What Do We Tell Our Daughters?

Wednesday, 9 November 2016

The first thing I heard this morning...."Mommy, why you crying?"

How can I explain to my three year old daughter what this election actually means?

A woman who is educated, has served public office, a mother, who is a thousand times more competent to run America...lost.

God, she lost. Even typing that hurt my heart. You can call me a bleeding heart liberal...because today my heart is in fact bleeding.

I woke up in Canada. I am a very proud Canadian. I am a white, lower middle class, Canadian home owner. Why does this upset me so greatly? Because I am a woman. Because I am a mother of four women. My baby will spend the next four years of her life with the constant social climate of misogyny and anti-woman rhetoric that I never dreamed of. As a mother of women I will have to work five times harder to convince them that they can do anything. That they are not purely sexual objects. That the world is open to them. That if anyone ever "grabbed them by the pussy" that they have to report it. But they probably won't...because the president gave all men who think that way power.

I keep hearing that Canadians should not have a say. That it doesn't effect us. And to anyone who believes that, well you are very ignorant. Our economy and social climate rely heavily on the US. From the time we are children we are inundated with commercials, music, and products from the US. Their culture seeps into ours. I have always thought of Canada as a nice mix of the UK and the US culturally. We have the UK's dry humor and the US's amount of preservatives in our food. This year we have been shocked by both of these power houses political choices.

I was a teenager in the later half of the 90's. I grew up with a very strong feminist message. My mother was an educated full time working mother. I never had a negative perception of women until I became a teenager and "Learned the truth at 17".

This loss is a loss for most of America. But mostly, this is a loss for women. We have been shuttled back 60 years. To a time where we had to start drinking at 10:30 am, and take Valium just to handle the day we spent in heels and girdles.

Just 24 hours ago I drafted a blog about how exciting and proud I was to have seen a woman president in my lifetime. Reading it back this morning...I laid my head on my desk and wept. Long, soul crushing, sobs of anger came flooding out.

My heart hurts for so many of the minorities that this will have consequences for. I can empathize but I can not know how it feels to be african-american, LGBQT, muslim, mexican-american, or any minority immigrant population in the US this morning. The collective gasp has been wide spread and global. I care for you. I worry for you. I weep for you.

So I pose a very real and literal question to you world....

How will I explain this to my daughters?


The Yearly Mother's Day Rant

Sunday, 8 May 2016

Guess what time of year it is???

Mother's Day! The day you have been waiting for! Dreaming about. Wishing so hard for. It's that one special day where all your selfless efforts are appreciated and rewarded by thoughtful gestures and gifts from the people whom you spend every second of your life taking care of.

Oh wait...

Oh that's right.

Mother's Day kind of sucks.

Ya I have a great Mom and I always try to make sure I get her a thoughtful gift of something she would like. She's never field goal kicked one yet, so I guess I'm doing okay. And I realize it must be very hard for people who have lost their Mom's on Mother's Day. And I truly sympathize with that.

However...

I am a Mom of 4 kids. I work REALLY hard at being a Mom. I literally spend 24 hours a day with the baby. In 6 months I have been away from her a grand total of three times. For maybe 10 hours in total. That's 10 cumulative hours. Not 10 hours each time. And yes the bigger's go to my parents house for one night a week.

But...

I make all the meals. I do all the laundry. I do all the shopping. I do all the appointments. I do all the cleaning. Basically, all Daddy does is give kisses, and makes popcorn. Don't get me wrong. My husband is a great dad. But he always gets to do the fun stuff and the drudgery belongs to me. So when Mother's Day rolls around I always have this small hope in the back of my head that maybe I will get a bit of a break, or maybe something to show me how much my efforts are appreciated. And every year goes by and I am beyond disappointed. I always end up crying, and bitchy, and resentful.

Why, you ask?

Because it hurts.

I'm a SAHM. And a lot of the time I am kind of lonely. And I spend every single day taking care of my family. Like every single day. I don't get weekends, or vacations, or even lunch breaks. And this year is especially hard because my two oldest are on vacation with my parents, and I can't even be with them. There is nothing I would've loved more then to be with my kids when they see Disney. That is eating a huge hole in me.

Yes, I am aware that I am whining. But guess what...I am allowed to whine a little. I don't think its too much to ask to be appreciated a little bit. And sometimes when I see all these wonderful posts on Facebook of husband's glorifying their wives and snaps of peoples awesome dinner's out, and gifts, and cards and such...I get really sad. Because it feels like no one cares. It feels like no one loves me. I feel cast aside, and useless.

So here I sit. My husband had to work today. No shakily drawn homemade cards. No flower delivery. No breakfast in bed. Nothing.







You Must Respect My ANXIETY!!!

Tuesday, 23 June 2015

I have had anxiety issues for a billion years. Like since I was a child. Except back then people said I was shy, or that I was being silly.

But this pregnancy has it at a whole new level. I usually get it really bad right around PMS time so I know that the unusually high level of anxiety has a lot to do with hormones. And I know that hormones are intensifying some of the symptoms a hundred times.

Let me explain a little what my anxeity looks like.

First of all "Anxiety" is defined as - a feeling of worry, nervousness, or unease, typically about an imminent event or something with an uncertain outcome.

I typically say that I am worried, stressed, or scared about certain things. I get scared when I leave the house alone. I always like to take one of my kids with me to distract myself from potentially alarming situations (like seeing my ex, or someone from high school which is a huge worry for me because I still get bullied by idiots I went to high school with) I get scared when I have to do something new. Like go to a place I have never been before, or meet people I don't know.

I worry about bizarre things. Like I worry that if I go outside I will faint and my kids will start the house on fire. I worry that if I exercise too much my body won't let me push this baby out (ya...that one I am super weirded out by, I can't even explain it). And now I have a heart murmur. So I keep worrying my heart will explode, or that I am going into serious heart failure and I've ruined my life. I have like zero symptoms of this happening but my family doctor has me really worked up about it.

That's a story worth relating. So my midwife, my wonderful awesome amazingly calming and super midwife told me she heard a heart murmur. She said she would have to send me to my hideous horrible incredibly rude and awful family doctor for a consult. So I go in. And let me remind you that my family doctor believes you can cure a broken leg by loosing 10 lbs. She thinks every single thing that has ever been wrong with me is caused by my weight. So naturally, my heart murmur must be because I am morbidly obese. She says no less then 15 times that because I was not aerobically fit before I was pregnant that I would have significant symptoms. I haven't had any! Besides being mildly out of breath after chasing a child up 15 stairs every now and again. And all I kept thinking was "How do YOU know I wasn't fit?" I was in pretty good shape before I got pregnant! I wasn't at my ideal weight by any means but I wasn't at my highest either. And she didn't even ask me what my fitness level was before! She just assumed because I was still overweight that I wasn't active. I half wanted to say "You know what lady? The reason I never come here is because you never treat what is actually wrong with me. I have anxiety and depression issues that sometimes force me to skip the gym! And you choose to never treat those! Loosing weight isn't a magic pill that will cure everything!" To make a long story short...she gave me a prescription for zoloft. Because I frigging need it.

Anyway, trying to explain to other people what this feels like is sometimes embarrassing and can lead me to a full scale sobbing melt down. I just want to be able to talk to people who "get it" and don't think I'm crazy. These aren't rational thoughts. They aren't all in your head. I always say "Why would you CHOOSE to live that way?" You can't wish away these issues. They are just there. They make everyday life hard. And so many people just brush it off.

Respect people who have anxiety! It isn't their fault! And the more you pressure them to "shake it off" the worse it gets!
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