I’m not always completely honest with my kids, and it is done in the best interests of all parties. It’s not like outright lying to them – more like faking it. These top the list:

1) I fake that I like food.
Don’t get me wrong – I like food, but not the way most people seem to. For example, I would never in a million years cook myself something to eat. You see, the work involved is not worth the result. I’m quite happy having a bowl of cereal for dinner. But, I feel like I have to be a good food role model for my kids. So, I may tell them that I had a soup and salad for lunch, when in reality it may have been a Kit Kat.

2) I fake that I was good at math in school.
When someone asks a math trivia question, I have an easy out. I just say I don’t know because I suck at math. It recently occurred to me that I don’t want my kids to hear me say that. Why? Because it’s an excuse not to try. Accepting how much I suck at math has somehow given me a free pass from having to do anything mathematical. I don’t want my kids thinking they can have free passes. Not yet. They don’t think they suck at anything and I’d like to keep it that way.

3) I fake that I think the Olympics are super exciting.
Other than some recent hockey excitement, I generally don’t get all that jazzed about the Olympics. My total watching time included only one period of one hockey game. Even if I was terribly interested in the Games, I’m not sure where I’d find the time to commit to watching them. I mistakenly told the kids they could stay up for the Opening Ceremony without knowing anything about the start time being a full hour after bedtime. Regardless, I mustered up some fake excitement, got out the craft supplies, dressed in the appropriate colours and cheered the kiddos on as they created a medal count chart and drew some flags to hang around the house. Certainly watching them get all excited helped out where I was lacking.

One day my kids will realize that they have a mother who will call chocolate lunch, is mathematically challenged and athletically uninspired. But that day does not have to be today. What are your dirty little mama secrets?

50 years ago my Aunt Joan was born. Hers has not been an average life. She arrived prematurely, possibly having an unfortunate run-in with the umbilical cord on the way out. Regardless of the cause, she has had a special place in our family because she did not develop in a typical manner.

From all accounts, it was not easy in those early years. The doctors made grim predictions about Joan’s future based on what they thought her IQ was. Grandma once threw a social worker out of her house for suggesting that Joan should be removed from the family and raised elsewhere.

She was the seventh born in a big Irish family and everyone rallied around their baby Joan, sharing feeding responsibilities and surrounding her with love and support. Joan was a part of that family and although it was a family forever changed, from their enlightened perspective, they were better for it. To this very day she lives with my grandparents who are in their mid-nineties.

Joan is a remarkable person. Embraced by a supportive school and staff, she has spent the last 25 years working as a classroom helper in a centre for children with special needs and who are medically fragile. Joan has a special place at Mabel’s Labels as well. She helps out when brochures need to be stickered, she decorates posters and cards for special events and contributes her famous brownies for staff functions. Most of all, she is our biggest fan. If you’ve ever been on a city bus and had the woman next to you ask if you have Mabel’s Labels, chances are it was Aunt Joan. She hands out her Mabel’s Labels business card to anyone and everyone – a business card which appropriately lists her job title as “Superstar”.

To get the full picture of the positive impact Joan has on those around her, let me tell you how her 50th birthday was celebrated:

- The school board threw a surprise party for her. 50 staff members and retired staff were in attendance to celebrate;
- Our family had a surprise dance party/open house. More people than I could count were in attendance;
- Of those people at the dance party, a ridiculous number of us were wearing t-shirts featuring Joan’s picture and the words ‘Joan is a Superstar’;
- Even the babies in the family got involved. They all wore custom-made shirts that said “Great-Aunt Joan is a Superstar”.

I know when we all have babies we want them to be perfect in every way. However, Joan has taught me that sometimes it’s only when they are not “perfect” that they are able to become Superstars.

So we’ve made it to February, which is usually the time when folks have either fallen off the New Year’s resolution wagon or take a step back to assess how they are doing.

I am happy to report that I am doing great! OK, it might have something to do with the fact that I don’t really do resolutions. My theory is that I suffer enough. So, while I’m raising small kiddos, I get a resolution “free pass”. Do we mamas really need extra stress and self induced pressure?

I get that everyone wants to be healthy and lose a few pounds. I’ve got a postcard on our fridge that has an illustration of a goddess woman, with the words “Can you pinch an inch? Do you give a shit?” It’s just a reminder that maybe mamas need to cut ourselves a bit of slack – a few pounds and an extra inch or two is a small price to pay for getting to grow humans in our bodies.

Rather than putting pressure on myself this year, I am relieving myself of it. I have two examples:

1) My photo dilemma: I had five years worth of unprinted photos hanging around my neck like an albatross. I finally admitted that there was no time in the foreseeable future that I could dedicate to this project, and it was only getting bigger with each photo taken. A quick Facebook status update asking if anyone was up for a project put an end to my photo woes. Project has now been completely outsourced. The weight that has been lifted from my shoulders is indescribable.

2) The next outsource came in the shape of a teenaged homework helper who has a 95% average in French Immersion. My son’s FI was causing me an incredible amount of stress. My lack of French rendered me useless – throw in the fact that I don’t really get Gr. 5 Science either and I was a complete waste of space. Now, three times a week my angel teenager relieves me of that aggravation. My son does well on his homework, understands the material and I am no longer pulling my hair out every evening.

Outsourcing these little projects certainly ends up costing a mama a few bucks, but I am a strong believer that at whatever cost, you can’t put a price on mama’s sanity!

There is a lot of fun stuff going on here at The Mabelhood in 2010! To start things off, friend and amazing fella, Chris McGrath, will be joining us with a guest post next week. He will post about a tremendous accomplishment – he just reached his goal of losing 200 lbs. No gimmicks, but a lot of sweat and hard work. With all those New Year’s resolutions buzzing around, we’re hoping his motivation is contagious!

The following week, you will be introduced to Nanny Carrie (who happened to have a baby a couple of days ago). As an experienced nanny who is oozing with kiddo love, common sense and practical solutions, Nanny Carrie is the mama with the answers! She will be providing regular posts helping us deal with all that kid stuff that drives us crazy.

Of course you’ll still be hearing from me about life in the mama trenches while also juggling Mabel’s Labels madness. Caitlin will be keeping you posted on all the Mabel news and Tanna is here to keep you organized.

All the best for 2010! It’s been a pleasure sharing 2009 with you! And a warm Mabelhood welcome to Chris and Nanny Carrie!

Around our house, we have great fun celebrating Christmas. This year was also fantastic, with one exception. Nagging at me all day was how baby boy was breathing. Not good.

At 7:30pm I couldn’t take it anymore and made the trip down to the hospital. Before getting admitted, they put us in the trauma room to get him on some oxygen and begin other treatments.

I was sitting there holding a ventolin mask over his screaming face, telling myself that the situation sucked. I was feeling a bit sorry for myself, and a lot sorry for my baby boy. It was no way for my little man to spend his first Christmas, thought I.

Then I had a quick reality check. The guy on the other side of the curtain, who seemed to be getting treatment for pain of sorts, started speaking:

Guy: “Nurse? I kinda feel like killing myself”

Nurse: “Hmmm, what are you thinking about doing?”

Guy: “I dunno, maybe cut my wrists, find a gun or take some pills”

Nurse: “Do you have a gun?”

Guy: “No”

Nurse: “OK, we can have a chat with the Doctor about all this”

I looked down at my wheezing boy and thought about the guy on the other side of the curtain. What was his first Christmas like? How would his mother feel if, on his first Christmas, she knew that in about 40 more years he’d feel like killing himself on Christmas Day?

I gave my baby boy an extra squeezy hug and decided my Christmas didn’t suck after all.