thoughts on life, parenting, news, and crazy shit

Month: October, 2013

Can’t Wait

THIS moment.

THIS moment.

As I was putting my babies to bed the other night, I started thinking about how our perception of time changes so much as we age.

When we’re little, we always “can’t wait” for things.  Can’t wait for Christmas.  Can’t wait for school to be over.  Can’t wait for tomorrow.

Can’t wait until I’m old enough to………

And then all of a sudden, you are old enough.  You can do whatever you want.  You go to University and all of a sudden no one gives a shit if you skip class in the morning, so you go out on the weekdays.  Why wait?

But you still can’t wait to meet someone.  To get married. To buy a house.  To have babies. And then you get pregnant and you can’t wait for it to be over.  And then it is.

And then you wish time would stand still.

It’s so cliche, isn’t it?  That old saying about how fast the years go once you have kids.  But it really does.

And so all of a sudden instead of feeling like you can’t wait for something, you feel like you can’t keep up with something.  Like all the special moments and events will be gone in an instant if you dare look away.  Like if you blink they’ll be teenagers.  Like if you don’t pay attention you will forget this exact moment when your baby loves you more than anything else in his world.  That exact moment when you’re sitting together in a dark room, and he can barely see your face.  But he knows you’re there and you feel him smile. That moment.

Husband and I were talking about what our “freeze time” would be.  I think he just wants them verbal and then get the freeze ray gun.

My freeze time is every day.  I want to linger in every second with my babies right now.  I want to implant every smile and giggle and meltdown in my brain.  I just want them to stay where they are, because I will miss their innocence once they grow up.

And I can only hope that somewhere along the way, I will be satisfied with “remember when” instead of “right now”  or “can’t wait”.

If anyone ever invents the Time Standing Still Machine, I’ll be your first customer.

Because I never want these days to end.  Except the ones where everybody cries non stop.  We can fast forward those.


What’s Your Excuse?

Ok.  THIS.


Did you read it, Bitches?  Or more importantly, did you look at the picture?

Maria Kang originally posted this picture to her Facebook page.  She looks good.  She works hard.  Good for her.  NO problems, right?

But there is a problem.  It’s the caption that woman are pissed about.  “What’s your excuse?”  is a tad accusatory, inflammatory, and condescending, no?

Personally, I could give a shit what she thinks or does or says.  There are countless Mommy pages out there that celebrate our stretch marks and loose skin and postpartum jelly bellies.  They try to inspire us to love the battle scars we’ve earned through motherhood. Part of me really, really does.   The other part of me wants to book a tummy tuck, stat.  Because there are not enough sit ups in the world to fix what Buddy did to my belly.  Maybe I’ll withhold his allowance until the surgery is complete.

I think that’s where some women are getting pissy.  There ARE, no matter how hard you work, some irrevocable changes that happen to your body once you bear children.  And I think that some girls have a hard time with that.  And then some sexy bitch goes and throws it in your face, right?

The other thing is this.  We all have something we’re good at.  Something we work hard at every day.  Something we’re proud of.  But we don’t necessarily show it off in the manner that Ms. Kang does.  I don’t post daily videos of myself hitting stratospheric high notes all in the hopes that it “inspires” you to work hard.  Because a big part of posting it, if we’re being honest with ourselves, is to show off.

And whether or not this woman wants to admit it or not, she’s showing off.

So ladies.  Decide if you want to dedicate yourself to fitness or music or underwater basket weaving or whatever.  But don’t let some show off ruin your self esteem.  She is not actually concerned with yours.  In my opinion she is simply trying to validate the things she has worked hard for, and she is one  of those people who needs the approval of others to find that validation.

And who the fuck cares what your excuse is?  You don’t owe anybody anything.  Be healthy for you. For your children.  Love your own guts.  Accept your loose skin.  And if that picture of the super fit Mommy of three offends you, don’t look.

And fuck her.   Just a little bit.  Right?


This weekend is Canadian Thanksgiving.We all use it as an excuse to eat more than our share and then complain about how full we are.  That’s the tradition, right?

And that’s ok.  That’s the fun part.  But we humans are just so good at losing sight of what some holidays mean.  This one, being called Thanksgiving is fairly obvious.  We are supposed to think of all the things we are thankful for.

Some years its easier than others.  Some years, when we are faced with unhappy things in our lives, it does one extreme or the other.  It either makes us bitter and unable to feel thankful when there are so many wrong things, or, it helps us to see the little things we should be thankful for.

Yesterday happened to be my birthday as well.  So we pigged out on pizza and cake and wine.  It was a really nice day.

But I also thought about the things I am thankful for.

I looked around the table and thought about how lucky I am to have so many people in my life that love my children.  I was thankful to know in my heart that should anything ever happen to me, my children would have many wonderful people to provide for them and guide them.

I was thankful to be running out of room in the fridge while so many people don’t have enough food to keep their children fed.

I was thankful to complain about the cost of buying a new car this year.  I was thankful to not have to take the bus with a stroller and a toddler.

I was thankful to be able to fill a tub with warm water and bubbles while so many people don’t even have clean water to drink.

I was thankful to be in a marriage that is based on trust and love and friendship.

I was thankful to get up early in the morning because my beautiful infant son was hungry.  I was thankful to look down at his smiling face and have some quiet time with him before we started the day.

I was thankful that my daughter loves people and imaginary play more than material things.

I was thankful to have three dogs to trip over and curl up with.

I was thankful to be loved.

I was thankful to have to open the windows because my home is dry and warm.

I  was thankful for a happy, healthy life.

And mostly, I was thankful for whatever force made me decide to have children. I looked down at them and was thankful for the person they have changed me into.  I was thankful for all the things they have taught me so far.

So as the holiday season is now beginning, be thankful.  Not for the material things in your life, but for the things that you could never replace.  Cherish them, love them, and don’t waste one precious second.


Perspective Is Everything

There is rarely a day that goes by when I don’t stop and think about how lucky I am to teach music for a living.  Logistically, it’s great.  I work from home a lot.  I make my own schedule.  I decide how much I want to work and assess how much I think I should get paid.  I have countless opportunities to upgrade my training, and amazing colleagues to draw inspiration from.

And then I have that conversation with the parent of a teenager that always makes me feel sort of lost.  The conversation that begins with “my child doesn’t feel motivated.  They keep expressing that they don’t want to play violin anymore.  They want to play hockey. (or baseball or football or insert whatever here)”

Fair enough.  We all want to listen to our children.  And as a teacher, I’d rather teach students who love music and unquestionably practice and achieve and have great attitudes.

But that’s not really the point.

Realistically, the chance that any of my students will become virtuosos or even “professional” musicians is probably between 1-10%.

But that’s not really the point either.

Of course a teenage boy or girl loses motivation when things start to get challenging.  That’s pretty much the definition of a teenager’s behavior.  Lacking motivation.  But it’s sort of biological. And of course they’d rather play hockey.  Because once the game is over, they get to go to McDonald’s and go home and watch tv the rest of the night.  They’re not responsible for anything past what happens on the ice.  It’s an instant gratification scenario.

And in this ever increasing world of instant gratification, the study of music requires daily, focused work.  Like no other aspect of a teenager’s life.  And that feels foreign.  And so they balk.

So why bother at all?  Why send your child to me?

Because adult life is competitive and does require hard work in order to achieve. Because they need to learn that skill somewhere.  Because music has been proven to improve memory and math skills in children.  Because music is soothing and a natural stress reliever.

Because it’s improves just about every other aspect of their lives.

And on top of all that, it feels great to create something beautiful that not many other people can.  It builds confidence.  Music is fun and inspirational when you put in the effort.  But you only get out of it what you’re willing to put into it.

On the other hand, sometimes, just sometimes, people really get it.

I took on this voice student in her late teens last year.  She has Asperger’s syndrome, and a few other challenges.  One being short term memory loss.  I mean, she literally resets ALL the time.  And maybe, just maybe, she’ll remember after the 100th repetition.

Anyway, her mom asked me last year if I would also teach her violin and I agreed.  And she has been working on the same 4-5 pieces for an entire year.  A year.

And they still come to every lesson positive.  Smiling. Thankful that they have this in their lives. And she slowly improves all the time.

Next year, she will moving on to University, and I asked if they were planning to continue with lessons.  They said absolutely.

There is no pretense or expectation of a violin career.  She does it because it improves her life by the development of skills.  Her memory has improved so much that she no longer needs to take open book tests at school.  She tests like every other student in her school.  Thanks to the study of music.

It was a proud moment for me to have had such a profound impact on someone’s life.  And not because she won a competition.  Not because she got the highest mark on a exam.  Because she listened to the lesson and heard me.

And she gets it.

Once in a while, true success comes from the most unexpected place.  So the next time I hear the parent of a teenager tell me they have lost their motivation, I will know exactly what to tell them.

Swimming In Embarrasment



I went into swimming lessons with low expectations.  Not of the quality of the program, but the quality of my Destroyer’s behavior.

One of the problems, you see, is that I come from a competitive swimming background.  I lived for and in the water as a child.  It is unfathomable to me that Destroyer do anything but love the water and excel at swimming.  Not only so she doesn’t drown, but so that I can relive my youth vicariously through my child.

Anyway, it’s a good thing I mentally kept the bar low.  Because in true Destroyer tradition we were a total fucking spectacle.  We first arrive on the pool deck about 10 minutes early.  The benches are lined with tiny people and their handlers.  Every other child is capable of sitting quietly and waiting their damn turn.  But not my baby.  To prevent the inevitable tantrum, we must walk back and forth along the deck, stopping to touch every rubber duckie and toy boat along the way.  She seemed really excited about the pool, and kept asking to go in.

Good sign, right?

Not even a little bit.

Once it was our turn, she bravely walked down the steps on her own and into my arms. As soon as the structured part of the class happened, she clung to me like a koala bear and proceeded to scream like a banshee for the next 20 minutes.  She would NOT be doing the hokey pokey and putting various body parts in the water.  She would not try to float.  She certainly would not blow bubbles on demand, even though she does it in the bathtub ALL the fucking time.  She was simply not interested in anybody’s itinerary but her own.

Doesn’t she know that this is supposed to be fun?  And also that I had to get into a bathing suit less than three months after having a baby in public?  So that she can act like an asshole and embarrass the fuck out of me learn to swim and have fun with other kids?

Now, in her defense, there were a couple of undesirable things going on.

First, the water was hard-nipple inducing cold.  The kiddie pool was under maintenance until next week, so most of the babies were shivering, and even my one good operational nipple was kinda hard from the cold.

Second, there was a man with an extremely hairy back quite close to us.  The kind where you figure his wife must not have ever seen it with the lights on before they got married.  We’re talking possible sasquatch sighting, right in the middle of a city pool.

Thirdly, if Mr. Hairyfuckingback weren’t bad enough, there was a man with a giant boil on his back.  Like the size of a ping pong ball.  I wanted to vomit and then cover myself in tea tree oil and bleach once I got out of the pool.  Maybe it’s not such a big deal, but cover that shit up.  I can only assume that Destroyer saw it and was afraid of catching these skin monstrosities as well.

Anyway.  I’m really hoping that swimming lessons don’t become a weekly scream-a-thon.  She has to be good at something, right?

Anybody got any tips on how to make her love swimming lessons?

The Millennial Pastor

An iPhone Pastor for a Typewriter Church

For The Love Of Ligh

APK Photography Blog


Written by Natalie Oldham

Midnight Calico Farm

One Family's Journey into Farm Life

unreally written

A mushy mom, a little madness, and a lot of musing.


Child Rearing with a Professional Twist

Feminist Philosophers

News feminist philosophers can use

Out an' About

Loving life and Embracing a New Earth

Cooking Without Limits

Food Photography & Recipes

MOMtessori Life

Living the Montessori life as a mom with two young children

Pirate Patty Reviews

Books, Books, and More Books!!

Archon's Den

The Rants & Rambles of A Grumpy Old Dude

Mind Of An In-Depth Woman

My thoughts about love, music, spirituality, relationships, life and random topics in between

The Bede Update

He may be small but he is mighty

Ends and Beginnings

"The World is round and the place which may seem like the end may also be the beginning."-Ivy Baker Priest

Musings of An Insomniac

Late night thoughts of a perpetual dreamer..

Surviving Grief

How to embrace grief and heal


This WordPress.com site is the cat’s pajamas


A blog about family, food, and other good stuff.

Mums diary blog


Breaking Sarah - Bruised, Not Broken

One woman's raw journey through incest, teen pregnancy, trauma, death, and family estrangement.


Letting it all hang out


A stay at home mothers guide to self discovery

Peace Hacks

in search of a better us

Luminous Blue

a mother's and daughter's journey with transformation, cancer, death and love

The Secret Life of Emily Maine

a place to shout my secrets

Dramatic Momologue

The juggle is real.

Ben's Bitter Blog

"We make bitter better."

David McVety

A Spiritual Shepherd's Thoughts on Faith and Family

Beating Myself Into a Dress

First a wedding dress, then a maternity dress, now I'm just trying to fit into ANY dress.

The Fat Chick Memoirs

Dealing with my Weight-Loss One Funny Story at a Time

The Science of Mom

The Heart and Science of Parenting

The Fat Bottom Bard

Waxing Poetic and Penning Tall Tales

Jeneral Musings

A personal potpourri of thoughts

Supporting Birth Diversity

Celebrating the Tapestry of Motherhood


frightfully wondrous things happen here.

An Early Start

Meet Jax a funny, kind, and smart preschooler who was a micro-preemie born at 23 weeks. Now that Jax is older, the scariness of the NICU has faded, but we're still learning how to manage the lasting effects of prematurity including chronic medical issues, ADHD, and Autism Spectrum Disorder. This is our story of love, hope, and survival.

Writings From Dr. Oolie's Pond

Poetry, Prose, and Random Thoughts

You're Wrong and That's Okay

Helping those who should really learn to help themselves...

%d bloggers like this: