FaceTimed

My three year old has his very own iPod Touch.

Yep. F's actually shockingly tech savvy, bless his little heart. It was a two-pronged decision, buying the iPod. He calls it his phone and it's a lot like Mommy's, only without the option to call random people and waste my daytime minutes or run up my long distance. The children's apps make everything from grocery shopping to waiting at the doctor's office a little smoother, but I consider my phone an extension of myself and sharing just couldn't be done any longer.

I also imagined hour-long FaceTime conversations with F, like the ones he used to share with J a year ago. I can see him carrying my phone around the house, showing his Dad his toys, the dog, and blabbing away in his own little language. It was going to be great, and the money well spent.

That was a bust.

For the fifth time tonight, F had more interest in using the potty (another battle of ours) than he did in speaking to me.

"I don't want to talk to Mommy," he started, turning his back to the iPod as my Mom held it for him. "I don't want to. Go away, Mommy. I don't want to talk to you!"

Enter broken heartedness here.

Screenshot from a successful call last week.

Both of my parents rushed to create excuses and try to gloss it over. He'd been away from his toys all day, he was hungry. Maybe it was time for a bath and bed but none of it helped my hurting heart. Is he mad at me for being away? Is that even a reasonable thought? Probably not.

I thought about going home this weekend and while I'd really like to, 12 hours of driving for a day and a half with F is a lot. Saying goodbye for another week is just too much. Maybe I'll catch him at a better time tomorrow when I call his "phone".

Knowing

It's been one of those days since before it even began.

It probably really started with my hangover on Sunday, and it's been snowballing into one of the worst moods I've been in since that time J told me he bought a truck after telling me he couldn't afford to send money for his son.

Yep. It's that bad and I don't even really know why, but I'm OK with both of those things.

Bad moods happen. So do gigglefits and random bursts of hysterical laughter, hiccups and super-embarassing trip-over-your-own-feet moments. Imagine how boring life would be without them (and how few wrinkles and grey hair we'd all have). The realization that shit happens came to me a little bit later in life than I would have liked, and at 25 there are still a lot of things I need to learn but I've been thinking a lot about the things I wish I'd known sooner. For instance, you can wear brown and black at the same time among other (arguably more important) things like these:




1. Sometimes you don't have to be nice. As a people pleaser this is a tough pill for me to swallow, however there are times I can't be nice and people whom I just cannot be nice to. I can't be kind to unkindness, but I don't have to be mean either. Walking away is the best option, but I've learned not to put up with the bullshit.

2. It's absolutely OK to not be OK all the time. Much like bad moods, meltdowns do happen. Sometimes they're short, sometimes they last and last. If you're sad, be sad - don't try to hide it or gloss it over. Life is about the highs and lows.

3. As much as life is about the highs and lows, you do not need to feel low all the time. You can seek help. You can find happy, and the best part is that you don't have to do it alone.

4. You can be alone and not be lonely.

5. Nobody can hold your happiness: it is all yours. Own it, run with it and treasure it.

6. You can love your child and dislike motherhood at the same time. Society doesn't talk about it, but it can happen. Discipline, selflessness and living on the schedule of a toddler is maddening and has probably led many others to meltdowns like my own. I love F, but there are times I miss being a free agent with nothing but my own wellbeing to worry about.

7. Everybody lies. Just make sure you're not lying to yourself.

8. You can love someone and hate them in the same breath.

9. Sometimes, you really can't move on.

10. Nobody actually cares about how much you weigh or what size your jeans are. They also can't see that five pounds you wanted to lose, and it's not the end of the word if it's still hanging out in your thighs.

---



Are there other things I wish I'd known a little earlier in life? Of course! I wish I'd known that my husband liked trucks more than he liked me, or that closure may never come to you when you've lost a loved one. I wish I'd known that my heart would break every day once I became a mother and that it's OK to have no fucking idea what I'm doing with my life. It's also OK to be 25 and make reference to "when I grow up" (and joke about never really doing so). I'm sure I'll stumble across a lesson later today, or day after tomorrow and realize that I could have benefited from the knowledge on Monday afternoon or three years ago.

So is life.

It is knowing and not knowing at the exact same time.

Unstuck

I have a really bad habit of getting stuck in my own head.

All manner of little things can do it to me. I worry about this and that, one stressor feeds another and the next thing I know I'm on the verge of tearing my hair out and crying into a glass of something alcoholic. This last month has certainly taken it's toll on me. Tomorrow, for example, will be one month since the day I found all of my belongings missing from my old apartment. The property rental company finally settled last week, and while it was only half of what it should have been, I just couldn't do it anymore. I was too tired.

I've left the dishes to pile up in the kitchen, laundry overflowing in the baskets, clothes strewn across my closet and eaten more than one bag of popcorn for lunch. I was tired, and most of it was my own damn fault.

Yesterday, I woke up sour. It may have been the fact that it was day two of a hangover (it would seem I'm not 19 any more), and it could have had something to do with the fact that my neighbours choose 4:48AM as the perfect time to blast really loud, really bad music. Must be nice to not have to get up and do anything in the morning. I texted my friend and expressed my displeasure at the whole thing. The texts ranged from "Are you going to go to class?" to "Today might be the day I finally lose my shit," but I managed to put on pants (real ones, with a button), and I went to class.

I went grocery shopping with one friend and ranted about how tired and frustrated I was. Another friend came over for movies and dinner and she and I ranted about how frustrated we both were. Then we put on hilarious music and danced. We went for hot chocolates, and I came home to a hot bath and I sat in front of my laptop for the better part of two hours, too wrapped up in my own head to write anything.

It was past my bedtime before I finally got out of my head, and it took a Skype call and a 5-minute laughing fit to do it. As it turned out, I went to bed two hours later than I should have and woke up positively exhausted with bad hair and a smile on my face. I needed a good laugh it would appear.

And I've already watched the 19-second video evidence I have of the hilarity twice.

Cycles

The last time I was home for a weekend, F was onto me within minutes of getting out of bed on Sunday. He sat on the bed while I packed a handful of things in my suitcase and puttered around grabbing this and that. By the time we sat down for breakfast the meltdown was inevitable.

As I discussed school, new friends and all manner of randomness with my parents, F sat at the breakfast table making noises and generally being rude. I politely asked him to please eat his breakfast, and a slur of mean words came out of his mouth. He received his first, second and final warning before I turned his chair around and told him he could sit in the corner until he was ready to be have.

MELTDOWN

"No, Mommy, NO! NO! NO! NO! I don't want to sit in the corner!" he wailed, as he threw his head back and tears ran down his little cheeks. I could feel my heart breaking, and I was torn between the importance of teaching him to be polite and the need to hold him in my arms and make the most of the three hours we had to spend together before I left. I crouched next to his chair, wiped his tears and held his hands. "This isn't how I want us to spend our morning," I started, only to be cut off by the most loaded sentence that kid has ever spoken.

"I don't want you to leave me again, Mommy."

Heart. Broken.

I try not to get upset in front of F, whether it's anger or tears threatening to spill over my fascade of cool and collected. This time, though, I just couldn't. Sobbing, I tried to explain that I didn't want to leave him. Is it going to be this bad every time? Will it be a cycle of happy, sad, happy, sad for the next year?

This week, I'm spending a whole week with him: I came home on Monday, and he is coming back to Halifax with me on Wednesday - with Grammie in tow! We'll hang out at "Mommy's Halifax House" until Saturday (when I'll finally have real furniture for my dining room!), and then it will be another "see you later", another river of tears and a few hours of feeling sorry for myself.

I know I've made the right decision. I've never felt more home in all my life than I do when I sit amongst my classmates. For the first time since J and I began dating, I feel empowered and strong. And - Mommy guilt aside - I'm really loving having time to myself. I love going out for a walk whenever I want to, going to bed when I want, laying in the bathtub for hours and watching movies on the couch, but I miss F a lot.

Even the bad words, temper tantrums and occasional burst of rudeness.

Off Kilter

I need to start taking my own advice.

This past spring and summer, I busied myself by creating a wellness program which I had planned to be running this winter - but not even I can be in two places at once, and the drive from Halifax to St. Ann's Bay is just a leeeeeeeeeetle bit too long to do twice a week. Instead, the St. Ann's Bay Health Group Society has invited me to speak at Wednesday's morning's Senior's Lunch. As I skimmed through my own program, the program I lived and breathed for four months, I'm realizing that I need to get my shit together, because I have not followed a single piece of my own advice in well over a month.

Simple things, like eating, have gone to the wayside as I tend to completely lose my appetite (and the motivation to make food) when I'm feeling stressed. I forget to drink my 6-8 glasses of water a day - the same 6-8 glasses that I used to genuinely miss when I didn't get them. Aside from walking the dog, wandering around my apartment and a couple of well-deserve, Wii-golf victory danceoffs, I've not even cut out the time for some physical activity. My sleeping patterns suck too.

And I'm not too proud to admit that I ate popcorn for lunch on Sunday. Go ahead and judge.

We're all guilty of it though, whether we want to admit it or not. We're quick to point out the flaws and shortcomings of our neighbours and friends, we give great advice on everything from chores to time management, relationships to healthy lifestyles and we contradict every word of it by doing the complete opposite. Practice what you preach, my mother would say.

It's time for me to get back on track. Starting with a glass of water right...after I finish my wine.