Food – A generational story

Food – A generational story

If you come to my home, I am going to want to make you food. Whether you are a friend helping with a chore around the house, or a family member dropping in, there is undeniable need to provide food … Continue reading

Momfessions: Part 2

It’s that time again. The moment where I drag out my worst moments, my not-so-proud talents, my dirty, dirty secrets. The time where I say all the things I hope and pray other moms/dads/parents/humans are feeling because I can’t be the ONLY one that does/feels/thinks these things. RIGHT?!

It's TRUE.

It’s TRUE.

And today I feel it’s even more important to talk about the nitty gritty, the behind-the-scenes that will send non-parents RUNNING, because there are some incredibly brave, new, raw parents in my life, ones that are probably sinking under a hundred ‘flaws’ that are actually ingenious survival tactics and I want them to know that they are NOT alone, it DOES get better, and one day (I SWEAR/HOPE) we’ll look back and remember this time of war with fondness. AND that it is NOT today.

My house is always a disaster. No, really. Seriously. There are always Cheerios and crackers and other random dried food on my floors. I can sweep once, I can sweep a hundred times, I can not sweep for a week and the result is ALWAYS the same. It’s depressing. And my socks and my children’s socks (if they’re wearing socks) and Ben’s socks and all of my guests’ socks are ALWAYS crusted with something horrible. And I feel bad. But then I sweep and within seconds it looks as if I don’t give a rat’s ass about my floors. And in truth? Right now? I don’t. On the one hand, it’s too hard to care about something that NO ONE ELSE EVER CARES ABOUT. And on the other hand I’m providing my children with important immunity-boosting licking opportunities. The more dirt they eat, the stronger their bodies will be at fighting off the plague, right? Right. Because science.

I feel bad when I go to other people’s houses. Because my house is SUCH A TREAT to be in (i.e. you can find a treat on the floor regardless of the room you’re in…) that when I go to other people’s houses I can not see the flaws. All I see are all the things that they’re doing better than me…like the sweeping, or the dishes being all clean, or the fact that clear counter space exists, or that the bathroom doesn’t look like a frat house bathroom, or the grown-up furniture that looks like it belongs in the room, versus the what-we-had-given-to-us-or-found-on-the-side-of-the-road decorating aesthetic we’re currently obsessed (read: stuck) with. I try to tell myself that I don’t know the whole story. That I don’t know what they’ve sacrificed to get it done. I don’t know what kind of woodland creatures they have employed. I have no idea what’s hiding behind the doors or in the drawers I’m not privy to. But every time…EVERY TIME…I feel like everyone else has a grown-up house and I’m living a dorm life with three kids and that somehow this is a failure.

I hate when my babies are sick. And not because I feel bad for them or I wish I could take it away from them. But because they SUCK at being sick. They don’t want to watch TV all day. They don’t want to lie on the couch and sleep. They just want to whine and cry and be hugged and cuddled, but not that way, this way, no you’re doing it wrong, why do you SUCK, why did you put me DOWN, pick me UP. AND. They like cuddling while they puke. They don’t know how to blow their noses to remove the snot so they stop coughing. They still want to DO something even though they have no patience or capacity for it. I love my babies. But sick versions of them SUCK.

I love hunting boogers. Some people love popping pimples. Others adore digging out blackheads. Some people are vomiting just reading this. BUT. I take great pleasure in stealing my children’s boogers. Especially Isaac’s. He gets so grumpy and his boogers are so satisfying and big and…I kind of love it. I even like going after the ones that Lillian and Sophie have missed. It’s disgusting, but it’s the one pleasure I get from my kids being sick, so I’m going to take it.

My kids don’t do chores. I know I’m supposed to assign chores to my kids, but I just haven’t. I’m too tired and there is too much to do. And teaching my kids to do the things they could be responsible for is exhausting and takes more work than me just doing it. I know it’s a future investment thing, that if I spend the 9384737 minutes and 382473984 kJ of energy, it will pay off big in the future. But, I just don’t want to. I don’t want to do the dishes, but more than that? I don’t want to teach someone how to do the dishes. I have, however, just won the jackpot. Remember Adam Sandler in Big Daddy, where the kid tells him he wants to go to school and he’s so impressed with his parenting strategy because by letting the child choose his own path he ultimately picks the right thing to do? That is happening in my house RIGHT NOW. Sophie and Lillian have magically started clearing their plates after dinner and take turns sweeping and have even cleaned up their playroom spontaneously a bunch of times. It works! Adam Sandler is a GENIUS. Wait…

I hate bedtime. I have a friend (Hi, Heather!) who is basically in charge of all the bedtimes all the time. And I have no idea how her children are still alive and her marriage is intact and her hair is not snow-white. Seriously. Bedtime is not the cozy, cuddly, dreamy place that TV/movies/ads/bookstores sell it as. It is not filled with sweet children who are cutely snuggled in their pyjamas, waiting patiently and quietly while their parents read them stories filled with wonder. It is a cluster-f#*@ of nonsense, where everyone is tired (me) and hyped up (them) and no one is doing what they’re supposed to (Lillian) and there are a thousand questions and demands (Sophie) and people chucking their favourite blankets and pillows out of their bed (Isaac) and someone is sobbing in the corner (me). It’s a lot of asking them to sit still so we can read the damn story and praying that it will be over soon because if I don’t have fifteen seconds of time to myself before I have to go to bed to wake up to DO IT ALL OVER AGAIN, I might just kill someone. I hate it. Almost as much as doing dishes. At least they don’t bounce around and change their minds over what story they want read while screaming about putting on their pyjamas. So, actually, I hate it MORE than dishes. (It’s serious, yo’).

Welcome to the underground.

Welcome to the underground.

Okay. I’ve confessed my sins, my dirty secrets, and the things I probably shouldn’t have said out loud. Now it’s your turn: what are YOUR confessions? Momfessions? Dadfessions? Humanfessions? SPILL. Then I won’t feel so naked.

~ Julia

Happy Father’s Day, Pai

Our handsome daddy

Our handsome daddy

Daddy – in honor of Father’s Day, we took a little stroll down memory lane and found some of our favourite photos from days and moments spent with you. What we found were so many laughs, so many adventures, so many full, full bellies and so many memories made.

Dad, we love you and can’t wait to come spend the day with you to celebrate a day in honor of who you are to us – all while making new memories with you.

Happy Father’s Day, Pai ❤

Love, your girls ~ Julia, Toni, Jacqueline and Andreah

The story is Jacqui punched Andreah... Right?

The story is Jacqui punched Andreah… Right?

Avô

Avô

Fishing with dad

Fishing with dad

Summer trips

Summer trips

Graduation ceremonies

Graduation ceremonies

LONG ass road trips... To B.C.!

LONG ass road trips… To B.C.!

Hikes and adventures

Hikes and adventures

Birthdays

Birthdays

Always surrounded by women...

Always surrounded by women…

Stroll on the beach days

Stroll on the beach days

More celebrations

More graduation celebrations

Finally gaining some balance with the male/female ratio

Finally gaining some balance with the male/female ratio

Still loves his time with his girls though

Still loves his time with his girls though

First visit at the new house

 

Dadventures!

Father’s Day is right around the corner.

When we sisters decided to do Father’s Day posts, I truly had no idea what to write about exactly. After reading the sisters’ posts, I was moved and awed.

I thought for longer than I should have, and one thing kept popping into my mind over and over again: there is really only one thing I can say about fathers, and to do it I am going to tell you all a story.

One day, I was about 12 or 13 years old, and I was home alone with our dad. It was a Saturday and spring time. I was sitting on the couch and he came out from his office. Stretched his arms into the air, looked out the window and then turned to me.

“Wanna go get some ice cream?”

“Sure Dad, I’ll get my shoes on.”

I was thinking we were going to walk downtown to the amazing local ice cream store. So I put on my socks and running shoes and was all ready outside waiting for him.

He walked out the door and hopped into the vehicle (I believe at that time he had the Jimmy).

I was really confused – Dad likes to walk – but not thinking anything of it I got in and put on my seat belt.

Then he started driving away from town. In fact, we were going somewhere new…and I didn’t have a freaking clue where it was.

For the first time that I could remember, I had our dad all to myself. We talked the entire way there (wherever there was).

After driving for about 40 to 45 minutes, I finally asked, “Dad, where are we going?”

“To get ice cream.”

“… But, where?”

“It’s an adventure Kid; you will see.”

That was the only thing I really remember from the entire drive. That for the first time ever I got to go on an adventure.

We ended up going to Port Dover and getting ice cream on the beach and then walking around for a couple hours, just hanging out and talking. I don’t even remember half of what we said that day on the way there or back.

I do however remember I got bubble gum ice cream that was bright blue and stained my lips and tongue, and that I came home with Dad, happy and sun burnt.

I have never forgotten my first adventure.

My dad and I have not always had the best relationship (everyone has their bumps), but he gave me the greatest thing I could have asked for in my life – my love for adventures, and to just do something, even if it seems silly.

“All you can do is try, Kid.”

I carry it with me, Dad, and thank you for the best part of my life.

Andreah and Dad - Graduation Day (Another Adventure)

Me and Dad on graduation day (another adventure)

To me, being a dad is about letting your kids see possibilities. It’s about letting them have adventures and being there supporting them if they fail or if they triumph. I know Joe is going to be an awesome dad, and I know that one day, when we do embark on that brand new adventure, it is going to be everything that an adventure should be: exciting, scary, happy, sad, and a whole other range of emotions no one can even begin to describe. Dad taught me a lot throughout my life, but one thing that really stuck is the adventures.

Here’s to all the adventures, Dad!

~ Andreah

Future fatherhood fever

This week being the week before Father’s Day, the sisters are writing about fatherhood, and much like my Mother’s Day post, I am looking to the future!

In previous conversations with some of my girlfriends, the discussion of children comes up, and for those of us who do not have them, the obvious question is, “Well…do you want them?”

One statement was made more than once – “I want them, but ‘Bob’ isn’t sure he will make a good dad… So I don’t know….” (Names have been changed). This is a very truthful statement, and I am sure that every man who decides to enter into fatherhood has this doubt.

Since the beginning of the saga that is Cody and Jacqui, Cody was never shy to tell me he wanted kids. I think this may have attracted me to him more than I already was. I am so close with my sisters that I want to recreate this bond. I have always wanted kids!

Holding Isaac

When Julia first announced Sophie, my oldest niece, Cody refused to hold her… He did the same with Lillian. But with Isaac, he had already been around babies and he became more comfortable. Every time I see him with my nieces, my uterus skips a beat and I get excited for our future babies to come.

Uncle Cody

 

The duties never end

Cody was lucky enough to grow up with two dads.

Vic who is the sweetest man, willing to give the shirt of his back to anyone, never asking for anything in return. If you are lucky enough to know him, then you know what I mean! The first time I met him, I immediately was one of his own, taken under his wing, so much so that I was told to call him Dad. He made me breakfast in bed and made it known that when I was at his house, I was not to lift a finger. To this day, as soon as we get to his house, I sleep – I may not be tired, but it’s like a sanctuary from our regular hustle and bustle. Dad helped us buy our house, is always quick to the rescue when we need it and not a day goes by that Cody doesn’t talk to him.

Best friends

Now, Cody’s step dad Paul and I have not always seen eye to eye on things. But I have said to him before and I say it to him again…if it wasn’t for him, we would still be living in their basement. Whenever there is a problem with the house, we call Paul and he drops everything to help. This is why last year when he broke his foot in Florida, there was no doubt in my mind that I would help. I took him to the hospital and stayed with him until he was done – I even snuck him food after the surgery. Cody and I would go over during last summer to help around the house where it needed it, because Paul would do this for us. He is quick with advice, and quick to help whenever and where ever he can.

Paul and his Momma

Because of these two men, I have no doubt in my mind of the amazing man and father Cody will be.

Cody’s father Vic on the right and his late Grandpa on the left. Forever Cody’s biggest influences.

~ Jacqui

 

It takes a special man to be a dad

Any man can be a father, but it takes a special kind of man to be a dad.

Just a bunch of babes

Just a bunch of babes

It takes a special heart to be a daddy. It takes patience, understanding, presence, strength, support, acceptance and most of all an active love.

Visiting daddy at work

Visiting daddy at work

Daddy is an earned name. It is called in times of joy, in times of pain and in times of sorrow. It is called when a defender, cheerleader or teacher is needed.

Melted.

Melted

Dads are a daughter’s first love and a son’s first hero.

My world <3

My world ❤

The first time I can remember knowing that I loved Michael, was the first time I watched him with his innocently beautiful daughter and beyond adorable son. My heart melted and never recovered. He is so much more than a father. He is a dad.

Happy Father's Day, Michael!

Happy Father’s Day, Michael!

Happy Father’s day to this wonderful man of mine – your children are beyond lucky to call you their daddy and I can’t wait to witness your relationships as they grow.

~ Toni