Behind the Smile

I've been struggling with writing this post for the last couple of days. I wrote it, I deleted it, I wrote it again. I saved it. And here I am again, re-writing, editing, thinking... and I'm still not sure I want

to post it... but here it is.

Monday night I was at a family dinner celebrating my parents' birthdays. Out of the blue my brother-in-law says "Oh my God, Robin Williams killed himself!" Understandably, everyone's reaction was the same: "What?!" And over the past couple of days we've been inundated with posts about his life, his amazing works, and perhaps not surprisingly quite a few posts about mental illness, specifically depression.

Let me be clear: The last flipping thing I want to do is capitalise on the unfortunate and very sad death of someone who brought millions of people joy and laughter. That is NOT the point of this post. In fact, not referring to it in my blog has been my main reason for not posting this piece again and again over the past few days. But I just have to speak to something that I keep seeing in the media and on facebook and twitter.





Almost all of the posts that take issue with people's reaction to Robin Williams' death start with or reference the tweet that Evan Rachel Wood & The Academy posted:

Back in the thick of things

Hello dear Readers,

Sorry I've been away for so long - the summer was insanely busy and having both the kiddos with me at all times makes it pretty difficult to keep up with the blogging as well as everything else.

Crazy things happening over the summer - aside from our regular back and forth between home and cottage - we finally managed to hire a new minister at our church (Yay!) and he and his family were getting settled. Then with September we kicked back into high gear with the big'un in SK and me and the little one settling into our regular day to day.

On a sour note: we had a flood at our house. :( Literally came home and the hubs said "It's raining in the basement!" Not even joking. Ceiling came down, floor is ripped up, our downstairs bathroom is going to have to be gutted, replacing the electrical panel and all kinds of other joyous little things. Ugh.

On an up note: The cake business with my lil' sis has been swinging merrily along, and I'm going to share some of our creations with you - let us know what you think!
Animal cake we made for our HeyOl'man for his birthday...

Our first ever topsy-turvy cake!

A special cake for my gorgeous Mama-in-law's 60th birthday. :)

A fall wedding cake with our first try at handmade gumpaste tiger lilies!

 My little pony cake!

Nana nana nana nana, Nana nana nana nana - BATCAKE!

I promise I'll be more with the updating now that we're sort of settled back into life

Tea.

Sometimes Moms shout...

An Open Letter to the woman who shouted at me in the Michael's parking lot for shouting to admonish my 5 year old.

Hi there,

Thanks for shouting at me across the parking lot while I struggled to get my two boys out of the car and into the store this morning. It was especially helpful for you to berate and admonish me for shouting at my five year old after he quite literally slammed his door open into the fancy SUV we were parked beside. Especially since, just moments before, I said to him "Buddy, these parking spaces are small, make sure you open your door carefully, okay?"

The Organizing Bug: Episode 1: Kitchen

A couple of times a year it hits me. The organizing bug. I start to get a little more antsy in our house. The amount of "stuff" we have around irritates me. I feel like I can't FIND things... and if I let it come to a head, I start to want to just pitch everything. Usually it's about this time of year that I start letting the organizing bug take over - and this time around I thought I would chronicle this little bit of wackiness and share it with you.

I started with our kitchen. Our kitchen is.... irritating. When we bought our house I thought - this is awesome, it's big enough for a kitchen table, has a big window over the sink... fabulous!

Then we moved in and it started to sink in that I only had 2 drawers in the whole kitchen. 2. Drawers. That the corner had a cupboard that was basically completely blind and in order to get at anything in those corners you'd  have to take practically everything out and then perform some kind of contortionism to get the things from the corner out. That the floor was SO not level and that the tile that I actually kind of liked wasn't actually marbled... it was really dirty - and had a TONNE of little nicks, nooks, crannies and such that just were magnetised for dirt.

There didn't seem to be a way that made sense for putting things away... and as such, every now and again, when I let the bug take over, I go "deep clean" mode. It started with emptying out all the cupboards and the 2 drawers. Absolutely EVERYTHING came out. I cleared off our counters completely, and then with a bleach/dish soap solution every counter top, bit of molding, cupboard, shelf, etc got scrubbed and wiped down. Then the purge.

At this point I need the hubs to come in and slow me down. Left to my own devices we'd have 2 plates, cups, bowls, and set of cutlery each ... and that'd be it. Honestly, I'd just started throwing everything out. The rule that I abide by is: if it hasn't been used in a year OR we have more than 1 of an item, it can probably go. There are exceptions of course. I only kept 1 peeler, but I kept 2 pizza cutters.

Now - I apologise, I don't have any before pictures... I was honestly far too embarrassed by the state of our kitchen to even consider taking any. I DO, however, have after pictures to share with you. Yay!

Emotional rollercoaster

So, when I was young, we did a youth musical at our church (actually, we did a bunch of them, but this one sticks out right now) and one had a song that went like this "This rollercoaster ride of life, lifts you up and lets you down. This rollercoaster ride of life, spins you round and round and round. Heaven knows, wherever you go, He will be there by your side. On this rollercoaster ride, of life."

Now, obviously, as teens,  we all totally related to this. I mean, when in your life are your more on an emotional rollercoaster than when you're a teenager. But this past year has been as much of an emotional rollercoaster as any time in my life.

Right now, I'm in the process of switching to a new medication. Fun, wow - right? ugh.

Soul-weary

Maybe it's the weather...

I can't tell you how many times someone has said that to me recently. After a while of friends and family dealing with the fact of my depression and anxiety, it's inevitable that someone, well meaning or not, will say something like "Maybe it's the weather." Or, even better, "Well, it being winter doesn't help." And those things may well be true. In fact, many people deal with higher than average levels of depression and sadness and just feeling "down" at this time of year simply because we don't get enough sunlight, and vitamin D. But, I'm pretty sure that taking a vitamin isn't going to make much difference here.

I wish it were that simple.

But a vitamin isn't going to stop that horrible, nagging voice in my head when I'm alone, or trying to sleep, or in the shower. That voice that reminds me of how I'm a terrible mother, a useless wife, a bad friend. That voice that tells me that I don't deserve my children, my husband, my family. That maybe those people would be better off without me around.

A vitamin isn't going to make me stop checking.... EVERYTHING. Compulsively making lists and checking them, and re-writing them because they're not in order, or they don't read correctly, or it's just easier to go to the computer, type them all out, make bullet points, so that I can cross them off, or check them off, or check the list 10,000 times a day.

But what IS going to help those things? I don't know. And I'm tired. My soul is tired. I'm soul-weary.

A Time...

Hello friends,

This won't be a terribly long or involved posting, but I'm hoping it serves as an explanation as to why I've been absent for a time.

You will remember from my previous posts about our terrible experience and loss in June 2012.

After losing the baby, and recovering from surgery, I had convinced myself that I was "getting better". That things would be sad and hard for a while, but that I would get by, that I could go back to work, back to my life, and that things would continue as they had been. I was wrong.

I went back to work in September, and while I had somewhat fooled myself (and apparently had fooled everyone else) I allowed my anxiety and depression to build to an absolute fever pitch, which resulted in my having a full-blown panic attack in the front hall of our house about 20 minutes before I was supposed to go to work. I couldn't leave the house, I couldn't go to work, I couldn't do anything.

I went to my doctor and we started a daily prescription regimen, which is helping - but I am not healed. I took an official leave of absence from my job in October, and I have not been able to go back. At this point - I am officially: unemployed.

Milk free?

So... while dealing with a few digestive issues, my doc has suggested I go lactose/dairy free for a couple of weeks. At first I thought, okay no big deal, that's a good idea to try and see if it makes a difference... then it struck me.

No. Milk.

No milk... in my TEA.

AGH!

So, I'm kind of a tea-snob. I'm not ashamed, I like what I like the way I like it. And that's tea. Tea with milk in it. Not all teas. Herbal teas require no milk (actually, that's kind of gross - no milk in chamomile, green or peppermint tea). Black teas require no sweetening (unless it's chai, then it's okay to put honey or agave in it, but NOT sugar). And I hate, HATE, the taste of soy. Ugh. What am I going to do!?

Where did we go wrong?

We had our first phone call from the school today. When I saw the school's name come up on the call display, I'll admit my first thought was "Oh, I wonder if my big'un is sick..."

yeah... not so much.

Nope, the call wasn't to let me know he wasn't feeling well, it was to let me know that my child is a problem. A serious problem. A physically-hurting-other-kids kind of problem.

I managed to get through the phone call with the teacher without breaking down - points for me. But after hanging up I will admit that I am at a complete and utter loss. I have no idea what to do. I have no idea how to move forward. I want to support the teacher, I want to work towards my big'un behaving appropriately in class and in the schoolyard - and while I was not even remotely shocked when she told me last week that he was having "listening problems" (Hi. Yeah. Welcome to my every day.) when she called to tell me about his behaviour today (even going so far as to having to make him sit completely alone at lunchtime) I was actually shocked.

Don't laugh.

Remember when they said, "Let kids be kids"? I do...

Ugh... so... dealing with some frustrations here blog-o-sphere... and I thought I'd share them with you.

First off: the big'un started school last Tuesday. He's 4, so that means that here in Ontario he goes to the "2 year Kindergarden Program"... that's school all day, every day. At 4 years old.

Now - I'm not actually complaining about him going to school everyday, because the big'un is one of those kids who really really really wanted to go to school. He loves it. Everyday he comes home and tells me he had a good day and he wants to go back tomorrow. Fantastic! He even decided after the first short week of school that he no longer wanted to come home for lunch (even though we live, literally, around the bend from the school) but that he wanted to stay all day and eat lunch at school with his class. No problem, done. He's stayed for lunch every day since then.

But then last night was "Meet the Teacher" night. We've met the teacher a couple of times already, spoke to her briefly on a few occasions of pick ups and drop offs, but yesterday afternoon she met the Hubs when he picked up the big'un and told him that they were having some "listening problems" and, even worse, that when she told him to listen to her and look at her when she was speaking that he "made a gun with his fingers and pretended to shoot at her.".

Fabulous.

OMG... I'm 30.

I've been thinking about writing this post for some time now. I'll readily admit - I'm not one of those women who wants to stay forever at 29. I am embracing 30 wholeheartedly. Honest. And it's not turning 30 and getting older that's weighing on my mind, it's looking back over the last 30 years of my life, and wondering -like the great Talking Heads song, Once in a Lifetime - How did I get here?!

When I was a kid, and someone asked me about my  future, I probably would have said something really kind of trite (I was sort of an obnoxious, sarcastic kid) like that I was going to "Be a lawyer, but not a criminal lawyer, a business lawyer, so I won't have to represent real criminals".  Shows what I knew then, huh?

Later on, I would have said that I was going to be a teacher (nope, don't like kids that much), a musician (who really makes it in the music business anyway? not me!), a youth minister (well that lasted about 2 years), a writer (well.... maybe....), and hey - I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up. ;) But I don't think, when growing up, I ever - EVER - mentioned being married, having kids, volunteering at my church in many forms, driving a school bus, being a crafts person, an artist. I didn't know what it meant to "grow up".

Grieving and Moving forward.

It may sound silly, but I feel like writing this post is necessary for my current grieving process. Sometimes, the best thing about a blog is that you get a chance to get everything out at once. It's not a conversation with someone (though those are often awesome as well), you can cry and keep on typing, you can edit how you say things (without your readers ever knowing that you aren't so clever the first go-round all. the. time.) and you can blog about difficult things, and move that little bit forward in a tough situation without having to sound calm, and collected, and any other manner of emotions that you're not.

Dear readers, some of you may know, many will not, that I have had a "tough go of it" (as my Grandmother would say) lately. And I know that there will be parts of this story that get left out, there will be parts that aren't chronological, and to be perfectly honest, no matter who ends up reading this, the reality is, it may not be for you. The reality is that this blog post is for me.

As I sit here to write this, I am almost 2 weeks post-op for an emergency surgery for a ruptured ectopic pregnancy. Layman's terms: I had surgery because I had a pregnancy that implanted in the tube instead of in the womb, and it burst, and bled. A lot. It was dangerous. It was potentially fatal. It was scary.

Whoa whoa, back up the truck, you might be saying. Or perhaps you're just staring at the screen. Don't worry, I'm not going to use a lot of medical terms, and I'll try not to give out too many "gory details", because I don't actually want to talk about the physical surgery here much. Believe it or not, that's not the hard part.

KTP Sabotage!

SO - Saturday evening just past we had a HUGE party at our house for the hubs' 30th birthday. It was a "surprise" and by that I mean - he pretty much figured it out, but was def. surprised at the fact that we fit about 50 people in our little house. Frankly - I was surprised at that. There was some cheeky talk about whether or not the floor would hold... but it turned out to be a pretty great night.

The house was immaculate (for like the first time since we moved there I think), the food was great (done up right by me, my Mom, and the Moms-in-law), the people were awesome (all our friends are, obvs.) and the party was generally considered a success.

And then I had to clean up. Again. Ugh.

It wasn't so bad, really, I mean, it was cleaning up the plates and cups, and the absolute MOUNTAIN of dishes that comes after a party like that, but otherwise, not bad at all. And Monday started the official first day of KTP.

Well 2012 - let's see what'cha got!

SO.... I took a little break from blogging - mostly because I was crafting my lil' fingers right down to the bones trying to get everything done for Christmas. It was a hard slog - but we made it. The grand total?

• MANY jars of jam, pickles, sauces, etc. Too many to really count
• 1 pair of knit socks, men's size 12 for my brother-in-law - the FIRST socks I have ever knit, especially considering I just learned to knit in the round this past year. They fit - hallelujah!
• 3 freezer paper t-shirts - 2 for my other brother in law: a Star Trek inspired red t-shirt that says "Expendable" and a blue shirt that says "I'd agree with you, but then we'd both be wrong". (If you know my b-i-l, you'd understand). And one black on black tee with the batman symbol and the words "I'm Batman" in batman font in the middle (batman/big bang theory fans) for my hubby
• A gaming pillow for my sister's boyfriend. He has a bad back and needs something a little bit more supportive to lean on when hanging out at home. He called it a torso pillow because I made it out of a sweatshirt - hey - as long as he likes/uses it - he can call it whatever he wants!
• 2 super hero capes, personalised with freezer paper, and 2 super-hero utility belts with flashlights, noise stick thingies, and pouches for my two lil'heroes 
• knit infinity cowl for my super-fash sister who works downtown (and knew what it was right away - thank goodness - since my Mother looked at it said "What IS that")
• 1 knit slouchy hat (by request) for baby sis plus a huge vinyl purple flower pin, hand sewn
• 1 pair of knit mittens for my sister-in-law
• A knitting loom - made by hubby for my mother-in-law
• A rain stick, made out of abs pipe, filled with kidney beans, and modge-podged like crazy for my Dad
• A knit cardigan for my Mom (my first ever real garment)

PLUS I made all of our Christmas cards
PLUS I did the requisite amount of Christmas baking

I. Was. Exhausted.

Hard to fit?

Disclaimer: If you're a guy reading this you'll probably be either bored, confused, or weirded out. I suggest - if you're looking for something to occupy a bit of your time, other than reading my blog, that you click this link instead: Think Geek

Okay ladies - now that we're alone...

I'll start - my name is Tea and I am a hard-to-fit woman.

Now - I know what you're thinking: "aren't we all?" - and of course to some degree that answer is yes. But if you're able to walk into a clothing store at the mall and pick up ten items and have half or more of them fit the way they should - I'm not talking to you. It's not that you don't have fit problems, I'm sure you do - but the fact of the matter is that I'm totally completely 100% jealous of you. Just so you know.

No - I'm talking about women like me. Oddballs if you would. Now, usually I'm totally okay with being a bit
oddball - in fact, I relish it. I like being "different", and I'm a fairly confident person, so I can usually pull it off. But - brace yourselves ladies - I. Hate. Shopping.

Nope - not joking. Hate it. Ten-thousand percent, loathe with every fibre of my being, wish I could be just about anywhere else, would rather clean my bathroom than shop for myself. And here's why. I'm "hard to fit".

Here's the rundown so you know what I'm talking about:

The I want Daddy...s

It starts... hubby's gone, left this morning at around 5:45 am. We've been trying to explain to the boys for a few days now just how long Daddy's going to be gone (5 days, 1 work week, Monday until Friday, etc etc etc) and this morning I was thinking that our big'un (3 years old) was finally getting it. Nope... not so much. The I want Daddy's have already started.

This morning on the bus:
Big'un: Mommy, the kids wouldn't give me a high five and now I'm sad...
Me: Oh, I'm sorry Buddy! What would make you feel better, a hug?
*(nope)
Me: A glass of milk?
*(nope)
Me: A muffin?
*(nope)
Me: Well, what then? Anything you want.