One Lucky Mama!

A couple of weeks ago, my bad-breathing baby landed us in the Trauma Room in the Emergency at our local hospital. On about his fifth Ventolin treatment, a woman was brought into the bed beside us.

The woman was explaining her symptoms as they were going through triage a few feet away from us. Now, I’ve only seen ER twice and maybe half an episode of Grey’s, but it was pretty darn clear to Dr. Mama that this woman was about to have a massive heart attack. During the chit-chat, I learned that her two young daughters had brought her in and were waiting in the lobby. I also learned that she was 50 years old, the same age her mother was when she died of a heart attack. At that point, I started to feel panic – I just wanted the questions to stop and the treatment to start. I kept thinking “If that were my mother…”

No great surprise, just as the question period was finishing, she went into full-on cardiac arrest. After 40 minutes and 7 shocks to the chest, she was pronounced dead. I was selfishly thankful that I was there with my only kid who would remain completely clueless that someone just died beside us.

Then I thought about the daughters in the lobby. The doctors bickered about who was going to take them into the Family Room to deliver the news. They managed to get the girls to call in their aunt and uncle before telling them their mother was dead.

Within a couple of hours, I was heading home with my son. As I got into my car, I noticed two sisters standing by the hospital entrance, embracing and crying. So this Mother’s Day, I’m thinking about how they have no mother to celebrate with. And 10 years down the road, they may have babies of their own, who will never know Grandma.

In perfect honesty, I’m still frustrated that when that very sick woman entered the Trauma Room, there was too much chat and not enough action.

We only get one mother – there is no time to waste.

On March 5th, 1971 I was born. Yep, I just turned 40. All year I was talking about the big birthday bash we were going to have at our house – it was going to be quite the event! But the closer my birthday got, the more the idea of throwing a party became one big headache. So I started saying that I would have a party when the weather improved. When friends and family asked, I pitched it as an outdoor event – people swimming in the pool, drinking summer cocktails, and possibly even a band on our balcony. When I started talking about it, I believed I would do it. Before long, it became the perfect “out” and I just said it as a way of not having to deal with this party nonsense. Summer is far enough away that my birthday will be long forgotten. Having a “plan” also let other people off the hook who may have been feeling like they should organize something.

As a “Mama of Many”, I throw a lot of birthday parties every year. I simply don’t have time or energy to celebrate my own. In fact, I figured I’d better schedule my mid-life crisis for a time that better suits – so if you’re looking for me in May 2014, I’ll be cruising around in a sports car with a Botoxed face, looking for Ashton Kutcher.

How did I celebrate my birthday? I got a zit. Seems I’m fighting acne and wrinkles at the same time. Note that I use the term “fighting” loosely since I barely have the energy to splash water on my face at the end of each day. I also celebrated by bringing my normal “casual style” to a whole new level of casual. I was at the office last week and noticed that I was wearing cargo pants – with an elastic waist. And I love them. I was also wearing Blundstone boots that I’ve had so long that I think our Marketing Assistant must have been a toddler when they were purchased. My kids also took me out for a birthday dinner at their favourite restaurant. It’s called Philthy McNasty’s. Yes, it’s all class around here. I got to wear a hockey helmet while all the servers sang to me. My head is still itchy thinking about that helmet.

So I’m being 40 and fabulous in my own way – it just so happens that my fabulous includes zits, dirty boots and possible head lice. I may not have actually dodged 40, but somehow managed to escape the party, and I couldn’t be happier.

**photo cred to the wonderful Karen Walrond who refuses to alter pictures of women to make us look “better”. See her blog: http://www.chookooloonks.com

When I posted my last blog about the “meanie at the mall”, I was shocked by how many mamas had experienced the exact same thing. That encounter was a first for me – never before had I been so openly criticized by a complete stranger. I certainly get some funny looks when I’m out with my crew, but never has it been the stink eye (that I have noticed, anyway!)

But the silver lining of this experience was that it made me reflect on the ridiculous number of kind people I have met during this crazy mama journey.

There are all those encouraging nods I get regularly from other mamas. There are the countless elderly women who surround me in a public place, showering me with compliments about how beautiful my kids are and how lucky I am to have them. I remember all the nice people who eat at the same restaurant as us and take the time to come over to comment on my kids’ good manners. I think about the server at that restaurant and how our food is brought out promptly and there is patience about our messy table. I remember the person at the public swimming pool who offered to hold the baby while I got the others ready for lessons. I think about that mom at the park who compliments my son for playing nicely with her children or my daughter for being able to pump her legs so well on the swings. I think about the dad at the ice rink who always laughs and plays with my little guy as his kids play hockey with my big kids. I remember other passengers on a flight with my puking toddler who were quick to help with the other children and grab paper towels, and pat me on the back for not completely losing my mind.

Last summer our family was out hiking and my son got way ahead of us. I wasn’t worried about it, until I ran into the situation you can see in the picture. I was horrified at the thought of him breaking up her meditation with “Hey! What are you doing sitting on that rock with your eyes closed?” My kids have a knack for ruining any peaceful moment.

As it turns out, he did interrupt her but it was an interruption that was welcomed. She explained meditation to him and invited her new friend to join in, which he did. As you can see from the picture, he was having a very Zen moment.

So, it made me realize that for every crabby meanie at the mall, there are a thousand “Good Ones”. Not a bad ratio, by my standards.

Have you encountered any strangers who have made your journey a little bit easier?

That cute face is why I got into a fight at the mall. And yes, as his shirt indicates, he was actually “dipped in handsome sauce”.

I took my three youngest kids for lunch at the food court in the local mall the other day. My toddler had a meltdown and was doing the high-pitched scream. Yeah, you know the sound.

As I’m trying to manage my stressful moment, an elderly woman looked over at us and shook her head in disgust. I had to take her to task on it because I hate passive aggressive communication. I wanted her to say the words – that my kid was out of control and I was a crappy parent. I wanted her to stand by her dirty looks. When I asked her why she was shaking her head, she stood by them alright, informing me that I should do a better job of “training” him. I almost had a temper tantrum myself at that point.

I suggested that if she found it too noisy, perhaps a café rather than a mall food court might better suit. Another suggestion I offered was that she come to my house and reform my entire collection of unruly children, all the while giving me some parenting lessons. Then I asked her to consider that next time she sees an exhausted mother struggling, why not offer to give her a hand? Mrs. McJudgerson was all criticism with nothing helpful to offer.

When the spectacle came to an end, another elderly woman made her way over to us and supported me, reminding me that people like that are not worth a second thought. Her support turned my anger into sadness. My lip began to quiver, then came a quiet tear and then another.

Why was I so sad? I was confused myself at first.

I was sad because this woman is the reason mamas worry that we are doing a bad job. She is the reason mamas feel too overwhelmed to take their three small children on an outing. She is the reason mamas get trapped at home, socially isolated – because they are afraid of going out there and being judged.

I was also upset because I’m worried about this toddler of mine. His tantrums are outrageous because his language is so delayed. He’s almost two years old and has no words. I’m scared that I’m about to travel down the autism road for a second time – a trip I really didn’t want to have to take. It felt like this woman in the food court was rubbing my face in it.

I took comfort in a couple of things. First, that karma has a way of repaying debt. Second, I am eternally grateful that she is not my mother-in-law. Imagine being related to that parenting expert!

What would your reaction have been?

Daddy-o smootching Fin

A friend on Facebook recently posted some Valentine’s Day advice to all the men out there. In short, she suggested that all women gush over Valentine’s Day and appreciate special gifts and attention in celebration of this holiday. Even the women who say they don’t care, really do – deep down.

I looked deep into my soul to see if I wasn’t being honest with myself. After some serious self-analysis, I have to speak up on behalf of the unromantic – we think Valentine’s Day is at best, hokey and cheesy, at worst, bordering on pervy and creepy. Don’t get me wrong, I let my kids give out cards to their classmates and even sneak a heart-shaped chocolate treat into their school bags. It’s the fake romance stuff that freaks me out.

I considered some of the most traditional romantic Valentine’s gifts and thought it might be useful to give an explanation as to why I am not interested in them.

1) Flowers
I think of flowers as something that is going to take up valuable counter space for a week. When that week is over, I’ll have to get rid of the dead flowers and scrub the skanky vase. Don’t even get me started on the money – I’d rather not have to re-mortgage the house to cover the cost of my dozen Valentine’s Day roses.

2) Jewelry
I’m just not a jewelry gal. Daddy-o was pretty gutted back in our courtin’ days when I rejected the idea of having an engagement ring. In the end, I generously agreed that we could exchange engagement rings. Mine has now been sitting in a jewelry box for well over a decade, alongside its little friend, the wedding band.

3) The romantic dinner
I prefer our usual date night, which includes putting the kids to bed and sitting together with our laptops, side by side. In my books, there is no need to pay two babysitters and an expensive restaurant bill for some quality time together.

4) Cuddles from your adoring husband as you watch “Grey’s” on the couch together
Quite frankly, after cuddling with six small humans all day long, I just want a bit of personal space. Oh, and I don’t watch “Grey’s” or any other romantic-type shows anyway.

5) A lovely bottle of wine
I’m a beer drinker. Straight from the bottle.

I can’t be the only one out there? Speak up, please! I feel like I need to put an ad in the classifieds: “Unromantic Married Mom Seeks Like Women for Friendship and Understanding”.