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To clean, or not to clean.

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Tonight I had good intentions of cleaning the whole house. Pretty unrealistic really, considering it’s 11:45pm and all I’ve done is laundry and play on facebook (oh, I did have a snack too). Lately I’ve just been feeling so unmotivated in the evenings after my hubby leaves for work. I used to have such energy and a desire to do all the things once he left the house – the only real “free” time I have and when I’m alone (sort of). Even though both kids are asleep upstairs, it still feels like I have a small ounce of freedom to do (almost) anything I like. And what do I do, nothing productive.

Hubby and I have talked about the fact that I need to get more sleep but it’s just so hard for me to do. I’m exhausted after being with the kids all day but after they’re in bed, I want to spend what little time I have with him before he leaves for work (even if it’s only for an hour, sometimes less). Thus the “things” I want/need to do get pushed aside until he heads out the door (especially lately). And I really need that quiet time. Even if it’s just for sitting around and scrolling through facebook on my phone. Just the simple fact that I have no one to answer to is peaceful (until of course one of the little munchkins stirs in their sleep).

I don’t like to clean and distract myself too much during the day when I’m with the kids. Obviously I’ll sweep and tidy up the dishes after we eat but recently I’ve really been trying to just leave housework until hubby wakes up or until after the kids are asleep BUT it’s SO HARD for me to do that. I don’t like the dishes piling up, or toys strewn alllll over the house, or dirt that needs to be swept up just chilling on the floor like hey girl, I know you see me here, but it’s cool if you leave me here to chill until later. I’ll just get my awesome dirt buddies to come join me until you’re ready to sweep us up. URGH.

I’ll be honest, sometimes when the baby is down for her nap I’ll put a movie on the TV or give my son the iPad so that I can get a few things done before it looks any worse. I realize it’s not that big of a deal to some people but it bothers me. Even if we aren’t expecting any company, having it clean just makes me feel better, happier. And for some reason all of my motivation is raring to go during the day, the worst time for me to think about cleaning because, kids.

Gah. Tomorrow is another day.

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Big thoughts.

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Tonight has been full of emotions and thoughts. Big thoughts, big emotions. A dear friend of mine is currently away, on the road to recovery. Recovery from alcoholism. My mind and heart can’t stop thinking about him and how I wish I could be there, in person, letting him know that we’re all rooting for him; cheering him on. I’ve been keeping up with his blog, following along on his journey to recovery, self love and peace.

“Believe in yourself because I do. It will be hard, it will break you down
but it will build you back up to become YOU again. You’ve got this!”

There are few friends in my life that I feel such a connection with. The older I get, the harder it seems to make that close connection so, when someone comes along (over 15 years ago now) who seems to just click, you can’t let them go. Even when they are struggling and you don’t know the reason until they are already on their recovery path ~ and that’s ok. You support true friends; the ones who, as days, months and years pass, you spend less time with but you know that when you’re together again it will all be the same. As if nothing has changed. Although I don’t know the struggle of alcoholism, I do know what it’s like to feel isolated, alone and faking happiness. It was a very long time ago now and I’ve come back from that black hole into a place of love and true happiness.

I wish I could tell him that no one blames him for whatever wrongs he thinks he may have done. Recovery is the road on which he must travel and we are all here on the sidelines, his biggest supporters. I well up with tears when I think of how proud I am that he’s taken this step, to admit there is a problem and then taking action, doing something. I think about how our first visit/conversation will be when we reconnect and how there will be oh so many tears and laughter and hugs, big hugs. Sigh.

One of the best feelings in the world is when you hug someone you care about
and they hug you back even tighter.

Hello again.

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Well, here goes.

I was inspired to start blogging again after talking (well, texting, who am I kidding) with a close friend who recently started his own blog/journal about his road to recovery. He said, writing can be so therapeutic. And as I read that text I remembered why I started to blog in the first place; that exact reason! To get out my thoughts, good or bad, to help me get through the day(s) or to vent, or to randomly mumble, where no one has to hear what I’m saying unless they choose to (read it) – and maybe some of you will.

Where to begin. Life has had some big changes. The last post I wrote was in fall 2015, only a few short weeks before I fell pregnant with our sweet baby girl. Since then, my sister got married, I met my niece for the first time (she just turned 9 years old – that’s another post for another day), we moved to a new city (well, where I grew up anyway) and we added another little one to our family.

You could say a lot has happened since I’ve been here; my mind has been racing with so many different thoughts (some good, some bad, some questionable) and I hope to start writing them all out again. To help me get through this thing called life.

A little time.

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I ugly cried tonight. A lot. I feel like a terrible mother because I’m frustrated, tired and full of guilt for wanting some time alone.

My husband is in New Brunswick with my dad for a hunting/visiting/bonding vacation – my father was born out east. He has family (and land) there and has gone every October for as long as I can remember. This year was different though because my hubby went along with him; for 9 days. NINE. Eight overnights and nine daytimes. That’s approximately 216 hours, or 12,960 minutes. Which turns into long days of just me, our 3.5 year old son and our 3 month old daughter, figuring out what to do with ourselves. 

A lot has happened in the last year; I quit my job, we moved to a new city (well, where I grew up anyway) and added a second child to our little family. 

Back to tonight, right now. Right now I’m sitting in my daughter’s room holding her while we sway in the rocker (she just finished nursing). After multiple times trying to put her to bed an hour earlier than usual, I gave up and ugly cried while sitting with her; and nursed her again. I gave up on trying to get an extra hour of me time. And this week I need it more than ever.

My son is with my mom for a sleepover tonight. The times that my son goes for a sleepover, I have high hopes of doing things around the house because, let’s face it, trying to attempt anything more than the dishes is kinda pointless when you have a preschooler (and a baby). Yes, I do want to spend time with him and play, but it’s good for both of us if he learns to play a little on his own. Adding in a 3 month old presents its own challenges, which in turn, become obstacles at times.

Tonight I was hoping for a little quiet time, alone. I had it all planned out; my son was with my mom so I would put the baby to bed after she nursed around 9ish, finish the laundry, do the dishes, and sit on the couch relaxing. That plan went out the window, as I should’ve expected, like all my good plans do.

I’m exhausted, physically and mentally. The only time I have to myself is when both kids are in bed (and that’s if they don’t wake up multiple times). My little boy is inquisitive, energetic and curious (oh, and loud too) which makes this mama tired . He has so many little quirks and idiosyncrasies that make our days (and nights) longer than most. It’s wearing me down. And with hubby away until late Thursday/early Friday, the exhaustion is starting to take its toll.

I’m going to try (again) to lay the little lady in her bed. I guess I just needed to get all of this off my chest, thanks for listening.

memories of grandpa g

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as i sat down tonight with a cup of tea and some chocolate chip cookies tonight, memories of my grandfather came to mind. my hubby had just left for work and i decided i’d have a little snack before heading downstairs to do some freelance. i quite enjoy dipping cookies (especially chocolate chip or rainbow chocolate chip) in my tea. that warm, soft, goey texture is just soooo good! especially after a long day chasing around my adorable, little-ball-of-crazy-energy son. although, i must admit, it’s hard to not eat the whole bag! we can’t keep cookies in the house for that very reason; i just love them too much, and i get it honestly. when i was a child i, apparently, used to always need to have 2 of everything, especially cookies. and now, my son is following in my footsteps but, really, can you blame him? who wants just one cookie! that’s crazy talk.

i fondly remember my dad’s father telling me that he’d wake up every night between 3-4am, head upstairs, eat 5 cookies and then go back to bed. he used to try to bring them back to bed with him but my grandmother wasn’t too fond of being woke up by his crunching and munching, lol. he said, sometimes you just need to have a few cookies; even if it’s the middle of the night. i pictured him sitting in his button down pajamas (a matching dark blue long-sleeved set is the one i remember most) in the rocking chair and enjoying his late night/early morning indulgence. he definitely had a sweet tooth! when i was a child he used to give me a loonie to go to the variety store around the corner from his house to buy candy (and back then, you could get a lot for a dollar!). i think now you’d probably just get one chocolate bar, and really, what fun is that.

as much as he loved his sweets, he was one of the pickiest eaters. when i worked at our local newspaper, i frequently had lunch dates with my grandparents. they’d pick me up from work and we’d go to a restaurant of their choosing. my grandfather’s meal of choice was almost always wieners & beans or a hot-beef sandwich. he’d always bring the leftovers home (as a man in his late 80’s he didn’t eat much), but they were for the dog, of course. he also used to put the little sugar, butter, jam and peanut butter packets in his pocket to take home for later. he tried to sneak them into my grandmother’s purse but she would scold him for trying to do so, haha. i would often get a soup & sandwich combo which, naturally, came with a dill pickle on the side. oh how i LOVE dill pickles! well, my grandpa didn’t. even the smell of them was enough to drive him batty. if a food looked funny he wouldn’t eat it; smelled different, nope; a colour other than the “normal” colours (say pink), no way. ahhh memories.

i often think about how much fun it would be to be able to see him with my son. he’d get a kick out of his silly behaviour and definitely would’ve teased him to a ridiculous extent because, well, that’s what he used to do to us! sadly, he passed away 3 months before the little man was born.

he was a wonderful, silly, old fart who’s family meant more than anything in the world to him. i know that one day i’ll see him again and until then, i’ll do my best to be as wonderful and silly as he was.

MeandGrandpaG