Incoherently Yours

                I had a plan, you know. Or at the very least, an outline of one. I wasn’t so arrogant as to think I would actually make it to my c-section date, but I was fairly confident there would be a c-section.                 Let’s back up a bit. About two weeks ago, I cried wolf and Sheldon ended up taking me to the Barrhead hospital, and then on to the Sturgeon hospital, thinking baby was about to make an appearance. Turns out I was just dehydrated, laid in a hospital bed for a couple hours drinking a horrific amount of water, and went sheepishly but gratefully home.                 Braxton Hicks have always been a thorn in my side. Or a pain in my stomach, I suppose. But never a pain in my back. So in the wee hours of Tuesday morning, when I started to feel contraction like pains in m...

                Eli was having A DAY, today. The whine is strong with that one. Almost every sentence he uttered was spoken with a pouting drawl; he took offense to every little thing. When he wasn’t whining, he was wailing. Sitting in his room bawling about the unfairness of not being able to steal toys from the baby. Or not being allowed to turn off the TV when Kadon was watching it. Life is rough, I tell ya.                 Usually when he’s having “one of those days” (and really, even when he isn't), it means this mommy is spending a lot of time cleaning up puke. As many of you know, Eli has had issues with breathing since… well, birth. Any crying leads to coughing, which leads to puking, which leads to me cleaning it up or trying to forestall his tirades instantaneously – which is interesting when said child has a fuse about half a millimeter long.         ...

A picture showed up in my Facebook memories today. A beautiful picture. This is my little baby belly when Rory was percolating inside. Not very far along, my belly was swelling with the sign of new life for the very first time. After 2.5 years of struggling with infertility and countless trips to the city to see specialists, we found something that worked. I injected myself in the stomach to force ovulation. We did two rounds of this. Usually you do up to 4 rounds and if that doesn’t work, it’s the end of the road before IVF. I didn’t do the usual “pee on a stick” test. I could have, but I waited for the official phone call after doing bloodwork on the allotted day. I didn’t think I could handle looking at another one of those blasted things and see the one lonely line one more time. (In hindsight, I really should have bought those things in bulk.) I remember where I was when the phone call came. I was curled up in the basement in our oversized, black, leather chair. I knew ...

I try not to complain about my kids too much online. My blog posts about them are usually light hearted; a documentation of the things that made me smile, with maybe a few things that drove me crazy but with a funny twist. I don’t write “My kids made me cry today”, or “I screamed so loudly at my children today that my throat hurts”. Those aren’t funny stories. Those aren’t things I want to document or remember. But you know what? Sometimes it happens. And my goal in this online world is to always be real. Open. Honest. I don’t want anyone struggling with things I’m struggling with to think they are alone.                 Sometimes when you look around it can look like everyone has it all together. Or that even when things are going wrong they are finding humour in it or handling it with such grace and poise. I’ve even done that with certain areas of my life. I won’t often write about my depression until it has...

                This whole thing was going to be a private message to my sisters. Then, as I was rambling on in my head, composing my thoughts internally until I could get to my computer, I realized I may as well turn it into a blog post. Or a novel, as I seem to be particularly rambly these days.                 I’ve been thinking about this particular topic for awhile now. Weight loss. Health. Body image. Cultural conformity. Unrealistic body expectations. I’ve been at war with my body for most of my life. I remember as a pre-teen being terrified that someone would find out my weight. I was ashamed of the number on my jeans. It kind of makes me sad to think about.                 Maybe it has come with getting older, but lately I have been wanting to reconcile with my body. To love it. To acce...

Who was it that said that the days are long but the years are short? Whoever it was, they are very wise. I have to register my older son for kindergarten. KINDERGARTEN. It was just yesterday I was in the NICU with him, holding him skin-to-skin. Just yesterday I was coaxing first smiles and giggles out of him. Just yesterday he starting army crawling; just yesterday he took his first steps.                 At four and a half, Kadon seems so grown up. He copies older kids’ mannerisms, he deepens his voice and shrugs his shoulders. His vocabulary is crazy, even if his enunciation is not. (Case in point: he often says “also”, instead of “too”.)                 He loves going to Pre-School. He goes once a week on Wednesday and by Friday he’s asking to go again. He happily went to VBS all last week. Dropping him off places is no longer an i...

                I love birth stories. I love to hear other women’s stories, and I love telling and re-telling my own. Usually, I’ve written out the birth story in the first week, but we are over 3 weeks now (ahem… he’s over a month now…), and I’m just now sitting down, hoping I haven’t already forgotten any little detail.                 I’m glad I wrote out my other birth stories. It’s amazing how quickly the mind glazes over things, or lumps details all together. I’d be visiting with a friend and we’d be talking about birth and I’d be wracking my brain trying to remember if a certain situation had happened during which birth. I like that I have a written record.                 My pregnancy with Silas was my first ever “normal” pregnancy. I only went to emergency once in the early months, as I...

I haven’t posted in a long while. I’ve had lots of thoughts rolling around in my head, but never made the time or felt like I had any creative juices to put pen to paper (metaphorically). Now, here we are, three weeks postpartum with my third son, Silas. There’s such joy in NOT BEING PREGNANT. I love babies. Love, love, love babies. Being pregnant, however, even with a “normal” pregnancy, is so not my cup of tea. But that and Silas’ birth story is for another blogpost. Today is Valentine’s Day. Yes, yes, an over-rated, over-priced, made up holiday to make single people feel bad and couples either fight because of unmet expectations or drive everyone else crazy with their audacity to be in love and happy on this, a most controversial day of the year. (Holy run on sentence, batman.) I have never had high expectations for Valentine’s Day. Why? Because I married a farmer. And not just any farmer, a cattle farmer. An Albertan cattle farmer who calves during the winter. Although, to be ...

How Sheldon is handling my pregnancy hormones... Are you okay? Are you crying? Are you going to cry? Do you need a Kleenex? Are you going to cry again? No, wait, wait! I just said that wrong, don't cry. What did I say?! You're crying because I didn't say anything? But... But... Last time I said something you cried... You cried during what movie? *watches me more than the TV so he can chuckle at what makes me all teary-eyed*

July 25, 2016 YAY I'm pregnant!!! 5 minutes later Oh...wow... I'm pregnant. Another kid. Another... Oh my. Oh no. WHOSE IDEA WAS THIS.  How is it possible to be this tired? I think I'm hungry... Or nauseated... Why can't I tell the difference? How does one do the parenting at the same time as the pregnancy-ing... Why does only ice cream and carbs not make me feel ill?? Chicken - BLECH. Meat - DRY HEAVE. Vegetables - *wrinkles nose* Ice cream - two scoops three times a day, please.  Suddenly a lot of people seem a lot more irritating. Wow, my husband sure is a first class jerk all the sudden. Weird. *is being unreasonable* *is aware*  *cries because she is being unreasonable and can't seem to stop* Commercial - *cries*  Mildly touching movie scene - *cries* Life - *cries* Why don't my pants fit. Why am I so bloated. This baby is a grain of rice WHY IS IT AFFECTING ME SO MUCH.  Why are we having another ...

July 22nd, 2016 I have been a farm wife for almost ten years. I was probably the least qualified person to fill this position. Scared of cows. Never gardened. Never canned produce. Hated chickens. Never drove equipment. Was used to making plans ahead of time and being able to have said plans happen regardless of cows, weather, or crops. Did not have the magical powers of producing an assortment of baked goods whenever someone randomly popped in for coffee. Some things have changed. I'm not scared of cows. I can and freeze stuff. I drive tractors. I know how to bale. I've given up on making solid plans if they involve Sheldon. Some things have not changed. I still hate chickens. Sheldon begged for YEARS to have the dinosaur fowl and I finally caved with one condition - I was having nothing to do with them. I wasn't feeding them, I wasn't watering them, I wasn't picking the eggs, I wasn't cleaning their coop, and he could forget getting meat birds b...

                I’ve never been one for politics. To be honest, I know far less about politics than a responsible adult should. It’s something I’ve been thinking I need to re-study and learn – not because it intrigues me, but more because it infuriates me. Too often it feels like my job as a Canadian citizen is to vote for which pile of poo stinks less.                 When the whole #elbowgate fiasco erupted yesterday, I posted this on Facebook: I can only imagine the uproar of the Liberals if a Conservative Prime Minister had taken a man by the elbow and escorted him away from a conversation - elbowing a woman in the chest as he did so. Prime Ministers aren't supposed to be bouncers. ‪#‎ keepyourhandstoyourself                 Turns out the uproar is pretty much exactly the sam...

Eats dirt. And sand. Colours on walls. Eats crayons/markers/pens Also colours on himself Collects rocks. Tosses rocks on lawn. Wanders Selective hearing Limited understanding on the word "no" Pilfers my skin care products/makeup and eats them. Runs away saying "Mine!" When I catch him. Climbs on everything. Instigates wrestling with big brother Plays with his own hair too much, creating bald spots Excellent snuggler You know you have deciphered his wishes correctly when he starts laughing maniacally and flapping his arms Calls all fruits "nana" - refuses to eat an actual banana. Blueberry enthusiast Skilled tower knocker over Special talents include pushing big brother's buttons, demanding lotion for his legs and feet, and eating copious amounts of string cheese. He's good at independent play - also lulling you into a false sense of security and then finding him standing in the sink brushing his teeth. Addicted to washing his ha...

#1. Haircuts! Both boys were so good! No tears! They are so handsome.  #2. Taking the boys to Chili's for lunch! Chicken tacos here I come! #yum #soexcited #3. They took my crispy chicken tacos off the menu. #whygodwhy #mylifeisover #4. Ok, other food is still good. And both boys ate and are behaving so well! #ihaveawesomekids #5. ... So after our meal, I picked up Eli and went to go pay... And he puked on the floor about four feet from a table where people were eating. Four times. #idontknowwhattodo #sogross #sosorry #pleasestoprandomlypuking #6. I definitely just apologized to strangers for my kid puking in a restaurant and tipped the waitress 40%. Sigh. #butitwasgoingsowell #hesnotevensick #expensivelunch #7. It's official, Kadon has finally outgrown his 2T pants! Time to shop. #thechildrensplace #hegrew #gettingsobig #8. Sheldon is not wrong when he says I shouldn't be allowed in Staples alone. Wheeeeee, but this is fun! #pens #highlighters #paper #supplies #ihaveaprobl...

The following was written last week. I didn't post it. I was worried what people would think... or that they would send me to the doctor to get on some anti-depressants. Truly, this was a post written at a low point. It's a woe-is-me, the-sky-is-falling type of thing. It's rather angsty and raw and ridiculous. And real. And maybe getting a sneak peek into one of my meltdowns will make us kindred spirits. Maybe it will make you nod and make you feel like you aren't alone. Or, y'know, maybe it'll make you feel awesome because you've never felt this pathetic - whatever floats your boat. I aim to please. ********************************************************************************* Oh, August, you are finally almost over. I love you, you know. You are the month my daughter was born in. The month my boys were born in. You are a month of heat and sunshine. You are days full of splash parks, water fights, sunscreen, and floppy hats. You are full of fields ...