Mom Wisdom

Happy Mother's Day to moms everywhere. Love to all of those who are missing someone they love, whether it's their own mother, a grandmother, a step mum, a mother figure or, like me, their child, today. 

Thank you to P&G for including me in their latest campaign and taking my mom wisdom and turning it into art. May my words ring in my children's ears forever.

You can check out the entire gallery of Mom Wisdom posters, which range from hilarious to inspiring, and all of them beautiful, all curated on the P&G Thank you Mom Pinterest page.

Check out the Facebook page and share the gift of mom wisdom there too. 

Love to all you Moms, non-moms, hopeful moms, step-moms, mother-inlaws and of course, love to my mom. 

Love to everyone.

16 years

It's my 16th wedding anniversary today. 

I'm spending it alone. Well, not completely alone. Knox is at home, wheezing and sounding a bit like Darth Vader with allergies while Abbott tries to lick the snot bubbles out of his nose. Bruce is away at work. I haven't seen him in six weeks. He's not scheduled to be home until sometime in June.

I don't spend a lot of time writing about my marriage, other than sharing jokes or silliness, because really, who wants to read that stuff? Certainly not my husband, his relatives or my children. Privacy and boundaries are important, even if they make for really crappy writing material.

But the other day someone remarked on twitter that they didn't know how Bruce and I do it. How we stay married when we are never together. I gave a flip remark, because what else is twitter for other than to hone the fine art of sass, but I've been thinking of that question ever since.

There is no easy answer really. When it boils down to it, like most every other married couple I know, I just like him best. He suits me the way no other person does and hopefully he feels the same way. 

Marriage isn't easy, ever, even under the best of circumstances. And my husband's and my marriage is no different. Add in the complications of marrying young, being poor, the death of a parent, the birth of a unexpectedly disabled child, the surprise death of said child, crappy extended family dynamics, a failed adoption attempt, a successful adoption attempt, teenagers, disabilities, health problems, every day stress and a job that takes you more than 600 kilometers away from your family for most of the year, well, marriage is tough. 

I have spent more than seven years blogging about how I am no longer the person I used to be when our son Skjel was alive. How I have used my words to find myself and my place in this world.

But I have never mentioned how my husband has changed. How the man I married no longer exists. How could he? For everything I've been through, so has he. He's been beside me for more than half of our entire lives. He bears the same scars I do from all of the same hurts. 

When I see my husband now, I don't see the optimistic idealistic boy with big dreams and great hopes I once married. I see a gentle spirited, patient, intelligent man who wears the same look of sorrow in his eyes that I have. It's easy to miss his hurt because he hides it behind a big smile and an easy laugh. But it's there. I see it.

I'm proud of the man the boy I married grew to become. And I'm so grateful he's been by my side through it all, even when we were at our lowest, teetering on the edge of total collapse. He's always been the one to yank us back to safety. He's never quit on us, when quitting would be the easiest thing to do.

So I'll happily spend our 16th anniversary alone, while trying to avoid getting slimed by Knox's snot bubbles. Because it doesn't matter to me how many days my husband and I spend apart. I know he'll always come home to us. To me. 

He's the roots of our family, the one that anchors and supports us through it all. 

Happy Anniversary Bruce. Come home soon. 

There's poop waiting to be picked up and I don't want to do it.

I love you.

Lawn Ornaments

Once upon a time there was a magical enchanted land, filled with trees and wildlife and a young family who called this land their home.

Their yard seemed endless and huge. 20 acres, which isn't huge but so much bigger than the postage stamped size balcony they had in the city.

 There was a small dog who made the prettiest lawn ornament, always watching over his owner, always within reach of an ear scratch and a belly rub.

There was space for the little kids to play, the dog to run, the rabbits to hop. 

Soon the yard filled up with wildlife. Bambi often came to munch on the lawn.

A lodge full of beavers moved in, mowing down trees and making trails.

The moose came to eat all the shrubs and flowers the yard owners had so thoughtfully planted.

There was space for them all. Come one, come all, the crazy yard owners whispered, inviting the wildlife to frolic and play.

There was so much room that one day, one of the yard owners decided to build a zeppelin hangar. 

The yard seemed smaller. The space not as vast.

Then the little dog who made the prettiest lawn ornament passed away and the other yard owner decided there was space to fill.

So she adopted a new dog, who is the prettiest big lawn ornament she ever could want, who watches over his owner, always within reach of an ear scratch and a belly rub.

But this new dog, with this new barn, they took up more space than the yard owners had imagined.

With the little kids now grown into big kids and all the wildlife added into the space, the yard was starting to feel a little small.

20 acres can only hold so much.

But the yard owners told themselves, "It's all good. Our space is filled with love." And animal crap. But they ignored that and focused on the love and how the tightness of it all felt like a giant hug of love and not a poop-filled cramp.

Then he wandered in.

An even BIGGER lawn ornament.

He pooped on her lawn. Here, there, everywhere.

Suddenly there is no space for anyone. 

The straw that broke the lawn owner's back turned out to be a stray horse who has no owner. 

Now the yard owner twitches and waits for kids to pick up poop, dogs to shrink, wildlife to hide and the horse to found. 

I don't care what the husband says.

We're gonna need a bigger yard.

And a shovel for all the poop.

*The horse has been taken care of. Take care of your horses, people. Don't let them poop on other people's lawns. It's just weird.*