that recipe I accidentally came up with a "raw" cookie dough.  These treats are sweet, indulgent and rich and they are made entirely of fresh, whole foods that are very good for you!  No refined sugars or flours, and they are super easy to make.  Here is my fudge recipe:

"Raw" Fudge

• 1 1/2 cups of dates (honey dates work best as they are soft enough)
• 1 1/2 cups walnuts
• 1/4 to 1/2 cups of shredded coconut
• 1/4 to 1/2 cup of cocoa powder
• 1 tblsp. agave nectar (optional)
• water (for blending)

1. Place everything except water into a food processor.
2. Turn it on until everything blends together and forms a smooth paste.  Drizzle water while blending to get the right consistency.
3. Scoop into a brownie or loaf pan, press down and chill in fridge for at least half an hour.
4. Slice into squares and enjoy!

The coconut and cocoa is to taste--some people like more or less.  The agave is optional as well--depends on the severity of your sweet tooth!

Then the "raw" cookie dough recipe is a slight variation of the fudge recipe, and actually happened by accident one day.  These cookie dough balls look and taste like "real" cookie dough!  The ingredients are:

"Raw" Cookie Dough Balls

• 1 1/2 cups walnuts
• 1/4 to 1/2 cup shredded coconut
• a few drops of pure vanilla extract or a pinch of fresh vanilla beans
• 1 tblsp agave nectar
• 1 cup dates (dried, not too soft, works best)
• water

1. In a food processor, combine walnuts, coconut and vanilla.  Blend until pretty smooth, using water to achieve best consistency.
2. Add dates and pulse a few times just to chop them and blend them in a bit.  Or, coarsely shop the dates and fold them through.
3. Roll into balls and place in fridge to chill. 

I couldn't believe how much like real cookie dough these looked and tasted.  The two year-old loved them!  I find these recipes are great at allowing me to indulge my sweet tooth while I am trying to be "good."  Don't get me wrong, I know they are not fat free, but it is all good fat, and they are so rich, it is unlikely you will eat heaps of these at one sitting, and this coming from someone who has never understand the concept of something being "too" rich.  But even if you do eat a bit too much, it's all whole foods, so you could do worse!

Enjoy and let me know how your "raw" efforts turn out!

Mother's Guilt

With Christmas approaching, I am finding my mother's guilt is rearing it's nasty, ugly head on a daily basis.  It starts with, "Have I bought them enough stuff for Christmas?  Will they be disappointed?  Should I get one more thing?"  The rational part of me knows they have more than enough "stuff" and I don't want to get caught up in the excessive consumerism that abounds in these parts, not to mention we can't bring toys back to Perth and we will be getting them heaps of stuff when we return, but something in the mother part of me keeps questioning.  Then it snowballs into all the other things I feel guilty about:

• Bringing them to Canada--it's been awful for us here; Miss 4 just wants to go back to "her place" in Australia; they are finding the cold almost unbearable.
• Taking them back to Australia--Miss 4 will have to leave behind her little friends here and she won't know anyone at her new school in Perth; she'll be leaving her Nana here; there are snakes in Oz.
• Setting a bad example by being fat and unwittingly passing on my food addiction to my girls.
• Having dark hair when the girls have blonde hair so I look more like the nanny than their mom.
• Every time I yell.
• That I'll be going back to work when we get home and Miss 2 will have to go to daycare and be away from me.
• That I didn't go back to work sooner and put them both in daycare to get away from me.
• Every time I yell.  
• Did I mention the yelling?

I'm sure there are more things, many more things.  Logical?  No.  Ever-present?  Sadly.  On a talk show this week, a psychologist was saying that we feel guilt for a reason, to send us a message about our lives, about something that needs to be dealt with.  Looks like I must have a pretty full inbox!

What do you feel guilty about? 

Our First Halloween!!!

It's almost Halloween!  This will be the girls' first Halloween because they don't celebrate it in Australia.  I really don't know why because it is the only holiday in the whole year that is actually FUN!  Easter, Christmas, Valentine's Day--really, they all suck.  Big heavy meals, forced visits with family, tensions running high, not to mention the buying of crap just to buy something.  Halloween is all about being crazy and silly, stepping out of your comfort zone and just having fun!  The inclusion of heaps of lollies, candy and sweets doesn't hurt either! 

And it's not an expensive holiday--growing up we almost always made our costumes out of old clothes, cardboard boxes and our imagination.  We used grocery bags or pillow cases to collect our loot.  This year, I made a witch costume for me--how appropriate, you say, the girls won't even think you look any different--and Hubby is going to be a vampire.  The girls are set on being princesses despite my pleas to be a big fuzzy pumpkin or a poky little giraffe or cute ladybug.  Remember, they are new to this game and don't really get the whole costume thing.  We also bought a few pumpkins--$3 each here, where I am sure they were charging $25 at Wollies last year???--and carved out scary faces and put them out on the front step. 

Now, I know, what about all this candy?  With childhood obesity emerging as a pandemic, and all the other fat-related issues making headlines, how can we endorse a whole holdiay devoted to collecting and eating chocolate and sugar?  Because it is FUN!  And because I am pretty sure obesity doesn't occur due to ONE day of eating sweets.  How about the weekly take away, the chocolate bribes to tidy up the toys, the driving to school instead of walking and all the other unhealthy day to day habits?  It's an entire lifestyle that creates an obese family, not one day.  Please keep in mind, I am saying this while finishing off a chocolate Timbit that we bought for the girls after our trail walk this morning--so no soapbox here.

And Halloween is just SO MUCH FUN!  Happy trick-or-treating everyone!!!!

PRK Laser Vision Correction Surgery--My Experience

I've been on the road to blindness since I was about eight, when I realized I couldn't see the digital time on the VCR in the basement.  Turns out I was near-sighted and I quickly became the owner of some horrible ugly pale pink plastic glasses.  I hated wearing glasses and only put them on in class when I had to and never wore them outside.  When I outgrew the pink frames, I thought I would channel my inner Sally Jesse Raphael and go for some huge red rims.  Fashion in the eighties was bad on so many levels.  By grade eight I had talked my parents into contact lenses, and I wore them habitually until July 2011.  Not the best for the eyes.

Then a few months ago, I took the plunge and underwent PRK laser vision correction surgery.  PRK stands for something very long--basically, the surgeon used a brushy looking thing to rub some cells off my eyeballs, then a laser to reshape my cornea and voila, I could see!  As soon as I sat up from the surgery--which took a matter of seconds, I could read the time on the clock on the wall and could see every detail on the face of the smiling and helpful nurse.  And no pain!  Yet.  The literature at the doctor's office said most people don't experience any pain, jus some discomfort.  I was one of the people who had pain.  I'm talking moderate labour contractions type pain.  I went through my Tylenol 3's like candy and begged for more at my first follow-up visit.  The eyeball numbing drops were suppose to be used once a day--my three bottles were gone by the end of day two.  Apparently I don't cope with pain well.

Those first two days were rough--lots of pain, very swollen eyes, so much that my husband had to open the drug bottles for me because I couldn't read the labels.  Barely slept as I kept waking up in pain after the drugs would wear off.

Then, all of a sudden, my eyes were fine.  I felt a bit cross-eyed for a week or so as my eyes continued to heal, and I was quite sensitive to light for about a month, but now I can see perfectly! 

It is still weird though--waking up in the middle of the night and being able to see the time on the alarm clock; going on holiday and not worrying if I've packed contacts, saline and glasses; being able to lie on the couch without crunching my glasses.  For ages, in the evening, I kept thinking I had forgotten to take my contacts out, but I hadn't!

So was it worth it?  For sure!  I only wish I had done it sooner...

Fat Jean Genes

The fat jeans I bought last winter are too tight.  I've been telling myself for months that I am going to lose the almost-thirty pounds I've gained since my bright idea to move to Canada (it must be Canada's fault I can't stop eating, right?)  I lose five pounds, gain eight, lose eight gain ten.  I have barely managed to do the "right thing" for more than a week.  I am officially overweight.  Again.

When I lost thirty pounds after baby number two, it seemed pretty effortless.  I joined Weight Watchers and it really worked for me--tracking my food online, trying new recipes, being able to eat "regular" food to lose weight.  And hitting the gym three times a week helped burn up the fat and give me some great muscle tone, and stablized the old mood swings.  I was looking awesome, and it didn't seem too difficult.  Sure, some days I slipped up a bit with some birthday cake or a lolly, but I got right back on the wagon and reached my weight loss goal.

And I felt awesome!  When I am thin, I look like how I feel.  When I am fat, I feel trapped in someone else's body.  But it's not someone else.  It's me.  Funny though, as I have been chubby or overweight more than I have been fit and trim. 

It's not like I don't know what to do--nutrition, portion control, exercise, weight training--I know what to do.  I've done it before, many times before, with relative ease.  For the most part, I have always lost weight in a very healthy way, eating right and exercising regularly, not following a "diet" per se, but changing my lifestyle.  But this whole year has been an endless binge.  I've never been this out of control for so long.  It's a miracle I haven't gained more weight.  Where is that internal switch that puts me "in the zone" and more importantly, how do I keep it switched on, forever?

So the debate I am having with myself now--do I accept myself as I am and buy some clothes that actually fit so maybe I will feel better, or do I keep struggling to get back on the wagon and fit into the nice clothes I already have?