Posts Tagged ‘mom’

Say What?

My daughter is 14 months now and developing into a person, someone with a unique personality, quirks, a sense of humour, and a tiny itty bitty attitude.

I have no idea where she gets that from.

Recently I’ve noticed that I’ve been saying things to her that I never thought I would hear myself say.

Things that only others parents can relate to.



“Stop waving the spatula at the cat! That’s not how you make friends!”

“Just let me pick your nose and then you can watch Mickey Mouse.”

“Please stop mashing banana into your hair.”

“The chair is not to be chewed on, nor is the deck, go find something else to put in your mouth.”

“Really? Are you that hungry? Do we starve you? Please stop eating the deck.”

“You don’t have to scream and pull on your hair like a lunatic, I will take you pig tails out, even though they look super cute and without them you look like you’ve been through a windstorm.”

“Please don’t lick the garbage can.”

“Any and all cat food that is in your mouth should be put into mommy’s hands immediately!”

“No thank you, I’m stuffed and half chewed hot dog isn’t really that appealing.”

“Hands out of your poop!!”

“Mommy’s going to have a bath alone tonight because you pee in the water.”

“Hey! Face OUT of the Cat dish!”

“No, we don’t eat ants, dirt, or rocks!”

“Whatever, eat the dandelion, yaaaahhh, mmmmm.”

“I’ve asked you twice today to stay out of that cat food! Show me how many pieces you have in your mouth!”


I know you’ve all said these or a variation of these things to your children!

What ones were your best or most shocking?

Let us know and we’ll vote on Friday!! Winner to be announced Monday June 27!!

What do you win?? Well there’s a postal strike in Canada right now so you don’t win any goodies through the mail, BUT you do win your blog button on my site for a whole 2 weeks!! ACK!

ADDITION: The winner will also receive a very useful and totally hot giveaway! Don’t miss out!!


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The destination I aim for everyday after work.

My family inside awaiting my arrival, planning dinner, their voices echoing off of the kitchen walls, and baby squeals travelling to meet me at the door.

A sweet welcome.

Until I see the mark.

The dental records from another chid left in my baby’s arm.

I hear Brian ask me to be calm so he can relay the information.

The world turns from shades of red to black, I picture myself growing claws out of my finger tips and sharp fang like teeth capable of ripping into any opponent.

A low growl is forming in my throat and threatening to escape as my body fights the urge to crouch into a pouncing position.


Is all I can mutter. The room is dark, a spotlight shines on the red teeth marks that appear to be pulsing on my daughters arm.

“They don’t know, she didn’t cry or make a fuss, they noticed it late in the day.”

I feel a sharp pain in my gut, someone is stabbing me, but when I look down there is no blood. My head is pounding.

I pace back and forth like a caged animal attempting to keep my composure but the red marks scream at me.

You weren’t there to protect me!

Rushing to my daughter I ask her what happened, who hurt her?

She touches my face.

My growl turns into tears.

She smiles at me and reaches for my hair.

My sharp teeth meant to cut into my prey retract.

She laughs and says “mama?”

My claws fall away and I touch her angry marks

I wasn’t there to protect her.

But she was ok.

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When I was in 6th grade my mom gave me a card. A simple blue card with a picture of flowers on the front.  The purpose was to comfort me, to encourage me to stay strong, to give me courage.

Because I was being bullied.

Cards and notes like this one would show up on my dresser periodically throughout the rest of my childhood. Folded words purposely placed to tell me she was proud, that I was loved, that she was listening.

Put there to help me cope.

Recently I found my box of cards.

The memories danced off of them as I ran my hands over their surfaces and across the curved lines of my mom’s smooth writing. Her words placed with intention and with love.

At the bottom of the pile was the blue card.

The one my mom had given me in grade 6.

Its edges weak and tattered, corners worn, and ink faded.

Taped to the back was a note.

“Be yourself and your friends will love you. We love you.”

Words to live by.


Happy Mothers Day Mom I love you more than I have words. Thank you.

And Happy Anniversary Mom and Dad – Today! Thank you for raising me the way you did, for teaching me to have morals, determination, integrity, and to stand up for myself and what I believe (in).

You gave me life, what a gift. Xo

Let's BEE Friends


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The Mom Pledge

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Blogging was something I had thought about for a long time but because I wasn’t part of the community I had not idea the impact it would have on me until I began. Learning about the technical aspect and all of the pieces that go into a blog almost scared me off, but I persevered. I needed to write.

I was battling a war with PPD/A and needed an outlet, a place to express myself. Feelings of vulnerability hit me like a wave as I hit publish and I had no idea what to expect from cyberspace. I was afraid of being judged, criticized, and laughed at. But, as I wrote I was linked with more PPD survivors and more moms.

I met The Empress.

I was filled with gratitude.

Finding this community was keeping me above water.

And then?

A comment so cruel that I had to read it twice. I stared at it in disbelief. Where had it come from? Why would another mom, another woman write such hate?

I had a choice, I could acknowledge the comment or ignore and re-read all of the positive comments received that day.

I deleted.

Negativity is not welcome.

Bullying is not welcome.

This is why I took the Mom Pledge.

We are all mom’s here doing the same job,  here to support one another.

Here surviving.


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The attention shifts, suddenly your child isnt the centre of the universe for five minutes!
That cant be!
People in the room are talking about MY child. My beautiful, innocent, never did a thing to deserve the wrath you are about to unleash because you are a jealous loon who probably didn’t attach properly with her own parent, child.
We’re all laughing and jovial. We cant believe the things shes accomplishing at 10 months. You dont care. You want to talk about your child!!
About HER accomplishments.
About HER habits.
HER bowel movements.
The other moms chime in, comparing notes, laughing at the pitfalls of parenting, questionning each others methods and what has worked. We all take turns in the spotlight.
Not you!
You want the light shinned on you for the whole show!!
YOUR BABY started talking early because she’s advanced.
YOUR BABY slept through the night the day she came home from the hospital
YOUR BABY didnt need a baby gate, she just knew how to climb stairs.
YOUR BABY made her own 5 course meals.
YOUR BABY works for NASA.
I might fall for your competition if i wasnt used to this behaviour at every meeting, if I was concered about my baby’s development, or if you were my friend. But I’m more mature.

And by mature I mean up yours.


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Through Tears


This week’s Red Dress Club Red Writing Hood prompt asked you to begin your piece with the words, “I could never have imagined” and end it with “Then the whole world shifted.

My post is dedicated to my Mom.

I could never have imagined I would hear those words. I sat at the dining room table, staring at my mother, who’s eyes were already red, waiting for her to take it back, to tell me she was kidding. I looked at my dad but he wasn’t laughing. They were serious.

I was 16 years old, I was selfish, my social calendar was my prime concern, I knew it all and had the answers to everything.

I didn’t have an answer to this.

I looked at my mom, tears were streaming down her face now and she was wringing her hands. She looked at my brother and then me wanting badly for us to tell her we were happy, that we loved her, that we would embrace this news.

My heart pounded loud in my ears as my mom, through tears, told her story, stopping only to wipe her eyes and accept pats on the hand from my dad.

My dad.  Always supportive. I love this man more than words can express. My heart hurts when I try to voice how much.

My brother and I asked questions, we said hurtful things.

My mom’s years of pain didn’t register.

I was 16, I was selfish.

Anger swept over me and I wanted to cover my ears making it impossible for any more words to get in. I was the oldest and jealous of losing my place.

Sounds kept getting in and swirling around in my brain.

My mom had a baby.

She gave him a better home.

My mom is brave, strong, amazing, inspiring.

I have an older brother.

I wasn’t the oldest.

Then the whole world shifted.


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