A thought to start your day

Recently I wrote a letter to a committee about funding.

It’s not easy to write those letters. They force you to face a certain reality about your life that is sometimes hard to face.

Your time matters to me, so I won’t waste it going on and on about how important it is to find ways of getting kids on the spectrum help.

Thanks for being here and for being part of the picture – it makes a personal difference to me and in time I hope it makes a meaningful difference in the lives of families and children/young adults on the spectrum.

A.

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Portrayals of Parenting Solo.

I felt a jiggle in my brain.

It happened as I tossed garbage into the bin at Chapters and the title of an article sitting atop the bin caught my eye. “Selfish Yuppie to Heroic Parent” read the title in yesterday morning’s Globe and Mail. The caption beneath it: “Single mothers used to be irrationally reprimanded, writes Naomi Wolf. An equally unreasonable glorification has now risen around them.”

Damn right said something in my automated brain.

<Screeeeeeech>  I halted mid step – What?????!? What was that thought that sharply slapped something in my subconscious?

I picked up the page and sat down to read the article needing to understand what the article was truly about and what the hell had happened in my brain.

See I bow to single mothers – I can fathom never having a break from my kids on those days that make me yearn for being single again and ruing the day I cooed at blubbering baby; and that is why I hold single mom’s everywhere (and however they came to be single mom’s) in the highest of esteem.

Now, give me a minute to read and get back here….

Allllllllright. You’ll be less interested in knowing that my values and opinions continue to be aligned than I am. I was thrilled not to discover something new about myself today. Frankly, I have neither the energy nor the inclination to deal with a new me.

The opinion piece was about the pendulum swinging from single mother’s being cast as either selfish feminists (those women with money who chose to become mother’s on their own) or “drug dazed sluts” (low income/low education or uber young – and usually minority women who ended up as single mothers) to women being glorified for selecting single-parenthood. The point of the piece being that there ought not be either a stigma to bear nor an ideal to aspire to.

I agree with that. I get Naomi’s point. Afterall, both stereotypes are problematic – to demonize single mom’s threatens a woman’s view of herself, exposes her children to a number of harmful (and erroneous) external and internal represations , and damages the collective attitude towards women. Conversely to exhault single parenthood is to set an expectation or illusion so unrealistic about the experience itself that people too easily become susceptible to the dreaminess and underestimate the sheer magnitude of courage and patience it takes to raise children. Add to this the feelings of failure, crisis of confidence and alienation they’ll feel if they don’t experience themselves living the idealic portrayal of celebrity single mom’s prominent all over media on any given day.

I’ve thought at times – during brief moments characterized by temporary insanity when my entire sentient being was taken hostage by pregnancy hormones  – that it may be easier to raise the girls alone because I wouldn’t have to consider my husbands ideas about parenting.

Then, when the wave of idiocy washed over me my senses returned and I’ve thought two things:

1) My dad is the most exceptional, motivating, healing, loving man a little girl and a young woman could ever ask to have as her father; thank god I had both him and my mom to raise me and to continue to be able to rely on; and

2) My husband is the most exceptional, motivating, healing, loving man my little girls can hope to have as their father.

They are as lucky as I am. Hallelujah and thank god that I am not a single mother and beyond that, that their father is my co-parent in the challenging work that is raising children. Even two as adorable as mine.

A.

How many times do you need to pee on a stick?

Many, many, many times if you want to make sure you are NOT pregnant. Just like it requires many, many, many viewings of the stick to confirm that you ARE in fact, pregnant.

Sienna is three months old and I was cleaning my house like I my mother was coming to visit, the dog was following me around, and everything I smelled or ate seemed “off”. Even Al thought something was up.

I peed on many a stick after receiving an inconclusive response to finally arrive at the result I desired: not pregnant. Note: staring un-blinkingly at the pregnancy test stick as hard as you can and squinting will not alter the result of the test. I think this should be written in the too long series of instructions telling you how exactly to pee.

It all made me think about Sienna’s life if I were.

I’m daunted by the ever famous middle-child syndrome even though I’m the one who got to initiate my parents into parenthood. I’ve always planned on 4 kids, the rational being that the two stuck in the middle could commiserate.

But I must have been feeling insightful yesterday because it occurred to me that Sienna could in fact be the luckiest of babies.

She won’t have to fight as hard for what she wants, nor will she be suffocated by a smothering mom who is mourning that her child rearing years are zooming to an end. She gets to be a little sister and a big sister. She gets it all, and that made me blissfully happy for her.

Lubed and delighted!

It was as my hand slid off her head that I reached for the light with a grimace and knew I was an idiot.

You`d be amazed if you saw it, but it is true: my daughter`s dexterity and persistence has succeeded in picked locks at hotel mini-bar cabinets.  Which is why for the life of me I can`t grasp what came over me when I let her go to bed snuggling a large tub of vaseline.

It was late.

She was tired.

I was tired. I gave in when she refused to release the tub clutched in one hand and the baby-doll in the other. I expected she`d grumble a little about being left in bed because she could hear our voices in the living room but there wasn`t even a peep. For 45 minutes we met with our realtor until Naya started calling for me, really calling for me. I decided to check on her and without turning on the light I felt for her head to caress her back to sleep.

My year and a half old daughter had slimed her head, face, clothes, dolls, and crib with a full economy sized tub of vaseline.  Gobs and gobs of goo clumped to every strand on her head, in her ears, up one nostril and completely closing one eye (I think it being over her eye is the only reason she called me).

This child was delighted and I burst into laughter as she clapped and then patted her head sqealing happily.  Jump to 5 minutes later and she was all out of smiles, stuck in the bath for nearly an hour as I shampood her hair over and over again trying to get it out. It doesn`t come out. Not with shampoo.

Finally, with a marginally improved slick I eased her disgrunted self out of the tub into fresh PJ`s and tucked her off to bed with a towel under her head. This morning Al and I went to the net for tips on goop removal. Here is what I found out, may it help ease your effort the day that you or a sibling decides to enjoy some PG lube fun. 

 These tips are from HairBoutigue.com:

Apply a little cornstarch to the hair and carefully pat, (don’t rub), it into the hair.  The cornstarch will absorb some, if not all the Vaseline.  After you apply the cornstarch shampoo it out with a good clarifying shampoo.  Most if not all of the jelly should be removed with the first treatment.  If not, repeat until all the product is gone. Be sure to use warm to hot water for the shampoo.  Cold water makes the Vaseline worse.

If you are out of cornstarch you can try the baking soda/shampoo option.  Mix 1 teaspoon of baking soda and mix it with a regular baby shampoo.  Pat the mixture onto the hair while it is still dry.  Then add warm to hot water.   This should help.  Repeat until all the Vaseline is removed.

Keep in mind that after applying cornstarch, flour or baking soda, you hair may need some extra TLC and a good deep conditioning treatment.

Did you say 8 lbs???

My monthly gyno appointment was last Tuesday and at my un-eagerly awaited weigh-in I felt a little like shamu.

“Eight pounds.” the doctors noted in her file.

“Pardon?” Suddenly, I didn’t understand a word she said.  I figured another bout of pregnancy-hearing had swept over me, which I would describe as feeling like auditory dyslexia.

“Eight.”

“POUNDS?!”

“Uh huh, looks like you’re making up for the last 6 months of low gain.”

“How much of that do you think is water?”

Thankfully she nodded empathetically and said a lot, but then isn’t she supposed to help me stay positive during my pregnancy? I actually choked the words out, incredulous and laughing as I drove home.

I gained 31 lbs with Naya and thought I would be slim, trim and fabulous with our second. I had visions of glowing like a goddess with arms so tanned and toned – the likes of which I have rarely had; of a belly so tight and petite that I’d look like a swallowed an olive. Not quite the case….I do glow but that is probably more from overheating than the beautiful bounty of my belly.

Not withstanding that we were in Orlando at a resort with a fabulous breakfast buffet to account for my gains, I swung by Loblaws for fresh salmon, organic mixed greens, berries and an uber-low fat dressing all of which were intended to serve as our meals for the next two days. I say ours because I have no intention of making three meals – one for Naya, one for Al (who has never needed to watch his weight do anything other than stay fantastically stable), and the salad for me.

So here I am, alllll of me. Euphoric with a healthy belly, a health appetite and a bouncing baby-to-be who I hope with it’s birth will take away pounds from me.

A.  

Hello world!

So here we are – wee wiggles and me! A blog for moms and moms-to-be.

Wee Wiggles is a social group based in Montreal, Canada with hundreds of members to who take part in various fun & fabulous activities around town. It’s an opportunity for our wee ones (0-24 months) to learn to socialize and for us moms to not forget how.

A full calendar of activities can be found using the links at www.weewiggles.ca, and I’ll talk about upcoming activities so that you don’t have to hunt for things to do – just come here and then sign up for them.  

As someone who’s been outspoken most of her life, keep an eye on this blog for evokative and content full posts. I’ll be furiously bloggin away while my daughter sleeps!