everything always changes
The only constant in a woman’s life is how much she changes. With time, with life events, with love - of self and for others. I think about this phenomenon of change often. Of how much women evolve over a lifetime. Physically, mentally, and emotionally; and how this dictates our relationships with both our own bodies and the world we live in.
In less than 3 months, I will be 49 years old.
That number looks strange to me. It’s not the age of the person looking back at me in the mirror. She is 27, or 32, …maybe 38. Definitely not almost 50.
And yet, the truth is what it is.
There are changes happening once again to my body, I can feel them coming. I glance down at my fingers typing right now and I see glimpses of my mother’s and grandmother's hands. I walk naked past a mirror and see more dimpled cellulite on my legs and bottom, and the increasing softness of my midriff and breasts. Some days it feels like I am teetering madly on the edge of this time in my life, between welcoming these changes with wide open arms, and fighting them off with every fibre of my being.
Most days though I feel gratitude. I am thankful for the abilities that still exist for me and my body. I am grateful for every inch of this body - even the few more that have made me their home over the past couple of years. I am grateful for the man who still looks at me with both love and lust in his eyes after 20 years of witnessing all of these changes, and the children who still manage to fit and find solace in the softness of my arms.
I know that right now, today, I am stronger than I have ever been - both physically and mentally. Age, experience, and half of this life living with a chronic disease have made me an expert in my body and listening to the subtle cues and signs she gives me indicating her needs. Needs that I no longer ignore while I am taking care of everyone else’s. She is fed when she is hungry, touched when she is desired, moved when she feels stagnant.
I no longer say mean things about or to my body, or list off the things I would change about her. I no longer buy into the cult of youth that women are force-fed incessantly by media and culture, and I remind myself that the only gaze that matters is my own.
I do keep a tally of all the amazing things my body has done - growing life within her, birthing said lives, knitting herself back together after multiple surgeries, and all that she continues to allow me to do. I celebrate all that we have gone through in our time together and make bucket lists for our future adventures. And again, I am reminded of how much I do actually and truly love her.
Me.
Of how much I love me.
Right now. In this version of my body.
N~
I participated in a photoshoot with Deanna Slusar of Moss and Moon Photography here in Edmonton a few weeks ago. It’s a series called #MillworkWomen and she asked us to write a few words about womanhood and body image. This was my contribution. Check out her work on Instagram - it’s beautiful and witchy and lovely in so many ways!
(This post was written on October 10, 2020, I am republishing it here as part of the transfer of my posts from the newsletter platform I am no longer using. I am getting closer to the big 5-0 and still feel all of this and then some! )
a final goodbye
In two days, the new owners will take possession of the #naturalurbanhome.
They will move in, change things around, add their own style and signature and smell to the place, and make it their home.
As I sit here in the COLD waiting area at my kid's dance studio writing this, I am surprised by how NOT upset I am about this. (Seriously someone needs to turn up the damn thermostat in this place!!)
I went to the house today to do one final walk through every room, one final peak in every drawer and cupboard, and one final exhale in this beautiful house that was our home for the past five years.
It felt good to be there by myself this morning for this farewell. I wanted to leave the house today and take all of its memories with me, the good ones as well as the not-so-good ones, and hand over the new owners a clean slate and a space free of any negative emotions.
I do still love this house. I loved who we became as a family in this house. This house of concrete and glass was our literal foundation when our world was falling apart around us and was always a soft landing place to which we could return. It housed our bodies and our souls, and we learned to love deeper and stronger within its walls.
I love the beautiful pine ceiling in the living area so damn much, and I'll miss my apple martini countertops. My cold feet will miss the in-floor heating the most. (#HintHINT: Someone **ME** needs a really good pair of slippers for Christmas this year!)
I hope the new owners will treat the place well and add to its uniqueness.
I hope whatever energy and spirit and footprint we have left in the house continues to give its inhabitants strength and love and nothing but good juju.
Goodbye to you my #naturalurbanhome.
And thank you.
XO,
N~
Days that don't suck are a good thing.
Late last night I got an email from the little one's teacher asking if I could step in for a field trip in the morning. I knew Little L would be thrilled and so I agreed and then surprised her this morning when I told her I would be going on the trip with her class today. Of course, then I looked outside and saw the foot and a half of snow that we had to navigate through to actually get to school. I realized that the last time I was on a yellow school bus in a snow storm was sometime in late 1989 when my bus got stranded and stuck in traffic for 5 hours on our way home from school. This was going to be interesting.
And yet, despite the odds against us, the snowpocalypse, 50+ six year olds Grade One students going to see the ballet, and no time for me to get a coffee, it went remarkably well. My kid has the best teacher (I am not kidding, she is amazing and I am seriously worried that my kids are going to peak with their best teacher in Grade 1), and she had her class of 20 kids running like a well-oiled and extremely colourful snow-geared-up machine.
The ballet itself was so much fun. It was a production/adaptation of The Night Before Christmas put on by the students of Vimy Ridge Academy and I was incredibly impressed by the caliber of dance and performance that these kids have.
I watched Little L from my seat at the end of our aisle. She was the one kid who sat on the very edge of her seat, who clapped the loudest, and who noticed little details like the different costumes and different music used by the contemporary dancers versus the ballet dancers. I saw in her eyes that her love of dance is thoroughly entrenched and my life as a dance mom is all but inevitable.
After everyone had been safely bussed back to school and to a much needed "collation" (that's French for snack), I made a snap decision to go to the mall and check out Black Friday at a few of my favourite stores. It was a gamble to be sure; would I even make it there with the streets covered in snow? Would I find parking? How bad were the lines and how good were the sales?
In the end it was all worth it. I found a decent parking spot, the mall was surprisingly not as busy as I expected, and after circling Anthropologie a few times, I asked a sales person to find my lobster, the one item that I have been coveting in the catalogue for the past few months. She found it. I bought it - at 25% off too - and my day was officially made!
I am not sure what to call her yet (I am leaning towards Frida), but I do think I may be developing a little bit of a throw pillow problem...
Today was one of those days. One that defies (bad) expectations. One in which it feels like time is on your side, that there is plenty of it, and that all will be good in the world.
At least for today.
n~
folding to the panic and chaos
Last night, everything kind of hit me all at once. Some things I can talk and write about, others I can not.
I am trying to take care of everyone and everything and starting to feel very overwhelmed.
There is just too much going on and not enough of me to go around...
My reserves are severely tapped. I feel as if I am driving an old beat up car and just filling it up $5.00 at a time and never running on a full tank.
This is not a good way to live.
I spend my days daydreaming of sleeping for a whole day (or a whole weekend). Of taking off to a far away island somewhere to stand in the sun, like some kind of mom-version of Olivia Pope. Of not having to worry about anyone or anything for just a few hours.
It just doesn't seem to be the year for that.
We are in the height of flu season, I have had a head cold for over a week that I just can't shake, and I am perpetually paranoid about passing any kind of respiratory illness to my son. I know I am going to have a giant panic attack the day he gets his next fever and while I rationally know that this is ridiculous and that he will be fine, it's not something I can get away from yet.
Yesterday, he had a follow up appointment with the audiologist. It's an almost 2 hour appointment and halfway into the second hour, my phone rang. It was the kid's school. They were sending my daughter to the office and asking me to come pick her up because she had a fever and a tummy ache.
I froze. I didn't know what to do. I was on the other side of town, finding out that my son's hearing is not improving and may, for some reason, be getting worse, and my daughter was at school with a fever and a tummy ache and historically, these symptoms usually precede some kind of expelling of bodily fluids. I am fully aware that I have had far worse days than yesterday, and some quite recently, but it was just all too much. We cut the audiology appointment short and promised to follow up on another day for the debriefing part. We made it to the school within 25 minutes and I found her with a warm forehead, red cheeks, and a rumbling tummy, waiting quietly for me in the office. We all went home, changed into our pyjamas, laid out some towels on top of the bed (just in case) and had a nap.
Well, that was my plan at least. The kids "napped" for all of 15 minutes and then went off to play and demand things like snacks and Netflix access and reading of books and a bunch of other things that were not SLEEPING. And damn it, I was just so tired (and a certain someone got over her feverishness very quickly).
After dinner, The Consort and I managed to get the kids to bed early and then I planted myself in front of the TV in the living room and settled in for my version of a soothing, brainless, providing-order-when-I-feel-surrounded-by-chaos, activity: folding laundry. I sat and folded and surrounded myself with neat little piles of my family's perfectly folded wardrobes and felt a calm descend upon me.
And then I decided to watch Benjamin Button and cried all the tears.
{Sigh}
Maybe I should just take up colouring like my friend Elan has.
n~
Measuring
The list of my city's Top 40 under 40 came out this month and I know about eight people on the list. Young, ambitious, go-getters, doing good things for our city and for the world, and all that jazz. And as I read the write ups on all of them, all I could feel was, "SHIT! Most of these folks are 10 years younger than me, what the heck have I done with my life?" I had to stop for a minute and think of what I have done with my life.
I put myself through university, paid off my student loans (eventually), had a successful career in the Pharmaceutical industry, jointly saved up and paid for our destination wedding, designed and built THREE houses in the past 10 years, birthed two children, started my own business, helped to create a community of and for like-minded parents online, (re)discovered my love of writing and embraced my feminist self. And all of this life experience, I am using to continue to write and opine and educate (myself and others) through my blog and on social media. It's really not that bad of a list... so far.
So much of what we do and see and say these days is so outwardly focused. We are online throughout our days seeing what other people are saying and doing, waiting to find out what the "right" response should be about world events and news, what charity to support, whose bandwagon to jump on this week, what new fandangle all the cool kids are doing (um... hello Ello!). It can get a bit overwhelming and sometimes even depressing, especially when we start feeling like we don't measure up to the these standards of success or status or "coolness" that we have given credence to.
One of the major lessons that I have learned in my life, and to be honest, probably just in the last few years (so, that would be AFTER 40) is that making a difference in the world or in someone's life, is not about doing the "volunteer all your time, give all your money, go to al the GALAs and do all the FLASHY things" stuff. It is about finding what speaks to your heart, being true to yourself, setting healthy boundaries and not living within a framework of fear, shame, and scarcity - which too often seem to be the default settings for many in our world.
It's the scarcity one that gets me all the time though. You may be more familiar with it as, " I am not ___________ enough.". And it is statements like these that can send me into a tailspin of self-doubt and negative self-talk faster than a room full of toddlers an hour after eating red-icing covered cupcakes. It is what happened as I was reading all the Top 40 nominees and their long lists of accomplishments. It's what happens when I read bios for other bloggers and presenters at social media conferences and yes, it even happens on the playground or school yard when I start hearing about all the extra curricular activities and programs other families have their kids enrolled in. I get out my imaginary measuring stick and it all goes downhill from there.
I sometimes feel like the scarcity issue is a double-edged sword too. One doesn't want to seem too cocky about oneself either and be all, I am enough, I have enough, I DO enough. Especially if there are those around you who actually don't have enough. There's this feeling that lurks around telling us that if we are TOO happy, then there must something wrong with us. This results in conversations that turn into a competition for who can out-misery the other. "Your kids won't eat their lunches? Well, that's nothing, MINE will only eat peanut butter, from the jar, with a special spoon." "You think you are busy with your two kids in hockey? HA! I have to balance hockey, piano lessons, KUMON classes AND gymnastics for three kids." In the end, there really are no winners in a misery war.
The thing with these imaginary measuring sticks is this. One - they are IMAGINARY! And two - there is no standard length for them. Everyone's is different and all of these things that we feel the need to measure: happiness, success, business, balance, etc..., they are subjective. Someone having a REALLY good day and saying so on Facebook, doesn't mean that your day is bad. Someone getting a writing gig with a magazine, while you still trudge away writing on your little blog doesn't mean that your writing sucks. And someone whose kids do ALL THE THINGS, doesn't mean that their kids are any happier than or are "getting an edge over", your kids. What all of this means is simply, different strokes for different folks.
I am sitting here looking over the Top 40 list again and doing so from a slightly different angle. One where I am not in the picture. One where I can be proud of the young, vibrant voices of the women and men that live and work in my community and my city and that are putting it on the map for the world to see.
I am putting away my measuring stick. Or repurposing it. I think I'll make it into my new walking stick and I'll take it with me along this path that is MY life. One in which I really am enough. One where I will walk beside my fellow humans, who also have their own walkings sticks. Some taller than mine, some made of a different wood, some decorated with fancy inlayed beads. And all the while, while we may admire each other's sticks, I'll know that my own stick is the one that keeps me upright, helps me navigate my footing in this world and is the one that is perfect, that is ENOUGH, for me.
n~
Sunday
Sundays around here are usually our lazy days.
Except when they are not.
Like today, when The Consort and I go into some kind of weird deep cleaning marital pas de deux. He vacuums and does the toilets and takes care of small repairs or hanging of things that have otherwise just been resting up against the wall; while I wash the floors, change bed sheets, do all the laundry and dust all of the tiny things on the kids shelves in their rooms.
The kids kind of stand back and wonder what the heck has gotten into us, or find a channel that is playing back to back kids movies and try their best to stay out of our way. They have yet to catch this same kind of cleaning bug.
In the midst of it all though, I have to stop obsessing about washing all the water drop stains that my dog leaves on the floors every time she drinks from her bowl and sit back and be thankful for all that we have.
So I stopped. And here you go...
Today I am grateful for the following:
1. A husband that washes toilets - all 5 of them in this house! Seriously... in my books this is a major win and quite possibly one of the reasons I agreed to marry the guy. (And yes, I know, we have way too many bathrooms for a family of 4.)
2. Slow cooker meals that I can start at 10 AM, that fill my house with beautiful aromas, and that convince my mother-in-law that I am a genius in the kitchen!
3. My kids being just tall enough to give me what I think are the best, super-tight-around-the-waist, hugs a mother could ever ask for.
4. Persimmons.
5. My husband holding my hand while we watch Walking Dead, because he knows that even though the show terrifies me, I can't look away!
~~~~~
Grace. It is a simple thing, but still a practice. Take care of and notice the small things too.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I really must get out those damn spots!
n~
how many joy units is that?
The Consort has been hounding me for months (or possibly years) to read a book. Not just any book, because I do read a lot of them, but one particular book. This one.
And this weekend I caved. I had just finished a different book and was looking to start another and he, ever so nonchalantly, went to my bedside table, grabbed this book and placed it beside me on the couch.
OK, dude. I get it. I'll read the damn thing.
We all have those books that transform us or speak to us in ways others do not. When my husband was leaving his family home and taking off to the adult world of undergraduate studies at the ripe age of 17, the original "Wealthy Barber" book was given to him by his father. This is HIS book.
I am pretty sure when TC is doing anything financially-related in any way, the voice he hears in his head is David Chilton's. "Is this worth it? Are the joy units going to last long with this purchase? Have you saved FIRST?"
I fully admit that I am the spender in our family and The Consort is the saver. I do the clothes shopping for most of us, all of the grocery shopping and I am the one who buys the gifts for all the birthdays, anniversaries and holidays. Yes, we do have a family budget, that I stick to - about 87% of the time. It's that other 13% that gets TC's knickers in a knot and why he wants me to read what Mr. Chilton has to say about finances.
The funny thing is, that in the past year, I truly believe that my spending habits have changed. Or more specifically, my shopping habits have changed.
I know that part of the change has been a response to the life-altering time we experienced this past summer and from that has come much reflection on the things that truly matter in our lives. And you know what? More stuff is not IT. Another part of why my shopping habits have changed, is that I am much more aware of the influence that marketing has on us as consumers. Years of being a breastfeeding advocate and seeing the ways that infant formula is marketed has rubbed off and has me looking a lot more closely at the way ALL products are marketed. Being a blogger and a mother, I've also seen the way that marketing has taken hold in this age of new media and I am VERY sensitive to this in the blogging world. I am more aware now about the message I am hearing and who that message is coming from as well.
~~~~~
This past weekend, we were supposed to go away for a short little mountain getaway. That didn't happen, mainly because it snowed and I have crap for tires on my car and we couldn't even get out of our little neighbourhood, let alone make it 300 kilometres to the lodge in the mountains. For the next four days we had to use my husband's compact car (which thankfully has AWD and all-season tires) for all our outings. What we both noticed over the weekend is how surprisingly easy it was to function with less car. And this included multiple errands, grocery shopping, and hauling all four of us around to various activities to make up for our missed trip to the mountains.
I have also recently purged every single closet in this house. My wardrobe alone is roughly HALF of what it was a month ago (if you know me at all, this is HUGE!). I am not quite down to Capsule Wardrobe numbers, but the philosophy behind this concept is guiding me right now in regards to what I keep, what goes and how I look at clothes shopping now. It's definitely a change. Especially for one like me, an admitted shopaholic, who gets greeted at Anthropologie BY NAME!
All of these things - reading David Chilton, surviving a week as a family of four with one compact vehicle, minimalizing our wardrobes - have happened at the same time and have caused a kind of cosmic convergence in my mind about how I want to live my life and about the lessons about money and spending and the value of what we HAVE versus the value of what we DO, that we are modelling for our children.
My family lives a very comfortable life, one that I am so very grateful for each and every day. It's just time for me take stock of all that we have, not get caught up in the game of keeping up with the proverbial Jones's and resist the messaging that we are bombarded with each day that we need MORE! More car, more house, more toys, more clothes, more STUFF.
Because we really do not.
My kid is not going to remember the expensive brand name winter boots he was wearing when he was eight years old or what kind of car I drove him to school in. He is more likely going to remember that his Mom bought new snow pants for herself that year, so that she could play outside and build a snow fort with him.
And trust me Mr. Chilton, the "joy units" from that purchase will never depreciate!
n~
An 11th hour List. #nablopomo Day 4.
Nothing like leaving it to the literal 11th hour to get a post written for the day! I has such high hopes for the post I wanted to write today, but it will just have to be tomorrow's. It's a good one, I promise.
Tonight, you get a list.
A list of the things that I did this past week that made my heart smile:
1. I like to shop alone. I am not one for the big girls shopping trip to the mall, to try on all the clothes and such. If you want me to come and be your personal stylist, sure, I'll do that, but if I am shopping for me, I prefer to be a one-woman wolf pack for that. However... the problem with solo shopping is getting a second opinion that is not from a commissioned or quota driven salesperson. So, I like to be that for other solo shoppers like myself. The lady at J. Crew this week was very appreciative of my feedback and I left with my new jeans and a feeling that I helped a fellow lone wolf who rocked that purple t-shirt way better than I ever could!
2. My nephew is two and a half years old and we spent our first one on one day together last week. Being the youngest of all the little cousins, it's not very often that we are not together with the rest of the family, so this was a treat for both of us. We took Willow to the dog park and he was all, "Come on Willow, let's g0" the whole time, even when she was trying to lick his face and/or knock him over with her enthusiastic tail wagging. We then headed out to the play cafe and I saw a whole new side of the kid come alive. I think this had to do again with him being on his own with me, and not in the shadow of his big sister or big cousins. He was free to do what he wanted, explore the place on his terms and be all kinds of busy and happy and silly and also, one of the older toddlers there that morning. We had fun. He was a tuckered out little boy and I was a tuckered out auntie by the time my sister picked him up that afternoon.
3. I attend a weekly yoga class at my friend's neighbourhood studio. We are a small group of women, most of whom know each other or run in similar circles of friends. Last week only three of us were in class and while I won't share any details of what transpired or what was said in that room (it's a safe/sacred place for quite a few of us), the mutual sharing and connection that happened that day was extremely good for my soul. I am grateful for each and every one of these beautiful, vulnerable, perfectly imperfect women, and our weekly sharing of energy and light with each other.
4. I cleared out the storage room. This may not sound like much, but after a while all the "things" that just keep getting piled in there to be dealt with "later" become too much. Seeing it all makes me feel like my own insides are cluttered up with STUFF and I just need to be brutal about going through all of it and either chuck it out, or give it away. Which is what I did for three hours on Saturday and then a trip to Goodwill on Sunday. It felt good to do this. Like REAL good.
5. I bought a new pillow. It makes me super duper happy!
~~~~~
What did you do this week that made your heart smile?
n~