My boob has a lump.  I am no lump virgin for sure, currently living with a scar from a lumpectomy on this same boob.  But, even having previous experience in this arena is no comfort when living a repeat performance.  I am scared.  I am trying not to panic too much (for most of you, this would translate to alot of panic).  My ability to rapidly multi-task and form lists in my head has been ordered into warp speed by Captain Kirk and it is ever so chaotic inside my mind right now.

I am a planner and organiser and a poo pooer to boot.  So, even though I am hoping for the best, I am planning for the worst (I picked this handy coping  tool from my old boyfriend, Iain).  In my head I have already picked out a suitable wife/mother replacement for me.   Of course, when I shared this wonderous, thoughtful plan with Steve he just pulled me close to him and laughed. 

I know my fears are up and down and out of control alot of the time.  But, they are mine and right now, until I know more, this is what they are.  But, the thought of not being here to fully raise Emma and Hannah sort of makes me a little frickin’ crazy.  Missing any of them makes me wrench inside.  I have no idea what this lump is.  If it serious or not. And, even if it is serious, it isn’t necessarily a death sentence.  But, for a brief second I have been able to tap into the panic and fear my own mother must have felt when she received her own diagnosis and I was wasn’t yet fully raised.

So, I have a week to wait to hear something more concrete.  Seven days feels more like seven years for me right now.  But, thanks to the kids and work and being a wife, I do have the ability to toss myself into various roles other than the ‘woe is me’ worrier I can be.  I would appreciate all good thoughts for me though as well hearing how you or someone you know handled their own brush with the ‘boob lump’ or other equally frightening event.

It isn’t easy to let your child express themselves in all the ways they might want to.  Although Emma is only four, she already has a definite style when it comes to what she wants to wear.  Most mornings can be a battle, but I am slowly starting to figure out where potential land mines might be that would set off my fashion diva!

We have been very fortunate to have wonderful friends and family share and pass down their too small-clothes.  So much so, that Emma has a virtual mall to pick from if I have kept up with the laundry.  It isn’t so much that Emma is picky though.  It is me.  I wait for Emma to emerge from her bedroom with a worrying smiling, cringing face.  Usually there are layers of pants under skirts, long sleeve shirts under tank tops.  More than one headband and dangly earings.  I am a pretty straight-laced lady here so the crazy bag lady look that Emma has perfected is somewhat frightening for me.  That being said, I am learning to just ‘let it go’.  I hear my mother whispering to me, “let it be” and I toss Emma a thumbs up sign and we are on our way.

There are times when I will draw the line.  If we’re off for a more formal affair I will assert my will and together we will sort out a more appropriate outfit.  But, in our everyday life I am learning to be okay with my dramatic, fashionista diva daughter.  I don’t enjoy starting my mornings off fighting with Emma over spandex.  I don’t enjoy making her feel like her likes and feelings aren’t just as valid as mine.  I do want to empower her to make her own choices, even if they aren’t the ones I might make (mind you I did go through a Debbie Harry phase when I was four).  But mostly I want Emma to know that I trust her and accept her just the way she is.  Deep for a four-year old I know, but she won’t be four forever.  The goal down the road is that by letting Emma feel safe and accepted to express herself, she will be more willing to keep sharing herself with me as lifes challenges become more complex than which pants to put under that pink jean skirt.

In the mean time I will keep my blinders on and my thumb turned up for my daughter.  Who knows, one day she might be leading the models down a runway, all of them decked out in her signature look of layered pants and skirts, multiple head bands and dangly earings!

If you love something let it go.  If it was meant to be ‘yours’ it will find its way back to you.  My post on living in a modernly dysfunctional family ended with the light bulb idea of me letting go of the dream of my family being whole and just accept who we all are as individuals. 

So, I did just what I wrote.  I put to rest the idea of my entire family ever being in the same room together and enjoying each other’s company.  If my mind wandered back to that fantasy, I reminded myself that it was okay and to just ‘let it go’.  And then, out of the blue, my family was all in the same room together, sharing each others company!

In submission and acceptance there is no resistance.  With no resistance, there is no war.  There is only peace.  

The past is the past.  What was said and done is over.  I am thrilled that my family came back together and we are moving on from ground zero (so to speak).  This could be a new chapter for us all.  whatever plays out in the future, I will have this time to hold onto as a complete family. 

 was a wonderful therapy tool for myself.  I have always found journaling to be helpful for me.  Having Mommy Musings has been my on-going journal/therapy for many years now.

Do you ever feel like all you do is give?  Like all your days are spent in the service of others?  More and more lately, I have been feeling this way.  I feel closer and closer to the empty mark on my ‘give tank’.  I have read and heard how modern women need to make and take time for themselves.  By making ourselves a priority we have more to offer those we love and care for.

Like most things, this is much easier said than done.  I have the best of intentions all of the time.  A week ago I planned to take today for myself.  I booked myself an appointment to have my nails done.  I love having my nails done.  Sitting with the estitician is like killing two birds with one stone.  My nails look amazing and I feel beautiful and I have had a good hour or so of talk therapy.  Not surprisingly though life has a different agenda for me than I had for myself and I find myself changing to accomodate.  Now, please don’t get me wrong.  In this particular instance, I am happy to change my day from a ‘me’ day to a ‘family’ day to spend time with new family members.  But a part of me is wistfully sad, wondering when I will have the chance to re-book that appointment and take a couple hours for myself.

Most days I can relate to Wonder Women.  My days are filled with saving the world, fighting injustice and making crustless sandwiches.  Wonder Women never sat down at the end of a long day and looked at her nails and lamented her loss of personal time.  Her nails, I am sure, were always spectacular, just like her hair and figure! 

I am fortunate.  My husband is constantly telling me to ‘go, just get out’.  He doesn’t understand my laundry list of ‘must  get done’ though.  Like alot of men, my husband has no problem taking time for himself.  He cuts out time easily.  He doesn’t feel the overwhelming sense of guilt that I do.  For him, it makes sense to take a night or day and just do his own thing.  For me, I worry that my children will miss out on some activity or worse yet, family time together and I just can’t bring myself to pull myself away from them.  Even though I envy the solitary time my husband seems to manage, I resent it too.  The questions of how and why should he, roll through my head on an endless loop some times.  Like one of the characters lines in Wing Commander, “what about MY needs”? 

I guess it makes sense that unless I make my needs a priority, no one else will.  I have to take myself seriously and then expect others to do the same.  So, how do I do this?  How do I blend me time, with my overwhelming sense of ‘family time’?  I want to be with my family and I want to be alone too.  In the last 744 hours, I have had about 17 hours of ‘childless’ time (thanks to a wonder friend who offered a sleep over), approximately – not that I am keeping track or anything.  I know there are moms out there who will think gee, that is 17 hours more than I got.  But, I want to do better.  Now, I just have to figure out how to squash that guilt and carve out some time for myself.

I live smack dab in the middle of a modernly dysfunctional family.  I am the only child of my parents, but I have three much older brothers with whom I share a father.  Since my moms death, my father has remarried and now, I am also the proud family member of two older step brothers.  Have I lost you yet? 

I call us a modernly dysfunctional family because, like so many families, ours is often full of stife and hurt and we are a blend of full, half and step labels.  Well, maybe my family is full of a little more dysfunction than some, or most even.  Never in my life has my family been whole and happy.  As a child there was always conflict amoungst my brothers.  I don’t know where their problems stemmed from.  There are many theories depending on whom you ask.  All I know is, it was rare to have us all in the same house and I although there are pictures of us spending holidays together, I have no memory of them.

Even now that I am into my thirty’s and my brothers are into their fifties, friendly reationships do not exist.  I figure it is a good thing I made the resolution to ‘let go’ this year.  Now is the perfect time to practice.  My relationship with one of my brothers isn’t healthy and I need to let it go.  But, it is hard.  Letting go feels like failure to me.  And, I don’t admit defeat well.  I guess I need to work it out in my mind that this wasn’t a contest to be won or lost.  It was a relationship that for now, has run it’s course.  Hopefully to restart at a later, healthier date.

There was a long time that my oldest brother had no contact with any of his family.  It was a painful decade long  silence.  My feelings over those years were up and down.  I constantly waved through the emotions of anger, sadness and love.  I don’t know if I always loved my brother during those years.  I definately didn’t like him.  But, when the time was right, my love for him was there with little needed to ignite it.  My hurt and anger fell away easily.  Forgiveness and love so readily available.

Like two magnets that reapell each other, when one brother returns, one must depart.  I have no idea how this relationship can be mended.  This brother is so drastically different that the other.  This departure was filled with meanness, hate and vile words hurled at me.  In this moment love, understanding and forgivness are hard emotions to touch and feel.  Mostly, I am sad and hurt.  Not since I was a pre-teen have I ever been called names such as my brother slammed at me. 

Although letting go is hard, in this instance, actions have made it somewhat easier for me.  I don’t understand where my brother is coming from.  But, I don’t have to understand it.  I just need to accept that his perceptions are his truth, not mine.  I think I will always have hope that one day my family will be whole and we will share a holiday meal together.  It is a dream I have had since I was a very little girl.  Maybe it is the dream I need to let go of, as well as my brother?

My daughter Hannah is 3.  She is really getting into imaginary play and often takes on characters when she is playing with dolls, dinosaurs or super hero figures.  Lately she more often than not, gravitates to an orange tryadactly whom I have lovingly named ‘Terry’.  Terry is a momma bird who is almost always concerned with her babies.  Terry is always flying around, looking for her babies or looking for food for her babies.  Hannah is most thrilled when Terry can have a conversation with me or Steve.  The other night Terry flew over to me and told me all about her babies….they were at the Fire Hall.  When I asked her why they where there, Terry told me they were ‘burning and bleeding, but not worry, she would bring them a bandage’. 

Imaginary play for Hannah is huge right now.  She loves nothing more than to sit down with some toys and act out different situations for them to be in.  Some times I get anxious when I hear some of the gruesome things that happen to Hannah’s imaginary babies, but, I am trying to not let it bother me (too much).  Just as Hannah is coming full swing into this realm of play, Emma (who is only 14 months older) is seeking some independent time.  She is enjoying more solitary activities such as colouring or making crafts quietly at the table.  For the first time in forever, my children are playing separately.  It feels a little odd for me when this happens.  Mostly, it is quiet in the house and that just feels spooky after 4 years of chaos and noise.  But, I think I will adjust.

Regardless of how much time Hannah and Emma spend playing together, their sisterly bond is as strong as ever.  With Emma’s independence has come calmer times between the two.  They are able to work out some of their more minor differences on their own.  Emma is more patient and more willing to just let thing go (something her momma is working on hard modeling).  Of course, Hannah has matured and can relate and understand so much more than a year ago.  Of course, they still fight, and whine and cry.  But, my brothers are 50 and 49 (they are 14 months apart too) and often exhibit the same behaviours as my children!

Last week I mentioned my expanding family and how excited I was about it.  Well, it has been about a week and I have learned that in just a few more sleeps we will come face to face with each other.  Now, how am I supposed to sleep?  My mind has been a whirlwind of excitement since learning about Kristi and now we are going to get to actually sit down with each other and get to know one another.

My husband and myself went through a similar process a decade ago.  My husband had always known he had an older brother on his dad’s side, but Steve was a baby when his parents split and he never saw his father again.  All he had was a name and an idea that his brother lived in Alberta.  When we moved from BC to Alberta I took things into my own hands and tracked down his brother.  I knew Steve wanted to meet his brother, but he was too scared to start things on his own.  It was one thing to talk over the phone and reconnect.  It was a very frightening and exciting experience to hop in our car and make the journey five hours north to their home. 

When we finally came face to face it was a wonderful experience.  It has been a decade of expanding our family.  Not only did Steve gain a brother, but we got a sister in law and a  niece and nephew too.  We love them very much and even though Steve and his brother haven’t always been in each other’s lives, it doesn’t matter.  Family is family.

Now, a decade after Steve reconnecting with his family, I have the chance to meet my brothers daughter.  I am more excited than nervous.  I can’t wait to see her face to face to see how much she looks like her younger sister.  I can’t wait for our children to play with each other and to see just how similar they all are.  I am thrilled Emma and Hannah will finally have cousins their age on my side of the family.  I am thrilled that there is another girl in our family (my family seems to be over run with males).  I know I will loose it when I see my dad see his granddaughter and great-grandchildren for the very first time.  My dad is a pretty emotional guy and seeing his emotions always bring mine right to the surface.

Welcoming Kristi and her family is an amazing gift, and one I thought might never happen. I know I won’t sleep much or think of much else for the next couple of days.  It is hard to believe that just a week ago none of this was happening.  My mom always said that life happened in the blink of an eye.  I think she was right.

Emma was born in September 2005.  Since the day of her birth, I can count on two hands the number of nights I have been without my children and still have a couple of fingers left.  I was raised with parents who took me everywhere with them.  I am like my parents.  My kids truck around with me.  We attend family friendly functions or we stay home together.  It is just how our family works.  

In the past month though, my children have had sleep overs twice!  Things are picking up in our house!  We are very fortunate to have made really great friends in our village, who have taken our children in over night for us.

Now, alot of you might think having a night of childless freedom would be a perfect excuse to cut loose and party the night away.  BUT…..honestly, the last way I want to spend my very limited childfree time is tying one on only to wake up and have to contend with children and a hang over.  If I am truly honest, I love to just spend my time with Steve and getting to bed early (to sleep).  The thought of falling asleep without having previously fought the bedtime routine and knowing I will sleep all the way to the time I naturally wake up is somewhat intoxicating.  But the first thing on my mind when I do wake up, is my children.  Are they up?  Did they have a good sleep?  Who gave them their morning hug? 

As lovely as a night off from parenting is, getting my children back in my arms and home makes my heart sing a bit.  Of course, reality hits hard when they have their first ‘argument’ over whose shirt Emma is wearing (and yes, they are only 3 and 4, but already argue over clothes).  I have no idea when our next childfree night will be.  I am sure I will crave a night of sound sleeping and a lazy morning.  Who knows, maybe in time I will recoup some of the lost sleep and try out a night of partying and really cutting loose!

There have been many times over the past  four years when I have called out for Calgon to take me away.  Times when it feels like my life will swallow me whole.  Keeping my life balanced is a very big challenge for me.  The kids, our home, my marriage, my friends, me.  This is the order I often put my priorities in.  And sometimes, my kids and our home are interchangeable.  The one constant thing for me is where I fall on this list.  I am always last, and most of the time, I am okay with this.  There are days though when I just want someone to take care of me. 

What does this mean?  Steve goes to work every day, working hard to provide for all of us.  I have a safe, reliable car to drive around in.  I have a warm home to keep me and family safe in.  I have clothes.  I have alot of luxuries which alot of others don’t have.  I try very hard to never take these things for granted.  But, I still long to be taken care of.

Taking care of me is simple.  I want my home to be cleaned.  I want my floors vacuumed and washed.  I want my kids rooms tidied.  I want my bedroom to be cleaned and organised.  Mostly, I don’t want to be the one to do any of this.  What I want is very simple, but very hard at the same time.  I am the primary care giver for my home.  I am the one who cleans and cooks and organises and replenishes.  Giving me a break would be taking over the reigns for a day or a weekend.

This would be the best gift I could get from my husband.  Some women want jewelry or expensive gifts.  I just want Steve to pull on some rubber gloves and get into the grove of house work.  Where will I be when this is all happening?  Sitting in a restaurant all by myself reading my book.  For me, tackling the house is a daily task.  It is exhausting though.  I can whip my home into shape in day no problem.  The toughest thing about working so hard in your home is knowing that it will all have to be done again, and again, and again.  It is a thankless and endless job.  No one enjoys cleaning and if they do, they aren’t healthy in the head!  Most days I feel like a gerbil on a wheel going nowhere.

So, I am off to place some milk on my back stairs in the hopes of luring in some fairy help to lend a hand.  Walls, toilets, basement oh my!  Or maybe Steve will read this and run to the cupboard to find rubber gloves that fit!

Thrilled.  Excited.  Scared.  Just three of the emotions bubbling through me right now.  For over half my life I have known that I have a niece who is just a few months younger than me.  She was born in the same hospital I was.  She was born in the same year I was.  I have no idea how it all came to be, my niece was given up for adoption and no one in my family has had any information on her.  Until today.

I am a very family orientated individual.  I have often wondered where this woman is, who she has grown up into.  Because we are the same age, she has crossed my mind when I have experienced big events in my own life.  Did she get go off to university, get married, have a family like myself?

I have no idea how this will all play out.  I don’t know if this woman wants to know or meet the rest of us.  Maybe she isn’t ready to expand her family to include us all.  All I know is I am thrilled, excited and scared to see how things will turn out for all of us.