Four Letter Words

I have a terrible potty mouth.

Anyone who knows me at all can attest to this. I do my best to keep it under wraps as well as I can, but every now and again I let a handful of four-letter words fly. In my house, there are a number of other "four-letter words" - the bad ones, the ones I don't like to hear. Monday, for example, is a four letter word. My toddler might tell you that bedtime and toothbrush also fall into this category, though we aren't quite seeing eye-to-eye on that.

Dad is also on my list of four-letter words.

Last week, I was filling out the registration forms for F's new daycare teacher and chatting with her about his favourite foods, his routine and his personality (I probably should have prepared a book). After signing my name for the umpteenth time, I scanned through all of the paperwork again to make sure I hadn't missed anything. "It's all there, we'll see you on Monday!" I said as I handed her the booklet. She asked me to wait until she signed it, and told me she had something else to send with me. She flipped through the pages and then stopped, looked at me and told me I "must have forgotten" to fill out the Father's Information.

So I told her about my list of four-letter words. I don't think she liked it much.

For all intents and purposes, in spite of a pretty diamond ring and a fancy wedding ceremony, I have always been a single mom. F's dad was never totally involved, though I can give some credit for the times he made an effort (which is wasted on the almost year that's gone by since he last saw his own child). It might not have been my dream, certainly raising a child alone wasn't the future I had envisioned for myself but I own it and I love it and we do just fine, F and I. But I definitely don't forget about the Father's Information on anything.

I don't forget about the fact that F's dad has nothing to do with us. I don't forget that I pay every bill, every childcare hour and every last expense from socks to car payments without a single penny in child support. I don't forget about the awful hurt that I feel when another kid asks F why his Daddy doesn't pick him up.

And F won't ever forget that he had a Mom who did it because she loved him that much.

Bathina by Benefit Review

I haven't been doing well keeping up with my weekly series the last couple of weeks, which I will shamelessly attribute to being under more stress than I can even explain. Thankfully, my stress level is dropping and I'll be sharing the news behind that soon.
 
Back in July, I was wandering around Shoppers Drug Mart waiting for a prescription to be finished and I decided to do a little shopping. It was actually the same night I picked up my Clinique Chubby Stick, and that other product I didn't need: Bathina by Benefit. What the hell is that? you may be wondering, so lemme fill y'all in. Batthina is a luminous, silky body balm that smells amazing and gives your skin a dewy, golden-pink sheen. It comes with a velvet puff to apply it with (how cute!) in a precious tin and because it's a balm you never have to worry about leakage.
 
The woman at the cosmetics counter filled me in on why I needed it by throwing around information about how it gives your skin a rather flawless look, makes you look slimmer and that the Sex and the City reportedly used it on set to give their legs the perfect look you'd get from a good pair of flesh-toned 'hose. When I rubbed a bit on my skin, I pretty much fell head over heels so I joyfully cashed in my optimum points and went home with my fantastic chubby stick and balm feeling rather like a princess.


I'm going to keep the tin!


The tagline - "Take a picture it lasts longer..." - is cute and cheeky, and I happen to think the tin is absolutely adorable, too.

At $36 for the tin, I don't use it regularly but rather save it for special occasions like dates or work events - times that I want to look really good, especially if my legs are going to be bare. I like putting a bit on my collarbone too, and I have used it on my arms once or twice. The puff is exquisite and I love, love, love the way Bathina makes my skin feel. Benefit wasn't kidding when they described it as "pure body luxury".


When you apply the balm, be sure to really highlight the front of your legs all the way down to your toes to elongate and slim them, and gently "buff" your skin in circular motions with the velvet applicator. Freshly shaved legs will be as smooth as butter, I promise. I'm a huge fan of Benefit, and Bathina is no exception. I've used a fair bit of the balm already, and I'll definitely get another tin when it's all gone - though I'd wager to say I likely won't be too concerned about having glow-y legs this winter (they glow in the dark without a tan, anyway!).



Look at that sheen - gorgeous!

My other favourite Benefit products?

SunBeam liquid bronzer, They're Real mascara and Erase Paste corrector.

Confession: I'm a complainer

I have a confession to make:

I complain about my child.

There. I said it. It's out. I'll just wait here while you reread that, shake your head and call me a bad parent.

Done? OK, good.

When I decided to go back to school, I had to make a lot of tough decisions. I had to leave the comfort zone that I was pretty happy in, give up the home that I loved so much and hardest of all I had to swallow my pride and ask for some help by leaving F with my parents. If you can imagine tearing your heart out and leaving it behind over and over again over the course of six months, you know what I'm talking about.

When I finally - and I mean finally - got to bring him to Halifax to start daycare and live with me, it was a challenge. I had a routine, a schedule, a little life that involved a lot of missing him but not a lot of including him. I had to rethink my approach to my days, my weeks - to every minute of down time. I had to toddler-proof my life, and I was so happy to do it but so exasperated when it didn't go smoothly.

A certain celebrity was quoted as saying that he didn't understand why parents referred to things they've done as "sacrifices" because in his mind there's nothing more important than your child, and that's true... but you do still sacrifice other things to be a better parent. It doesn't mean that those other things were more important or less important than the role as parent, just that they had to be put on the backburner or forgotten altogether.

I had to sacrifice the better part of F's 3-year-old life in order to do what it would take to be a better parent, but then in the same breath I lamented how tired I was, how poorly he was behaving and how tiresome he could be sometimes... but I wouldn't change a second of it.
I wouldn't trade a single meltdown, time-out, temper tantrum, spilled drink or fingerprint on my newly cleaned windows because I know how many people would do anything to have that.

So tonight, as I wandered down the hall in the dark I found myself thanking the universe that I hadn't tripped over anything but longing to step on the dinky cars I normally curse, or to feel a few cracker crumbs under my bare feet because it would mean that F was sleeping soundly a room away.

And I hope that next week after washing the living room window 32 times, pleading with him to put his pants back on, tripping over stuffed animals and finding boogers in my hair that I remember just how empty this apartment feels without him.

September 3

Two years ago today I got married.

Two years ago today, at this exact time, I was running around like a headless chicken, with a tear-stained face trying to be excited while fear gripped at me. Was I about to make a big mistake?

Then, with F.

You know that thing where they tell you to listen to your gut? Yeah. I didn't.

We had a beautiful ceremony and an equally beautiful reception which I spent separated from my new husband, as he was busy "consoling" his mother. I danced to S Club 7 with my best friend, drank a lot of wine and I mingled with family and friends until it was time to pack it all in. I remember vividly the moment we got back to our rental house for the weekend - some of our bridal party opted to stay up and keep the party going. I went to bed, exhausted.

When we separated six months later, I was devastated but things immediately felt right.

I don't even remember what I did last year. But today I'll go to school and I'll go to work. I'll drink about five cups of coffee. I'll call my parents. I'll talk to friends. I'm hoping to get to Home Depot to pick up a couple of little things. Just for the Hell of it, though, I'm going to reflect on the milestones of the last two years.

Such as:

J has seen our son 0 times in 2013. In 2012, the grand total was 6.

I haven't heard from J in more than six months. He hasn't contacted our son since he texted me ON F'S BIRTHDAY to say he was drinking and couldn't come over. He didn't even send a card.

Classy, right?

I'm also going to pick up a bottle of wine tonight and I'm going to toast myself for not going completely crazy. I'm going to raise a glass to F, because he's the driving force behind every single thing I do. I'm going to toast my amazing parents and friends who have supported me, held my hand, offered a shoulder to cry on and given me a healthy dose of reality when needed.

Now (in matching shirts, no less!)

And then, I'm going to climb into my big, beautiful queen size bed with my stuffed sheep and the terrorist kitten and I'm going to sleep.

Alone.

And totally happy.

Unwanted

I spent some 18 years of my life feeling like I had done something wrong.

As if I, as an infant, had been so awful that I'd been unwanted. In spite of growing up in a home filled with love and support I struggled with the whys and hows and the questions I hadn't dared ask surrounding my adoption. So, as a coping mechanism, I worked towards perfection. I would be so great that everyone would want me on their team, as their friend, in their life. But, that back fired and I'm really glad.

That's how I learned it's OK that we don't all want the same thing.

For as much as I wanted to unearth the answers about my biological family, my half brother didn't. For as much as I wanted to speak with my biological father, he didn't. For all the answers I wanted, some people chose not to share. For all the things I wanted to say, some people didn't have the desire to listen or to know me and they chose to pretend I didn't exist. And so, bit-by-bit, that nagging sense of being unwanted started creeping back into my heart.

I tip my hat to the women who voluntarily put their children up for adoption in the hope of a better life. I tip my hat to the men and women who work tirelessly and often thanklessly to make sure the rights and best interests of young mothers, newborn babies and families who'd given up hope are represented. I tip my hat to people like my parents, who could have a lot more money and fewer grey hairs (or more hairs, in Dad's case) had they not gone through the process of adopting two children.

But I didn't always.

What parents of adopted children don't always realize is that, no matter how hard you try or how much love you shower on your child, the questions are still there. No matter how many pieces of paper or documents or reports they read or social workers who tell them "it was for the best", the questions will never be answered. What my biological family doesn't know is that many of my questions are still unanswered, and I'm finally able to live with that.
  Not knowing is sometimes hard, but I learned that knowing can be harder still. Knowing that my biological mother faced some of the horrors she did hurt my heart. Knowing that my biological father refuses to acknowledge my existence hurts my heart. Knowing that he married a woman and adopted her children hurts. Seeing how the unease and unresolved questions from our various adoptions has taken a toll on my siblings hurts, too. But like so many things in life blame lays nowhere. Laying blame doesn't help. Harbouring anger and resentment and sadness only makes the pain greater, like rubbing salt in a wound.

Coming to terms with the facts surrounding my adoption hasn't been easy, and perhaps it never will be - maybe I never will. While the facts are hard and fast, the emotions are slow and they stick to you, flaring up unexpectedly and intermittently. The things I want and don't want are sometimes within arm's reach, but sometimes they are totally out of my control. And that's OK.

I wouldn't want it any other way.