Down With Halloween Loot Bags!

Do you remember getting multiple bags full of (dollar store, likely) Halloween goodies the week leading up to the haunted holiday?

I sure don't.

In fact, other than the actual day of trick or treating (or the occasional school party where we would fill up on as much pop and chips as we could stuff in our faces), I don't recall Halloween even being that big of a deal growing up.

Sure, the occasional home would go overboard in decor or create a spooky haunted house that would pretty much make me pee my pants, but Halloween wasn't seen as an opportunity for parents to go overboard in the classroom.

Times. Have. Changed.

Over this past week - the one leading up to Halloween - both of my boys have come home with multiple Halloween loot bags. Pencils, erasers, stamps and stickers. Colouring books, candy, balloons, and crayons. Whistles (SERIOUSLY HALLOWEEN WHISTLES). Glow sticks. All lovingly packed in jack-o-lantern bags with curled ribbon.

Don't be fooled by that happy face- this jack-o-lantern loot bag is full of dollar store treats and one-upmanship.

Now I am certainly not looking a gift horse in the mouth- I'm happy that people have taken their time and money to create a nice (often non-treat) goodie bag for my kids to enjoy.

But I can't help but wonder- WHY?

I like Halloween just fine. It's fun to get dressed up, put out a few decorations, carve a pumpkin (roast the seeds!), and watch my boys have the time of their life going trick or treating.

However, this new trend - expectation, even - of Halloween loot bags for every kid in your child's class just doesn't fly with me! It's become another parenting one-up show in my decently well-off neighbourhood. Parents are spending time and money just to out-do other parents.

Most of the stuff in these loot bags is disposable and plastic. Most of it (if I'm being truthful) ends up in my trash. And yes, I understand that some parents really enjoy crafting or creating little take-homes for their kid's friends...but I dare say this isn't the case. Most of these loot bags are created to impress other parents.

So I say - DOWN WITH HALLOWEEN LOOT BAGS!

We don't need pumpkin stamps or witch embossed pencils and, Lord knows, we don't need another whistle in this house!!!! I don't care that your loot bag was bigger than the loot bag that I got the day before or that you used your scrapbooking stamper to maker special pumpkin name tags on your loot bags.

Parents: if you really want to impress me, volunteer to carve or paint pumpkins with the kids at school! Volunteer to bring a special healthy snack for all the kids! Buy some Halloween-themed books for your child's classroom library! Contribute to school culture by volunteering to chaperone the Halloween costume parade! Start a costume swap!

There are so many ways we can enjoy Halloween without turning it into a "my Halloween loot bag was bigger and better and more personalized than yours" competition for parents.

I, for one, won't be sending my kid with any kind of Halloween give-away for his classmates so don't bother looking out for it!

(And truthfully, I won't be feeling even one ounce of guilt about it).

Hey! New Mom...

Seasoned moms: remember when you had your baby?  Your first baby.  The one that was supposed to eat, sleep, and poop.  Oh, and cry only when really necessary and only for a moment until you swooped in and figured out his or her needs with ease. The one that you went to birthing classes for and read a few (too many) books for.

The fantasy of having a newborn is often completely different then the reality.  

I mean, here's what we think we look like:

[accidentally good, blurry, sideshot post birth]

But in reality, here's what we're thinking and feeling (and looking like if we're being totally honest):

[swollen, exhausted, flustered, trying desperately to smile through the fear + pain]

In our dreams, giving birth will be awesome and our baby will be easy-going, easy to figure out, and fit neatly into the package we call our lives.  In reality, very few have that “dream” come to life.  I was reminded of that recently when I got an email from a friend who has a brand-new baby.  Every word she wrote reminded me of myself when I had my first son.  Reading between the lines, I figured that her email was saying what most new moms feel but don’t want to say:

HELP! I’M GOING CRAZY HERE.  I’M TIRED, I’M HUNGRY, I’M SORE, I’M CONFUSED.  I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO!!! WHAT DID I GET MYSELF INTO?

Remember that feeling?  I sure do!  Crystal clear to me.  

So while, when asked, I’m more then willing to give my advice (which really is only my experiences through trial and error), more often than not I find that a new mom only needs to hear a few things.

You are doing a great job!

New moms, it’s hard out there! 

Everyone has advice that is “sure to work”! Everyone wants to tell you how to take care of that 8 pound wailer in your arms.  Everyone wants to “help”.  And it’s hard not to take all of this to heart.  Because you are genuinely tired, and sore, and frustrated and confused.  You can’t really be prepared for the changes that will occur in your life when you have a baby.  You can’t possibly know how to deal with a child that you have no experience with. And with each piece of helpful advice or correction you feel a little less capable, a little less confident, a lot less sure of what you got yourself into.  

But the reality is, new mom, you are doing an amazing job.  

The fact that you are concerned about your baby shows that you are an amazing mom.  The fact that you cry when your baby cries shows how much you love that little thing.  The fact that you desperately search for ways to pacify your child highlights how great you are at motherhood. 

So somewhere, when you’re giving advice to a new mom, may I implore you to tell her:

You are doing a great job!

And really mean those words.  Because nothing will lift a new mom’s spirits more and ease a stressed-out, worried mind then having another mom tell you that you’re good at this whole mom thing. 

And new mom- I've been there. I know what it feels like. You're going to make it through the sleepless nights and the tough days. You're going to thrive, just like you baby is thriving right now.

And you know what else? 

I think you're doing awesome!

Vote

It was a sunny Thanksgiving Sunday when I took my two boys to an advance voting polling station to help their mom vote.

Vote.

It was a word that both my boys were unfamiliar with and one that we spent a heck of a long time talking about as we stood in line waiting for a poll to open for me.

First question: "what's a boat?" That took at least 15 minutes of our time.

Me:  "The word is V-ote" 
4 year old: "Ok, B-oat" 
Me: "NO, it's with a V. VVVVVVVote" 
4 year old: "Like we ride in to go to the cottage? Boat?I'm right mommy. It's boat. We is going to boat." 
Me: "ugh."

Then we finally got to the meat and potatoes of what I wanted to talk to them about:

Why do we vote? 
Why do we care? 
Why is it important? 
What is a government and who is in it?
Why can't we vote yet ?(that was my 4 year old's question and he was very incensed that he had to wait until he was 18 years old to "colour in da paper with da words")

Considering that we had a pretty significant wait in line, it was a good opportunity to really talk about what democracy is and why it is so important for us to actively participate in it.

I told them about countries where people do not have the right to choice. They asked questions, helped me hand the election officials my ID, watched me fill out my ballot, and then saw me put my vote in the ballot box.

I'm not really sure how much they understood but I'm glad I got the chance to take them with me as I cast my ballot and talk to them about how important it is to protect and respect our freedom. I hope they never know a Canada that doesn't have the rights and freedoms we enjoy today. I really hope they are able to walk through a door just like we did on a sunny Thanksgiving Sunday and cast a ballot without fear.

The search for thankfulness

It seems fitting to write about Thanksgiving (which is happening right now in Canada) as I sit in my pjs, still full from Thanksgiving dinner #2 (one more to go, and I ain't mad!), sipping coffee, watching a rerun of Will & Grace while my kids eat waffles and apple sauce and fight about playing video games.

I have a lot to be thankful for.

That could probably be the end of the post but I'll go on.

Thankfulness is such a relative term. What I am thankful for, may not be valued in the same way by someone else. In fact, my thankful items many not even be seen as important or relevant to you- but that's what makes them all the more essential to my life.

The mere idea of thankfulness- where we step away from ourself for a few minutes and see the things that may feel mundane or run-of-the-mill but really bring us the most centred, consistent, joyful interactions- is foreign and uncomfortable to me in a lot of ways. I tend to get bogged down in the details of life and go straight to the negatives. I cry a lot, I worry a lot and I get wrapped up in the "what ifs" and "why didn't I's". There have been dark moments in my life where I have completely forgotten the opportunities for "thank you's" that sit in front of me every single day. The small things that enrich my life even when they seem like a chore often end up being the most important. So I have started looking for daily thankfulness opportunities, like these:

The school drop-off - I get to kiss my kids and remind them how important they are to me. I get to set the tone for their daily interactions.
The grocery shopping - I get to choose what food I will feed my family so that they are never hungry. I can afford the food I need and the food I want without worry.
Cleaning bathrooms - I have 3 bathrooms in my beautiful home, which is more than I ever could have hoped for growing up. I have a family that gets to use those bathrooms every day and enjoy clean, safe water and privacy. 
Work- I have a job. It pays me money!!! What I do makes a difference in the lives of kids and I have the opportunity to go to my job every day.
Technology- How often have you heard that technology is killing the social interaction? For me, it has been the complete opposite. Every job offer I have received in the past 4 years - big and small -  has been because of a social media connection: someone saw my writing and asked me to write for them; someone connected with me on Twitter and asked me to be a guest on their show; someone liked my voice and asked me to create content for their business. The list could go on but suffice it to say that all of my 'successes' have been connected to being online in a real, authentic way. 
My commute- I have a short commute relatively speaking but, while commuting, I am ALONE. As a parent of two busy and loud boys, having a few minutes alone in my car to be alone with my thoughts is HUGE!!! (and truthfully, the fact that I can blast music I love without worrying about little ears picking up on swear words or asking me what sex is- that's the icing on the cake right there!).
The selfie stick- I know. But when I realize how many awesome pictures my kids will have to look back on once they are grown or once I have left this earth, I am thankful for all the times I forced my family to take a selfie. 
My sore back- Seems weird to be thankful for this, but I am. I recently hurt my back and, while the pain has been unrelenting, it has made me realize how thankful I am for my good health and how lucky I am to so rarely experience pain or illness.

Truthfully, thankfulness is work for me and learning to be thankful isn't easy. It's a daily work in progress, but I'm willing to put in the work that true thankfulness requires, because without it my life seems to lose that spark and sparkle that make it worthwhile. 

And, in the end, when I look at the world and the sacrifices and challenges others face, I know that thankfulness cannot just be lip service- I honestly and truly am thankful for the abundance of goodness in my life. 

My ridiculously good looking family's Thanksgiving selfie, care of the selfie stick.
They'll thank me, I'm sure. 

But I never fail

I like to think of my blog as a dear diary to my kids; a place where they will one day come (if this type of space even still exists in a few years) to learn more about why their mom did the things she did, how she felt about decisions, what she struggled with, and how much she loved them (even when, I'm sure, it seems I'm crazy and not being the kind of parent they want me to be). Here's another life lesson from me to them:

I have spent my life pretty good at everything I have set my mind to.

I re-wrote that first sentence many times, but in the end I just decided to let it be what it is- I have spent my life pretty good at everything I have set my mind to.

The truth is that I haven't had a huge amount of failure. I fear failure. I run from the possibility of failure.

I was always excellent at school; I have always been a good writer and had a creative mind; I didn't like math but I wasn't bad at it; I could give a presentation on a moment's notice like no one's business; I got great grades in university and I loved my courses (it's getting nerdy, right?); I made friends; I had boyfriends; I moved to a new province by myself post-university and somehow managed to find my way; I've been able to pick and choose my job and pleasure/passion projects with ease. With the glaring exception of sports (which I do not play AT ALL because I know I won't be successful ever- seriously, walking is my sport), I have succeeded.

But then I had kids. And suddenly I wasn't so sure if I was good at anything at all anymore.

Parenthood presented me with failure after failure in a way that was so foreign to me that I felt like I was unable to function - the fear was so paralyzing. And it's safe to say I didn't handle it well.

The first thing I did, post-parenthood failure, was leave a career I was good at (teaching) for a career with a high, high failure rate (writing, and later television, and then back to writing).

When I made the decision to leave teaching and pursue my ridiculous pipe dream of working - MAKING MONEY - as a writer I was, once again, paralyzed by fear of failure.

Nonetheless, spurred on by my newfound feelings of failure thanks to parenthood, I set out to reinvent myself as a writer.

And guess what? I was a flop.

I started this blog, I wrote almost daily, I craved the keyboard- and nothing happened.
I pitched and pitched and pitched stories- and nothing happened.
I spent months looking at my inbox with anticipation, waiting for that "you are a genius writer and you deserve a book deal and your own magazine" email- and nothing happened.

I felt like an absolute failure. 

I kicked myself for leaving a career I was good at for something I was obviously so brutal at.

I cried. A LOT.

But then - as is often the case, isn't it? - I had nuggets and glimpses of possible success. A story picked up here, an editor's interest expressed there, my name in print just enough times to make me hang on to hope.

It took almost two years before I would consider myself even remotely successful.  Even once I had some success and name recognition, I found I still wasn't good enough. I still failed more than I succeeded. I got rejected and was told I wasn't good enough more than I was ever patted on the back.  Editors still turned me down (and often), (many) people expressed a dislike of my writing style, and I still (regularly) questioned if I was cut out for the writing life.

After years of struggling to prove myself and make my writing dreams happen, I allowed all the doubt and fear of (even more) failure to fill in the crevices and cracks of my heart until I started to hate the clacking of the keyboard and the ebs and flows of creativity. I dreaded trying to meet a deadline and I stopped pitching story ideas to editors completely.

I did what any sane 30-something mother of two would do and I all but stopped writing.

I pursued other passions. They were good passions that filled my heart and allowed me to be creative in a different way. I was on television. I found jobs that were light and fun. But after a while, I realized all those other pursuits were just fill-ins because I had abandoned what I really loved to do; I was hiding from the fear and the possibility of failing at  becoming a writer.

Fast forward to 2015.

It has taken a lot of soul searching to decide to go back to writing. I am approaching it in a different way this time- I am not making it my all or nothing and I am not hanging my hat on the possibility that I will write the next great children's book or viral magazine article. I am not assuming that an editor or agent will read my blog and send me an email that BEGS me to move to NYC with my family to become a full time author. I am not waiting with baited breath after I send out article pitches.

I am being more gentle with myself. I'm reminding myself that I love to writing and it's why I started on this road of certain failure in the first place. I am not counting hits on my blog or reading articles line by line to see how edited my printed piece is (they're always edited, for what it's worth). I am just writing and creating and letting myself get back into the headspace I need to be in.

And - the biggest of all - I'm coming to peace with the fact that I might fail.

Maybe I'll find out I'm not that good at writing after all, or maybe I'll find out I'm greater at writing than I ever dreamed, or (and this is most likely) I will discover that I am something in between.

But at least I'm back and trying to feed my true creative passion, one keystroke at a time.

If you're anything like me and you're struggling with finding that creative passion, set aside 20 minutes and watch this TED Talk from Elizabeth Gilbert. I must have watched this daily for two months after choosing to go back to writing this summer. Elizabeth talks about why it means to feel success and the biting sting of failure and how to find your elusive creative genius that lives within you - it might be just the medicine you need!