HRM Parent Blog

by guest blogger, Deanna Cogdon Miller

The alarm went off at 5:15am. I rolled out of bed, threw on my yoga pants, tiptoed down the hall and walked out the door. A quick drive-through for a coffee and within minutes I was walking through the grocery store filling my cart with everything we’d need for the coming days (remembering things like compost liners, the birthday present required for a party on the weekend, how close our ketchup bottle was getting to empty and the fact that our three year old had outgrown most of her socks). Although the store was relatively empty, I met up with two other women in the refrigerator section. As we all reached for children’s yogurt products, we started laughing about the ridiculousness of grocery shopping at such a crazy hour. As I jokingly asked them why we were there so early, one of the women looked at me with a big smile and said, “Because we’re Moms, that’s why.”

The dictionary defines “mother” as “the female parent”. Although there is no arguing with that statement, I can say with great certainty that you can ask any Mom out there what the word mother means and they will not answer with those three little words. That’s because a Mom is made up of a number of very important roles. Picture a chart with ‘Mom’ in the box at the top. Connecting to it are three more boxes that say Inventory Manager, Social Coordinator and Emotional Support. It doesn’t stop there – connecting to each of those are many more boxes that are in constant flux as you hit different ages and stages of life.

The 1/3 Inventory Manager has overall responsibility for everything going on the house. This tends to be things like children’s clothing (knowing what fits, what doesn’t, what needs to be packed away, what needs to be given back to people and when it’s time to move up a shoe size). This talent for inventory extends into the kitchen with an understanding of what’s needed, what’s running low and what is going to cause a major problem if it runs out. This same skillset is what enables Moms to hear questions like, “Where’s my little blue clip?” and provide answers like, ”I think I saw it inside the empty paper towel roll that is in the basement closet zipped into the big front pocket of the purple suitcase.”

The 1/3 Social Coordinator keeps the family calendar up to date and on track. This part of Mom tends to register kids for lessons, coordinate activity times, ensure all important kid things are attended and book babysitters when required. This is also the part that volunteers to make cakes for the spring fair, go door to door selling popcorn or cookies and solicits family and colleagues to buy tickets for fundraising events. Most of the time, this part of Mom is responsible for the planning and execution of children’s birthday parties. This includes, but is not limited to, finding venues, creating invitations, figuring out activities and of course, decorating cakes and stuffing loot bags until 1am. The Mommy Social Coordinator has the incredible ability to map the entire day out in her brain and pack everything required to make the day run smoothly (as well as a few extras in case of unforeseen circumstances).

The 1/3 Emotional Support does what Moms are best at – unconditional love. Everything from hugs, kisses, cuddles, attention and a listening ear whenever required.  This is the Mom part that goes to bat for their child, supports them in everything they do, helps fulfill their dreams, thinks about them constantly, lets them make mistakes and helps them learn from it when they do. This is also the Mom part that can stay strong and focused when helping their child through something and then retreats to a quiet corner and lets the tears flow when nobody is looking.

After our first was born I remember telling my Mom how I always knew that I was loved growing up but until I became a Mom, I didn’t understand the sheer magnitude of that love. How could I ever have predicted what it would feel like to watch my heart running around outside of my body on a daily basis? It’s indescribable and indefinable. A good friend of mine summed it up perfectly. “Define Mom? Impossible. Just like it’s impossible to define ‘ life’ and ‘love’.” Coincidence? I think not.

Deanna is a Mom of three, wife, marketer and blogger - lover of travel, morning coffee, family time, belly laughs, good friends and uninterrupted showers! Follow her on twitter @DeannaCMiller

by guest blogger, Deanna Cogdon Miller

Bedtime - the best of times and the worst of times. Different every night, different at every stage and different based on who's putting them to sleep.

As I walked downstairs tonight after the nightly routine, I was struck by how different the needs of each of our kids are when it comes to saying goodnight. Keeping in mind that they are one, three and five I'm sure some of it is due to age but for the most part, I think their personalities shine through at this time of day.

According to birth order theory, first borns tend to be reliable and conscientious. Ours is no different. At bedtime, she follows routine to the letter and can (for the most part) be counted on to follow the rules and directions without very much parental intervention. Generally, once stories are done, she likes to have someone stay with her for a few minutes of quiet cuddling and then when we get up to leave, she very often turns her light back on to look at her books herself. Without fail, she'll ask for a time on the clock and once we give her the ‘numbers' that are about 15 minutes later, she's good to go. She'll sit quietly looking at books and once those numbers show up on the clock, she turns out her light on her own and hits the hay.

When it comes to middle children, birth order theory would say that they require more attention than first borns and last borns. Again, this is true in our house and very evident at bedtime. Ours is the one who finds every excuse to stay awake with us a little longer. She'll want a snack and then a certain stuffed animal and then another story and then some water and then she'll need to go to the bathroom.  Her cuddle time is different than her older sister's. She uses it to lie in the dark and ask a few questions or tell you a few things that have been on her mind that day. Once she's done, she likes to lie quietly holding our hands for a few minutes before we get up to leave. She's the one who's the most passionate about her nighttime "I love you". As we walk out the door and whisper how much we love her, she answers quickly and sweetly - like it's what she's waiting to hear before she can head off to dreamland.

Although he's still pretty young, our one year old already shows the typical signs of being a last born. He's sociable, charming and loving and it tends to be no different when he's going to sleep. After reading stories (and sometimes during stories if he's tired), he'll turn in and cuddle up on our shoulders to tell us he's ready for bed. Once we turn out the light, he just stays there nestled in and very often will rub and pat our backs while he cuddles. He snuggles tight for awhile and many times he'll suddenly pop up and point or gesture towards his crib indicating that he's ready to get in. A kiss goodnight and for the most part he lies on his belly and just calmly watches you walk out the door. Big, tight cuddles and then asleep in minutes.

Just like breakfast is the most important meal of the day, I think bedtime is one of the most important times of the day for kids. There are so many nights when we're exhausted from work or have things we need to get done and our inclination is to rush through the bedtime routine to get on to other things. Even though the needs of kids seem to be slightly different at the end of the day, they do have one thing in common - a need to have special quiet time with a parent. And you know, as parents, there's nothing quite like special quiet time with our kids to make the stress of the day fade away and put everything into perspective. Never has the word "goodnight" meant so much. 

Deanna is a Mom of three, wife, marketer and blogger - lover of travel, morning coffee, family time, belly laughs, good friends and uninterrupted showers! Follow her on twitter @DeannaCMiller

by guest blogger, Deanna Cogdon Miller

I will never forget the advice one of my colleagues gave me in the week following our first daughter's birth - "Welcome to motherhood and a lifetime of worry. The trick is to learn how to live with the worry because it will never go away."

She was right. There's always an element of worry to my day. The ‘what ifs', the ‘don't do that ors' and the ‘if you do that you mights' are always popping into my brain and escaping my lips. For the most part they're little things but every once in awhile one will hit that has greater significance and consumes my thoughts more than I should let it.

As I glance at the EpiPen sitting on my counter, now is one of those times.

Carrots, peaches and a light spread of peanut butter on a flour tortilla. All things he'd had before but as soon as she mentioned the peanut butter, my mind went into overdrive. When we arrived home and saw his blotchy face and watery eyes we loaded everyone into the car, gave him a dose of Benedryl and went to the IWK.

The verdict? We don't know yet. Hence the worry. The emergency doctor told us that his reaction didn't look like a typical nut allergy but that we may have just been lucky. We are being referred to an allergist and they gave us an EpiPen lesson before we left the hospital.

The rational me knows that there are a ton of families out there dealing with nut and other serious allergies. In fact I recently read somewhere that as many as one in fifty Canadian children live with severe food allergies. Schools are more aware, manufacturers are more aware and kids with allergies learn pretty quickly what they can and can't eat.

The emotional me, on the other hand, has cried. I've cried because having to constantly think about what your child eats seems like so much to add on top of all of the other parental worry. I've cried because I don't want him to have to worry about this for the rest of his life. I've cried as I pour over every label, worried I'll make a mistake. I've cried at the realization that when your child has something like this you have to put so much faith in other people, including strangers. One mis-step in their child's lunch could have a devastating impact on your family.

I don't know what's going to happen when we finally see an allergist. Obviously we're hoping for the best but one thing is for sure, this experience so far has given me the utmost respect for parents of children with allergies. It has also made me that much more aware of the importance in respecting allergy policies in schools, camps and the community in general. If you ever think that putting one little granola bar with peanuts in your child's lunch won't be a big deal, stop for a minute and put yourself in the other parent's shoes. It's a big deal. A very big deal.

Deanna is a Mom of three, wife, marketer and blogger - lover of travel, morning coffee, family time, belly laughs, good friends and uninterrupted showers! Follow her on twitter @DeannaCMiller

by guest blogger, Deanna Cogdon Miller

Three can be a frustrating age. Between whines, cries and all-out tantrums lies a child who is old enough to know what they want yet still too young to do many of the things they think they can do. They begin to exert their independence - choosing to share when they feel like sharing, choosing to eat when they feel like eating and choosing to wear plaid tights with polka-dot skirts and striped shirts if that's what they feel like wearing. 

I fell in love with three this weekend. Of course I'm truly, madly, deeply in love with my three year old but there's something magical about the age of three that hit me over the past few days. In addition to everything mentioned above, I realized how incredible the world is to them. At this age they are just starting to really grasp everything around them and to get excited about the fact that because they are getting bigger, there are more opportunities available to them. More importantly, when you give them those opportunities, you can see the sparkle in their eyes as they soak it all in.

 Our three year old began her first swimming lessons without a parent this weekend. Before we left she was adamant that she did not want to go. She was convinced the pool was too cold, that she didn't want a boy teacher and that she already knows how to swim. We somehow got her there and she very quickly trotted off with her (female) teacher and the other kids in the class. As soon as she got into the pool and started following the teacher's instructions you could see how incredibly proud she was of herself. After each task she completed, she'd look for us with a huge smile and wait for our little claps from the sidelines.  I felt full of life watching her accomplish something new and something that was so obviously bringing her a ton of joy.

We celebrated that afternoon with her first haircut (took her a long time to get hair) and again, the joy in her face as she sat in that big chair experiencing a hair salon for the first time filled my heart. Full of questions, beaming from ear to ear and very proud to show me the locks left on the ground when it was done. As she walked out with a piece of her hair, a certificate for her first cut and a sucker it was as if she was floating.

The weekend ended with our girls participating in the MEC Citadel Highlander Kids Race. Our three year old was the youngest participant and as I ran next to her in the moat, I found myself wondering what she was thinking as all the kids passed her. It only took a few minutes for us to feel like we were all alone and as we ran she looked up at me and said, "Mommy I'm running a race." As we neared the finish line and could hear cheers coming from around the corner, her sister suddenly appeared, grabbed her hand and said, "Come on you're doing great, you're almost done." After they crossed the finish line I knelt down and gave her a hug. I couldn't help but think about how amazing this weekend had been for her.

As we walked to grab a snack and some water, I told her how proud I was of her. She was once again grinning from ear to ear. As we reached the snack table I asked her if she wanted an apple or a banana. Her arms suddenly crossed and a scowl came across her face. "I want a granola bar." "Well there's only apples and bananas." "I don't want anything." How about some water." "Only if it's in a green cup." I just had to laugh. Such a magical time. Such a frustrating time. Welcome to three.

Deanna lives in Dartmouth with her husband and three children. When she's not reading stories, dancing to ABBA or burping a baby, she works in communications for Bell Aliant.

by guest blogger, Deanna Cogdon Miller

For most of us, going to the bathroom is second nature. You realize you have to go, you go, you wash your hands and you walk out the door. For women, however, there's a time in life when that very natural event changes. Every time you realize you have to go you say a little prayer. Every time you actually go you check the paper. When you're done and you wash your hands you let out a sigh of relief. Welcome to the first few secretive weeks of pregnancy.

As a general rule, we don't discuss miscarriages in today's society even though they occur in one of every five pregnancies. The sinking feeling that you get when you notice something is ‘off' is, as a general rule, something to be kept to yourself. It's amazing how something so small as one tiny spot of blood can start your heart beating fast, send your emotions into an uproar and cause a flurry of activity in an attempt to figure out what's going on. As your whole world feels like it's crashing in on you, you're expected to keep it quiet, stay composed in public and complete your day as if nothing is going on.

But something is going on. Something huge is going on. Whether you are five weeks along or 16 weeks along, once you see those two little lines pop up on a test, you consider yourself a parent. You begin projecting to what life will be like nine months from now, you surf every pregnancy-related website possible, you suddenly start to notice pregnant women everywhere and you start taking note of names you like as you hear them. When that wonderful feeling is disrupted, the emotions that go along with it can be all-consuming. It's a grieving process, it's personal and for the most part, you go through it in silence.

As you work through the emotional and physical pain that go along with miscarriage, the worry soon follows. "Will this happen to me again?", "Will I ever be able to have a baby?" Then our minds wander to what we may have done to cause such an outcome. "I missed two days of folic acid", "I had three drinks before I knew I was pregnant", or "I ate soft cheese".  As your emotional brain is in overdrive, your rational brain is in the background somewhere reminding you that this didn't happen because you skipped a day of folic and then enjoyed a Greek salad with feta afterwards.

My record is 50 per cent. Three miscarriages. Three miracles. I was inspired to write this because there is strength in numbers. Women who have miscarried are everywhere and just because it's the norm to stay silent, it doesn't mean that you need to lock your feelings up and throw them away. Be sad. Cry. Get angry. And most importantly, talk if you need to. Twenty per cent of us are members of this club that we did not choose to join and there's no two ways about it...membership sucks.

Deanna lives in Dartmouth with her husband and three children. When she's not reading stories, dancing to ABBA or burping a baby, she works in communications for Bell Aliant.