Here's to All Fellow Moms

So it was Mother's Day yesterday. I wanted to wish all moms a happy belated Mother's Day.

A few years ago, a friend of mine disdainfully sneered at what he called these "Hallmark Card holidays". (Of course, this was before his wife gave birth to their three kids, so I'm sure he might have changed his tune a bit). In any event, I absolutely love the idea of a special day devoted to paying homage to mothers.

Not to pat us moms on the back, but ... parenthood can be hellish sometimes. Like when our kids come home with these impossible assignments involving popsicle sticks and oddly shaped cardboard pieces with the unrealistic expectation that we will be able to decipher their teacher's instructions. (I felt like writing the teacher a short note stating that Iassumed the assignment was an astronomy project and that she was welcome to take the popsicle sticks on a short visit to the planet Uranus).

I am fortunate to have three wonderful, happy and healthy kids (healthy is the universal mom code for "I haven't killed or maimed my child yet). They are amazingly bright (even if you subtract the mom bias) and immensely energetic. The combination is absolutely exhausting. I don't get a moment to even think quietly on my own. The questions that my eldest son comes up with are fascinating in their scope and quite well-formed. Unfortunately, they are also difficult to answer in ten words or less, if they can even be answered at all -- especially when he wakes me up before the crack of dawn to pose them. (In the expression "nip and tuck", who is winning, nip or tuck? Why can't panhandlers just get a job? If the Weather Network says that it feels like it's 35 degrees when the temperature is actually 30 degrees, how do they figure out the temperature in the first place? With all the water rushing at Niagara Falls, how come the basin never gets full?)

I have to say though, despite all this false complaining, I can't imagine life without my kids. My days are spent chauffering my children, cooking for them, overseeing homework, mediating in daily arguments, answering endless questions and generally trying to recover from the combined effects of all of the above, but I wouldn't trade in a second of it. Children force you to use every single skill in your possession. They chip away at your small mountain of patience. They push and pull you every which way. They make you think about sterilisation.

But then along comes Mother's Day and they wake you up eagerly to lavish upon you a shower of gifts which they spent hours making for you. My eldest son made me a card which contained a poem he'd composed. It actually brought tears to my eyes (not hormonally induced this time around). My daughter proudly handed me her card which held a coupon redeemable for one car wash, along with a sun catcher she'd spent two whole days creating. My youngest son handed over a beautiful painting and wind chime he'd made, with solemn instructions to bring in the wind chimes during inclement weather.

Later, my eldest son hugged me and whispered that I was the best mom on earth. You just can't buy moments like these. I wish I could bottle yesterday and uncork it one day when my kids are adults and will have long flown the coop. (Or for a day when my adolescent children will be shrieking at me, declaring their hatred for me and their conviction that I've ruined their lives).

Caution: The Contents Contained Herein May Cause Males to Blush and Cringe

At the risk of sounding hopelessly female ... I feel sooooooo fat and gross. And weepy.

It must be something about being in my late thirties. Suddenly, all my hormones are raging and "that time of the month" announces its imminent arrival by sending a wave of good tidings like water retention (extra layer of jiggliness on top of my multi layers of fat ... thanks very much), unpredictable mood swings and major sugar cravings (great way to add to those layers of fat if I cave in).

I never used to understand those PMS jokes but now, I'm a walking ad for them. Seriously, I'll be in my car humming along with the radio when suddenly, out of nowhere, I'll be overcome by a wave of inexplicable sadness and have this overwhelming urge to weep. I feel like some kind of a crazy woman.

I'm hoping that this will wrap itself up in the very near future. My big fear is that it may continue and finish just in time for my daughter to begin her journey on the hormonal highway (God, kill me now). That lovely trip will probably end just as menopause begins. I think there is some kind of perverse plan going on here.

Being and Nothingness

I think I'm blog's answer to Seinfeld. I'm the blog about nothing. Too bad I don't rake in the big bucks like the sitcom's cast did.

I'm trying to figure out where my place in this world is. Yes, I realise that I'm headed for forty, and I still haven't gotten my shit together. Is that pathetic? Or is it better to be entrenched in some kind of dead end, mind numbing, emotionally unfulfilling lifestyle and think that that's enough? Not of course, that I'm implying that my life is anything like that. In fact, most of it is incredibly satisfying and wonderful. I just can't seem to get past the whole thing about careers.

I was raised in a household where what you did professionally defined you personally. I guess I have high standards in that regard. My parents both love what they do. They chose their careers because they feel passionately about it. In fact, my dad lives, breathes and eats his research.

I have yet to find my passion. Don't get me wrong, motherhood is wonderful and I love my children passionately, but the reality is that my kids are growing older and they don't need me in quite the same way. I now have more time on my hands to turn my eyes inwardly to myself. More importantly, I think my kids need to see a mom who focuses on something other than them, and who follows her heart and does what she believes in.

The $64,000 question of course, is what is my heart telling me? I must be fairly deaf because I honestly don't know. I don't know what I want to do or be, but I do know, I don't just want to be a mom.

A friend of mine called today to chat. She is in the fashion industry and has worked as a designer in one capacity or another for years. She honestly loves what she does. Recently, she opened up her own boutique in tony Hazelton Lanes, a move which I applauded because she has wanted to do this for years but never dared. While business is tough at the moment, she is insanely happy. I found myself volunteering to come and help out a day a week as she is unable to find reliable staff. It's not that I see myself with a career in fashion, but more because I guess, I just want to be around someone who is pursuing her dream. Maybe in doing so, some of that magic feeling will rub off onto me and motivate me. Well at the very least, I think some of her designs will rub off onto me -- she's promised me free clothing in exchange for help. So hey, I may not know my place in the world, but at least I'll be wandering around aimlessly dressed to the nines.