2026: A Message From 2012

Kids, I have sat you down on this day in 2026 because quite frankly you've become quite jerky as teenagers and you seem to think that this is all my fault.  You have decided that you know everything, that I am an idiot, unreasonable, and too emotional and so I have taken pen in hand to remind you of this day some 15 years ago. Be careful kids-I know you think you're "Super Cool" and in control but I have news for you...

Today began like any other day-you both woke up cheerful-full of beans, and honestly a joy to be around. Of course, I never have high expectations anymore-I now am the parent of a toddler!

As an aside, I do feel that for mental health practitioners to be properly trained in dealing with those who suffer from Mania or Bi-Polar Disorder that an afternoon, or even an hour, with a toddler who has a "now crawling" sibling would sufficiently prepare them for any dealings they may face with this unfortunate disease.

We ventured downstairs for breakfast and the ever dreaded diaper change.  Before I could even hit the last step: PANIC-SCREAMING-DISTRESS! The ever-beloved pink, fussy blanket with satin trim has been left upstairs and now I have one 2 year old lying on the floor in an emotional mess called "good morning." Oskar, bewildered (I do hope as a teenager you have learned to cope with this confusion your sister causes you) whimpering as his happy mood is dampened by the revolting display on said floor.

Blanket recovered from the bed-breakfast has begun.  How could I have forgot that the Cheerios I am eating are so much better than the ones in your bowl.  How could I forget that the baby food I am trying to feed you is not the flavor you like. How could I forget that to eat breakfast you must be sitting in the right chair, with the beloved blankie behind you (for quick getaways and emergency cuddling), that the su-su (pacifier) has to be in plain sight at all times...really HOW COULD I?!

Insert 3-4 cups of coffee here! Diaper and change of clothes for each child begins.

I always start with you-Oskar-as you are easier to handle: 1) you are currently smaller and can't speak 2) a little tickle under the armpits and you are happy to have a quick change....this has become more difficult as you have transformed from my mellow-Buddah baby to a crawler. This has caused havoc and ruined your sister's life but for me it just means I have to pin you down because you have eyed a plug in, stairwell, fire hazard that needs exploring. I do hope that at 15 you have all your body parts and both, or at the very least, one of your eyebrows still present.

Ila, you are next. I bribe you with TV, my phone, explain that a dirty bum is gross, show you a new-cute outfit, tap dance, bring in a Zebra and David Hasselhoff to distract you BUT still you freak out.  Right now you're 16 and most likely think everything is yucky and gross and "girls don't fart" BLAH BLAH BLAH-well little lady you fought me tooth and nail every day to keep your dirty diaper on- to the point where I now just lay a leg across you to get it over with!

Now that Oskar is crawling, and your life is destroyed beyond repair, I have to constantly watch you. If my sweet boy so much as looks your way, casts a casual glance in the direction of your play-a yelp escapes your mouth "OSKAR NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" He may be 15ft away from you-but that doesn't matter.  Now, 16 year old you thinks you're pretty darn smart. So smart you most likely think you could live on your own or even start university tomorrow... let me ask you then "What is the IQ of the person that believes her brother has a super power that allows him to magically look at your toy "with his eyes", remove this toy from your death grip "with his eyes", and bring it to him???????" Just Saying!

I will fast forward to the end of the day and remind you that this morning we fought to get your green jammies off and now we are fighting to put them back on.  I do believe that 1 outfit is all you need or want-think of this the next time you ask for money to buy Justin Bieber vintage wear.

....Oskar I am sure you are gloating that currently this really isn't about you-careful son!  Today I dressed you in a onsey-or better yet a BODYSUIT! Get off your high horse or I will pull out pictures and bring them out the next time your friends are over!

If you think I am emotional, irrational, a horrible mom please remember YOU CREATED THIS MONSTER!

Marriage and Other Blunders

On the eve of my 4th wedding anniversary, I feel that it is only right to address this to you kids, and to tell you what is really happening with your parents while we try and raise you into happy, normal human beings.  I know that 30 years or so from now, when you are each having your first child, I will lie (or possibly forget) and tell you that things were amazing and that children didn't change a thing...and that kids... is utter crap!

The mystique of marriage and sharing 2 childless years with your father was no preparation for what was to come. We spent those short years in a haze of pressed clothing, romantic dinners, quick-spontaneous weekends away- until our life was throat chopped by a plus sign (planned of course).  How naive we were to think that we could keep the facade alive during pregnancy and after the birth-How were we to know that freedom and romance was about to be Genie Bueller (Ferris's sister) high kicked, karate chopped, and box shot into oblivion!

We had had a non verbal agreement about passing gas, hygiene and the like. We put our best faces on for each other-went for runs and worked out together. This chapter was slammed shut the first time the pregnant belly decided she controlled things. No longer was your father cuddling me on the couch-instead he was across the room trying to be free of my awful omissions.  Gradually the tight jeans were thrown in a bin marked "DREAM JEANS" and put in storage. Gone was the possibility of painting toe nails or tying up shoes.  It is not romantic, no matter what some rom-com tells you, to be in a store with swollen feet and to have to ask your husband to untie your shoes...all the while hoping that you don't fart while his face is dreadfully too close.

This, still, was not the worst of things to come.

Nothing takes the sex drive out of a marriage faster than coming home from the gym to explain to your husband that no you didn't sweat THAT much, that in fact at 8 months pregnant and still teaching a step class that you had IN FACT peed your pants while working out and that NO ONE seemed to mention this-and you always felt that pressure "down there" so NO you really hadn't noticed until the class was already complete. No, I was not the "mythical" horny pregnant lady that exists in men's movies to help them take the step into fatherhood by promising endless sex-if I couldn't see or control my bits anymore why should anyone else have exploring rights!

After you both arrived things were even more mountainous than the "getting ready." Suddenly all we wanted to do was hold, look at, check to see if the baby's breathing, show off the baby etc. Gone was the clean house-replaced instead by the forensic crime scene of cheerio dust and obvious struggle-why is it so hard to change a wiggling baby's diaper? At first we forgot about being a couple and instead were the parent's of Ila and then Oskar.  We proudly took thousands of pictures and emailed, FB'd them out-taking credit for how cute you each were-omitting the countless funny looking shots. We over-looked the exhaustion because of our little bundles of JOY...then we each, in turn, woke up after difficult nights-clad in spit up, poop under finger nails, unshowered and not caring-we realized, that yes, we needed a night out-just us! Instead of the 8pm reso-we opted for the 530. Headed down and enjoyed a liquor less (who needs a hangover when you have a 4am wake up call) dinner with the Calgary over 70 crowd.

1.5 hours later we were safely home-babysitter confused but paid-ready for bed.

You see kids-our new romance was being in bed asleep before 8pm.  Usually with kids between us-or with us in separate rooms cuddling with a little mattress tyrant. Romance was putting dibs on grocery shopping-so you could get out of the house and leave the kids with the sore loser. Romance was nap-time where one of you needed to be cuddled to sleep (of course who could help falling asleep as well). Romance was not having to participate in bed time routines. Romance was having 5 seconds alone to go to the bathroom without someone sitting on your lap!

Instead of subtleties-Sex was blatantly put on the table-"Do you wanna? They're asleep-MOVE MOVE MOVE!" We learned that everyone knew what this "new sex-life" was like-even the police man who let us off of a U Turn ticket when my husband explained that he was rushing home because I had just said yes there would be LOVIN TONIGHT! He looked at the two sleeping babies in car seats in the back, at me-smacked the trunk and tipped his hat as we sped away.

This was-is the new life. The better life. One where your floor is a toy minefield. Where your addiction to cigarettes turns into an unhealthy relationship with fishy crackers. Where you are woken by giggling and tiny footsteps. Where, when you are angry at each other, instead of yelling or slamming doors you spell out A-S-S-H-O-L-E and B-I-T-C-H. And still you quickly forget because your kids are having a tickle party-and who can stay mad when there is an opportunity to payback the little bugger who made you pee during a repeater knee. Where we must stand as a united force against you two or crumble alone! 4 years and we have a marriage full of joy, laughter, happiness, tension, exhaustion, frustration-exactly how marriage, and parenthood is intended to be!

Loot Bags and Unicorns

As my daughter's first birthday approached I was certain that I had to throw something large-something that was special and would be remembered therefore I invited everyone I knew-all my friends and my husband's; included family and the like!  Of course the one element missing from this list was Ila's friends-being only 1 she didn't have any- so that left more room for my friends.  (OH dear-will her wedding guest list be the catalyst to end our relationship when I try to invite people she doesn't know????) Maybe the first birthday is really about the MOM-you come, you eat, and ultimately you praise the Mama for how cute, how sweet, and oh how smart her little one is.  

With Ila clad in a beautiful Spring dress, we started the party.  I pretty much ignored the birthday girl as I ran around trying to make sure everyone was having a good time.  In her moment to shine, The Birthday Cupcake-I forgot to gather the troops and it wasn't until my Aunt whispered to me(during Ila's first intro to sugary icing) that I realized that we forgot something. "Shouldn't we sing???" OH SHIT---YES YES we should sing!  It was haphazard, off key, and at the end of the day I figured that we should have got a cake, a camera with a timer, a card-board-cut-out clown and taken one family photo of a fake birthday-she wouldn't have been the wiser and I wouldn't have thrown a party for myself for her birthday.

Over the second year of her life I swore that I would not get swept up in the craziness of the "Birthday Mom".  At the gym, Mom's groups, and in the grocery store I would overhear Moms discussing elaborate birthday parties for their children: petting zoos, elephant visits, climbing walls and water slides, clown visits, cirque du soleil and so on and so on.  Secretly, I believe that every Mom wants to be envied for how creative and expensive her party is-How she "wows" the other Moms and puts their kid's birthday parties to shame.  What a coo to be talked about in the locker room, "Did you hear about Kim's party, they gave out diamonds and a live unicorn in the loot bags."

I set out to have an ordinary, quiet party with Ila's friends from our weekly playdates.  My goal was that this year she would actually enjoy her party. I decided on a messy craft and the beloved ice cream cake to make her heart flutter-I didn't decorate and instead assumed she would rather just play with the guests. 

The night before her party I went to my cousin's daughter-Brooklyn's 4th birthday party! This was where things began to go array...what seemed like a normal-low key event was instead a Build a Bear party. Are you F'ing kidding me?! Each child got to select a beautiful stuffy and then stuff it, adding a heart and a star for a wish. Both my kids were given a HUGE stuffed animal-one that I would have killed for when I was a child. Oskar was even included-did that mean I was to include babies in my activity tomorrow? Should I be giving out baby appropriate loot bags? Oh crap-there would be a detour to Walmart on the drive home.  Of course I was naive, thinking this was it.  I over looked the indoor slide, the jungle gym mats every where to play, the huge play house in the back yard, the endless things to play with....the multiple snacks and full dinner served....the booze for parents-the variety of alcohol t ensure that each parent sufficiently enjoyed themselves. (AHHHHHHH-we need Baileys and coffee liquors-note to self).

AND THEN A LOOT BAG! WHAT THE F!!!!! Didn't we already get a Bear-didn't my 9 month old baby, who can't speak, get a Bear???? Now a loot bag-I casually looked to my husband to explain that this birthday girl's loot bag would need to be JACKED up tomorrow-we could make sure that no other kids saw what we gave her....did we have a live baby she could have or puppy....maybe even a car???

As if things weren't bad enough, as if I already didn't feel like a failure of a mom-totally letting my two year old down-HE showed up. A cop, the child's uncle-fully dressed in his uniform (little boys in awe everywhere-even adult men a little spellbound). He hadn't come alone-NO- he brought his companion-the BELOVED POLICE DOG.  Each child was lined up to have a chance to meet Trooper, the police working dog! Of course I couldn't help notice a few dads falling into line as well...

 "Eric, get Sesame street on the phone-we need Elmo!"

Maybe she was tired? Maybe she wasn't feeling well? Maybe she wasn't in the party mood? But let me be frank-my darling two-year-old cried about the craft I prepared for her to do, she cried about the people who came to her party, cried about the food, became hysterical over our singing, refused the ice cream birthday cake and in the end hated every aspect of her party EXCEPT the plastic whistle and Rhythmic gymnastics ribbon (that had come in Brooklyn's loot bag)!

The Gym and Mommy Brain

"They" say that while a woman is pregnant and then sleep-deprived with a new born that she suffers from the clinical disorder- Mommy Brain.  At first I thought that this was ridiculous-I wasn't forgetful-I had in fact stopped caring about everything but myself and getting that baby out of me.  I no longer cared about whether my belly hung out the bottom of my shirts (although my students were most likely traumatised by this).  I no longer cared about my friend's plights with men, work, anything...I was a pregnant asshole!

The moment I realized that I was actually ill-that my bright mind had been sabotaged by a 7lb tyrant was on my first day back at the gym after my first child.  I have been teaching classes since high school and have always felt at home in any gym and fitness room-why should this day be any different.

Donning my biggest clothes and making a sports bra out of a wood shelf and leather straps I headed to the gym to just "test the waters."  As I strolled through the doors I became arrogant-over-looking the fact that people were not sure if I was pregnant still, obese, or a new mom....the spit up on my shoulder and shit underneath my fingers nails should have been an obvious tip!

I strolled by the Spin room-hmmm totally packed! Well-this instructor must be awesome to pack a gym at 11 am....I would try this class.  Because I am an instructor, and a complete idiot, I made my way past the front row heading to the bike directly in front of the instructor (who was not present yet).  Old habits die hard and I figured-at least this way I would not cheat my way through this class. 

I fiddled with my bike seat, gears, set my water in the holder, and boarded PURE HELL!  I began "warm up" peddling-better known as passing the time so you don't have to chat with anyone until the class starts.  Still pleasantly unaware of the other members of this class-my eyes were forward-I was clueless.  Slowly, the quiet drone of male voices increased...did I not hear one female in this class????  Where the hell was I? I looked to my right and then sheepishly to my left. Oh you have GOT to be kidding me-how is this possible-how did I not see that the whole room was filled with men.  I took a long, discreet look at the gentleman's legs beside me-it just kept getting better.

"Are you guys professional athletes?"

"We're Flames!"

Finding Out and So On

I would love to say that when I found out I was pregnant with Ila that Eric and I held each other, that there were fireworks behind us while we cried with excitement. Instead, I looked at that plus sign in total disbelief, walked out of the bathroom, and threw that stick at my husband.  It is obvious to everyone, I am sure, that I am not only very romantic, but also handle the knowledge of change very well. I, of course, headed to the store to buy more tests and proceeded to spend my day peeing in the bathroom.  YES I was thrilled but terrified....What God, Stork, Leprechaun, Magic Bean would give a Jackass like me, like us, a baby??????

I mean, I was great at advice-not taking it.  Great at talking-but listening.....Great at doing exactly what I wanted-whenever I felt.  Please Lord do not let me fuck up this kid like I am sure I have with the countless teens I have taught!!!!

You'd think by baby number two I would handle the "finding out" a little better. Instead, I sat holding my 5 month old daughter on my lap, staring in complete horror, at the plus sign.  This time I began to sweat-this poor second baby has me to contend with-poor kid! It was worse the second round because I was already well aware of my failings in parenthood-come on who yells at a 4 month old teething baby?! At least I still looked 8 months pregnant-if it weren't for the pee-test I might have been able to go to delivery never knowing-just thinking I was a lumpy Mom...Maybe even deliver in Walmart???

It's interesting though how the first pregnancy you plan, plan, plan. Discuss names, design the bedroom, buy, buy, buy, talk to everyone about your baby, buy stocks in Baby Einstein and Toys R Us, rub and talk to your belly-savor every moment.  Ila's room was finished by the time I was 6 months pregnant-stocked with diapers and wipes and clothes-she began to sleep in it 3 months before her brother arrived. Oskar's has yet to be completed-we may move before this ever happens!

Oskar, I am doing my best to give you the "second-child-syndrome" that so many, including myself suffer from.

How I Met Your Father

March 31, 2007

Work, Wax, Home, Shower, Get Ready, Meet Friends, Head to Pub, See Guy, Play it Aloof, Watch Him, He Dances, Approach, Chat, Get Okay From Twin Brother, Kiss, Leave to Next Venue, Confuse Friends Who Are Unaware there are Two, Go for Supper, Leave Before Dinner Arrives, Say I Love YOu, Buy a House, Elope In Vegas, Decide To Have a Baby, Get Pregnant, Really Get To Know Eachother, Have Said Baby.........

and so it begins .....

Of course kids when you ask in the future I will tell you that we met at a church/work/friend's picnic and that we courted, never drank, waited until we were married before having sex or living together, and that through it all we knew we were responsible soul mates!