Although the reality is that I have six kids, in so many ways (as I’m sure you entrepreneurial types understand), when you create a business – you suddenly become a parent again.

Eight years ago, my business partners and I gave birth to a beautiful baby girl named Mabel. It was a long pregnancy, and the delivery was not easy, but she was born and is living among us. As a newborn, she was feisty and not always on her best behavior. Although we had other children, we were first-time parents to a child like this and there was a big learning curve. But, baby Mabel inspired us, kept us awake at night and worked us pretty darn hard.

When Mabel was first born she lived in my business partner’s basement. As she became a toddler, she required more space so my business partner moved to a bigger house with a bigger basement. Now, she is a cheeky big girl living in a 14,000 square foot facility.

As a baby, she was pretty bossy and kept on top of me and my business partners. She liked to keep us working through the night and clearly loved spending time with us. Now that Mabel is 8 years old she has become even bossier and has over 40 people running around after her at the Mabel’s Labels Headquarters every day.

The Mabelhood Class of 2010

As with our other children – our commitment, loyalty, love and hard work have paid off. We continue to nurture her and help her grow, but are so proud of where she is today.

And there she is – growing up before our very eyes!

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

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”.

And in desperate times, you look to older siblings for help!

With the recent death of both grandpas, I was left feeling like I needed a bit of help and support. I had six jetlagged kids up at random hours (some with fevers), work commitments and was parenting solo because Daddy-o was overseas for a week for funeral celebrations. Let’s just say, I’ve seen easier days.

Help is a funny thing. Some people offer to help, but we don’t take them up on it. Is it because we don’t think it’s a genuine offer? Is it because we are selective about who we think is actually capable of helping us?

During my recent tricky times, I found out the things that were most helpful for me:

Bossy People
I realized that when someone asks “What can I do to help?” it is too vague and the response is almost always “nothing”. The person needing help is too exhausted to come up with a plan. The offerer needs to take control and just deliver. One friend dropped me a quick e-mail to let me know she would be delivering dinner on Wednesday and Friday of that week. Not giving me a choice was paramount in the effectiveness of this help.

Visits
I was feeling a little loopy in my state of sleep deprivation. Hanging out with kids around the clock didn’t exactly help my sanity. I was also carrying a bit of guilt about being too exhausted to actually do anything interesting with the kids. Having visitors provided a great distraction.

Hands-On Help
Delivering food is a winner. A casserole drop-off brings me a ridiculous amount of joy. I don’t even care if it doesn’t taste good or my kids stick their noses up at it. It removes the dinner issue from my plate. That’s all that matters.

Taking kids for play dates also ranks high. During my week alone with the kids, I slept for three hours a night. While I function well on little sleep, this was pushing the limit. Try doing that for several consecutive nights. Actually, don’t. Reducing my kiddo head count for a couple of hours during crazy times will make me love you.

So what have I learned? Say “yes” to anyone and everyone who offers help, and when I offer it, I’ll be specific about what help I’m going to provide.

What do you do to lend a hand to a friend in need? Do you accept help when you need it?