When you’ve been changing diapers for almost 11 years straight and you have been pregnant for about 250 weeks, it is fair to make claim to a bit of brain mush now and again. Sleep deprivation can make a mama foggy at times. Going to the grocery store and leaving without the item I went for is a common occurrence. Once, I was driving down the street with a van load of kids and had to pull over for a minute to think. You see, I had forgotten which child was being driven to what activity. When I looked in the rear-view mirror, I noticed one in a soccer uniform so I was able to carry on without actually having to admit anything to the kids.

But there are bigger things that I don’t remember – the things that I did before I had kids.

What did I do in the evenings? What did I start questioning at 4:00pm every day if not “What am I going to feed them?” To remove that daily dilemma from my brain space would leave quite a gap. Along with “feeding time at the zoo”, my evenings consist of organizing homework, packing school lunches and shuttling people to sports and dance classes. If not doing that, what would I be doing? I just can’t remember. Maybe I watched the 6:00pm news. Maybe I had a hobby. Whatever it was, it’s long gone from my immediate memory.

Waking up naturally because my body has had enough sleep.
Actually, I can’t even remember what it’s like to wake up to the sound of an alarm clock. I vaguely remember that sensation of a Saturday morning sleep- in, dozing in and out of lazy slumber, eventually crawling out of bed when it suited me. Yeah, vaguely.

Eating in a civilized fashion.
I can’t remember what it’s like to sit down and eat an entire plate of food without having to get up half a dozen times. What is it like to sit around a table enjoying food and chatter without springing up regularly to fetch things and cut up food on other people’s plates? I’ve been to dinner parties and left without actually having had dinner myself. And I’m told food is normally served hot. Imagine that – it’s actually HOT when served! By the time I get to my food, “hot” would not be a suitable description.

But from what all the weathered mamas tell me, these busy mama days go too quickly and before you know it, they too will become vague memories. So I think for the moment I’ll just clutch onto my cold dinners and hectic evenings for as long as I possibly can.

I sat down to write a nice blog about Daddy-o, because really, he is a fantastic father. But it’s not really my style to write a mushy post about how fabulous he is, so instead I thought I’d talk about how he almost broke the baby this week.

Daddy-o came home from work the other day and joined us all in the backyard. I went inside and started puttering around when suddenly I heard the panicked words of Daddy-o: “oh man….don’t move buddy, just stay right there.” I looked out the window to see my 13-month-old teetering half way up the wooden deck steps looking like he was about to take a step down. Daddy-o was running, but it was too late. Through the window, as if in slow motion, I watched my baby fall down the steps onto the cement patio.

Two initial reactions:
1) I was sick about the big bump on our baby’s head.
2) I was annoyed that Daddy-o thought it was somehow OK to take his eyes off our busy 13-month-old for even a second.

I have a friend who is married to an “absent-minded professor” type. You know how sometimes you’ll put your coffee on the roof of the car while you get in, and then drive away forgetting all about it? When my friend was expecting her first baby, it occurred to her that it would be entirely within the realm of possibility for her husband to do that with a baby in a bucket car seat. She sat her husband down and told him that if he was careless and it resulted in an injured baby, she would never, ever forgive him. She felt bad threatening him with their marriage before the baby was even born, but his absent-mindedness knew no limits. It worked – they have four kids who have survived babyhood.

Daddy-o claims he was just a bit rusty – it has been a couple of years since we had a tippy toddler. It’s easy to forget how quickly they move and we all know that these falls can happen right under our noses. But clearly, he took his eyes of the baby long enough for baby to get across the yard and up the steps. So what is a mama to do? We don’t want to nag our husbands about their supervision skills, but we need to have confidence that our kids are safe.

What is your experience? Does the Daddy-o around your house have good instincts or are you always a little nervous when he’s alone with the kiddos? Have you effectively communicated your concerns, or does he feel like you’re a nag?

In short, do you trust your husband with your babies?

When we have our babies, it is natural to transform into “mama bear”, stopping at nothing to defend and protect. For the mama who has a child facing additional challenges, this instinct goes into overdrive. Having a child with autism has made me respond to certain comments irrationally. I can be oversensitive – even when comments are said in kindness or without any intention of harm.

That is my disclaimer. If you’re curious about what common and harmless things you are saying that make my ears bleed, here goes:

1) “All I want is a healthy baby.”
I get that. It makes sense to me – health is the most important gift we can ask for. But, bring out my psycho sidekick self and you want to know what it hears? It hears that the very last thing you want is a child like mine. I know that’s not really what’s being said, but it’s what the little friend in my head is hearing!

2) “Your son was born to you because you are strong and can handle it.”
I understand and appreciate this is a compliment, but in those early and difficult days when I was digesting an autism diagnosis, I wanted to scream “So let me get this straight – I’m rewarded for being a competent parent by having a kid with autism?!” My rational self knows you are encouraging me but that little crazy me is turning red, stamping feet and yelling “it’s not FAIR” better than any 4-year-old you’ve encountered.

3) “He’s lucky to have you.”
The thing is, I’m lucky to have him. When I hear how fortunate he is to have me, it makes me feel like you see him as a burden. Please remember, I feel like I picked a four-leaf clover on the morning of his birth.

So next time you say something completely innocent, and I start frothing at the mouth and growling, you’ll know that it’s a simple case of mama bear gone mad.

Can you imagine saying something mean to that cute face? I did and it didn’t feel good.

Mornings around our house are always hectic. The other day, my five-year-old woke up excited that the long awaited kindergarten trip to the fire station had arrived. The best part – I was going along as a classroom volunteer. She is a real mama’s girl, so that was a pretty big deal in her little world.

This particular kid is a bit of a fashionista. By dumb luck, our kids ended up in a public school that has uniforms. As such, there is no real discussion about what kids are going to wear to school. However, my fashionista girl regularly express opinions about shoes, sweaters and coats.

On the day of the school trip, the morning was madness. I had to get the kindergarten kid and the three biggies out the door. The baby was screaming for breakfast and the pre-schooler had to get dressed for nursery school. I was under pressure for time since I had to get myself organized in order to be at school on time for the field trip. I handed my kindergarten kid her sweater with instructions to put it on and head out the door for the bus. She started fussing, complaining and carrying on about not wanting that sweater. I snapped. Out of my mouth came something that stopped her in her tracks. I said “If I get any fuss about this, I will not be going to the fire station”. She looked startled and quickly put the sweater on.

I consider that statement to be a perfect example of lazy parenting. Did I really just threaten to take away something so special to her – spending time with me? Did I really just serve up a threat I would not have followed up on? Yep and yep.

Half an hour later I was driving to the school with tears streaming down my face. When I arrived, my daughter’s little face lit up. I gave her a hug and told her I was sorry about the sweater incident and that I wouldn’t have missed the school trip for anything. She laughed and said “I know, mama!”

I’ve still got a lump in my throat as I type this, but I’m trying to remind myself that if my dear, sweet five-year-old can forgive me, maybe it’s time to forgive myself.

Mothers can have bad days – kids misbehave, work gets on top of you, the house is a dump, your husband is being useless, etc. Mothers often tell me that when they are having a bad day, they think of me and they instantly feel better. The chaos in my life provides them with some comfort in those manic mama moments.

But I have to let you in on a little secret: it’s not that bad. In fact, it’s pretty darn good. Sure, I don’t get a lot of sleep and nights out on the town are few and far between, but that’s what I signed up for when I had six kids.

Between my babies, business and blogging, there are quite a few balls in the air. So the question is often asked about how I manage it all. I could go on and on, but since this is a blog and not a book, I’m keeping it short with just a few little things that are firmly entrenched in my brain that help me get through my busy days.

Keep everything in perspective
When things are hectic at Mabel’s Labels and stress is creeping into our lives, my business partners and I look at each other and remind ourselves of this: We are making labels; we are not saving lives. This is not to downplay how seriously we take our business. If a customer has not received labels on time, that is a dire Mabel 911 situation. Should we let it keep us up at night? Probably not. We’re better off engaging in more proactive responses such as finding out what went wrong and changing our system. Fix the mistake, move on and remember: no one died.

Don’t take your kids so seriously
My kids are kids, not projects. Don’t obsess over whether your kids are academically gifted, going to get MVP or be chosen for the competitive dance team. When my kids grow up, they will be like most others – they’ll get a job. They may become teachers, bricklayers, doctors, bus drivers, parents, whatever. Hopefully they’ll have a fulfilling personal life. I want them to be happy and the best people they can be. Stop taking them so seriously and worrying about what they’ll be later, instead of what they are now.

Don’t take yourself so seriously
You’re a parent, not a miracle worker. You’ll make mistakes and feel crappy about it. So learn from it and move right along. Dwelling is pointless. Sometimes as you try to balance all your roles, you’ll notice everything becoming unaligned – several balls you are juggling come crashing down at once. On those days, order pizza, give the kids bowls of cereal for dinner, let them watch too much TV or go to bed without brushing their teeth. I think they will be OK if they don’t have veggies with dinner two nights in a row. No one is going to turn you into the bad mother police for letting the kids eat hotdogs off their laps on the family room couch. While they’re doing that, for goodness’ sake, go get yourself a well deserved glass of wine!

So this Mother’s Day, give yourself an invaluable Mother’s Day gift. A healthy dose of perspective will make you happier than a dozen roses or new pair of earrings ever will.

I posted a blog recently about the value of saying “No” to kids. The gist was:

1) Your kids will be fine if they don’t get what they want all the time.
2) If you’re going to say “No” then be sure to follow through – unless you like to lead the double life of parent and white noise machine.

I just discovered another good time to say “No”– when it comes to buying them nice things. Ya know why? Because they don’t care.

Months ago, in spite of my no pet policy, my cheeky friend promised the kids a fish. She arrived at the house with a tank and all the fishy trimings. We negotiated that a fish could join us only after we moved into the new house in March.

March arrived and we moved into the new house. It is just lovely – big enough to suit our family, sitting on a quiet court and backing onto fields and ravines. The kids’ days are full of road hockey, catching tadpoles, chasing deer and trampolining. Soon summer will be here and they’ll be passing their days basking in the pool, enjoying all the water fun summer has to offer.

On moving day, the kiddos had all been shipped off to various locations. When they arrived home to their beautiful new house that evening, they screamed in unison:
“Did we get the fish??”

Daddy-o and I looked at each other, rolled our eyes and thought: we just bought a new house, and all they care about is that stupid fish!

And that is not the end of it. I had decided (OK, my bank account decided) that we would not be buying new furniture for the house. I made one little exception. With the three girls sharing a room, I thought it would be nice to ditch the garage sale beds they had been using, and replace them with three new little beds with fresh and fun bedding. They excitedly picked out the beds that were being used by the athletes in Olympic village.

So you can imagine my frustration when I go into their room at night and this is what I find:

So if you are the kind of mama who worries about your kids doing without stuff, I think you can stop. Just go buy them a fish and let them to sleep on the floor. Clearly, that is all they need.

People often tell me I make things look easy. I think the reason I make things look easy is because they often are. A perfect example is the neighbourhood Easter egg hunt I recently organized. Please note that when I say “organized”, I am using the term very loosely. I sent out an e-mail to everyone on the neighbourhood e-mail list. It was the same e-mail I sent out last year.

So I managed to get some cred and kudos for doing pretty much nothing.

The e-mail included information about how many eggs to stuff per kid in your family, what area of the park to hide the eggs in (based on kiddo ages) and what time to have it done so that we would be ready to start on time. Oh, I also told egg hiders to bring plastic bags with them in case they came across some dog poop or other park treasures.

That’s it. That is me organizing the egg hunt. Note what I didn’t do:
- I didn’t stuff eggs for kids in the neighbourhood;
- I didn’t hide eggs for kids in the neighbourhood;
- I didn’t go and clean up the dog poop in the park before the egg hunt.

Surprisingly, with all that I didn’t do, I still got a handful of e-mails from highly appreciative mamas. They all mentioned how remarkable it was that with six kids and a business I could find time to organize the egg hunt. I reminded them that forwarding the e-mail from last year took me about 15 seconds. Regardless, these appreciative mamas unanimously came back with “Well, someone had to send it out – so thank-you!”

Perhaps a case can be made for the old expression: “if you want to get something done, ask a busy person to do it”. Maybe all of us busy folks have just figured out the real trick – don’t just make it look easy, make it easy!

Just in time for camp season! We’re excited to announce the release of our free eBook filled with all you need to know to choose, prepare and pack for summer camp. Mama of Many’s Guide to Camp is filled with time-saving links, tips, a handy checklist, video clips and much more! As the mother of six children under ten and founding VP of Mabel’s Labels, Julie Cole’s perspective is both practical and fun. Download your FREE copy here.

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.