The to-do list of a mommy is endless. We keep the house together, we keep everyone fed and clean and happy, and some of us even have work outside of the house to get done too.

Yet we see them everywhere we go. Mommies wearing a brave face, along with her supermom cape. We see them at Playdates. At gymnastics. At swimming. At the bus stop.

Mommies who seem to have it all together. Mommies of children who certainly must always have three square (organic, home-made) meals a day, only the most natural of snacks. Her children were exclusively breastfed yet somehow were miraculously sleeping through the night at three months. At least this is what we tell ourselves must surely be happening over at her house.

But really? Are there really mommies out there who have it so together? All the time?

Maybe. But I would hazard a guess that they are few and far between.

The truth is, we are all human and we all struggle. We all have awesome days with our kids, and we all have some days that just feel so, so long.

That mommy you see at the park? You see that happy face she’s wearing? Maybe she’s having one of those ‘motherhood-is-so-amazing’ days. Or maybe she plastered that brave face on, determined to make it through a tough day. She put it on to leave the house, afraid that if she showed how she’s really feeling, then people would know.

They might see that sometimes she gets overwhelmed and she yells at her kids. She doesn’t want to… she’s just so, so tired. They might see that sometimes she is too tired to make dinner so she throws a pot of KD on the stove. And they might see that *gasp,* sometimes she puts cartoons on for the kids so she can have just five minutes of quiet.

Of course we all love our kids to the moon and back. We’d do anything for them. And of course there are lots of fun times. But the problem is not a lack of love. It’s about getting from one fun time to the next. Cause you know what they say? You don’t see the day-to-day in the photographs in that album on the shelf. The question is, how do we get through the day-to-day, from one fun time to the next?

Mommies are tired. New nursing mommies especially. The problem is not that the babies are waking up to nurse every 1-3 hours. Babies are hard-wired to do this. Their survival, in times gone by, depended on it.  They needed to ensure mommy was close by in case a sabre tooth tiger should wander into the cave.

But here’s the thing.

We are not meant to do this alone.

We are “supposed” to have the support of our mothers and aunts and cousins and 12 of our sisters, who all live in the same home. Nowadays, the lucky mommies have a really great, supportive partner who is home a lot, parents who are retired and live close by, and a really great group of girlfriends.

The problem is, most mommies do not have all of these supports. Add the lack of support to the exhaustion and the (false!) notion that asking for help (thereby admitting you are not supermom) would equal defeat…. means motherhood can be really, really tough.

And you know what the other problem is? We are not talking about it. I have been open about my struggle with the darkness. But a lot of us are keeping it inside, afraid that if we admit that this is hard, then we are admitting failure.

Everyone once in a while, close girlfriends will let their guards down and admit something they’re not proud of.

“I let her cry last night. I just couldn’t go in there again.”

“Sometimes I feel like I am just an observer. I feel so vacant and distant.”

We are all just trying to raise happy, healthy, conscientious kids. It might look different from house to house; we are all doing things our own way. But we have one important thing in common: everything we do we are doing  out of love.

Mommies everywhere, unite! Be gentle with yourselves. Be gentle with each other. And for goodness sakes, ask for and accept help! It takes a village!

So lets share our stories – the good and the bad. Share them with the mom at the park. Share them with girlfriends over a glass of wine.  Share them in the comment section below.

Having a bad, limited patience day doesn’t make you a bad mom. It makes you real. We’re all in this together, and knowing we’re not alone will make us all feel better about how we are managing the days between the celebratory pictures in the family album.

“Tristan,” I asked, “Do you want to wear daddy’s (coveted, both boys fight over it) Tripadvisor toque this morning?”

“No, I can’t wear that one again because my friends don’t like it.”

<silence>

Ugh. And so it begins. I knew this would happen one day… but to my little boy now? At four years old? In kindergarten?

I took a deep breath and tried to gather my thoughts. Tried to figure out what words to say to a little boy who has just embarked on this brand new adventure and just wants to have fun and be liked.

Because, yes, I know, right now we are only talking about toques. But I want him to be aware of his own self and to trust his own judgement so that later on when the debate has moved on from toques and toys and onto girls and drugs and alcohol… Well it’s then that I REALLY want him to confidently make his own healthy decisions, regardless of the paths his peers may take.

I understand the desire to fit in and be part of the group. But oh, how I want him to be happy in his own skin and to make his own choices and listen to his own heart.

“Tristan,” I replied. “You loved this hat, buddy. Do you still like it?”

“Yes, but my friends only like my dinosaur toque.”

I went on to explain how what really mattered was what HE thought – if HE likes the hat, than we should wear it. It’s ok to like different things from our friends.

In the end he chose the dino hat, but at least we had the conversation. I hope that the seed that I planted will grow and give him confidence to just. be. himself.

How do YOU encourage your child to be his/herself?

Reading the email of this news, I sat at my kitchen table sobbing. Not understanding how the world could be so cruel. Imagining myself in that desperate situation.

Friends close the family were struggling to find some way to help, when someone came across the website for the Sears Great Canadian Run. The event is a 60 or 100 km relay from Ottawa to Montebello. Teams of up to 20 do everything they can to fundraise leading up to the event, with all money going towards children’s cancer research.

Not knowing the family at all, but incredibly moved by the story – having children of your own certainly makes these awful situations hit a little close to home- I was happy to sign up for the team.

The big day was this past weekend… and all I can say is WOW.

The event was incredible. A lot of fun and very well organized. And the most amazing part?  With just 32 teams in our little city, We raised around $250,000 towards research into curing children’s cancer! Just 32 teams! Imagine what we could do with an even bigger crowd!

My team, named Gabriella’s Groupies in honour of our little inspiration, completed 100 kms (with 8 run by yours truly). There were some stiff joints, sore muscles, and some chilly bodies. But mostly? Mostly there was a lot of fun and cheering and camraderie and support. Support for our fellow runners and support for the cause. Love for those who are fighting the “C” word right now, and love for those who have tragically lost their battles.

And you guys? There were some people RUNNING SOLO OR IN PAIRS. So yeah, do the math – that’s 50 or 1oo kms EACH! Talk about inspirational!

One of the 50km runners coming into an exchange point.

There was an awards ceremony at the end of the long day and I think it was said best by one of of the speakers. Sure, the runners may have been uncomfortable at times, pushing themselves through the kilometres. But compared to a young child dealing with cancer every. single. day…. well, a few kilometres is nothing.

Next year, I hope to see YOU out there too!

(oh – and p.s: Donations are still being accepted for this event until November 13. Donate here!)

Seven days before he didn’t bawl getting on the bus.

Seven days before I didn’t have to physically put him on the bus.

Seven days before his emotions didn’t cause me to walk home with my own hot tears on my cheeks.

And now? My little scholar?

He’s loving it!

Grateful for kind friends and sensitive teachers who’ve helped make the transition easier for all of us!

From the moment Tristan got up that morning, he started saying, “I don’t want to go to school. I want to stay home with yooooouuuuuu.”

Of course I pumped school up and talked about how much fun it was going to be, knowing that even after we’ve all adjusted to this new routine, this is probably a line I’m going to hear a lot over the next 14 years. At least the part about not wanting to go to school.

I drove Tristan to school again and as we approached the doors he clung to my leg and his little lip started to tremble. Tears began to well in his eyes. I put on my own bravest face, and pulled out my cheeriest voice.

Again…. “You’re going to have soooo much fun at school!” and I assured him that  I would be there waiting for him when he got off the bus.

He reluctantly approached the teacher standing at the door and she immediately knelt down and wrapped him in her arms when she saw his tears.  As I walked away I looked back to see his head still resting on her shoulder.

I looked back at the teacher with Tristan in her arms and when our eyes met I mouthed, “merci.”

Thank you for taking care of my sweet boy… and thank you also for consoling me by comforting him.

And I knew that he would be alright… and that I would too.

Before becoming a mama myself, I was on the other side of this scene. I stood at the doorway welcoming my nervous grade one’s into my classroom. I never realized how much trust those parents were putting in me. I loved my students like they were my own kids, but I never realized how important it was for the parents that it be that way.

But now I know. Thank you to all the teachers of the world – for loving our children when we’re not there to do it ourselves.

I set my alarm for 6:00, wanting everything to be ready for the first big day and not wanting to be rushed.

I rose to a dark room. The darkness felt heavy, solemn.

I cried in the shower. I cried blow drying my hair. I stood there staring in the mirror, internally asking myself some difficult questions.

Have I done enough in the time he’s been home? 

Did we play enough? Read enough? Snuggle enough?

Have I prepared him well enough to go off to school on his own?

Of course I know the answer is yes, but in the silent darkness of that first day, logic was nowhere to be found. Emotions ruled.

We shared a special french toast breakfast and did the regular fanfare of first-day-of-school-pictures, where I had to use all my strength to hold it together.

I kissed his palm and placed a heart-shaped sticker in the centre of it, ready to feed him love from home at any time. (In “The Kissing Hand,” the mama raccoon kisses her little one’s hand before he heads off to school. Whenever he missed his mama, all he had to do was press his hand to his cheek and feel his mother’s love.)

Tristan and his “kissing hand”

I continued to fight the tears on the short drive to school, stopping talking mid-sentence occasionally to avoid having Tristan hear the strain in my voice.

And then we were there and his commencing of school happened somewhat like ripping off a bandaid. It all happened very quickly. We arrived and within minutes the doors were open and a nice teacher asked him his name and in he went. I knelt down to hug and kiss him, and wish him a wonderful day.

As he walked away into the school, he pressed his palm to his cheek.

And that’s when I lost it. With Tristan’s eyes no longer on me, I managed to squeak out, “Luc! I need a hug!” before the sobs started and my shoulders began to shake. It was a short lasting cry but one that had been building and needed to get out.

My little boy was off on a new adventure without me and I had to let him go.

I picked him up from his first bus ride after school, and as he peeked around the first row of seats on his way to the steps, his eyes lit up when he saw his mama waiting for him. I clicked a quick picture and enveloped him in my arms.

“Hey buddy! How was your first day of school?!”

“…a little bit fun…” was his reply.

…. a mostly positive response. I’ll take it! I know we both just need a little time to adjust!

I can’t believe tomorrow has arrived so soon! In the morning you are going to head off to big-boy school! I know you’re ready for the challenge and the excitement, but I know I am going to miss all the time we had together. For four and a half years I’ve had you as an almost constant side-kick. It is strange to think that we won’t be having daily discussions anymore about where we should go or what we should get up to.

Tomorrow when I drop you off at school, I know I will cry. Oh, I won’t let you see me. But after you’ve gone through those big metal doors, blindly trusting your new teacher, I know I will shed a few tears. I won’t be able to help it.

It won’t be that I’m sad per se, though I know I will miss you. I will cry cause I’m just so darn proud of the little boy that you are. I’m proud of your intelligence and you’re innocence. I’m proud of how kind you are and how you will approach any child and ask them to play. I am just proud of you. Period.

Where has the time gone? I know that I am helping you to grow wings and this is just your first little flight into a world where I know you can, and will succeed. I know this is the first step in one of many. But that doesn’t make it any easier to watch you go!

We’re all ready… Your backpack is packed and waiting by the door. Your lunch is made (watch out for the secret “I love you” note hidden inside!) and we read “The Kissing Hand” at bedtime.

Nothing to do now but head off on your next adventure.

Have fun my love! I love you!

Love, Mommy

I kept the thought in the back of my mind and with the first day of school quickly approaching (ACK!), I decided it was time to put the random thoughts floating around in my head into action.

I’ve always been inspired by the awesome children’s parties that Kelle Hampton throws. “One day…” I always thought as I drooled over her pictures. It’s the last week of summer holidays – and this dino party was just screaming to be awesome.

And awesome it was. At least I hope the kids thought so!

Several days of prep work, lots of which the kids were able to join in on, and hours scouring Pinterest for ideas and the party came together for ten of the boys’ little friends.

We had a great time in advance creating “rocks” with dinosaurs hidden inside that the kids would later crack open, and I spent an evening cutting out green foam dino feet.

The last night before the party I was debating carving a watermelon into this really cool dinosaur. I’d been single parenting all week (with Luc away on business) and was getting really tired. At 9:00 pm was I really up for a carving project? I finally decided to bite the bullet and plopped the melon down on my cutting board. Not the most spatially advanced person ever to live, I was unsure if I’d actually be able to complete the darn thing. I was picturing being so frustrated after hours of cutting and gallons of watermelon juice on the floor, that I’d end up just having to chop the thing up into pieces anyways.

Well it turns out I was not so bad at the melon carving after all. I’d come so far with the party, it kind of started to take on a life of it’s own. Can’t stop at the watermelon. Now, it was a challenge. A dare even.

Alright melon….I see your nostrils and eyebrows….

And I raise you some back spikes….

I did still end up with gallons of watermelon juice on the floor (and let’s be honest, it is a far cry from the original inspiration!) but I thought the finished project looked pretty great anyways!

The kids had a blast scouring the yard for hidden dinosaurs and smashing open “rocks” and “frozen eggs” to find the dinos nestled inside.

idea source

idea source

The “decorate-your-own-dino-feet”  craft was a huge hit. How often do you see 10 toddlers and preschoolers sitting quietly and engaged for a full thirty minutes?! Yeah- they thought it was that good.

idea source

And what kind of party would it be without food? All dino themed of course!

Hmmmm…. I wonder what kind of party we should throw next?

We made volcanoes/ witches brew in the backyard! The kids thought it was great and everything we needed was already in our kitchen!

The boys spooned the baking soda into containers (we tried muffin tins which worked but we found the volcanoes had more “power” with shot glasses.)

They added a few drops of food colouring to each one.

Lastly, they poured in the vinegar and loved to see the bubbling brew burst over the rim!

We repeated over and over (and over!) until we actually ran out of vinegar. It’s a good way to kill a whole hour!

Give it a try!

Tristan graduated from preschool!

His face, as he walked down the aisle sporting his paper graduation cap, was beaming with pride. He waved to us with a huge grin plastered across his face, proud of himself for reaching this milestone and so happy to have his family all there to witness.

It was a special morning. I will even admit to shedding a few tears as he marched down the aisle with his classmates to the melodies of “Pomp and Circumstance.”

Yeah, I know. It’s just preschool. It’s just that to me this graduation was so symbolic. He started out a 2.5 year old toddler, not yet able to fully express himself in a voice that still very much carried notes of babyhood. He’s now an energetic 4 year old with his own thoughts and ideas and dreams of becoming a pilot and a lambscaper (er… that’s landscaper.)

It’s an event like this that propels my mind forward. I imagine all the accomplishments and graduations that await us. I think about the kind, conscientious boy I am trying to raise, knowing that one day he will be a father, a husband.  And most close to home, I think about the first day of kindergarten, sneaking up on us oh so quickly.

This morning I had to stop for a school bus as a little girl was getting on, and I imagined Tristan on his first morning of school, walking up those steps, wearing his new little backpack, bravely looking back to wave, and I know I’ll feel it welling up inside.

I’ll hold it in, myself bravely smiling and waving back, but as soon as the doors close and the bus drives away, I know they will come.

The tears. I know they will come.

Tears of pride that my big boy is  going off to school and starting a new adventure.

Tears of sadness that our days won’t be spent together anymore.

Like any mother, I have some worries. I wish that I could just protect him from the world forever. But I know that that’s not the way it is. I know that my job is to prepare him to go off and be strong and kind and friendly and generous and fun loving and adventurous…

Yet I worry about not being there when he falls down on the playground and scrapes himself. I know someone will give him a band-aid and send him back on his way. But I won’t be there to kiss his knee.

I worry about the first time he feels the sting of someone not being kind to him on the playground.

I love my boy so much. Why wouldn’t everyone want to be kind to him and be his friend? But I know that’s not the way the world works and kids can be mean.

All I can do is love him and teach him that he is kind and capable and deserving… and the rest shall fall into place.