I don’t travel for work as often as I once did.  At one point pre-babies (which is a life I barely remember) I was on the road from one end of Canada to the other at least two weeks out of the month.

It was not a bad gig for a young shift-worker’s fiancé/wife.  I planned big trips when my husband was off shift so he could come with me and planned some of the more boring/regular trips when he was on a long stretch of night shifts.

Trust me, no one really wants to be around someone who is working a week worth of straight nights.

Shortly after returning to work post-Sugar Plum I left my traveling job for a less traveling job and never looked back.

But my professional responsibilities have always involved a little travel and while it does take a lot of work to get out the door even for a single overnight trip I won’t lie to you, I kind of look forward to having a night in a hotel room to myself.

Last night was that night.  A full night in a fantastic city in a decent city-centre hotel and a super-king-sized-bed all to myself.

I packed my running shoes and gym clothes in case I felt like using the hotel gym.

I packed my curling iron in case I felt like trying out those beach curls I see all over Pinterest.

I packed my new bright red nail polish in case I felt like giving myself a mini-pedicure while sipping a glass of wine and watching a chick-flick.

I even packed a book.  Yes a REAL book in case I felt like reading before going to bed.

But all of that extra stuff just made for a heavy suitcase because every single thing I thought I might feel like doing was just plain poorly thought out in the context of my actual work schedule.

I left my house at 5:30am and didn’t see my hotel room until 11pm that night.

When I woke up in the morning at 6am to get ready for my 7am meeting I had a single moment of enjoying the thought of not having to rush around to make the kids’ breakfasts and get them ready for school.

But instead I rushed around getting myself ready and out the door and simultaneously trying not to get hit by impatient commuters while following the iPhone’s walking directions to my meeting location.

In fact, it wasn’t until after my morning meeting when I rushed back to the hotel to pack up my things and check out before heading to three more meetings when I saw this sitting on the coffee table:

Apparently, I was on the ladies only floor and there were lots of treats hidden in my room.  I didn’t even notice a single one.

While it may have been a good two days professionally, the hotel room went to complete waste.  I don’t even know why I get all excited about a night in a hotel room by myself.  The last time I blogged about a solo hotel stay I talked about doing this.

At least I had the good sense to throw the complimentary wine into my suitcase before checking out.  I mean we certainly don’t want everything to go to waste!

Do you ever get that feeling of wanting desperately to do something but as a goal, it’s just so far out of reach?  Kind of like tunnel vision but not, because your brain never clears enough of the other crap for you to be able to reach it.

I feel that way about writing a book.

The goal – the vision – of it is top ten on my bucket list, but actually achieving it seems so very far away.

I barely have time to sleep let alone write a novel.

I barely have a storyline let alone enough words to fill multiple pages.

I barely have time to write here, on these pages, let alone the ability to sit for the amount of time it would take to actually write this non-existent book.

But it’s there.  Inside of me.  There just isn’t enough energy in me to get it out.

Two of my dear Twitter friends (whom I have met in real life!) @ChickyMara and @BeingMarci are heading to a week-long writing workshop this summer taught by an amazing faculty of writers.

When Marci sent me the link I was so very (very) tempted, but even considering attending requires two things:

1. A week of my time in July.
2. An application that includes 15 pages of my novel and a cover letter explaining said novel.

These are things I absolutely do not have.  So for this year, the writing workshop is out.

But that vision of writing a book… the goal… is still there.  I look up at it every once in a while and it seems as out of reach as ever, but one day I’ll get there.

In the meantime, I can’t wait to see what spills onto Marci and Mara’s pages.  Whatever it is, it will be brilliant and I am so looking forward to reading their work.

I’ve been pretty busy over at the Yummy Mummy Club and wanted to make sure I keep you all up to date on what’s been happening in the Canned Soup Mom kitchen.  There are some great recipes (if I do say so myself) especially for busy moms.

Big Batch Meatballs

Easiest Chocolatey Iced Coffee with Baileys

Breakfast Muffins – A Full Breakfast in Every Bite!

Three Ingredient Crock Pot Chicken Tacos

Five Minute Mini-Pizza

Lemon Poppy Seed Bundt Cake

I don’t post as much about my mom any more.  Not because I don’t feel the fear, the pain and the guilt on an almost daily basis, but sometimes the weight of it all is debilitating and I have a life to live.  I have made the choice to remove myself and my family from her – at least for the time being –  and I need to give myself to that decision… completely.

But the pain is there and on days like Mothers Day, especially if you make a trip to Walmart in the week leading up to the big day, the signage alone makes your heart and your head ache.

But just like on my birthday, I shut down and ignore the day.   I don’t know what the experts would say about this being my chosen coping mechanism, but so far it’s the only thing that really works.  Of course “works” is a relative term.

The shutting down and ignoring part was easy to do because my husband was away (his first time back home since we moved, but that’s a post for another day) and Sugar Plum slept over at a friend’s house.  When I woke up way to early thanks to my sweet little Bugaboo, no one but me knew it was Mothers Day.  I made coffee for me and toaster waffles for the kids then set upon the disaster that was my house with a ferocity that comes only with the need to shut your brain off.

My floors have never been cleaner and by 11:30am just before I needed to leave the house (sparkling!) to pick Sugar Plum up and take her to ballet my mind was ready to unwrap the gifts my children handed me at daycare pick-up on Friday afternoon with strict instructions not to open until Sunday.

With tissue-paper-wrapped-gifts in hand I sat down on the floor in the family room and with each of them taking a section of my lap they unwrapped their own gifts and told me all about how they had made them.

A bracelet from Bugaboo.

A flower from Sweet Pea.

Followed by a million mommy kisses all over each of their faces.  I put the bracelet on, put the flower on the mantle and rushed them out the door to pick up Sugar Plum and get on with our day.

By then I was present.  I was ignoring the day, but I was present and happy and loving spending the day with the kids.

I know I don’t write as much about being a casualty of my mother’s mental illness, but for those of you who visit these pages to find comfort that you are not alone, I still feel it every day.  But I am still coping, still living and mostly I am still loving becoming the mother I want to be a little bit more every single day.

If you’re like me, and you just made it through Mothers Day, I’m here to tell you that I know what a big deal that is.  I’m here to congratulate all of us for making it through one more day.  Especially one of the tougher ones.

North Carolina, President Obama and now the teenage daughter of Sarah Palin are all passing judgement on same sex marriage which makes for some interesting and sometimes heated discussion both on the blog-o-sphere and around the water cooler.

In speaking with a fellow co-worker literally at the water cooler (how very cliché, I know) about the recent same-sex marriage media hoopla she tells me “I don’t think the government or the church should have a say on who we choose to marry, but if it was my son I wouldn’t be happy about it.”

While I have never once questioned my support, right there, in that conversation I knew without doubt that I am pro same sex marriage for all of our children.

Why?  Because there are no “buts” in my world.

In my world, where to the outside I am the epitome of the traditional definition of marriage (after all my husband and I even have the same last name!) there has never once been anything but full support for the definition of marriage to include same sex couples.  I do not feel threatened as an individual and I certainly do not feel like the definition of my own very traditional marriage is threatened because a same sex couple wants the same rights, freedoms and titles that my husband and I are granted simply because we are a man and a woman.

When I speak to my children about their future I say things like “when you fall in love or when you get married” instead of “when you find a husband or a wife”.  I am never gender specific.  I don’t catch myself on purpose because I want to be inclusive, I simply and truly believe that my children (and yours) should be allowed to fall in love with whomever they choose.  Their sex should never be a factor.

Of course there are so many ifs, ands or buts when it comes to who you want your children to marry but for me not a single one of them has to do with their gender.

Certainly I say things like “the boys are going to come around” when I look at my two beautiful daughters and the girls are going to love how sweet my Bugaboo is, but that is a fact.  The boys will come and the girls will too but I will always leave it up to my daughters and my son to choose which ones to love.

When explaining “gay” and “same-sex marriage” to Sugar Plum who has been asking as of late, neither my husband nor I use terms like “some people” or “but” or anything less than there are individuals who think marriage should only be allowed only when it’s a man and a woman and your daddy and I think that’s wrong.

And we do.  We think that is very, very wrong.

I know in that deep down kind of way even when you check yourself by asking what if it was my children, that I support same sex marriage.

I know with every level of certainty possible that when my children bring home the person they want to marry that union will be judged solely on the character of the person they have chosen and the strength of their love.

In my world that is all that will ever matter.

——
photo credit: www.pinterest.com

I don’t think I’ve told you this story yet, but every time I see the old school yellow-capped Johnson’s Baby wash I can’t help but think about it.

When I was 27 weeks pregnant with Sugar Plum I was admitted to anti-natal as according to the doctors I was experiencing pre-term labour.  I was sent to the hospital from my regular OB appointment because my braxton hicks were coming a little too frequently, like seven minute intervals frequently.

Sugar Plum was my first baby and I was only 25 years old but most of all, at that moment, I was scared.  After I was hooked up to all the monitors and my stress test was completed my contractions started to dull a little and became less frequent.

The doctors told me to get some sleep and to expect a lengthy stay.  When the night nurse came in she took one look at me and told me a shower might do me good.  I was thrilled by the suggestion and after assuring me that my baby would be fine if I stood for five minutes and unhooking me from all the monitors, the nurse left to find me some supplies.

She came back with the yellow-capped Johnson’s Baby wash.

I will never forget washing my hair with that baby wash.  It was certainly not intended for my long thick and now quite tangled mess but it miraculously did the trick.  It also calmed me.  Somehow using a product that I knew would become a staple in my house when I brought our baby home made me focus on just that… bringing our baby home.

Thankfully, after a few weeks in and out of hospital and steroid shots and multiple tests my sweet Sugar Plum decided to stay put until she was just a few days passed 36 weeks.  After a fairly uneventful birth and a few more nights in the hospital we finally brought our first little baby home.

Even though so many years have passed, I know the kindness that nurse showed with Johnson’s Baby wash in her hand gave me strength to get through that first night of uncertainty which was the first and perhaps most important step to getting through the rest.

With all that in mind, both my kids and I were absolutely thrilled when this package arrived in the mail from Johnson’s Baby.

While it came with a note wishing me a Happy Mother’s Day my kids were certain it was for them.  Sugar Plum (now almost 9 years old) was especially certain the Nikon CoolPix camera was intended for her.

My kids immediately asked if they could have a bubble bath.

After dinner I grabbed the yellow-capped Johnson’s Baby wash bottle and headed upstairs to run the tub with a smile on my face and my babies in my arms, just like I have done so many times before.  All the while remembering that night, that nurse, and that first of many yellow-capped bottle of Johnson’s Baby wash.

Johnson’s Baby wants you to celebrate the small moments that make family life so rewarding (like bath time!) and is offering Maija’s Mommy Moments readers the opportunity to win your very own Mother’s Day package (just like mine pictured above).

Here’s how:

Giveaway closes Sunday, May 20, 2012 at 10 p.m. EST.

• Open to residents of Canada only.
• Winners will be chosen via And The Winner Is plugin. In the event of plugin failure random.org will be used.
• Winner will be announced Monday, May 21, 2012 and will have 48 hours to reply to my e-mail or a new winner will be chosen.

Mandatory Entry (Must complete before doing optional entries):

• Leave a comment below and tell me your favourite everyday family-time moment.

Optional Entry (ies):

• Like Johnson’s Baby Canada on Facebook by clicking here.
• Like Maija’s Mommy Moments on Facebook by clicking here (if you already do just let me know in a comment – it still counts!).
• Follow @MommyMoments on Twitter by clicking here (if you already do just let me know in a comment – it still counts!).
• Follow Maija’s Mommy Moments on Pinterest by clicking here (if you already do just let me know in a comment – it still counts!).
• Tweet about this giveaway using the link to this page and @MommyMoments (can be done twice daily).  Here’s a sample tweet you can copy and paste:

I want to celebrate being a mom & #WIN a Johnson’s Baby Prize Package w/digital camera via @MommyMoments http://maijasmommymoments.com/johnsonsbaby #Giveaway

MOST IMPORTANTLY remember to leave a comment for EACH OPTIONAL ENTRY YOU DO!

PS:  I hear Johnson’s Baby may be announcing another photo contest soon so be sure to check in with them regularly on Facebook for the details. 

I am rarely questioned on why I don’t share full-face pictures of my children on my blog – until very recently my husband was a police officer and people (and I hope all of you) understand that because of this we take a few extra precautions.

What many of you (and my friends and family) don’t understand is why we take that to the extreme and don’t post pictures on our personal Facebook site or on any private photo sharing sites or even on a private You Tube account.

What the school doesn’t understand is why I refuse to sign the form that allows my child’s “image” to be used on the school website.

But I’ll tell you – it’s because of this.

Most people share pictures online without ever even considering what “bad” people may do with them.  Unfortunately, my husband knows all to well what that cute little bare-bum picture of Sweet Pea in the kitchen sink could be used for if a certain type of person found it online.

It could be used by this certain type of person for personal pleasure.  Or worse.

The “worse” is when that “bad” person starts sharing those images with the other “bad” people they know then one (or more) of them becomes fixated with your child’s image and starts to look for them.  Obsessing over them.  They don’t even need to know your child’s name.

Which is precisely why we will never allow the school or daycare to post images of our children online – you are essentially telling predators where your child is every single day for years!

So why not Facebook?

As my husband says, you are not just sharing with your “friends” you’re sharing with all of their “friends” too and do you know who every single one of those people are?  Do you know what they will do with those photos?

Of course, we take EXTREME cautions.  Mostly because of my husband’s job and because of all the things he “knows” that most law abiding citizens would never even consider.

Trust me, if my husband wasn’t a cop I would have posted pictures of my children all over these pages without ever giving it a second thought.  And there are definitely moments where I wish I could share with you just how cute my kids really are.

But then something like this happens and you can’t help but wonder – who really is looking at those photos.

I’m not saying you shouldn’t post pictures of your children online.  I likely would if my husband hadn’t arrested some fairly scary people in his cop-lifetime.

BUT I am asking you to THINK first and CONSIDER the pictures you are posting online.

That cute little bare-bum picture could be so much more than “cute” to someone hundreds of miles away or even to your next door neighbour.

You don’t want to be that mom who discovered her diaper-clad child dancing on YouTube attracts attention from 3,000 people she does not consider friends or family because she will forever have to wonder who is looking at her child’s image and what they are using it for.

I am absolutely loving how Pampers and Procter and Gamble are celebrating the upcoming Olympics with the release of two videos: O Canada, Baby! and The Best Job.

Neither of these videos need introductions except to say they are amazing and if you haven’t seen them you should.

O Canada, Baby! is the Pamper’s created very first O Canada version performed entirely by babies.  Including the super-cute-baby of one of Canada’s favorite Olympians and a new mother, Priscilla Lopes-Schliep.

My little Sweet Pea may be appearing in an upcoming O Canada, Baby! cut and your baby can too simply by uploading your baby’s gurgles, giggles and perhaps even an attempt at the actual O Canada lyrics simply by uploading your footage here.

The Best Job is P&Gs fabulous ode to a mother’s role in getting our Olympians to the games.  All I can say is have Kleenex readily available.

So the two Take Home Messages of today’s post are:

1. Click on the link(s) to watch O Canada, Baby! then dress your babies in white and red and get them “singing” our country’s anthem.
2. Pat yourself on the back for every time you’ve frozen in a hockey arena at 6am, spent more money on your child’s dance make-up than on your own every day make-up or dabbed your eyes the first time (and every other time) your child scored a goal in whatever sport they play then grab a box of Kleenex and watch The Best Job.

Enjoy the videos and as Sweet Pea likes to say “Go Canada Go!”

Happy Wordless Wednesday everyone!
I wish you all a wonderful day and a little Barista love.

A few weeks ago I promised to start sharing my Working Mommy Moments.  You know the ones that happen when we’re trying to rush out the door to get to work on time (or at least by a reasonable time) or when mayhem happens and all you can hope is that you have an extra 2 minutes to drive-thru Starbucks on the way to work but knowing there isn’t enough coffee in the world to cure your sleep deprivation.

You know, those moments.

Sometimes being a working mom means we have “moments” and while I’m all about the “fake it ’til you make it” and never letting on exactly what I had to do/get through just to get to work before 9am – but here, in this safe space, I’m going to be open and honest.

Sometimes I am SO not rocking this working momma gig.

Take the other day for instance.  I was working on auto-pilot, running through my to-do list that started with “get Sweet Pea dressed”, ended with writing a 2500+ word project brief by the end of the business day and had about 100 things in between.

With pants, shirt, socks and diaper in hand I approached Sweet Pea like a cat ready to pounce, just waiting for the absolute best moment where I could hopefully have most of her pyjamas off and at least the beginning of her clothes on before she really realized what exactly I was trying to do.  After all getting dressed means going to daycare and like all of your kids, my children protest – loudly – until I’ve actually dropped them off in their designated rooms and made a quick “kiss and fly” exit.  Then when I go to pick them up at the end of the day they tell me they aren’t ready to leave yet because they’re having too much fun.

But I digress…

Just as Dora the Explorer (yes I let my kids watch television in the morning.  Lots of it.) I go in for the zipper on her sleeper.

BUSTED!  Well before the zipper is completely down she let me know she was having none of it.  After some gentle pleading, some firm counting and finally a full-blown squirmy baby vs. over-tired-about-to-be-late-for-work-momma wrestling match I had her pyjamas off, her wet diaper off, her bum wiped and her socks and shirt on.  Next came the diaper.

Again, she was having none of it.

“No momma. No diaper.  I panties.”

To which I replied “No… you must have a diaper. You HAVE TO wear a diaper to daycare.”

This went on for a good 45 seconds which if you’ve ever debated with a toddler you know this feels like 45 freaking years.  And there were tears.  Mostly hers.

She refused, stood her ground and finally I realized I was arguing with my 2 1/2 year old daughter that she needed to wear a diaper.

Think about it.

With my first child I think I registered for a potty and brought it out within a week of her learning to walk.

With Bugaboo I’m fairly certain I invested in some super hero underwear before he was 2 years old.

Yet here I was with Sweet Pea closer to 3 years old than 2 years old and I was literally raising my voice about a diaper.

Without saying a word I stood up, went upstairs, got her a pair of panties that my grandmother bought her for Christmas, came back downstairs and without one complaint Sweet Pea allowed me to finish dressing her.

On the way out the door I stopped by the laundry room and grabbed a few pairs of pants and socks (this at least I have learned from potty training two other children – socks get wet when the pants do!) out of the dryer, stuffed them in a plastic bag and headed to daycare.

When I dropped Sweet Pea off I told her teachers that she insisted on wearing panties to school but that I had brought 3 extra pairs of pants and socks (which of course screams – look at me I really am an experienced mom).  I “forgot” to mention the wrestling, yelling and tears (again, mostly hers).

They gave me a very skeptical look and I was certain they’d have a diaper on her within an hour of me walking out the door.  Which I did.  Quickly.

This was not one of my finest parenting moments.  Me vs. the 2 year old.  The 2 year old vs. the diaper.  Needless to say the scoring went:

Sweet Pea 1/Mommy 0
Sweet Pea 1/Diaper 0 (since she’s had exactly 2 accidents since that fateful day).

There are so many lessons here people… so very many lessons but instead of analyzing them I’d rather hear about your Working Mommy Moment(s) this week.  Maybe someone out there had a Working Mommy Win?

PS: Speaking of winning – don’t forget to enter my Pizza Hut $50 gift card giveaway.