Dear in-laws,

I, honestly, must really love you.  Not that it would ever be obvious, but it must absolutely be true.  After all these years, no one else has ever caused me to feel this conflicted.  We are very different, I know, I get it.  It was a bit of an adjustment at the beginning, I admit, but I got used to you.  Hopefully, you have gotten a little more used to me as well.  This past year and half has been the most difficult by far.  Between the accident on one side and living together on the other, it’s been the hardest period of time in my life.  I can’t imagine what it’s been like for my husband, your son, stepson, brother.  Much harder, I’m sure.  I will say though, I do believe that all of you have been placed in my life, for me, to truly understand the meaning of family.

All of you – mostly – make me mental.  It’s true.  I’m sorry.  I know I make you mental too.   I’m sorry for that.  I don’t do it on purpose.  I swear!  🙂  My family, what there is of it, is so different from all of you.  I only know how to be one way – who I am.  I’m blatant, I’m obvious, I’m very much in your face.  There is nothing subtle or complicit about me.  I’m balls-out – all the time.  I know that can be a lot to handle, again, I’m sorry.  This is it. I am what I am and I don’t know how to be anything else.  Having said that, I would really be so happy if that was ok with you.  You’re all freaks, in your own ways, and I’m ok with it.  I’ll admit, sometimes I feel like I don’t love you, but mainly it’s because all of you like to guess what someone else is thinking or feeling instead of being a big boy or girl and just coming right out and asking.  Please, please don’t try to read into my actions.  Take them at face value.  If you are confused or unsure of something I’ve said or done, ask me to explain it or clarify it.  I will do so willingly.  We’re not always going to agree or have the same point of view.  That’s ok.  We don’t have to share a brain to get along or to love each other unconditionally.

I’ve wanted to write about you many times and I’ve found it exceedingly difficult because I didn’t want to be insulting.  Honestly, I’m a few glasses in and it’s finally making sense.  I do, fucking, love you.  I would swallow my arm for us to all get along.  To my sister-in-law, (I have three, but this only applies to one)…I wish you would have accepted me.  I struggle with you and the idea of you endlessly, because, as different as we are, I know we are also very, very much alike.  That kind of galls me, but not so much on the other hand.  I know we could have been amazing friends.  I know you could have been the sister I never had.  I’m so sad that it never happened.

My family is pretty well done now. I grew up without an extended family because of my own parents’ choices.  I don’t want to go on, personally, any longer without all of you and I don’t want that for my husband or my children either.  What I need though, is for all of us, different from each other or the same, to be loved and to be accepted.  We can’t be a family if we can’t be loved for being ourselves.

I’m riding another wave it seems.  I was feeling so fantastic last week.  I will admit to poking a little bit at my friend who’s husband hadn’t slept well the previous night because of the little one.  I made a flippant remark, but the truth is, I completely understand feeling horrible when your partner doesn’t sleep well.  In my case, it’s because my husband is currently the sole provider for our family.  He works at a very physically demanding job and he works horribly long hours. And he’s very hot-tempered.  Friday wasn’t a good day for him.  He called me looking for me to cheer him up and remind him why he’s out there doing his job.  I don’t react well under that kind of pressure.  I’m home with two toddlers all day.  Not a lot goes on here.  Certainly nothing too interesting.  I find it all extremely cute and entertaining, but it’s really not for everyone.  A lot of it is probably only mildly entertaining and at not even 10am we hadn’t gotten very far in our day.  Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to brighten his day.  From there my day took a nosedive.  I was feeling anxious and worried all day.  He called throughout the day railing about how bad his day was going.  I can’t blame him.  The conditions he often has to work under are absolutely ridiculous.  That is the reality of it though.  The only advice I can offer him is to not take it personally, do his job to the best of his ability and always make sure he stays safe.  When I advise him to stay safe, it is not only for his benefit but the safety of everyone around him.  Part of his job involves operating very large trucks.  By about 3:30-4 that afternoon we knew he wouldn’t be coming home from work that day.  He was quite a distance from home and still had one more job to complete.  He was exhausted because he started work at 2:30 that morning and by the time he finally stopped the clock he had worked a fifteen and a half hour day.  That’s a long day of stress and struggle.  He was hungry, wet and tired.  Long story short, he made it through his day without getting hurt, hurting anyone else or quitting his job.  Huge sigh of relief.

I was wiped.  Emotionally I find it much harder these days to deal with the really hot, raging anger.  It burns me out so quickly and I’m not bouncing back from it like I once did.  Anger used to be my primary emotion.  It was my failsafe, my natural first reaction.  It isn’t anymore.  I am finding that after this past year and a half I have very little defense left and when I get torched the recovery process seems to take forever.  It doesn’t have to be my anger either.  I only have to be faced with it and I’m spent.  I’m guessing this must be something close to a bit of depressive behaviour.  I don’t know.  I’m just guessing.  I’ve never really been through something like this  before.  I did have a spell between my pregnancy with my second daughter and my pregnancy with the twins where I realized I must have been in a pretty dark spot, but I wasn’t aware of how dark until I started coming out of it.  It was only after I started to feel better that I understood how down I had been.  Back in the good old days I was a pretty upbeat person.  I was always having a good time, no matter what.  Of course, I would have down days, who doesn’t, but they didn’t last long.  My pity parties usually only lasted a couple of days before I would lose  my patience with myself and shake it off.  Now, I feel down more days than I feel up and I feel like I’m obsessing over it because I can’t stand it!  What’s worse than that though is that I can’t be bothered to do anything about it.

I know the things I can do that make me feel better.  I know that the hard part of doing those things will be a very short period of time.  I know what to do, how to do it, blah, blah, blah.  I just don’t feel it.  I feel like it would require so much effort to talk myself into doing these things that I just don’t have that energy available.  I know that must sound terrible.  How can I bitch about the way I feel if I’m unwilling to do anything to change it?  I’ve just never felt like this before.

I saw the video of Jim Carrey’s speech posted by different people on Facebook.  I listened to it and watched it yesterday, quickly, and it brought tears to my eyes.  I listened to it again just now and it sent chills right through me.  I loved it (as did many others, obviously).  So much of it sounds so familiar.   Words I’ve heard before and read before many times, in many different places.  It seems like the best and truest words are repeated and shared again and again until they are understood.  A lot of what I read these days sounds familiar.  I’ve heard the message before.  I’m not complaining!  Just the opposite.  It’s  seems to be that what needs to be heard, learned and understood is being shared by more and more people so that the message is being repeated everywhere.  It’s almost like God’s voice is getting louder and his messengers are showing up in forms that more of us can relate to.

I believe in God.  Unfailingly, unwaveringly.  I don’t know why.  I can’t and won’t try to explain myself.  I wasn’t raised in religion, I don’t particularly care for the itty bitty, teensy, tiny bit of religion I have been exposed to.  It’s minute and I readily admit I am completely ignorant of all religions.  I’m sorry if that is offensive to anyone.  It’s not because I want to be, but just simply that I don’t know about it.  Having said that, I absolutely believe in God.  Two totally different things if you ask me.  I’ve always believed.  I remember being very young and talking to God endlessly.  He was my best imaginary friend.  Always there.  Always cool.  The very best conversations.  I remember wanting more than anything to just be able to sit down with God and talk.  About anything and everything.  I always had a ton of questions and really who better to give the answers than the Creator himself.  The older I got, the further from memory that desire got.  Now that I have all these kids I am desperately attached to life on Earth and am prepared to wait patiently at least another 80 years for those one on ones.

My God is perfect.  My God doesn’t judge me.  Doesn’t get pissed at me when I’m not doing what I’m supposed to.  Really doesn’t give a shit if I have a potty mouth or always put my best foot forward, if I get stupid drunk and fall down (back in the day, not now), put my foot it, say something nasty, act like a bitch or if I’m perfect in any way, shape or form.  I am perfect, just as I am, at any given moment.  Just like my kids are.  Just like my husband…he doesn’t have to be perfect, just perfect for me.  Just like you, just like the next guy, just like every single person on Earth.  If God did judge me, he wouldn’t be God, he’d just be any other person I’ve ever met.  God is not a dick.  He doesn’t want war and famine and disasters.  These are just the things we are doing to ourselves.  And when I say “My God”, I mean that.  That is the God I believe in.  In no way am I saying anything about anyone else’s version or idea of God.  I think more and more we need to be accepting of everyone we meet just as they are.  Not as we want them to be, but just as they are – perfect.

I read a lot of different stuff about people who are supposedly very spiritual.  They claim to be so in touch and spiritually advanced, yet they are so judgemental and exclusionary.  They can only accept a situation/person if it follows “the rules” of what they think something should look like.  That’s not very spiritual to me.  I can believe in God and angels and forgiveness and love and also tell you where to go – in two seconds flat.  One thing has nothing to do with the other.  I can do yoga (one day) and eat a massive double cheeseburger and suck back a nice cold pint of Keith’s and it doesn’t make my beliefs any less authentic.  We can all do our best to live up to others’ expectations of what is “right”, but we’re not going to hit the mark every time.  It’s not possible.  And if we did get to that point, we’d be done.  We could all move along to those awesome sit downs with the big guy and chill.

It’s too much work trying to live up to someone else’s idea of how I should live my life.  The best I can do is live it the way I do.  I speak quickly, I act quickly.  There is not much about me that is delivered softly or gently.  I’m straightforward and maybe sometimes too much.  I’ve seen that energy in other people and because of that have tried to temper it in myself.  I’m excited and excitable.  I used to have a lightning quick temper, thankfully, that’s mellowed a bit with age.  I’m doing my best.  I’m striving to be the best mother I can be.  I’m always trying to be the best person I know how to be (I admit to moments when I am not) and if I see a better way of doing something I’m willing to give it a try.  I love hearing other people’s stories and viewpoints.  It gives me endless opportunity to see other perspectives that maybe I’ve never considered.  I want my mind to be open and to see things through others’ eyes.  People are beautiful, they’re stories are incredible and heroic.  Just the day to day stuff takes my breath away.

Love and fear.  I promise to love you because of our differences, rather than fear what I don’t understand.

Today was a good day.  We went to bed last night and it was snowing.  We woke up this morning and it was still snowing.  Not too much…not too bad for driving…thankfully.  After going through the snowsuits and boots in the closet I knew that my little bird needed a pair of boots.  I foolishly thought I would be able to get through to Wednesday, without too much trouble, in order to take a drive to a town with more of a selection.  Not so much!  The snow was so wet, if it wasn’t white it would have been rain.  By the time I got the girls from the car to the front doors of school her fuzzy boots were caked with snow and sure to be soaked by the time she went out for first lunch.  Off I went to Walmart with the twins to find some decent looking, warm, water-proof boots and enough groceries to carry us through the week if it doesn’t stop snowing. lol  Luckily, our Walmart, at this end of town, has a much better selection than the one I went to on the weekend when I began the search for boots.  I found a pair that worked for both of us, but of course, couldn’t find the size I was looking for.  As I’m searching every, single pair, another mom asks me if the boots are definitely girls boots to which I answer yes, definitely and she says, but my son could wear them too.  I laughed because I got it.  Any mom of more than one kid can relate to that.  As we were chatting I told her about when I was buying my eldest daughter’s first pair of snow pants…thinking practically, I went with black.  I figured she could get them dirty and never ruin them and regardless of which sex my next kid turned out to be, they could be passed along.  So we’re laughing and agreeing, then we start telling each other the exact same story.  We both figure out our girls need boots, we both sent the girls to school in “fashion” boots to get them there in something, we both planned on going shopping on Wednesday, we both (after seeing the weather) thought, “I can get to Walmart, grab a pair of boots for her and have them back to her in time for first break”.  It was too funny!  It was great to talk to someone right out of the blue who happened to be having the exact same experience as me.  Still unable to find the size 12 I thought I needed I spied a stash all the way up on the top shelf.  Picking through them I found a size 12 and took a size 13 – just in case – good thing too! 🙂  My new friend was also having trouble finding her daughter’s size so I told her about the hidden treasure and continued on my way.  Wrapped up the shopping and drove back to school.  Boots delivered, correct size 13, along with a couple of fuzzy scarves for my big girls (my eldest came skipping down the hall to collect her loot) just in time for outdoor break.

Driving home from school planning out the next part of my day.  Home, unpack, bathe the twins, lunch, nap, work.  Hahahahahahaha – that so didn’t happen.  We get home and it’s pretty warm out, so I decide I’ll just shovel the porch and front steps and a little bit in front of the garage.  (The twins each had a shovel and took are of some of the front lawn.  So thoughtful!)  That all goes well enough.  Moving onto baths.  Here’s where we start to lose some time.  Into the bath go two little bums.  I’m bathing them together today to get back the time I spent outside.  No sooner is my littlest girl in the water and she looks at me with the saddest little face and says “doop mommy”….Mommy says, “don’t you dare poop in the tub!”  Instantly one soaking wet toddler gets plopped onto the toilet and she snaps.  We’re just going to start potty training….I know some would say it’s pretty late, I say whatever works for you.  I’ve never been real quick to get rid of the diapers.  Sticking to pattern with these guys. So she’s sitting there and we’re having a nice long, terrified hug.  I’m trying to reassure her that she will definitely not fall in the toilet and to relax enough so she can do her thing.  She’s not having it, so back into the tub she goes.  The poor kid!  She held it while her brother got the quickest bath of his life and then she hers.  We were in and out at least twice so by the time all was said and done, we’re about an hour in – or at least that’s how long it felt.  End of the day – she did it!  Her first doop in the toilet!  I kept telling her how well she had done and that she did it even though she was scared.  Good for her!  xoxo  Love her!

Lunch went well.  Ha!  They dragged it out as long as they could.  We’re now a good half hour late getting down for nap.  We’re also getting rid of soothers.  lol  I know there are parents who would read this and absolutely die at the thought of three year olds still having a soother for sleeping.  lol  Oh well, that’s your problem and these are my kids.  So I’m starting them off with taking the soothers away in the morning and giving them back for bedtime.  Ordinarily they would lose them when they wake up, but get them back for nap and bedtime.  My little monkey is getting the hang of it no problem.  She squawked for the first day and after that she just rolled over and took her nap.  Easy peasy.  Not so much for Mr. Huggable Snuggable – he’s my bear.  No, no.  This guy decided today that he wasn’t having it anymore.  He has had naps this past week without it, but they haven’t been long and they haven’t come easily.  Today, it was not happening.  Finally after about an hour and numerous warnings of going to the “naughty spot”, I took him out of the room and in he went and there he stayed for the next hour until we went to pick up the girls from school.  Think it bothered him?  Not in the least!  Sigh…lol

I’ve been really trying to cherish this last year with my babies.  I’ve spent a lot of my time home with the kids worrying about work and where my work is going to come from and the staying home part hasn’t been as enjoyable as I would have liked due to being so stressed out all the time.  I decided that I had to let that go a bit because if I didn’t I would essentially be pissing on the gift of time I’ve been given with them by not giving the experience my full attention.  I know how important it is for me to truly enjoy this time with them so we all get the most benefit from it.  Otherwise what was the point?  I could have put them in daycare and gotten a job. So here I was with a three year old and he’s not doing what I want him to do, like at all!, but I’m not as pissed as I would have once been.  It occurred to me the other day, as I was thinking about my turtle, that it would be ridiculous for me to get mad at my kids for not doing what I want them to do, because that would pretty much be the same as being mad at them for being themselves.  That just seemed kind of shitty to me.  How can I get mad at my kids for being themselves.  Obviously they’re not always going to do what I want.  They are people, not robots.  They have good days and bad days, not to mention their own wants, needs, desires, motivations, etc.  That helped me today.  It helped me keep it together and not throw my own grown up temper tantrum – because really, who does that help?   And we all got along beautifully the rest of the day!

I remember one day talking to someone about antidepressants or some such thing…taking pills of some sort for mood regulation.  The person I was talking to described it as having everything feel flat and even, without ups and downs, kinda grey (my least favourite colour).  It sounded dreadful because that was exactly how I felt every day on my own, without pills or anything else.  All I wanted was to go back to normal, which for me is feeling lots of stuff, good, bad and ugly, but usually pretty good fun.  It seems like for the longest time I have been feeling flat and colourless.  To take something that would make me feel like that would be torture.  I seem to be moving out of that….Thank God!  The other day, I don’t know what I was doing or anything, but it seemed like something turned back on, slid back into position or whatever, it felt so good.  I felt a little flicker of something that reminded me of the girl I once was.  I used to wake up every single day with butterflies in my stomach.  I was so excited by each and every morning because every day when I got up it was a new day, there was the possibility that something amazingly fun could happen!  I loved that feeling.  I don’t know when it stopped but it sucks that it did.  Those days I was single and working my little ass off every day.  I was really good at what I did, I was full of laughter and attitude and I had the world on a string.  Nothing was out of reach for me.  It was fantastic!

Fast forward quite a few years, I met a guy (again), fought like hell to stay with him, had a kid, moved away from the city, bought a house, got married, had another kid, started a business, had two more kids, had a shit-tonne of miserable family drama and bingo, bango, bammo, completely lost my identity!  What!!!!!????  What the fuck happened?  Where did it go?  When did it go? And how the hell did I not fucking notice?  I’ve been running around like a chicken with my head cut off for years (station break:  the creepiest thing just happened, as I’m sitting here typing this a voice out of nowhere with an English accent says “Time to turn back time”.  I just had a heart attack!) anyways, as I was saying…I’ve been running around like a chicken with my head cut off for years, trying to look busy, trying to convince “people” (I won’t say who) that I am getting shit done.  What am I doing?  I’m cleaning my house.  That’s it.  That’s all.  It’s a joke.  It sucks.  It’s so boring!!!!!!  I hate cleaning.  I love having a clean, organized home, but I really don’t enjoy cleaning.  I had a mini-meltdown the other day so I booked myself an appointment at the business advisory centre to meet with some objective people who could either point me in the right direction or confirm that I was right with the direction I know I have to move in to move my business back into existence.  During my meeting I was talking (a lot) about what state I was currently in.  We discussed goals, goal setting, writing things down, setting smaller goals, vision boards, etc.  I also was thinking back to other conversations I’ve had with people about moving a business forward, blah, blah, and one thing that came up was motivation and keeping in mind why I’m doing the things I’m doing.  What occurred to me that day at the advisory meeting was that my motivation has been all fucked up.

I’ve been moving around doing busy work so that at the end of the day it looks like I’ve actually accomplished something.  When I clean the house, do the laundry, stock the house, bathe the kids, volunteer…you can see that.  There is physical evidence of my “productivity”.  Measurable proof that I am doing something.  Because I haven’t been working I really felt like I had to earn my keep and somehow carry my weight.  In my mind, being a mother at home with her children just wasn’t enough to make me a valuable commodity.  If I’m working and earning, then my voice counts, but if I’m not, I’m at the mercy of someone else.  I don’t like that.  I feel less than.  Not good enough.  Certainly not like I’m standing on even ground.  So I keep cleaning and shopping and working with my kids to get them ready for school, but not working on any of my own shit.

Now, it’s time.  My twins are three.  I am working with them steadily this year to get them ready for full time kindergarten in September.  They are my babies so I will admit I have babied them.  But I will also admit, I’ve babied all my kids.  I like it like that.  They get to stay small for a little bit.  I do always have them ready to face the world when the time comes though so I don’t take it too far.  Whatever!  🙂  But, like I was saying, now it’s time.  It’s time for me to shit or get off the pot.  It’s time for me to figure out what I want to be when I grow up.  I can, at any time, go get a job…wah, wah.  Only if I absolutely have to and if that day does come, it’s because I’m a lazy bitch and it’s totally my own fault.  So hopefully it never happens!  lol   I want to do something with my life.  I want to earn a living doing something I love, something where I feel inspired and happy, breathlessly happy.  I want to LOVE what I do.  I want to do something that others dig.  Something that other people benefit from.  I want to be someone that my kids can look at and be proud and maybe say I want to be like her…not exactly, but they might want to have some of the same qualities that I have…sheesh.  What I mean by that is that they will be inspired to do what they love even if it takes a while to start or even figure out what that is.  I used to say all the time that I wanted to do everything my Dad did.  He was stud!  He did everything.  He was self-made, he traveled all the way around the world twice, he had boats, he had his pilots license, he really lived life and did it all.  He was impressive…to me.  He used to tell me the most amazing stories about the things he had done in his life.  He was the best.  I want to be able to tell my kids stories about the cool shit I’ve done, but that’s never going to happen if I stay in this miserable little hole.

And so, it is time.  It is time to wake up.

ps…the creepy voice coming out of the darkness…my husband’s laptop, which the kids left on.