Spitting Images

"He looks just like his father," the man said, smiling at F.

I guess it's a part of our vanity as parents that we long to hear how much our child looks like us, and depending on who you ask, F either looks just like me or just like the sperm donor (which, for the record, is what I choose to call my ex since he doesn't deserve the D or the F word, unless the  D word is douchebag or deadbeat and the F word we're talking about is fucktard - but I digress). I always flutter a bit of pride and happiness when I hear how much he looks like me - lucky kid, right? - but for once I didn't feel a pang of anger when this strange, kind man exclaimed how much F looks like his Dad.

Because this man thought Red was F's Dad. I don't think you could have smacked the smile off of Red's face.

It's funny how people see similarities in the appearances of others. I'm told all the time how much I look like the Carmichaels, and my brother is "the spitting image of his grandfather, Allister" but the truth is that I'm no more related to the Royal Baby than I am to the Carmichaels or the MacInnis clan. Which brings me to thinking, how lucky would the Royal Baby be to look like me? I'm kidding, you guys.

Kind of.

But, I can see how people would say I look like my Mom (the Petersons), or my Carmichael cousins and I can even see how one might liken my brother's thin frame and small face to my late-Papa. I can also see how it might lie in our mannerisms, the way we laugh, the way I tell stories the exact same way every other MacInnis does... with a lot of wind and hopefully a beer or two.

I spent a lot of time believing that family meant something very different than what it does - a surprising thing, given my own family. I believed firmly that F needed his biological dad. Maybe because I didn't have mine. Maybe not. What I've learned is that family is what you make of it. Pets become your children and friends become your sisters and brothers. You love people, and that is what family is.

Partners (In Crime?)

Titles.

I kind of hate them. Boyfriend. Girlfriend. They seem so packed, and yet sometimes they just don't carry the merit which the person holding said title deserves. I had this realization when, mid-conversation, I struggled to decide how to describe Red. Using his name wouldn't mean anything to the stranger with whom I was speaking. Boyfriend sounded too... um... juvenile. Husband he's not - I have one of those. They're overrated and I'm trying to get rid of him the way one might try to get rid of a Planter's wart.

In a split second decision, I went all willy-nilly and threw "partner" into the mix and felt immediately pretentious and douchebag-y because it just sounded off.

And yet, it's kind of the only way I can describe him in one word. We might be here all day if I get into the way I really might describe him, and I don't want him to stumble upon this post and get all puffed up. I like to keep him on his toes.

Girlfriend

Apparently, I do my best thinking in the bathroom - particularly in the bathtub, but I'm sure I've hit a stroke of genius while sitting on the throne in the past too.

Today, my stroke of genius hit me as I was rubbing coconut oil into my skin and trying to remember what I was going to do after I got dressed (I still don't remember). As I was frantically rushing around, Red ran in with F to help him use the potty, and then the two made their way to the kitchen where Red prepared F's breakfast.

Standing there, I realized why I've had so many crap relationships. I realized why I'm so happy, so in love.

I used to want a boyfriend. I had boyfriends. I was their girlfriend.

I didn't have real relationships. Real relationships aren't husbands and wives, boyfriends and girlfriends. They're made up of partners - and for the first time, I can honestly say that I've got one.

But, every now and again I'll slum it and refer to myself as his girlfriend.

Sing-a-long away

The couple who sings together, stays together…

… or something like that. In the middle of the super-duper crazy week that saw Red and I spend our first stretch of days apart since we started dating and F move from CB to Halifax, get into daycare and Mommy almost go through a window (don’t ask), Red and I cut out some time to talk face-to-screen-face on Skype. After a busy day, it was just nice to talk to him the way I normally would… except that he was 5.5 hours away.

When he took out his guitar and started playing some of our favourite songs, I could feel my heart absolutely melting. And then we both sang. Miles away from eachother, and with the god-awful lag that comes from shitty internet connections we sang a couple of songs we both love. It was really awesome, and possibly totally cheesy but there he was, all adorable smiles and sexy as all get out with this guitar. *sigh*

I know, I know… I’m the luckiest girl ever.

The end of our first week apart is coming to a close, and I’ll see him tomorrow evening. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t completely over the moon with excitement – which makes me worry that I might be a complete wreck when he’s gone for, you know, weeks or months at a time down the road. I know it’s going to be a reality in our relationship – so is the life of a military partner.

I also know that Skype conversations won't always be a possibility in that reality. Maybe long phone calls won't always be in the cards, either. There will be lots of long weeks without him, and weekends will always be too short. Sometimes there won't be weekends.

How do you maintain that closeness when you're miles apart? How do you explain that situation, the dynamic of our relationship, to a toddler? It will be an adventure, and we have a learning curve ahead of us.

 Got suggestions for how we can make the days apart a little easier - or how to keep our relationship fresh? Share 'em below!

Full

I am lucky enough to live in a big, bright apartment in a fairly quiet neighbourhood just outside the city. My neighbours are mostly quiet, my building superintendent is lovely and I feel safe and secure inside the unit that I call home. But it’s huge.

Daisy, my loveable Beagle, and I cohabit a spacious two-bedroom apartment. In the run of an average week, I might pop my head into the second bedroom once (twice if I’m cleaning or need something), and I rarely use my 8-seater dining room table at mealtimes, but sit for an hour or two working at my laptop. I park my ass in the exact same spot on my couch every time I sit down to watch television or read. While I love my apartment and the neighbourhood, and even though Daisy is surprisingly good company for a dog who chews expensive shoes and pees on the floor, I often felt so incredibly alone within the walls of my place. Even with all of my furniture set up, paintings on the walls, music turned on and candles lit my apartment never felt cozy. It was just too big. Empty, even.

But, for the last 24 hours, my heart and my home have never felt so full.

After a fantastic weekend with our families in Cape Breton, Red and I packed my car – complete with F, lots of toys and that big-eared thing I call the dog – and we started the trek for Halifax. After arriving at my apartment, the process of settling in began: suitcases unpacked, beds made, laundry put away, groceries bought. Within an hour, my living room floor was peppered with toy cars and trains, crayons and colouring books were strewn across my dining room table and giggles could be heard from one end of the hallway to the other.

My apartment has never felt so small and cozy. 

As I made my coffee this morning, I could hear the gentle breaths from F’s bed, the occasional snort from the dog and the sound of Red rolling over, the sheets rustling around him. Standing alone in the dark I realized that my coffee has never tasted so good and being tired has never felt so rejuvenating. As always, the smallest things have the greatest impact in our day-to-day life.

I know that when F goes back to Chateau Grammy after a week with me, my apartment will feel big and hollow again but my heart will still be overflowing…

…and that crayon may never come off the chairs.

Uncovered

Easter has come and gone in a flash.

It's funny the way we anticipate events and holidays for weeks and weeks in advance. Just think of the craziness surrounding Christmas every year. I spent the last week or two worrying about this weekend - not because I had a lot to get done, but because F was meeting Red. My stress levels grew exponentially as we got closer and closer to the day.

My concern was certainly not that F wouldn't like Red. I knew he would. Red is funny and sweet, and he's a big kid himself most of the time. My concern lay in the fact that I felt there may be a real possibility that F would send Red running in the opposite direction. Don't get me wrong: I love F like there's no tomorrow, and I wouldn't change a single hair on his sweet, little head. But he's too much like me. He's wound so tightly that when he lets go, it's approximately the equivalent of letting 7.4 million bouncy balls (F's favourite) loose in a tunnel. He's often too smart for his own good, plus he has my red-headed temper and bull-headed stubbornness to boot.

In short, the kid is a handful.

But all my worry was for wasted. The boys hit it off right away, and within only a few minutes they were perched on the piano stool making noise music and laughing together. Before I could say "melt", F was telling me that Red was his friend. We're now about to head into a really big week - F will be coming to Halifax with me, and Red will be hanging out with him while I'm at school and work.

Watching F and Red blowing bubbles on the step yesterday afternoon, or seeing Red kiss F's head as they said goodnight at bedtime last night absolutely melted my heart. I couldn't have orchestrated a more perfect weekend if I tried. We enjoyed some quality time with Red's mom and dad, we watched movies and we snuggled a lot.

We're heading into a very big and exciting week, now. In a few short hours, F and I will pick Red up and head to Halifax for a week together. Red and F will hang out (with Daisy, of course) while I'm in school or at work. It's a little nerve-wrecking, but I'm sure it'll be fantastic. I'm packing away my fears while I pack extra big-boy pants for F.

It's hard - and often terrifying - but packing those fears away often helps uncover true happiness and wonderful surprises. What are you waiting for?

Introductions

Having a boyfriend is different than it used to be.

Once upon a time, having a boyfriend meant that I would have to go through the (sometimes) awkward process of introducing him to my family and meeting his. It meant mingling with his friends, while I slowly eased him into being around the wing nuts I call my girls. Now, though, there's a real twist to the whole thing.

I have a tiny, absolutely precious, little toddler heart to look out for.

I'm really lucky in that Red and I have known eachother since the beginning of time. In fact, I don't ever remember not knowing him - it's a different, kind of weird dynamic but I like it. In addition to knowing him forever, we've also always known eachothers families. He's sat in the gear shed at the wharf with my Dad drinking beer after a day of fishing.  I'm not sure if it makes it easier or harder to start a relationship with someone when you know each other's families so well (especially since our Dads are pals) but I do know that this relationship has come easier than probably any that I've ever had in my life.

But I still have to "officially" introduce him to F, and there's just no amount of mental preparation to get me ready for that one. Even though Red has seen F around the wharf and around the community, F will have no idea who he's meeting and they've never spent any time together. It's not really something I ever anticipated doing, introducing my child to a boyfriend, but it's a week away. I'm see-sawing between the excitement of seeing F with Red and dreading it, because F is a handful at the best of times.

I knew dating was going to be a horse of a different colour these days, and I feel pretty damn blessed to have found someone who totally accepts me for who I am and how my life looks, all messy and half upside down sometimes.

I wrote in the past that a Mom doesn't introduce her kid to a guy she's dating unless she really likes him, but the truth is that I won't let F meet someone who I'm not genuinely serious about. I've kind of surprised myself in being serious about someone, but it's a great surprise. 

And I have a sneaking suspicion F is going to love him. I know I do.