the mistakes we make

Every day, every single one of us makes a ton of mistakes. We speak out of turn, we cut a guy off, we forget to be gentle, we leave our travel mugs at home, we do any number of little things that we might wish we'd done differently.

Some of us have an easier time of mistake making than others, I am one of the others. Small mistakes linger in my head, taunting me with their un-do-able-ness, I worry long after the repercussions are past. This is a part of the mental illness that I take medication for (OCD), but it doesn't need to be as powerful as I allow it to be.

I am slowly (and deliberately) learning how to make mistakes with grace, but it feels so counter-intuitive. Somehow I've got it in my head that if I am going to do something, I must do it flawlessly. This backwards thinking paralyzes creativity, because it leads me to believe that there is one "right" answer and many "wrong" ones. It is nearly impossible in creative ventures to know if I've got something "right" until it is completed, so if I consider that the chances of getting it "wrong" far outweigh getting it right and I won't do it unless I know I'll do it flawlessly, you end up here - where I barely do anything.

And when you further consider that I am a very creative person, you can better understand why I've spent so much time unhappy.

That voice of wrong is the main reason I have so many UFOs in my studio, it is also the main reason I have had an empty Etsy shop for as long as Etsy's been in existance (I shit you not), it is also why I feel ineffective as a parent. I fear doing things wrong.

Last night I made a small something for my son, a felt and fleece eye-patch for his wandering eye. I was down to three sticky patches and was tired of the battle to get them on, tired of the daily layers of waxy paper trash they create, and tired just thinking about sourcing the neat-o printed ones he likes in our new city. I did a little research and found a lot of uggo patch styles before finding the style I went with, it was easy, so I styled it up with an embroidered rocket ship and blanket-stich border.

It wasn't perfect, but I remided myself of its purpose (to cover the eye) and that it would be the first of many and decided I'd done well enough. It took me an hour to get to that point of acceptance, but I did!

Today, I sewed my son a skirt from old curtains, at his request. It had been so long I had forgotten how to use my sewing maching (thank Maude for manuals) - and even though I could list every little imperfection, I am doing a decent job of letting them go. He loves it and wore it all day, even to the park!

And tonight I am writing this, it could be full of errors (I have decided not to proofread it because my battery is almost dead) but I am posting it anyways.

Take that, perfectionist mentality!!

it is what it is

I used to be so angry. I was like a bomb, ready to go off at any sign of life not fulfilling my innate sense of entitlement and when I went off - oh man, I can only imagine what it would have felt like to be on the other end.


That was 10 years ago, since then I have quieted my anger with compassion and perspective. I still get riled up over things, but now they tend to be the things a person should get angry about - world hunger, the systematic poisoning of our planet, green-washing - as opposed to the occasional tomato on my sandwich when I am 100% positive that I requested none.

My life is better. It is nicer, calmer, happier when I stop keeping score and make the sometimes difficult decision to drop the rope and let people worry about themselves. I still prefer to be right, but as my wise old man put it, the trick is to realise that being right doesn't make everyone else wrong.

This isn't how I grew up. My parents were angry for most of my childhood. They'll deny it, but I remember the tantrums, the snide remarks and most of all the feeling that there was no way I could ever be right enough or do well enough. I spent my twenties working through that and will likely spend a lot more time convincing myself that I am capable of more than I feel I am.

I went to the mall the other day to renew my license. I took the opportunity to window-shop, checking out trends in both fashion and marketing, because evil or not, it is a huge part of who I am. Something I also checked out, though somewhat involuntarily, were current trend in public parenting. Basically, I witnessed a whole lot of grown-ups treating a whole lot of kids like shit. I didn't witness any overt abuse, instead I saw parents treating their kids like disobeying puppies. Kicking them with words and looks and loud sighs. As I broadened my scope I saw people all over doing this to others, to partners, to staff, to strangers. And I went one step further and though of my own recent behaviour, came up with a few examples of my being cunty to my kids, to Drew and to the world at large - where did it stem from?

Believe it or not, I am not judging any of the parents I saw - I am a firm believer that it is rare that we can get the whole picture from witnessing an isolated interaction - I reserve judgment for myself. Do I generally treat people well and where could I stand to improve?

Generally, yes, I am a nice person. A little narcissistic and impatient, for sure, but I am a benefit-of-the-doubt type and a see-a-need-fill-a-need type. So where can I improve? It almost always comes down to compassion. Compassion for the person who makes an ignorant remark, compassion for the person shooting me an angry glare, and compassion for myself, a woman who is trying very hard to do right by her kids and who is mothering without a map.

With that compassion I can cut everyone else slack and truly let things go. This gives me the mind-space to look at what I am feeling that is manifesting itself as this bitchiness and what I can I change? Often, reflecting is hard. So hard that I have done as little of it as possible this past year. I do the easy stuff, like ensuring I get enough sleep, eat well, de-clutter, get a little exercise and drink my water - and then I stop. It has been a band-aid solution, but it worked while it worked.

And here I am today. Full of compassion and optimism like I haven't felt in ages. It will take some work and time to train my brain away from negative thinking, but I am ready for the challenge.

this post is hardly worth reading

In two and a half weeks, I am turning thirty. After some reflection I came to the realisation that I am not as calm about it as I outwardly project. My anxiety doesn't stem from the expected sources, I am happy with my body, happy with my family and really falling in love with many aspects of my life. My major anxiety comes from the memory that keeps popping up of my friend who killed himself last year, right after he turned thirty.


This will be a tough birthday, it coincides with our 5th wedding anniversary and bring up all these mixed-up memories. Sean introduced Andrew and I, Sean was Andrew's best man, Sean was Sebastian's favourite uncle and his godfather, Sean was thirty. At times like these, I still get so angry that he wouldn't consider how his death would taint every special moment for me (am I selfish, or what?).

To do.

Figuring out how to post here via iPod.
Chrismas albums for the grandparents. (One down, two to go)
Laundry.
Unpack.
Blog post.
Post sock monkey instructions.

holiday gratitude

On this night, in this place, I am grateful for so many things. Like so many things lately, our plans this Christmas were complicated by forces out of our control. Vancouver got a dumping of winter like none we had seen. Canadians to the east of us laugh when we're forced to show how ill-equipped we are to deal with weather the rest of the country calls a season, and we are so ill-prepared. When it snows the city shuts down - when it snows a lot, we Vancouverites go a little crazy. We take our sports cars out and spend more time stuck than not1. We trudge three kilometres through mostly un-shovelled neighbourhoods, pushing a bored toddler in a weather-inappropriate stroller2. We spend hours being "good samaritans" and shovelling our neighbours' walks, our only reward being a full body workout and lots of wet pant legs3.

We do all that and we have a ball. I am so grateful to live a life where no amount of bullshit can keep us from looking out for one another.

Other things I am grateful for:

1. BC Ferries and portable battery packs
2. dala
   
3. our neighbour shovelling us out this morning as we left to catch a ferry
4. my amazingly tolerant and adorable children who have rolled with every change in direction with as much grace as I could ever hope for, despite both feeling less than great (two words: snot city)
   
5. my incredibly determined father who wouldn't let a little thing like 50cm of snow stop him from bringing dinner and family (two of my younger sisters) to his much less determined daughter, son-in-law and grandchildren, even though it took two hours to make it 3.2km
   
6. my three wonderful, beautiful younger sisters who get all the fallout (and benefit) of my missteps, mishaps and random acts of rebellion
7. my patient, loving, amazing husband who spent his days off work keeping our neighbours' sidewalks as clear as our own
8. my generous in-laws, who showered us in food, love and gifts and who kept the faith that we would make it here eventually
   
9. my faith that there is nothing out there we can't handle
10. my mother, who always told me that there was nothing out there I couldn't handle
11. and finally figuring out that being able to handle things doesn't mean I handle them alone.

1. see #5
2. that was me after the first big dump - after we got home I unearthed our pull-behind baby sled. The only issue now is figuring out who gets to ride in it.
3.see #7

looking backward

Oh man, is there really anything left to say?

I went through a bunch of my unfinished posts, there's some good stuff in there. Most of the stuff that made it up onto the blog consisted of proving that I am still alive and reasonably sane.

My life's been like that, too - just seeing people enough that they know I'm still here. And boy am I here - I've gained a load of weight since July... plus I was drinking too much and smoking ½ a pack a day. I've been miserable.

Having Andrew home all the time was more trying than freeing, mostly because I am pretty Type A and having him home threw what was already household chaos into a thrilling, but exhausting exercise in the unknown.

We were contemplating both working, or me working, or him working, or not working at all, and when the dust finally settled, Andrew will be the main bread-winner and I will try and contribute as much as I can. I don't want to get him canned by talking about anything (you never know these days) - but this is a pretty effing awesome job. There is some guarantee that the position will last until Winter 2010; the pay is less than market*, but it's a high-profile gig that'll look wicked on his CV; and we'll get benefits after 3 months.

I have postponed the possibility of paid work, but Sbux liked me enough to want me to call them back when we know that we could swing some kind of child-care arrangement. It is good, I wasn't sure we'd make it work as a two-job family. I have a feeling my kids would attach pretty strongly to the people in their lives not stressed out and irritable. Besides, I was really rocking this homemaker gig until Sean died.

Yeah, it is still bothering me.

Back to my rocking. I have been working hard on a few things, like a control binder, based on the FlyLady zone system, but adapted to our family and printed up nicely in a pretty binder (even the section tabs are lovely - this has been a year-long labour of love). I've also been thinking about a curriculum for my intrepid explorer - he is not in preschool, yes, we will likely put him in next year, (if we can afford to - that's the one bit I leave off when talking to the parents at the playground) - I want to dedicate an hour a day to "school" which will be a time to discuss the things we've seen on our trips out (every day), do crafts, practice writing & reading, et. cetera.

Oh and, we've been eating all kinds of crapola - so that's another bit I'm working on. Meal plans, I always start out with the best of intentions - luckily, we are WAY broke, so it is home-cooking or nothing.

Speaking of broke - let me tell you how much I loved Circle Craft this year. I got most of my gifts, or what I need to make gifts, at the fair this year. I spent (very) modestly and had a great time. Plus I feel warm and fuzzy about my purchases.

Hmm... I guess that sums things up.

Mom, if you're reading this, send money!!

*or it would have been a few months ago, with all those lay-offs I suppose we don't have a clue what the market is going to look like going forward.

the long and winding road

I am pretty psyched to see the end of 2008. It has been a thrilling, incredible year, but there is so much that I would like to put a bit of time ahead of. A chance to get some perspective.

A long-standing project of mine has been to go through our old photographs, delete the crap and then back it all up. I finally made the decision to just get it done last weekend and today I finished. It was fun, especially stumbling on old videos of Sebastian. It was also a lot of work - I can see the upside of going through your photos as soon as you take them off the camera.

The very hardest part, however, was seeing how happy we all looked - even as the wheels started to come off our little family wagon. I am heartened by how resolutely we have stood together. I have renewed faith in myself and in all the choices I have made. It was hard because I don't really remember much of it. A lot of that is because I've been pretty withdrawn. Thankfully, I can change that with some work. Always with the work... heh.

It is pretty late, but I've finally managed to upload a bunch of pictures to flickr:

tiny moments

I know I haven't been around much, my life has kept up its breakneck speed - throwing challenges and choices all over the path.

my crazy-person vacation

It isn't the first time, nor will it be the last that I have reminded myself that this parenting thing is hard. Really hard. It also isn't the first time, and I hope it isn't the last, that I remind myself that this parenting thing is wonderful.

I spent the last week in Whistler, BC, with my mum, step-dad, husband and children. Our accommodations were ample and comfortable. We were close enough to spit on the village and had the joy of leaving our car to collect dust for a full six days. Many good times were had, drinks were drank, laughs were shared, many interesting topics were covered and my children were showered with love.

It was a break I needed. It gave me a chance to gain some much-needed perspective.

It also broke me of the habit of sitting around feeling sorry for myself, though that one took some time. The close quarters encouraged us to take advantage of the free childcare, we walked, we swam in the hotel pool (late-night marco polo was especially fun), we played cribbage in the hotel lobby and we laughed.

Life with my parents was really neat. I think the neutrality of the space allowed me to shed my old habit of reverting to the age of fifteen. I held intelligent and informative conversations with my politically passionate step-father, we listened to one another. My mum and I built puzzles while sharing ideas and stories. My husband was a picture-perfect son-in-law, shining in his role of go-to parent. One morning I awoke as Andrew, Sebastian and my mum were leaving on an adventure. I puttered for a while before walking into the village with Rigby for a coffee and secret cigarette. When I met up with the explorers, they shared tales of giant creatures* and feats of daring**. Sebastian was beaming with pride and brimming with excitement.

I was sad to leave yesterday. I didn't feel ready to slip back into my regular life, but I knew that if we stayed one more day we would have stayed one day too long. We put off leaving for as long as we reasonably could, but after lunch we said our goodbyes and hit the open road. The kids howled in harmony for a few kilometres, but both fell asleep before the half-way point. Once we got home we had to deal with the chaos we'd left in our haste. We'd prepared ourselves for the worst, so were content that we could breathe the air and nothing had been stolen. But it didn't take long for my irritation at having to get so much done before we could even cook dinner to boil over. My husband, to his credit, kicked me out of the house until I cooled off.

We put the kids to bed and Andrew went out to run some errands - Sebastian stayed up for two hours playing in his room. He seemed so happy to be back in his own bed after sharing a room with his entire family. I shared his joy, snacking in my underwear while watching internet TV.

Today was more re-entry. Andrew and Sebastian spent the day hanging out - they went to Andrew's office, they cleaned his room, they built train tracks on the old bed/new train table/birthday project, that Andrew set up during quiet-time. I spent much of the day comforting poor Rigby who is cutting many teeth and going about the business of catching up on things like e-mail and I didn't even touch my phone. Neither saw much use last week, which was strange and a little wonderful. Though I feel bad that I didn't really tell anyone where we were going.

I still feel like I'm not really ready for tomorrow, my first day alone with the kids in ten days - but I miss my life, and it isn't really like I have a choice. I have things I've been putting off for too long and I can't afford to keep doing it. Tomorrow will be fine. I have a second errand to run before going to my support group, so I can take the car in clear conscience.

Speaking of tomorrow, if I don't get myself to bed I'll be setting myself up to have a short fuse. And I need my wits about me as I get the kids (and myself) off vacation time.


*slugs and a dog large enough to be initially confused with a bear.
**according to witness accounts, Sebastian scaled many rocks.

okay, i think i am starting to get it

The news is depressing. Television, in general, is depressing. That's just how it is - life isn't all baskets of puppies.

I've taken a lot of alone time, recently. I've been pretty focused on the going's on in the world and it has just occurred to me that I am missing the good stuff. I've been dismissing the puppies and wringing my hands over events that are worlds away. Sure, this shit effects me - it effects* all of us. But worrying about it is taking up valuable head-space. It is crowding out the sections of my brain responsible for things like planning meals, nurturing a teething baby, and keeping up with a million-km/h curious and brilliant small boy.

Tomorrow, I will make a conscious effort to concern myself primarily with the things in my own life that I have influence on. I have the weekend ahead to finally sit down with the family and talk about how we'll share space before we run off to Whistler to spend then week with my mom and step-dad. I am hoping to use some of the free time I assume I will have to do a bit of goal-setting and planning. The number one thing I can control is how I use my life. I want to do great things, but have thus far been unwilling to do the leg-work. I keep laying blame for everything on those around me. But while living with other people is guaranteed to produce obstacles and conflicts, I am the one who writes them off as insurmountable. It is an easy way to avoid failing.

The dichotomies of my life are so stark to me. I feel like I'm always trying to reconcile opposing ideas and ideals. The funny part is that I know I do it, I know it is generally thought to be unhealthy, but I find it invigorating. Trying to figure some of this stuff out is pretty fascinating. Like - I am frugal and stylish, but also a mother of young children who has little time, do I spend a day at the thrift store, corralling kids and exposing myself to a case-lot of allergens, or do I spend the money I do have on clothes I hope will last and that I hope will stay reasonably un-stained and fashionable until the next wardrobe re-vamp. This time around I bought new, I got some quality** pieces that are classic and un-trendy. I am going to go to the mall and get a few casual tops from that store that rhymes with mold gravy. I am also finally going to replace my swobe, it no longer stays buttoned and smells like the back of my car (because that's where it lives "for emergencies").

Wow - did you see that paragraph take off? From deep philosophizing to swobes.

Life hasn't stopped, as much as I have been wishing it would (just for a few days while I catch up). But tonight instead of pretending to do work, I went over to a friend's where we drank cheap wine and ate cheap Chinese food. We watched Stop-Loss - an alright movie with some pretty wonderful bits and some pretty asinine bits. We talked and laughed, it was fun. I want a life that is more fun than anxiety - and I think that accepting that the anxiety will always be there, as it should be, and then setting the anxiety aside,when appropriate... well, I do believe that that is how to shift things.




*trying to remember high school English class... effect vs. affect, I think I got it right
**I hope