Life Love Mom

Tag: mom

  • Lest We Forget

    Lest We Forget

    This past week was Remembrance Day. The day we set aside to thank those who have fought for our freedom… those who have survived, and those who have sacrificed. As Canadians, we are living in a free, democratic society, as a result of what others before us gave up. When I think about Remembrance Day, my mind automatically goes to World War II. As the granddaughter of a holocaust survivor, the atrocities of the past weigh heavily on me. The holocaust was something that robbed us of our heritage. It took away family members I would never meet. It put scars on our hearts as we heard stories as if they were movies. I am part of the last generation who will hear, first hand, what occurred. They say that the most powerful way to learn of experiences is to hear from the mouth of the person who experienced them. My children will never have that. Generations after them will never have that.

    I understand how those who have family members who went through earlier wars must feel. First-hand accounts of those experiences are few and far between. We must rely on books, movies, and second-hand stories. It is important, but never the same. This is even more prevalent for me as I raise my own children. I want them to understand their history – the events that shaped their ancestors. “Lest we forget” means we must remember what has happened. It cannot be forgotten in hopes that history will never be repeated. It isn’t about holding a grudge, but about honouring what our ancestors gave up (willing or not) in order to give us a better life.

    Part of honouring that is allowing their voices to be heard. Years ago, before his death, my sister interviewed my grandfather for a school project about the holocaust. I am forever grateful to her for doing this. At the time, I don’t think we understood the true gift she was giving us. So today I wanted to honour his memory by using this space to share his story, unedited and in his own words.

    How was your family affected and where were they sent?

    I don’t know where they went. The last time I saw them was in 1942 right after Yom Kippur night. My father got up in the middle of the night and he saw guys in black uniforms standing. In the morning everybody had to go out. We went out and I remember this was my cousin Morris’s sister, my brother my sister and myself. My mother divided us and she gave a few bucks to everyone to put away because we were thinking that we were going to a camp. There were standing there Germans from the German S.S. and they were directing one to the left and one to the right. I didn’t know where I was going and I didn’t know where my father and sister were going or where my brothers were going. We went and they sent us to a factory and this was the last time that I saw my parents. This was the day after Yom Kippur. Later on, we went to an ammunition factory. When I was there it was 1942. They took us in some cars or wagons. They put us in and they disinfected us. Later on, they sent us to a garage on top where everyone was sleeping together- all the men. I hardly ever saw a woman at this time. What happened next was I had been there for about a month and a half and I didn’t know anything and I met another guy. We decided we were going to run away. We ran out and it was at night and the doors were open. This was a big factory and we came in. Trains were going out slowly. Later we jumped off one of the trains. We jumped next to a small ghetto. As I went in there were barbed wire fences and Polish police.

    So, later on, I started going to a place where they were making iron. I got a job there and I was working, coming and going every morning. I started to get restless and I was trying to run out of this ghetto. On the way back there were forty people in an ammunition factory called Hemro. When I was coming, the guy started checking and he saw forty-one people. They started asking everybody but nobody wanted to say anything. He said that if the person who shouldn’t be there didn’t come out because there were forty-one, he was going to shoot ten! So, I went out. There was a butcher shop over there. So the guy kicked me and he threw me into the butcher shop, didn’t ask any questions, this German policeman. He kicked me and he let me go.

    On the sixteenth of January 1945 they took us all out and they sent us to Germany. To Buchenvald. And I wound up there and on the way in I was looking and I saw my cousin Leon on the other side. He was going out already and we were going in. I said, “What’s doing over there?” He said it was nothing, they just put powder on your arms and they shaved your head and they let you go out. But without clothes. At this time I lost all my pictures and everything from my father and mother and my sister and brother. So they let me out and I had to throw away everything. They gave me new clothes, clothes that are like pyjamas. They are with stripes. My number was I think 150 505.

    From Buchenvald they sent us to a place called Ranenbook. This was a gas chamber. They didn’t gas anyone over there while I was there. They led us all into a place like a shower. They crammed about 500 people in. We were there for only a couple of days and every morning they would grab a lot of people and they would just take them. There weren’t only Jews. There were Germans, and Polish, I think. It was a place where they were making rackets. Every two feet there was a German soldier, an S.S., with a machine gun. 

    Next, they sent us to Dorey. From there they sent us to Rockleh Barodeh. There were camps wired around, and bunks. In this camp, we stayed for six to eight weeks. We were working in a mountain. We were digging, making factories in the mountains. We were breaking up the stones. It was terrible. We were there in couples. When you were pushing out the stones, there were pieces of wood sticking up. The stones and wood were hitting you! If they didn’t hit your head, they would break your legs. Or your arms. We were there for quite a while.

    One morning they took everybody for a march. The march was going right down the road. I think I had my father’s cousin there and he got sick. They took away all the sick and I think they killed him. We were about 30 000 people, but most people died on the way because there was no food and they were pushing us and taking us to side roads. Those people from the S.S. with machine guns and dogs. German Shepherds. They took us and we were walking for a month and a half, I think. I remember one time we were going to the water that was running on the side road. We went to drink it and they shot half the people. We were less every day. I was losing weight constantly.

    Then there were fighter planes coming down and we got shot. I got shot in the leg. After this, I dropped down to about 80 pounds. I had no food. So, the Red Cross came around with wagons and they were going to give out parcels. I grabbed a parcel because I hadn’t eaten for weeks! I started eating and I got sick. I almost died, because if it had been only bread, it would have been okay but there was meat and all kinds of things inside. I hadn’t eaten for three weeks! They only had given me a little piece of bread. So when the Americans started hitting the Germans, we were sleeping and we heard them. Leon and another guy were carrying me. They ran out and got a couple of Americans. They took me in their jeep, they took me to the hospital and they took out the bullet.

    After one or two days I woke up and I was in a white bed! I went from the mud to a white bed.  We had nurses over there in the hospital. This was, I think, May the first or the second. I was in Shvarim, and I got better and I left the hospital.

    My hope in sharing this is that his words will forever be remembered – engraved in this social space. We will always remember. Lest we forget.

    This is life. Love, Mom.

  • On Wednesdays We Wear Pink

    On Wednesdays We Wear Pink

    Once upon a time, there was a movie about a girl who was homeschooled, trying to fit into the jungle that is high school. If you are familiar with the title of this blog, it’s surely because you have watched (and probably rewatched) the movie “Mean Girls”. There is a reason the movie resonated with so many. Even though it was released in 2004, it feels like it could have been yesterday. The story is not a new one, it is about the trials and tribulations of high school and how to get along when you feel lost socially. It’s about how to stand up for yourself, and if your social status is determined by the “in” crowd. It isn’t the first of its kind, and it is definitely not the last. We all have our social horror stories from our time in school. No one left those years unscathed in some way, shape, or form. The truth is, the movie truly struck a chord with so many girls because we could see ourselves in one of the characters.

    In speaking with friends, it is apparent that these social situations are happening at an earlier and earlier age. This is especially true of those who have girls. It used to be that “mean girls” and the like were reserved for high school. Finding your place in the world, in society, and social circles comes to a head around that time. However, social difficulties between girls, in particular, are happening at a younger and younger age. I have countless stories of difficulties between my grade 4 students over the years. These are situations where girls are purposely and maliciously mean, unkind, and exclusionary – things that you wouldn’t necessarily expect of 9- and 10-year-olds.

    Before I go on, I want to make an important point. I don’t want to perpetuate the stereotype that girls are the only ones who deal with social difficulties. I know that with the rise of social media, emotional and social-based bullying is prevalent across all genders. I, however, it should be said that typically boys deal with disagreements in more of a physical manner whereas girls attack each other emotionally and socially. This is obviously not true for everyone but it is historically the pattern.

    Going through middle school and high school I can recall several situations that would be categorized as “mean girl activity“. I remember the rise of three-way calling in the 90s as the weapon of choice for many girls. Two girls would collude to call a third without her knowing that someone was listening on the line. The first girl would get the other to say something mean about the third without her knowing that she was listening. What pursued was a barrage of attacks, as the “truth came out”. Admittedly, I was both the perpetrator and victim of this behaviour. It got to the point that girls would become paranoid whenever they received a phone call, asking numerous times if anyone else was listening on the line. Sabotaging each other socially is the number one way girls get at each other. And truth be told, there was no rhyme or reason behind it. It was simply to play off each other and test the boundaries of what we could get away with. Girls attack and play on anxieties of being alone or becoming a social pariah.

    “You know that I’m not allowed to wear hoop earrings, right? Yeah, two years ago she told me hoops earrings were her thing, and I wasn’t allowed to wear them anymore. And then for Hanukkah my parents got this pair of really expensive white gold hoops and I had to pretend like I didn’t even like them. It was so sad.”

     Gretchen Wieners (Mean Girls)

    I was well into my teens when I began to truly understand the notion of quantity over quality when it came to friendships. This is a lesson that needs to be learned not to be taught and sometimes it’s a difficult one to stomach. Understanding that true friends are those who will truly be with you through thick and thin comes with the territory of going through those trials. Some of my best friends are those who I have known since elementary school because those bonds have stood the test of time.

    As a mother of a young girl, I struggle with this immensely. I am proud to say that she is well-adjusted socially and typically well-liked by her peers. Up until this point, Hubby and I have done all of the managings of friendships – organizing play dates, birthday parties, zoom calls, etc. Now that she is older, she has significantly more autonomy over who she interacts with. Gone are the days when you should be friends with everyone in your class simply because you share a space with them. Yes, you must respect each other but you don’t necessarily have to form strong bonds. A few weeks ago, she came home to tell me she had planned a play date with her friends. She informed me of the time and day and all I had to do was take her there. This was the first time she had organized something on her own and I was happy to oblige.

    It is not all rainbows and sunshine though. And this is where I truly struggle. There are, of course, girls she is friends with whom I would not choose for her. Let me be frank and say I disagree with how they are brought up and how they interact in social situations. I worry that she may be influenced to try the things these girls do, even if just to see what it is like. I will say that this is a whole other can of worms for me to open up on another day. There are also girls with whom she does not get along. Not for any other reason that these girls lack social graces and verbal filters. It takes everything in me to not get involved when she tells me that girls in her class have said rude things to her. She lets these comments roll off her back, and sometimes has a witty retort for the other girl. I know what it is like to be on the receiving end of these things and I want to protect her with all my heart. I also know that these are paths she has to travel through on her own. With my map ideally, but without me in the driver’s seat.

    So how, as a mom, do you reconcile having your child do things on their own and wanting to protect them at all costs? How do you find the balance between knowing how kids can be and letting them forge their own path? All I want for her is to be a strong, confident girl. And she is, but I don’t want her to lose that at the hands of a peer. Knowing how girls can be, and knowing how mean they are to one another, how do I arm her with the social wherewithal to stand up for herself and not let things take up space in her head? Really, at the end of the day, all we can do is teach our girls to be strong-willed, strong-minded, and thick-skinned. We can build them up before others tear them down. We can give them the language to speak up and talk back. And we can pray that the Regina George’s of the world don’t get into their heads. Otherwise one day mama-bear is going to come out swingin’.

    This is life. Love, Mom.

  • How To Be A Partner In Education Even If You Aren’t A Mindreader

    How To Be A Partner In Education Even If You Aren’t A Mindreader

    Our children spend six and a half hours a day in school. For those who are not mathematically inclined, that’s over thirty hours a week. That is a lot of time to be learning and growing and evolving without parents truly knowing the specifics of what happened in the day. And yet, we are often left wondering how we can do more at home, and support what is being taught. Are they grasping concepts? With the learning lag of online school still very much at the forefront, many parents are worried that they need to provide extra attention to learning, These questions are magnified by not really knowing what our children are doing during the day. What ARE they learning? What concepts are being covered? When the typical response to “what did you learn today” is either “I don’t know” or “stuff”, how can you even be effective?

    As a teacher, one of the most frequently asked questions is how to support children at home. Let it be said that I definitely don’t have all the answers. I do know that parents typically fall into one of two categories; those who are over-involved and those who are under-involved. Why is that the case? Because as we know with everything else in life, striking a balance is next to impossible. So why should supporting our children’s education be anything different?

    Instead, we inherently swing towards one of the extremes and wonder how to ease off the gas a bit more. I wanted to provide some basic tips and tricks for how to support children. These are things that teachers wish parents knew, and are easy to implement. The best part is that you don’t need to know what concepts are being covered to start!

    Everything starts at home, the night before. We have all heard of the importance of a good night’s sleep and I’m sure that many of you have bedtime routines down pat at this point… I’m certain more so for parental sanity than well-rested children wink. What I am referring to is before bedtime. In an effort to engage our children, many of them are over-programmed. Extra-curricular activities are important, don’t get me wrong. However, having a different activity every night of the week is a LOT. Every child is different, and where some can handle only one activity per week, others may be able to handle more. It’s important to remember that having multiple commitments can cause anxiety in children. I have had many conversations with students who have said they are unable to complete things at home or feel that they have too much going on because they have activities almost every day. This is a prime example of the importance of open dialogue between children and parents. This is not to say that the child who does not want to practice piano (cough cough my own child) gets to opt-out, but we do discuss the number of weekly commitments together.

    The use of an agenda is a fabulous tool. When our children are young, they are a great way to communicate with the teacher or vice versa. This helps to cut down on the unknowns of the day. When children are older, it is a great time-management tool. Unfortunately, many schools have paused the use of agendas due to Covid, as they try to minimize the items going back and forth from school. If you already have an agenda system in place, make sure to use it, and model for older children (grades 3+) how it can be helpful. Reviewing the agenda daily, and initialling it so that teacher can see you have read it is an easy start. If there is no agenda system in place, reach out to the homeroom teacher and see what the best form of communication is for weekly reminders, special days and upcoming assignments and assessments. This may look like a virtual newsletter, an email system, or even a virtual classroom. Don’t leave it to your child to tell you where to find the day-to-day information. That being said, no matter what the system, please do not expect the teacher to record verbatim what has happened in the day, as that is just not feasible.

    Reading at home is so important. This can be a bit of a no-brainer in theory but can be difficult to tackle in practice. When our kids are younger, we often read together with them; help them sound out the words or look for picture clues. As children get older and are more independent, parents do not always know the books they are reading (I mean, has anyone really had the time to pick up the most recent DogMan book??). This begs the question – how do you support reading? The good news for parents is that as students enter the end of primary and into junior grades, reading is more about explaining your understanding and less about your oral fluency. Talking about reading at home is the number one tip I give all parents of the students I teach. This means we need to talk about reading with our children, and always encourage them to support their thinking. These mini conversations can take place in the car on the way to school, at the dinner table, or right before bed. They do not have to be formal assessments.

    Simply ask what their favourite part is so far, what they think is going to happen next, or which character is they can relate to the best and then ask WHY. This is an area of need for all children (and especially gifted thinkers). Encouraging children to give more than a one-word answer, and think about supporting their thinking will give them a leg-up not just in literacy but in all subjects. I recognize that this assumes our children actually read at home, which I know many do not. The good news is that these conversations can be about any subject (space, chocolate cake, or Pokemon) – the key is in the WHY.

    The last point I want to cover is to ask children how they are feeling. This year, more so than others, brings with it a lot of anxiety. Whether children are back in the class, still online, or back and forth, there are a multitude of feelings. Taking time to ask children how they are doing, and giving them both the tools and the outlets to truly express it are imperative. I can tell you that 99% of children will not just walk up to a parent and articulate perfectly how they are feeling (nor would 99% of adults for that matter). Asking children to journal, mindmap, or colour a picture of their day are all ways that can help you understand how they are doing without a formal conversation. Check-ins will help gauge how they are doing with all the changes and uncertainty of the year. Just as our mental health is important, so is theirs. As they cannot necessarily advocate for themselves it is our job to ask questions to help them process. If there is interest, I can definitely go into this more in a later post.

    The only thing you definitely cannot do is read minds. Although we may want to, we cannot be flies on the wall in the classroom. Even as a 4th-grade teacher with a child in a grade 4 classroom, I STILL don’t know what she is doing on the daily. We all struggle with this. We will never know exactly what happened in the day but we can try to give children some tools to help them get through, And trust me, your child’s teacher will thank you. I know I would.

    This is life. Love, Mom.

  • Inhale The Future, Exhale The Past

    Inhale The Future, Exhale The Past

    About two months ago, I began a journey to become a certified yoga teacher. Yoga has been a part of my life for more than 10 years. When I was pregnant with J, yoga was one of the only forms of movement I could tolerate. When Covid hit, J and I would do yoga together in the evenings to wind down. Although it eventually lost its appeal for her, I ramped up my own practice. I enjoy the peace and calm it brings me amidst the chaos. So when my best friend told me that she was going to work towards her certification, it appealed to me. We decided to do it together, as best friends do. I knew I loved the poses and active movement involved, so why not learn more about the history and origins?

    What I didn’t realize is just how much the breathwork and meditation components would mean to me. Mindfulness is such an important part of good mental health, as is an awareness of one’s self. I love that you don’t need tools for the breathwork – it is the most portable form of self-care. Many people are intimidated by the quiet and metered breathing. There is a misconception that it is time-consuming and you must sit in silence for an extended period of time.

    So for my first yoga-inspired post, I wanted to share the ways that I incorporate breathing and mindfulness in my day, to show that it can be easier than you think. Breathing is something we need to do. Our bodies manage it without us thinking about it. But when we are stressed, anxious or tired our breathing innately becomes more shallow. Scientifically this is because our body stops relying on the diaphragm to breathe. In yoga, the prana (or life force) is brought into the body with our breath. Being aware of it and harnessing it is a huge source of power and strength. I am here to share with you some of the ways I am mindful and practice “pranayama” (Sanskrit for the regulation of breathing) in a real-life go-go-go setting.

    ONE: Be present. This doesn’t mean you have to be present at every moment of the day. One of the biggest yoga gurus, Richard Rosen, talks about taking in the small moments of the day. We don’t do anything specific, but instead, do nothing and just observe. I find when I am taking the dog for a walk in the morning, or sitting in my car at a red light, I take 30-60 seconds and become very aware of the moment. I really take in all my senses – what do I hear? Smell? See? Just taking that time to come out of my head and into the moment can be very powerful. Think of it as a quick mental reset.

    TWO: Take deep breaths. I find when I’m stressed (and let’s be honest, that is often!) practicing equal-part breath helps me to focus. Equal-part breath is one of the core breathing techniques in yoga and it is easy to access. If you find it helpful and safe, you can close your eyes. I typically do this while I’m driving and the kids are yelling at each other, so my eyes would NOT be closed. Empty your breath, and breathe in slowly for a count of 3-4, depending on what you can do. Then exhale for the same amount of time. If this is difficult you can try just inhaling slowly and exhaling your normal breath. But, ideally, you are focusing on breathing in and out equally (hence equal-part breathing). The focus becomes your breath and not whatever is stressing you out. Again, this doesn’t have to be something you do for 30 minutes. Even a few rounds of breathing can be calming.

    THREE: Take five. When we think of meditation, we think of a quiet mind without any distractions. We think of a group of people sitting in a room, with eyes closed and all humming in unison. In reality, meditation is what you make of it. When you are feeling overwhelmed, try this. Just sit down (on the floor, at your desk, on your bed) and listen. Instead of trying to turn everything off around you, just sit and experience it. Listen to the sounds around you instead of trying to tune them out. Are people talking? Birds chirping? A car horn blaring? Feel your body instead of trying to ignore it. Is your skin hot or cool? Is your stomach grumbling? Then focus on your breath… not trying to control it, but just listening and feeling how it moves. Even five minutes of this can be transformative.

    My hope after reading this is that you can see that mindful breathing is much more accessible than we fear it is. There is indeed an entire practice dedicated to learning to meditate and breathe more successfully – but that is just it – it’s a PRACTICE. In our crazy busy lives, even taking five minutes to be present in our bodies and minds can be helpful. And at the end of the day, five minutes is better than nothing!

    This is life. Love, mom.

  • Excuse Me While I Step Off My High Horse

    Excuse Me While I Step Off My High Horse

    When J was a baby, Hubby and I took a family trip to Florida. On our first night there, we went to a restaurant with my parents. After a few moments, a couple walked in with their three children. Each child was holding their own device and proceeded to play on them while they waited for their food. Hubby and I looked at each other and immediately agreed that we would never be like that. When we went out, our kids would sit and colour and we would have meaningful family conversations. I guess we neglected to agree that the children would then fly home on their unicorns. Even as I recount this story, I cringe at my combination of mom-judgement and starry-eyed optimism. As our children grew older, Hubby and I quickly realized we had a choice – allow our children to have technology and have some semblance of a quiet meal, or not go out as a family. We proudly chose the former, and laugh at how naive we were back in the day. The truth is, for us being out together as a family is way more important than giving our kids a little bit of screen time…. and I’m not sorry about it.

    When N was born, I grew much more confident in myself as a mother and had a better idea of what he needed, which was a stark comparison to the constant worry and fear of being a new parent with J. This newfound conviction became helpful when I took N for his one-year checkup. Our pediatrician (who we love and trust more than anything) was on her own maternity leave. So he was seen by another doctor. At the time, N was only babbling three incoherent words instead of the benchmark of five. I wasn’t concerned as J was a later talker, and N was on track to do the same. The doctor however was extremely concerned, stating that he wanted numerous follow-up appointments to check on N’s language. He even went as far as to say that I should withhold his milk until he said the word milk. Clearly, he was not a parent. I remember leaving the appointment and calling Hubby, telling him if I was a first-time parent I would have been through the roof with worry. However, as a second-time parent, I was less concerned. This is not to say that second, third, or fourth children don’t bring us worries. It just means that we are somewhat more confident in our decisions and care less about what others think about them.

    It turns out the judgiest people are two very different groups of people: those who don’t have kids and other moms. Non-parents are the ones who want to dole out unsolicited advice and judgement. The “when I have kids….” crowd love to talk about all the ways they are going to be a better parent. They have grandiose ideas about how children should be raised, and what they should eat, play, and say. I will be the first to admit that I was one of them. When I was pregnant I knew all the things I wanted to do with my kids, how I wanted to raise them, and things I wouldn’t let them do. How quickly that changed when I became a mother. As parents, if we aren’t careful we can fall down a very dark hole of self-doubt. The messages from media, our Facebook moms group, our social circle, social media, and the random lady in the mall are all talking in our head. The only way to avoid this is to be secure in our decisions, which is a near-impossible task.

    On the topic of mom’s groups, they are up there as being the worst offenders. Facebook groups that are meant to help moms support one another can quickly devolve into a group of judgemental, hate-mongering sociopaths. Anyone who is a part of these groups knows I am not exaggerating with this description. These moms, who hide behind their keyboards, love to shame other moms about their decisions and beliefs when they don’t jive with their own. These moms want to tear others down to feel better about themselves. I am certain it all stems from insecurity in some way, shape or form. These groups are not for the faint of heart, and definitely not for those who are insecure about their parenting. Why do we even join these groups? Maybe we are all gluttons for punishment or are just looking for the silver lining in people. There is a great Similac ad about how judgemental moms can be towards each other. I’m linking it here if you haven’t seen it, as it’s definitely worth a watch. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JUbGHeZCxe4)

    We have all been there – where the little voice in our head judges other’s decisions. It’s human nature. We are constantly evaluating what others are doing, the choices they have made, and the expected outcomes. That’s part of how we decide what is going to work for us once we are in that same position. It is part of the learning process, as we can potentially see a decision through to the end before we need to make one for ourselves. But it is so easy to judge others in a negative light. I have done the same thing many times, and I’ll be the first to admit it. I think there is some level of comfort being on the judging side, as opposed to the judged. I would caution you though that we need to stop and ask ourselves if it is really serving its purpose – is it making us feel better? Chances are it isn’t.

    If I had $1 for every time I did something I said I’d never do as a parent or did something that other people said I shouldn’t do, I could have retired by now. Solids at four months, solids at six months, no screen time before two years, sleep-train, don’t sleep-train, let them cry, never let them cry, make sure you say this…. never say that…. don’t let them do this… make sure they do that…. The truth is that once you become a parent, you start to understand what works for you and what doesn’t. And let me tell you, it very rarely is what everyone else says you should do. I can admit now that parenting is completely different than what I thought it would be like. So I will get off my high horse and admit that I have judged others for their decisions, and I will never do it again.

    This is Life. Love, Mom.

  • Love Handles And Other Things We Hold On To

    Love Handles And Other Things We Hold On To

    People like to talk about growth, and how life-changing new experiences can be. We preach the goodness of looking towards the future, and how the past is behind us. We all want to think that we value these learning experiences, and welcome them. Don’t get me wrong- these are all important ideas to value, and in many cases it is easier to look forward than back. But when it comes down to it, change is hard for most people, especially when that change is related to our most valuable possession – our bodies. We hold a picture in our minds of how we should look; based either on an idea or a past season of life. For many, this correlates to a size, weight, measurement, or another number. It doesn’t necessarily mean that we all want to be smaller, thinner or weigh less. It could mean we want to bulk up, gain muscle, or weigh more. But for whatever reason, how we look does not line up with how we feel about ourselves. There is often a nagging feeling that “if only” we could change something, or go back to the way we once were, we would be happier.

    There is a special place in this hell of a landscape for mothers. Body image is a dangerous term. I would argue that for many, it may be one of the most emotionally charged terms in the English language. It is tied so tightly to so much more than just how we see ourselves. The mental ramifications of studying our bodies can be damning. The obsessing, seeing flaws, and urge to fix things is a slippery slope. As mothers in particular, society does us no favours. The same body that is praised for growing and bringing life into the world is quickly frowned upon for not “bouncing back” fast enough. We attach descriptives like glowing, radiant and healthy to pregnant bodies, and then turn around and call those same, postpartum bodies tired, flabby, and untoned.

    The moment mothers give birth, the race is on to erase the stretch marks, tighten the love handles, and tone the core. Celebrities who leave the hospital looking runway-ready, or grace the cover of magazines in bikinis a mere months after giving birth, do us all a huge disservice. We look to how our bodies were before babies and yearn for those back, as if all it took was a time machine. We don’t relish the beauty and miracle that same body has given us.

    In the spirit of transparency, I am equally guilty of this. I often think back to my pre-pregnancy body, and equate it with a number on the scale and a size of jeans. For a long time, I hid my stretch marks, even from myself. The body that grew two humans was not what I wanted it to be. Why is it I was able to carry two wonderful, healthy babies to term, and still judge the body that made it possible? Even to this day, I struggle with loving my outer shell. I have worn one-piece bathing suits since I was pregnant nine years ago, only bought a bikini last year… and I still don’t feel 100% confident in it. It is a journey and gets easier or harder depending on the season I am in. Anyone who says that social media, advertisements and popular culture have zero effect on them is in denial. Those people may have a stronger inner voice than others, but the messages (subliminal and overt) are constantly thrown at us. I have recently begun following several body-conscious influencers on Instagram to help inform my mindset. If you are looking for some, Sarah Nicole Landry (aka The Bird’s Papaya) is a great start. I feel fortunate that these women are making their voices heard, and have been embraced by others. There hasn’t always been a place for these stories, but they are slowly becoming louder and louder.

    It is a unique form of torture we keep only for our deepest, darkest moments.

    So why do we hold on to these ideals? These past images of ourselves? Keep clothes in our closet so we can wear them again eventually? Or perseverate on unrealistic goals that will somehow determine our self-worth? It is a unique form of torture we keep only for our deepest, darkest moments. Why is it so easy to preach self-love and self-care, but so difficult to exercise them? We tell each other to treat ourselves with grace and patience, yet it is so difficult to take our own advice. Society simultaneously tells women to be perfect versions of themselves, but also to take care of themselves and not worry about what others think. For my part, I have to commend Hubby for having my back. He often tells me to shake off the negative self-thoughts. There is a stark contrast between these polarizing ideas, and it is so difficult to meet somewhere in the middle. It would be so much easier to just say “screw it” and live for ourselves and not for others. It is just easier said than done.

    Having a daughter has changed my outlook, though. With diet culture and social media barbies running rampant, I am acutely aware of the messages she is receiving. I know that as she grows, she will [continue to] be bombarded with print and television media ideas of what she should look like. I just don’t want those messages to come from me, too. I have always been conscious of not commenting on my weight in front of her. That is a private conversation I have inside my head. Those are the demons that I battle on my own time. J sees me exercising and hears me talking about eating healthy, but we always frame the conversation about how it is to keep our minds healthy and feel good about ourselves. We talk about makeup, and how I wear it for myself, and not to look beautiful for others. I stress the importance of doing things for ourselves to boost our positive vibrations, and not as a result of others’ judgements. The other day she commented on my stretch marks, and I told her we should come up with a magic word for them because they magically appeared when she was born. Did I believe it when I said it? Honestly not even for a hot second. But I wanted to try to be positive about it. I want her to love her body, and talk positively about herself, even if I am still learning how to do so. Of all the things I want to pass on to my daughter, negative body image is definitely not one of them.

    This is life. Love, Mom.

  • Another Trip Around The Sun

    Another Trip Around The Sun

    Last week was my birthday… 38 trips around the sun. Would you believe me if I told you I actually had to think about how old I was? There are days where I think I’m 36 and days when I feel 45. I’m not exactly sure why that is. It’s probably a combination of mom-brain, pandemic life and sheer denial. It got my wondering when I stopped counting the days until my birthday. When I got into my 20s, aging became a bit of a scary thing. I was never one to take the day off for by birthday, or plan a large party. I can’t put my finger on exactly why, but I have never really been a fan of celebrating my birthday. Don’t get me wrong – I love celebrating OTHERS’ milestones, just not my own.

    I remember when we were kids, we would count our age by 1/2 and 3/4. Turning double-digits or becoming a teenager was a big deal. N is turning 6 in August and proudly walks around telling people he is 5 and a half. Children can’t wait to become full-fledged adults. They can’t wait to be independent, make their own decisions, and grow up to be paleontologist-power ranger-dancers or vet-baker-babysitters. N can’t wait to grow up because it means he can own a snake as a pet and ride a motorcycle. J, ever the more thoughtful child, can’t wait to grow up because it means she can become more mature and have a family of her own. As children, we race to hit those milestones but as adults we dread them. Why is that? Somewhere along the line, the idea of ageing hits us like a ton of bricks, and we no longer embrace it. Instead, we inject it with botox and fillers and hope it fades into the background.

    I think part of it has to do with the idea that we want to slow down time. As parents in particular, there is a stark juxtaposition between wanting time to stop, not believing how fast things are going, and wanting to skip to the next stage. For me, time never felt like it went as fast as when I became a parent. There is something about living your life through your children that makes things go by real fast. To say that you want to freeze time is probably one of the most cliche parental statements. We want to keep our children in these little time capsules and keep them young and innocent.

    At the same time, though, we want to skip forward over the messy stuff. There is a part of us that thinks “things will be better when……” (insert the milestone of your choosing here). We are so certain that we just need to get over a particular hurdle and it will be peachy on the other side. SPOILER ALERT! It never gets better or worse, just different. There is always going to be another hurdle, mess, or milestone. My parents like to tell me that I have it easy right now, I just have to wait until they are teenagers – just another hurdle. I’m certain there is a lot of truth to that, as well.

    The other part, I strongly believe, is that being an adult is HARD. Some days, it feels like it’s overrated. The fountain of youth and everything that goes with it exists so we can relive the days when we had no fears, anxieties, or a true understanding of what this world really is. There are still so many days when I can’t believe I’m an adult. I have these fleeting thoughts… moments when I’m driving home or doing something around the house…. where I cannot believe I am living on my own.

    I talk to Hubby about this all the time. I tell him I can’t believe we *were* children, and now we *have* children, a house, a dog, a family, and all those other adult responsibilities. There are days when being an adult seems like an impossible task. When all I want to do is turn back the clock and go back to university when I THOUGHT things were exhausting. Boy, was I ever wrong! As a society make light of it in memes and comics; because sometimes humour is the only way to make our way through.

    So what do all of these ramblings mean? What is the point, really? As Jimmy Buffett says, birthdays are for “celebrating what I should have done, with these souvenirs of my trip around the sun”. The should’ve, could’ve, would’ve will continue to live inside my head, never going away. But those souvenirs he speaks so highly of? That would be my family. Hubby, J, N, and even the fur baby…. they are my reason for getting up and adulting every day. When the days are easy, when they are hard, and when they feel next to impossible. It definitely isn’t perfect but I would take 100 more trips around the sun if I could to spend more time with them. And that in itself is something to be celebrated.

    This is life. Love, Mom.

  • We Are All Bad Moms

    We Are All Bad Moms

    When I decided I wanted to start a blog, I knew in my heart this needed to be the first post. As cliche as it sounds, being a mom truly is the hardest job in the world. Yes, it’s the most satisfying but it is definitely not all rainbows and sunshine. When J was 2, I distinctly remember having a conversation with a friend. She had a daughter J’s age, and an older son. I told her that I was happy the “terrible twos” were almost done and asked her when it gets easier. Without skipping a beat, she replied “it doesn’t”. We laughed at the time – a laugh that was a combination of humour and fear.

    Remember the scene in “Bad Moms” where Mila Kunis announces to the entire PTA that every mom is a bad mom? (Sidebar, if you haven’t seen this movie, it’s a must see. I highly suggest you check it out!) Mila’s character goes on to say that sometimes she’s too strict, sometimes she’s too lenient. She laments that what works for one child almost never works for the other. Well I don’t know about you, but I was not-so-secretly raising my hands along with her. There is something freeing about knowing that being a “bad mom” is okay. That not every decision has to be perfect. It should be just that easy, right?

    Except it’s not. As moms, we are our own worst critics. We scrutinize every inch of our decisions with that little voice in our heads. Are we feeding our children too much? Too little? Are they too short? Too tall? Are they outside enough? Too much? Every decision is a rubiks cube of emotions and a see-saw of back and forth. It starts the day they are born, and it never stops. Never gets old. Never lets go. Don’t get me wrong, dads do this too. Some, even more so than moms. But there is a special place in our heads for mom-guilt. We feel guilty when we’re doing it, and we feel guilty if we’re not. There is no end to the madness.

    As a mom, my first years were trial by fire. I have never been good at learning as I go. I am a planner, an organizer, and a chronic over-thinker. This is starkly juxtaposed by Hubby who is a feeler and a doer. We do end up balancing each other out, which is good since two of the same would be a serious nightmare. I thought I could plan out life with a child, but life doesn’t give you that choice. So I was forced to maneuver through motherhood like the proverbial bull in a china shop. There were days I thought I has it all figured out, and there were days where I thought I was an absolutely failure. But when I look back, and look at my children now, I think we managed through it alright.

    Society doesn’t do mothers any favours. Mila’s “Bad Mom’s character states in her rant that being a mom today is impossible. Every now and then, first time mothers ask me for advice (and let me clear this is NOT unsolicited advice as society loves to dole out to moms….). My number one piece of advice is that motherhood is not just rainbows and sunshine. Feeding your baby is not going to be natural. They are not going to latch right away. They are not going to grab at the bottle immediately. It’s not like they show in the movies, and it definitely isn’t spoken about enough. Movies and tv shows will show moms as being perfect, and that everything will come naturally – from the moment they birth out a perfect 6-month infant. The mom is able to breast-feed perfectly, and the baby sleeps through the night on day 1. Then the mom wakes up super refreshed and dewy-faced, ready to face the day. This is so far from reality, it hurts to even type it. As moms, we need to talk to one another, and share the “ugly truths”.

    So what are these ugly truths? We are all, in some way, shape, or form, a bad mom. It doesn’t get better. But it does get easier for a hot minute. We will get into a groove and figure most things out. Then our children will grow, change, or evolve and we will be back to the beginning. Nothing is perfect. There is definitely no such thing as a perfect mom (no matter what you see on social media). The more we share this with one another, the more normal it will feel. And then maybe, one day, we won’t feel so guilty.

    This is life. Love, Mom.

  • Well Hello There….

    Well Hello There….

    Well, hello there! Grab a cup of coffee and let me introduce myself. My name is Leora. Being introspective and describing oneself is not always the easiest to do. The top three roles that describe me are wife, mom and teacher. So, that’s a great place to start. A little more about each of those:

    ~Hubby and I have been married for 10 years, together for 14. We had big plans for a 10-year getaway, but alas, COVID…. More on that in later posts.

    ~ I am a mom to two firecrackers and one furbaby. J is 8 and N is 5. Bella is a 12 year old Boxer-Australian Shepherd mix. They are a big source for my content, so you’ll be hearing a lot about them.

    ~I have been a teacher for over a decade. I teach grade 4 gifted students. I love the quirky, inquisitive challenge of gifted children. I wouldn’t want to work with any other age group. I have gained a lot of wisdom over the years that I can’t wait to share with you. If you want a sneak peak, check out my YouTube channel which is a Q&A all about gifted education.

    In addition, I have some loves that I am eager to talk about. Self care practices have been HUGE for me these last few years. My side hustle for years has been selling nail art for a beauty company. I love sharing ways to help women feel beautiful. I have always baked as a way to combat stress (subtext, get ready for some recipe posts!) but I have adopted other ways to manage as well. Yoga, exercise, breathing, and becoming a crazy plant lady are just a few!

    Now if you’ve gotten this far in the post, you are most likely wondering “Why a blog? Why now?” and contemplating whether I have simply jumped on a bandwagon. That, friends, is not the case. For as long as I can remember, I have felt the most comfortable writing down my thoughts. I communicate best in writing, where I can articulate my thinking. Having a blog has always been something I wanted to do, but never had the time to pursue it. Thanks to pushes from Hubby, I am officially making the time. I have so many things I want to share with you all.

    I would love for you to come on this wild ride with me. Being a woman, mom, wife, professional, and sane human all at the same time is a tall order. Join me as a navigate through them all, one musing as a time.

    This is life. Love, Mom.