"Speak Now..."

"...Or forever hold your peace"

I wonder how many brides and grooms have held their breath as the pastor spoke those lines at the beginning of the marriage.

I remember hearing those words at my own wedding, wondering if any of my friends would speak up. The friends whom I had told I was unsure, the friends who promised it was just cold feet. I knew my parents wouldn't, they had voiced their doubts and feelings as to "why this couple should not be wed" privately. I needed a friend to say it, someone other than my parents to hit me with a dose of reality. "Something's missing, there's just something not right here". Would I have called it all off? I don't know.

I can still hear my Mom saying those words, looking at me with pleading eyes - begging me to see what was in front of me. I wasn't really happy - did I love him? Yes. I still do, but we weren't right together. The painful truth is this: had we not shared a child together, we would have long since been absent from one another's lives. Our split took a toll on me. I'm sure it took a toll on him too, but I don't know his side of the story. What I do know is I spent the next six months waiting for him to come around, to tell me he was sorry and he wanted to make it work. To be the person I always dreamed he would be: F's father. A true Dad. I'm still waiting for that.

I was mad at him for not fighting for us, I was pissed off at his ability to go drinking and partying while I sat at home crying into a glass of wine over reruns of Law & Order: SVU. I picked him apart, as if pointing out his flaws was going to make it any easier. It never did. I magnified all of the things he did that I hated, the things that annoyed the Hell out of me. I left the house with my brave face and my big girl underpants on. As angry as I was with the breakup, I was more angry with the friends who - months after my breakup - dared look me in the eyes and say "I always had a feeling", or my absolute favourite: "I saw this coming a mile away."

WELL, NOW'S A GREAT FUCKING TIME TO TELL ME.

My heart was broken, my life thrown upside down and you felt now was the time to tell me about your feeling? Your premonition? Super duper. Thanks. If you felt that way, why the Hell didn't you intervene and tell me? Didn't I deserve to know? All that those words have done in the months since my breakup is hurt me more. Remember that integral part of the paragraph the minister read? "Speak now, or FOREVER HOLD YOUR PEACE." As in shut your piehole and keep that little gem of 20/20 hindsight to yourself. I don't need to hear it now.

If you love your friend, tell her now. Don't let her make a mistake. If you're not going to tell her now, keep you damn mouth shut two miles down the road when the inevitable finally comes to a head because it's too little too late. It doesn't help to hear about your feeling when her heart is broken.

Oh, and don't bash the other person because they just might get back together, and then shit will be super awkward.

Awesome

Parenting.

There's a job that's full of surprises, mostly good but let's be real: There's a few doozies in there, too.

Like the explosive poo's that come from a breastfed baby. No amount of What to Expect literature can prepare you for that one. I learned pretty quickly that two changes of clothes for baby and at least one extra, clean shirt for me was a necessity. I won't go into detail on how that lesson was learned, but honey, it ain't pretty.

Another thing I wasn't entirely prepared for was how grating a baby crying can be on your nerves, especially when you don't understand what the problem is. It takes time, practice and a lot of patience (and, OK... some Mommy time-outs) to figure out what every cry means. I was lucky in that F usually only cried because he was hungry, and if he had a dirty diaper I could usually smell him from the next county over anyway. It is heart-breaking and mind-boggling that a parent or caregiver could hurt an inccocent, helpless child but if you've ever spent three hours listening to a screaming baby, you can almost see how it gets to that point.

I'm sure that there are plenty of women who popped out a kid and just knew what to do. I had an alright idea, I knew how to hold a baby and change diapers and F knew how to grab a boob. All good, right? Yes and no. Like any skilled trade, parenthood takes practice. It's a learning experience, and the learning curve is a little different for all of us. Every bone in my body was aching to be a Mom, and while the timing and circumstances weren't exactly what I was dreaming of, I ran with it. Every day has been an experience, to say the least. I was ready for breastfeeding and being tired, but nobody prepared me for the emotional exhaustion. I was prepared to have a baby, but toddlerhood was on us before I knew it.

I imagine taming a lion would be easier than parenting a toddler sometimes. Have you ever seen a three-year-old pitch a fit? Aye-yi-yi. Did you know that just one little indiscretion can undo months of work in less time than it takes to utter the swear-word your kid just picked up? It's not all bad, though, I promise... it's just that I don't feel the need to try to gloss it all over and pretend I have it all figured out. I don't even have 1/1000th of it figured out and I think that's wonderful! I've learned more in the almost three years I've been blessed with the role of Mommy than I did in the twenty-two years that led up to F's arrival. And guess what? I don't ever want to know it all. Some of that shit (literally and figuratively) is too frightening for me.

I have learned patience and perseverance, how to be stand up when I want to lay down and how to ask for help when I need it. I've learned how to enjoy the little things, and how to laugh at the things that make me want to cry. I have learned to appreciate my body, apologize to myself and to stand up for what I want. I've also learned that I have a lot to improve on and how to go about doing so.

Parenting is an awesome thing. The moment you become a parent you are responsible for the health, happiness and care of another human being. You spend every minute of everything shaping that little person into the type of person you want in the world. You are able to sculpt a personality, mold a character and guide an indivual down their path in life. Just make sure you have a strong stomach and access to wine.

Little Dreams

I am a "go big, or go home" kinda gal.

It doesn't always work out in my favour.

I think it's a societal thing, really, but I'll go ahead and take full responsibility for my impossible-to-keep-up lifestyle. Why volunteer for one organization when there are five who need an extra set of hands? Why aim for a five pound weight loss when you could lose twenty? Rather than taking the small, necessary (and feasible) steps toward something, I have a really bad habit of leaping off the edge without thinking things through. W'hoops. Needless to say, I've landed on my ass about 77 billion times.

At some point, though, I think reality has caught up to me. Instead of setting outrageous goals I'll probably never really achieve, I need to make smaller ones. I mean, not even mega-planes can fly forever without stopping to refuel. Cars need to pull into rest stops for oil changes, new tires... why is it so hard to accept that I have to do these things too? I can't race through a day without stopping for at least one meal or bounce through my week sans sleep. Instead of taking over the entire universe in a day, I have to break it down into one region at a time.

Dreams don't have to be gigantic, they can be as small as a pin. They're mosaics, made up of millions of little pieces: more attainable pieces, pieces that fuel you and motivate you to accomplish that next goal and catch that new dream. Some dreams take days to realize and others will take years. Some will take minutes, seconds even. Some are the result of good fortune, but most are the result of hard work and dedication, love and conscientiousness.

But, you'll never realize a dream you gave up on, so go for it! You won't be sorry.

Step on a Crack...

I try very hard not to let superstition creep into my life.

Lately, it's not working.

Leading up to my wedding, everything went wrong. It started with the date - we didn't get the date we wanted, but we got into the venue on the Labour Day weekend. Next was the dress - my Mom hated the first one I liked, and the dress that I absolutely would have killed for had to be bought "as is", and would have taken a lot of stress and work to make ready for a real wedding. Then, the invitations were wrong not once, but five times. They were even sent out with the incorrect RSVP date because there was just no time to have them fixed again. We wrote the correct date in pen.

There was the ex-roommate who turned into an ex-bridesmaid when she informed me she planned on driving five hours to the church the day of my wedding - meaning she wouldn't be present for photos, hair/makeup, the meet-and-greet or anything else to do with the wedding but the actual wedding itself. Then there was the fact that my in-laws dictated everything. The day of the wedding, I looked at my best friend and my Mom and asked, "Am I making a mistake? Were they signs?"

Maybe they were, maybe they weren't. The only thing I do know is our one year anniversary should have been two months ago, and I haven't seen my husband since July. Aside from a handful of texts this week, I hadn't even heard from him in four weeks - which is usually the case, just a text to say he's sent something for F. I've dwelled on not listening to my gut and reading the signs that were blatantly flashing before my eyes, and have wondered if I would be happier, if hearts would have been spared had I called off the wedding when it first crossed my mind - around the time shit started hitting the fan.

Yesterday, I felt that strange sense of "Is this an omen?" when I went to my apartment to find the door to my unit UNLOCKED. WITH MY STUFF INSIDE. I could feel my heart breaking - I have never felt so assaulted, so violated in all my life. All of my things were where I'd left them, but the building managers cared that little about my belongings that they didn't even lock the door that separated them from the world. I was furious. This was only exasperated by the fact that the apartment hadn't been cleaned, a jug of paint sat in the middle of my floor and there were still cigarettes and old coffee cups on my counter. What did I get myself into?, I asked myself walking down the stairs shaking with anger.

We had no choice but to my move my things into the apartment. I looked at my Dad and said, "I'm looking for a new place. I will not stay here." He agreed, wholeheartedly and within a few hours, I had found a few spots to look at on Sunday when I return to town. It was sickening feeling. All of my doubts about going back to school were blown up on the projection screen for me this last week. An apartment that wasn't ready, twice. Since telling a few people where the apartment was, I've heard everything from "I saw a car on fire in the parking lot there once" to "the cops are there every day".

Needless to say, I'm moving and trying to stay positive that this isn't a sign from some greater force that I'm not supposed to go to school right now but that's not going to happen. Shit happens, but always for a reason. Maybe the perfect apartment is just waiting for me to move in!

Trembling

Do you remember your very first day of school?

I'm sure I don't, but I'm equally certain that it was not a big deal to me. My teacher was my next door neighbour and I knew my five grade-primary classmates already. The bus would have picked me up at 8:30AM, and dropped me off at home by 2:30PM. Twenty-odd kids from ages five to twelve, split between two classrooms attended that little school and I knew them all.

It wasn't until grade five when I switched schools that things got scary. New people, cliques, popular kids. These were the things of fairy tale, not my reality. On the hour long bus ride to and from school I learned about the hierarchy of bus seats, how to write neatly going over bumps and the importance of flopping your backpack on the seat next to you if you wanted to be alone. I was twelve years old before I knew what a bully really was, but I survived it with plenty of tears and broken hearts, laughter and friendships along the way.

Yesterday, I had my first day of school (again). It's the third time I've had a first day at a new school since the terrifying experience as a twelve-year-old. The only thing that's changed is my pants size and my age, really. And my major, from journalism to disabilites and back to public relations. It might even be more terrifying than it was then. I planned my outfit for two days, touched up my makeup in the parking lot, popped a mint in my mouth in the hallway and plastered that fake-confident smile we all have when we feel like we're going to puke but need to look cool. My dad came in to check it out too, which was a delectable cross between mortifying and wonderful. At least if I had passed out, someone would have been there. Besides, no one saw us.

Nine other women sat in the Student Lounge awaiting the commencement of Orientation. Some looked to be about my age, two were a fair bit older, and some looked to be a fair but younger than I. Nobody said anything. I smiled and said hello, but no one responded. So there we sat in silence, ten grown women awkwardly looking around at one another, casually picking up our class schedule from time to time and looking at it with little interest. Finally, we were rescued by the Co-President of the college. She was perky and funny and talked to us like we were little kids. It was great. We were given a tour of the campus (which, by the way, is GORGEOUS) and handed a "free" backpack. When I jokingly pointed out that it was the most expensive backpack I'd ever owned, one girl frowned at me either because she thought I was an idiot or she didn't get the joke.

I loved the faculty and while I'd really like to make friends, it's not about making friends as much as about making myself. I'm happily pursuing a long-term relationship with me, my education, talents, dreams and every other aspect of what's yet to come. So far, I've been hitting it off pretty well. I might be bashful and trembling now, but pretty soon I'll be galloping through the paces.