parenting – Page 2 – Urban Suburban Mommy

5 Communication tips to make sure you are heard

Posted on June 27, 2016 by Urban Suburban Mommy Posted in The Best You .

When you speak – you want people to listen (especially our partners and children). Although most people think that if you yell, you will be heard. It’s quite the opposite. I have put together 5 effective communication strategies to help you succeed in the art of conversation and ensure that your message is well-received and understood.

1.Stay Calm and Be Positive

Use your words to help you, not sabotage you. If you communicate with anger and negativity, no one will listen. If you’ve got your back up, you need to address it – before you start talking. Take a timeout so you can calm down and see clearly. Often, when you wait it out, your perceptions will change and you can reclaim your perspective. Calm tells the other person that you want to address the issue as a win-win situation.

2.Choose Your Words Carefully

Before you speak, consider the words you choose. Never begin a conversation on the attack. If you start a sentence with You, Why or What, you may come across as accusatory and your conversation will be interpreted as ‘I’m right, you’re wrong’. Try instead to start with “I” phrases that take ownership of your feelings such as, ‘I noticed that…, I appreciate it when you X, and when X happens, it…, I know it was with good intentions that…, , or, I love that you’….When you begin your sentences with feelings about the other person first, the other person is more likely to welcome being invited into the conversation and hear what you’re saying.

3. Watch Your Tone

Your tone sets the stage. The tone you take can make or break a conversation regardless of the words you use. Even the nicest of intentions can sound hurtful or accusatory, if you choose the wrong tone. How do you keep your tone on track? Keep calm and positive, but don’t forget to also be kind and firm. You can talk all you want, but if your tone is sending a different message, nothing you say will help you.

4. Consider Your Body Language

What is your body saying about your intent? If you want to be heard, not only do you have to watch what you say, but you also have to be mindful of what your body is saying as as well. Direct eye contact is key. Holding your phone, a pen, a food item? You won’t be taken seriously if you’re trying to convey a message while multitasking. Focus on one thing. If you want respect and validation, you also have to give it.

Get on-level too.

That means, if the other person is standing, you stand. If they’re sitting, you sit. Your goal is not only to create rapport and buy-in so your party listens, but also demonstrate that you are equals in the conversation.

Conversing with your children? Get down to their level. You don’t want to be over-bearing, a bully, or be a parent who imparts a dictatorship style of parenting. Fill their power buckets. Empower your children. That is, after all, your job.

5. Be Thankful

Giving thanks is an important step that many people forget. Let the other person know you appreciate them for not only taking the time to listen, but for hearing you and taking part in the conversation. Gratitude sets up a positive platform not just for the relationship and your expectations, but also for the next time you need to get something off your chest. All relationships hit bumps in the road and require continual communication to overcome barriers.

When you feel thankful, you allow the other person to feel thankful too, and that’s good insurance for the next time you need to have a conversation or chat with your child, or anyone for that matter.

Final thoughts: Listening and hearing are two different things. Hearing someone speak is not the same as listening to what they’re saying. Listen. Be an active participant. Lead by example.

Happy Communicating!

In practice for over 12 years, Lauren Millman is a highly sought-after Toronto Marriage & Relationship Coach and Counsellor, Mental Health Practitioner and Parenting Specialist, and is a member of the Ontario Association for Family Mediation. Lauren is a regular guest contributor on TV’s Rogers Daytime! York Region, and The Mediation Station. She has also been a guest on SiriusXM Radio Canada. Lauren is an international best- selling author, writes regularly for several online publications including Brazenwoman, PinkandBlue North America, and SiriusXM Canada, and was recently featured in the Toronto Star. Lauren continuously gives back to the community. In 2014, Lauren was the Recipient of the International Women In Leadership Award.

My name is “NO”

Posted on June 20, 2016 by Urban Suburban Mommy Posted in The Struggle is Real .

On mommy’s agenda for me today:

getting dressed
going to school
eating dinner
bath
bedtime.

Um, no. I will not be doing any of that. At least, not with any discernible amount of ease.

GETTING DRESSED

I know that I wear the same uniform every day, and most days I’m cool with it. But today, I don’t know… I’m just feeling like it’s a pyjamas-to-school-type day. No, not these pyjamas on my body, Dunderklumpen. I want to wear the pyjamas at the bottom of my dirty laundry hamper.

Why?

Because they’re friggin’ COOL. You might not remember what cool feels like because your fashion criteria is whether or not your leggings roll down and you think musical ingenuity ended in the 80’s.

I don’t give a rat’s a** what the weather is outside. I will wear the exact opposite. I will also wear my pants and/or shirt backwards because I am expressing myself. I am an individual who will not live under your Reich of conformity. I also have first rights of refusal regarding outerwear. You can be sure I will complain about being cold and that my pants are falling down. Because, individual.

GOING TO SCHOOL

photo: sboneham

Give me the keys, please. You know the drill. I press the buttons to open all the doors (yes, even the trunk). You may have them back once I’ve shut all the doors and locked everyone inside. Just because you drive like Hunter S. Thompson on a bender doesn’t mean we all have a death wish. I’m concerned about safety.

You’re welcome.

(After school)

photo: Henry Burrows

So, about today. I may or may not have licked my friend’s face at lunch. I was pretending to be a puppy. You know, a small, warm, furry pile of love that I want more than the very oxygen I breathe but you say we can’t have because you have “allergies” and basically don’t care about my happiness?

Also, the teacher got a bit annoyed because for the fourth time this week, I brought in a piece of paper with random letters typed on it for show-and-tell, which apparently only happens on Mondays. Pfft. They’ll all regret not basking in my genius and technical prowess. I know how to use a computer. I am the future.

EATING DINNER

photo: Vladimer Shioshvili

It smells nice in here! No doubt some healthy concoction of proteins, carbs and veggies. Chicken? Isn’t that the animal on my Fisher Price See ‘N Say farm toy? Are you suggesting that I eat the cute, smiling cartoon animal? Everywhere a tsk tsk. You say I like chicken? Come on poo monkey, chicken is so five seconds ago.

Unless it’s nuggets. I like those.

Besides, chicken nuggets aren’t really chicken, that’s just a name, like eggplant or…soup. You’re a dummy.

(Ten minutes after dinner is finished.)

I want macaroni. I want MACARONI. I WA-A-A-A-A-A-ANT MACARONI!!

What the hell is wrong with you? I HATE macaroni! I want cookies!

BATHROOM BREAK (Not on the list but the four year old is nothing if not flexible when it comes to routine and schedule. Sorry, I tried to keep a straight face.)

photo: David Hilowitz

I don’t have to wash my hands after I use the toilet, because I never touched my thingie and I even wiped up the floor pee with your face towel so I never touched anything. Besides, I washed my hands two days ago, so they’re practically like new. I have bacteria on my hands? That sounds like a word you made up. I’mma smell my fingers and very likely put them in my mouth. Just to be sure.

BATH

photo: Martin Howard

A bath? Sure, I’m down with a bath. Here is my list of demands:

a) I get into the tub first. I don’t care if the baby gets undressed faster and has to stand there while I spend the next 10 minutes running around naked screaming “I have a penis!” I don’t care if the bathwater goes tepid. If anyone starts bathing before I get into the bath, my head will explode and you will have to clean it up and you’ll be sorry.

b) I am in charge of putting all the tub toys into the tub.

Every. Single. One.

c) I will not be washing my hair. I washed it last week and it’s fine. If you come at me with the shampoo I will literally flip my s**t and try to drown you. The baby, however, looks dirty and needs a shampoo. I will conduct the rinsing. I’m holding him under to rinse out the shampoo. This is called rinsing. He’s rinsed when he starts to panic a little. Can you please tell him not to be such a big baby?

BEDTIME

photo: Quinn Dombrowski

I want 2 books. No wait, 5 books. No wait, I’ll just pile up all the books. Wait, I don’t want to read a story anymore. I want to play with the Gro Clock. What do you mean I broke it? I just took off the back panel to see what the buttons did. What shoddy manufacturing! I have a curious mind, I’m thirsty for knowledge! Speaking of thirsty, I want a drink. I know very well that “bedtime” is what you call the bottle of red stuff on the counter. Before you get to the bottom of your “bottle of feigned happiness and forgotten dreams”, where’s my drink? I want water in a cup with a lid, but just to make things interesting, I have no intention of telling you which cup I want, and will only yell “no” at each selection until your eye starts twitching. Then I’ll get bored of the game. Also, I’m laughing at you because I’m not even thirsty.

(Two hours later)

By the way, even asleep I know you’re crazy about me. See you tomorrow.

Love, the Despot.

Parenting as a team. Who’s side are you on anyway?

Posted on June 2, 2016 by Urban Suburban Mommy Posted in Urban Suburban Mommy .

It’s tough at the best of times to parent. It’s even tougher when there’s more than one of you.

Remember before you had kids? You had it all planned out in your head, and you knew exactly what kind of parent you were going to be, and how you were going to do that.

I remember.

photo: Newtown grafitti

And then, there were two. Two of you, and that meant you weren’t alone in your parenting decisions, styles, or ideas. As a parent, you instantly become one half of the team. Difficult for some, especially if you’re a take-charge kind of person, but if you’re going to parent successfully, it has to be done as a partnership.

Like marriage, parenting is teamwork, and like any team, you need to get to know your opponent so they become not only your ally, but your confidant, support system, and partner. It may be difficult to take a step back as commander and settle into the role of member, but remember who you’re doing it for, and the motives behind it. As a parent, your role is to empower, lead by example, and show a united front, so that your kids grow into confident, self-assured team-players themselves. So what’s important here, and how do you do that?

1. You’re a Partnership. Be A Partnership.

Before any partnership can be successful, you have to understand them. Learn about your partner’s parenting styles. Everyone has different ideas and styles, and at the end of the day, each of you will have something constructive, important and valuable to contribute. Make sure that your styles compliment each other. If some don’t, that’s okay, but talk about when a parenting style is ok to institute, and when not. If you’re not sure, discuss it. When it comes to consequencing, (not punishing, there’s ever a lesson in that), ensure you’re both on the same page for that particular incident or issue. Let your partner know how you’ve handled things, what was said, and what, if any, were the consequences. The last thing you want is to confuse your child. There should be no “well Mommy said”, or “Daddy said”… Be consistent. Don’t belittle your kids either, while you’re having your discussion with them. Always be thinking how you can fill their empowerment cups.

2. Create a Plan-Of-Action.

Before any action plan can work, there must be open communication.You’ve got to share the reigns now. That was a hard one for me. Being able to have a conversation about your parenting styles is tantamount. Discuss the 5-W’s of how you’re going to parent; What, Where, When, Why, Who, and How. Don’t forget to tag-team the other person if you’re not able to keep your cool or if things begin to escalate in your little one. You can also disengage, take a few minutes for your own time-out, regroup, collect your wits, and come back. You’ll get more leverage out of of parenting this way, and you’ll also be teaching your child about emotional control and ownership of one’s emotions.

photo: Prachatai

3. Agree to Disagree.

For some, this means taking that back seat and listening to what your partner has to say. Hear what they have to say, without being reactive. Nothing good ever came from impulse. Be considerate. Listen. Think, Consider. Acknowledge and validate.

You may not think at that moment, their ideas or how-to’s are amenable to you, so take it in, let it brew in your mind so you can respond in calm, and revisit. Let your partner know you respect their ideas, otherwise, you’ve lost even before things have begun. It’s great to be able to have a discussion about certain ideas, because often better ideas come to the surface. And, it’s another great bonding opportunity for you and your partner.

photo: Laurent Bartkowski

4. It’s all about the Compromise.

If you’ve agreed to disagree, in fact what you’ve inadvertently but constructively done, is create an open space for further discussion to compromise. Like marriage, it’s not about making concessions, succeeding everything, relenting, or just giving up. It’s about the journey. The compromise. Not only is this another great bonding opportunity for you and your partner, but you can actually work a lot out and learn about each other when you’ve learnt how to compromise, and have had an opportunity to see how it feels to be successful in that. It’s what I call the “experience of the experience.” If you haven’t felt how good something feels, you won’t necessarily remember it when you need to.

Don’t forget to let all your caregivers know how you parent, so there’s even more consistency for you and your child(ren).
Happy Parenting!

About Lauren Millman

Top 5 things I swore I’d never do as a parent (And did immediately after becoming one)

Posted on May 25, 2016 by Urban Suburban Mommy Posted in The Struggle is Real .

photo: Travelwayoflife

I’ll admit it – before kids I took a hard line on things I knew nothing about. I read a lot of books, I watched a lot of movies, I had everything figured out. I used words like “never” and “always” as though I had a finger on the pulse of something that other parents, throughout centuries of child-rearing, knew nothing about.

I was going to nail this parenting thing because I was an expert.

At being a complete jackhole.

As you read, know that you will never judge me as hard as I’ve judged myself. If I could go back in time and punch myself in the neck, believe me, I would. Here’s a list of the “nevers and always’” that just didn’t pan out for me.

photo: David Salafia

I will never let my child meltdown in public

I used to glare at parents who “let” their kids act up in a grocery store or throw tantrums in a restaurant. I’d look with derision and think “Pfft, my kids will never do that.”

I invite you to insert laughter here.

I get it now. Those parents aren’t ignoring their kids, they’ve actually gone dead inside. There’s a point where the non-stop needing, wanting, asking, begging, yelling, maddening repetitionrepetitionrepetitionrepetition causes the psyche to collapse in on itself like a dying star. It happened to me once, at a birthday party with both kids and no help. I couldn’t do anything but drive erratically and ugly cry the whole way home.

I know now that you can’t control a child’s behaviour any more than you can control the weather. All you can do is control how you respond. At almost four years old, Nate is pretty awesome to hang out with. He would never have learned how to behave in public unless we actually took him outside. These days he rarely acts out, and when does reach critical mass, we leave. Period. I’ve left movies, live theatre, concerts, family functions, play dates, you name it, we’ve bailed on it. Restaurants work if we can keep him seated for longer than 10 minutes, which leads us to…

I will never let my child watch too much TV/play with my iPhone/Tablet/Technology

Oh those poor, disengaged children. It’s so sad to see the breakdown of the family unit. See how that child just gazes at that tiny screen while his parents ignore him and eat hot food while enjoying adult conversation for five whole minutes without interruption or having to placate him with a duffel bag full of toys, books, crayons, crafts and a diorama of The Last Supper featuring characters from Sesame Street and a glow-in-the-dark Big Bird Jesus, all while engaging the restaurant in a rousing rendition of “Old MacDonald Had A Farm” (E-I-E-I-Oh-my-god-kill-me!) Evil technology! It’s not our first go-to, but I keep an arsenal of PJ Masks and Mickey Mouse Clubhouse episodes on my phone at all times.

I will always feed my child healthy food

When Nate was ready to start solids, I bought organic produce and grain-fed poultry. I steamed, chopped, pureed and roasted the healthiest combinations you could imagine. He ate almost none of it, because no one told him that effort = appreciation.

His tastes have ebbed and flowed over the years, loving one food, then hating it in the time it takes me to buy a lot of it. His younger brother has a broader palate, and will gladly try anything you serve him, as long as it’s out of the garbage can after I’ve wiped it off the floor. As long as they’re putting on weight and not suffering from scurvy, I don’t give it a second thought.

I will never bribe my children

Yes you will. Often.

I’m all for parenting to achieve long-term goals, but once in a while, there is nothing wrong with immediate compliance, even if compliance looks like ice cream or a trip to Jungle Land.

My children will never sleep in our bed

Replace “never” with “every night” and you would have our current sleeping arrangement. The first night I brought Nathan home, I put him in the co-sleeper beside the bed. We watched him scream himself purple for two and a half excruciating minutes before I picked him up and announced to my husband that I was never doing that again. Sleep training doesn’t work for us. It is an unholy nightmare and I’m done with it. My boys like sleeping with their mama. How much longer can I say that? How many nights did I lie awake, sobbing into my pillow while they wailed in their cribs? Who wins?

So there you have it. A crash course in how not to be a know-it-all super jerk. A lesson in empathy towards parents, those superheroes charged with caring for tiny, adorable despots. An elegy for a retired Judgey McJudgeyPants who learned never to say “never”.

Mother’s Day is bittersweet, and that’s okay

Posted on May 5, 2016 by Urban Suburban Mommy Posted in The Struggle is Real .

Every year around Mother’s Day, I get a bit weepy. My husband goes to great lengths to remind me that we need to celebrate me, because I’m a mom, but Mother’s Day really hurts.

I lost my mom in 2001. We were very close, she was an awesome mom. Every Mother’s Day is a stark reminder that I’ve gone a whole other year without her.

Inconceivable.

I miss her tons. But I try to get inspired by my husband’s enthusiasm so that my boys can make a fuss and celebrate Mother’s Day and do all of those things I once did for my mom. I like when my Mother-in-Law comes down on Mother’s Day, it makes it all a bit more normal for me, but she’s not able to make it this year so I get Mother’s Day all to myself.

But what I’ve come to learn in these 15 motherless Mother’s Days is that it’s okay to miss my mom. I’m damned lucky to have had a mom worth missing. It’s another year of teaching my boys about her crazy ways and hysterical sense of humor and her unwavering love and affection, and it makes me appreciate how well she prepared me to love my boys with all that I’ve got.

The one thing that makes me sad is that my mom was uncomfortable in front of the camera. So many life events are missing shots of her, and there are so few from our day-to-day, that I don’t have as many mementoes as I’d like. If there were one thing I could change it would be that – so take a lesson here – get in front of the camera. No makeup, overweight, underweight, messy, dirty, in jammies, unbrushed hair – the only thing your kids will ever notice, is the love you always have in your eyes for them. So leave them plenty.

“Me Time” even if it means staying up late…

Posted on April 28, 2016 by urbansuburbanmommy Posted in The Struggle is Real .

I am almost always tired. I usually fall into bed at a reasonable hour – most nights anyways. But every once in a while I need to stay up late. Sometimes it’s binging on a TV show or reading or taking a bath. Occasionally I need to have a marathon gab session with my bestie. And every once in a long while I find myself just Googling the hell out of weird stuff until I’ve gone so far down a rabbit hole I find myself reading about vestigial tails.

[youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rFxu7NEoKC8&w=560&h=315]

I used to be a night owl. I’m still more myself at night than I am in the first 5 or 6 hours I’m up – especially when my day starts at 6am!

The days are filled with cleaning and housekeeping and long hours at work. There’s fun with the kids and chores and teaching and learning. It’s all good, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. But every now and then I need a few hours of ‘me’ time.

It took me a long time to understand that ‘me time’ wasn’t a bad thing, and it wasn’t because I wasn’t enjoying the rest of my day. “Me time” is just pretty rare and much too indulgent when there are other little wonderous human beings depending on you for each and every one of their needs. They just come first. And bit by bit, you forget to do your own stuff.

“Me time” is worth staying up for – once in a while!

Surviving The Threenager

Posted on April 13, 2016 by Alexis Nicols Posted in The Struggle is Real .

I have a Threenager. This summer, he’ll be a Fournado – but let’s deal with one emotional apocalypse at a time.

My son has feelings. Big, big, nuclear feelings. They are spectacular to witness, in much the same way that the good people of Nevada were awed by hydrogen bomb testing.

Threenagers are an enigma, wrapped in Tasmanian devil on crack and surrounded by mess. Our morning routine used to be a recipe for disaster: Add a dash of dawdling and stir in a healthy cup of I-will-not-do-anything-you-ask-me-to-do-until-you-reach-a-pitch-that-only-dogs-can-hear. Our mornings used to be an endless power struggle that started the moment we woke up.

I knew there had to be a better way to communicate with my son, a method that empowered him and enabled us to parent him in a way that achieved long term goals. My partner and I took a class led by an Adlerian Parent Educator.

After applying some of her techniques and following her suggestions, we saw an almost immediate change in our oldest son. I’m not advocating one school of thought over another, or that this method works with every child across the board. In my home these suggestions worked for my child and ultimately, for our entire household. Here are just a few things we learned:

1. Let It Go (don’t sing the song. Just.Don’t.)

This was a hard one for me. I manage everything in my home. And it’s exhausting. My morning monologue used to sound like this:

“Time to get dressed, get dressed please, here are your clothes, do you need help? Get dressed get dressed please get dressed, please brush your teeth here let me help you with the toothpaste stop eating the toothpaste brush your teeth top AND bottom, stop chewing the toothbrush, please sit down and eat breakfast, sit down, sit down, sit down, sit down, eat your breakfast, eat it please god just eat it please eat your breakfast, time to get your coat on get your coat on get your coat on are you listening to me? Stop pushing your brother and get your coat on fine I’m leaving if you don’t get your coat on in 5 seconds…”

And so on…

After the class, we just…stopped. Stopped arguing with him, stopped the power struggle, stopped trying to tell him what we think is best. This is closer to what I say now:

“Your clothes are on the bed for you. See you downstairs when you’re dressed and we’ll have breakfast.”

“Time to get our coats on. Here are your boots, I’ll meet you at the door.”

We’re letting him do as much for himself as he is capable of. The results were amazing; as soon as we stopped telling him what to do, he became more amenable to doing for himself. The process took time (about two weeks of script-flipping) and it’s not perfect (he intentionally wears his shirts or pants backwards and getting him to sit through breakfast can be challenging), but he’s making more of his own choices and he’s learning to live with the consequences of his actions in an age-appropriate way.

2. We Know His Limits

There was a brief period of time when we didn’t go out with other people. The thought of scheduling a play date sent me into b*tch-panic. And forget restaurants. I remember taking the threenager (along with his baby brother) to his first birthday party for a school friend. I only remember a whirlwind of chasing, spilling and endless “no thank you’s”.

At one point, I had tied a balloon to his wrist so I could find him. Now, we give him limited choices, prepare him for the day in advance and watch for early meltdown signs (fatigue and hunger are the main killers.) I still get anxious when we go out, but as long as it’s early enough in the day and in a controlled environment, weekends are much, much more enjoyable.

3. Respect Yourself

Ultimately, I can’t control my threenager – and I wouldn’t want to. Do I want him to grow up to be a compliant people-pleaser? Of course not. But I can control me and my reactions. Sometimes, he acts up and lashes out (remember big feelings?) A few months ago, we had Wafflegate. My son, who will only eat waffles if they are whole and un-cut, was barely picking at his breakfast. I asked him if it might be easier to eat if I cut it up for him. He said yes (he was distracted. I take full responsibility.) Well didn’t that child take one look at his easier-to-eat waffles and flip his s**t – along with his syrupy plate full of food – all over the floor. The old me, who never fully healed her inner child, would have agonized and freaked out. But at that moment, I realized that I couldn’t make him see my point of view or apologize, but I could respect myself enough to walk away.

“Here,” I said, returning with a cloth. “You can clean up.”

Him: “Make me another waffle!”

Me: “Ohhh, no…no more waffles. Breakfast is over. You get nothing.”

Him: “I get…nothing?”

Me: “Well, not nothing. You get to clean up the mess.”

I didn’t yell, I didn’t fume, I didn’t resent him. But I wasn’t about to give him another chance to treat me poorly. And he wasn’t going to starve over it either.

I’m not perfect. Sometimes I lose my patience and yell. Sometimes, I sit in the bathroom with the door locked and cry for five minutes. Sometimes I feel like it’s a threenager’s world and we’re all just surviving in it, Lord-of-the-Flies-style. But the limit-testing, the challenging behaviour and the button-pushing are all signs that he’s developing exactly as he should be.

At the end of the day, I’d rather have a child who stands up for himself and has loads of confidence.

Having said that, come talk to me when he turns four…

Calling it quits: When it’s time to stop having kids

Posted on March 9, 2016 by Alexis Nicols Posted in The Struggle is Real .

photo: Chastity Brighton

I had just delivered my second son. He was wrapped in a blanket, with a tiny beanie on his matted, goopy head. I had literally just pulled this being from my body (you read correctly) when a nurse asked:

“Are you going to have another?”

In my post-delivery stupor, it took me a few moments to realize that she wasn’t asking me if I had any more in there. It wasn’t the last time people would ask me. I must have fielded this question 50 times during my maternity leave. Do I want more? Yes, absolutely. Are we going to try again? Not likely.

I should back it up a bit. Due to our age and a few medical hiccups, my partner and I had our children via IVF. As of today, we still have two fertilized embryos sitting in a storage facility, waiting to be thawed. Only we’re not going to be the ones thawing them.

All things being equal, we certainly want to add a third or even a fourth child to our family. We have the produce and we have the plumbing, right? I’ve wanted children for years and spent three of them steeped in medical intervention and heartbreaking failure in order to bring my sons into the world. We were very lucky to have our first, we were positively blessed to have a second. People tell us to be thankful for what we have, as though wanting more children would throw nature out of balance. It’s superstitious and obtuse to assume that because we have more love to give, more chambers of our hearts to fill, that we are somehow greedy and not thankful for the love we already have.

photo: Intellegent_persona

I want more kids. I really do. But here’s the reality: kids are expensive. It is virtually impossible to live in this city without a five-year plan that involves a bank heist or a lottery win. We have a house that fits everyone. Certainly it could contain one more, but if the cost of living goes up one more percent, I’d have to turn us into a performing family. My partner has a lot of talents, but Captain Von Trapp he is not.

The other reality is age. My husband and I are both in our 40’s. Kids are a young person’s game. I can’t see myself in 5 years dealing with cluster feedings, sleepless nights and dirty diapers. I’m so tired, people. So, so tired.

Several months ago, I received a bill from the facility that keeps our embryos to pay the annual storage fee. My partner, in one of his less sensitive moments, asked why we didn’t just donate them. After my third day of inconsolable tears, I think he realized that the situation was more nuanced. Donating baby clothes, knowing you will never again use the play mat or the tiny bucket seat that you brought your baby home in – these are small, sad moments filled with nostalgia. Donating frozen embryos is a line in the sand. It’s definitive and closes that door forever. There will be no more siblings, no more first moments, no more tiny pink and blue beanies.

In the meantime, I have another year to think about what to do with those embryos. Circumstances could change, sleep habits could improve, my boys could ask for a sister. You just never know. While I know in my brain that we are done having children, the message is taking a long, long time to get to my heart.

Alexis Nicols is a marketing specialist, actor and freelance writer. She lives in urban Toronto with her husband and two sons, but is definitely suburban at heart. She regularly dodges the slings and arrows of parenting boys, considers herself a connoisseur of stretchy pants and hopes that the light at the end of the tunnel isn’t a train.

For more musings from a mom who wonders when everything below the neck went National Geographic, visit her blog: stopstopcomehere.ca

Dragging my kid up a hill makes me feel old

Posted on February 22, 2016 by urbansuburbanmommy Posted in The Struggle is Real .

I’ll admit it. Sometimes I think I did myself and my kids a disservice by having them later in life. I don’t have these thoughts often, most of the time I’m perfectly happy with the decision, but then something will come along and BAM! Like life slapped me in the face with a big fat “I don’t think so!”

I used to ski – and occasionally snowboard – but the last time I was on the slopes was the year before I got pregnant. I find myself dying to get back to it. The boys are 5 and 7 – definitely old enough to learn. They’ve started at lessons.

I take them on weekends to a local ski and snowboard park. Hills aren’t that big, perfect for learning. I thought when they meant I had to be there with my 5 year old that it was like other programs – I had to be on site in case they needed me. I was imagining a free hour – I could get a lift ticket and go skiing, or maybe just bring a newspaper and sit in the chalet… But the fantasy was not to be.

Week one I show up in my cute booties, a short wool coat and leather gloves. I drop them off and the instructor hands me a leash and tells me to strap it on him and pull him over to the learning area.

I find myself with my kid, on the hill in my cute boots and wool coat. He’s strapped into his snowboard looking all thrasher cool and I’ve got a leash secured around his ankle. My job is to drag him around on his board for an hour to get him used to riding. The instructor is basically going to instruct the parents on what to get our kids to do. By week 2 we are dragging the kids up the hill and then running down after them or trying to control them as they learn how to stop, start, bear crawl, crab walk and basically ride.

Frankly, I could have used YouTube videos if I wanted to be on the hill for an hour dragging my kid around, we have some great free hills closer to home. But here’s the thing. I’m 44, no longer running 10K a day, no longer as active and in shape as I used to be.

I have a mom bod. I’m not ashamed to admit I carry a few extra pounds, and I’m comfortable in my mom jeans. However, I’m too old to be dragging a 72 pound child straight up a hill and then running down after him 7, 8 or 9 times in an hour.

I’m dying. The other 4 parents in my group are about 10 years younger than me. Although they’re not enjoying the whole thing any more than I am, I swear the instructor keeps a closer eye on me to make sure I don’t drop dead of a heart attack on his watch. While I might look good on skis, and my kids are loving snowboarding lessons, I can honestly not count the number of times I’ve muttered under my breath, “I’m too old for this gig…” while dragging him up the hill.

I did have one idea and the other parents agreed it might work – if we do another session of instruction I’m going to hand out flyers to the neighbourhood 20-somethings advertising “Snowboard Body Boot Camp” and charge them $25/hour for the workout. It’s honestly not a bad workout – just not for me!

(Though if my 20-something self had been parenting like this, she likely would have been hung over and dragging the little thrasher up the hill, writing a very similar rant about being to young and hip for this gig!)

Is it your first?

Posted on February 12, 2016 by urbansuburbanmommy Posted in Urban Suburban Mommy .

Every age and stage comes with ‘the questions’ that everyone asks. You’re a teen, people want to know what you’re going to do with your life. In your 20s they want to know when you’re going to get married. You’re married, they start asking when you’re going to have babies. You have one, they ask when number 2 is coming. You start a family in your late 30s and they want to know if this is your second husband… Or third, or fourth. Or better yet, if it’s a good idea – do you know how old you are?

The questions are exhausting – though I’m sure we’ve all asked one at one point or another. After all the questions we’ve fielded over our lifetimes, it doesn’t get easier and it doesn’t get less abrasive. People are only curious, and people don’t mean to be rude, but until they’ve lived through being asked those question, they don’t realize how crass it is to ask questions out of idle curiosity. When did it become appropriate to openly pry?

(I mutters *a-hole* under her breath every time!)

Unfortunately, it seems the questions start to increase in number and intimacy as we get to this age. It’s like 40 brings the “question climax” – these are the final ones, will they break us? Will we stop politely answering and lash out? Do we even need to answer?

No, we don’t. We are never obligated to answer. And yes, they may make us snap. Some of these questions are not only personal, they’re painful.

Being a 40-something mother, we don’t have to tell people whether it’s our first marriage, second or third, why we’re having a baby or how long we’ve been trying. People always seem to assume that a baby at that ‘late maternal age’ means it’s a last chance, last-ditch effort to become the appropriate statistic. There are more losses, it’s harder to conceive and pregnancies may be riskier. The “What are you guys waiting for?” (mutters *asshole* under her breath) may be the most painful of all. They don’t know about suffering the silent losses, the sadness of peeing on a stick and not expecting two lines. They don’t know the stress of genetic counselling and wanting to wait for the genetic testing before getting excited because the numbers from the blood work didn’t look good.

Oh, and if you DON’T have a baby by 40, it’s the worst.

“You’re missing out.” (*a-hole*)

“You poor thing, you never found Mr. Right.” (*a-hole*)

“You must be having problems conceiving.” (definitely muttering *a-hole*)

Well-intentioned people throw you at their single male acquaintances to help you couple up, because of course, that’s your whole life’s goal.

But if you do choose to be a 40-something mommy, they want to know the details. You’ll hear old wives’ tales and horror stories – and everyone knows that the dangers of trisomies and miscarriage goes up at ‘late maternal age’ so you’re already taking some risks that you don’t really need to be reminded about.

Like we need to be reminded. (*a-hole*)

All we want is a family. We planned it this way. We wanted to travel, sew wild oats, build a career. We wanted to wait until we were ready to stop focussing on ourselves and have the ability to settle down and focus on a child. Why is it so hard to believe that we could plan – to want – to spend our years being parents, not grandparents.

If one more person reminds me that I’ll be almost 60 when my kids finish high school they should be prepared for my death glare.

(*a-hole*)

I’ve perfected it.

They don’t appreciate the other side of this. I’m content. I’ve had my life and loads of experiences and I’m more well-rounded. I’m more settled and ready to focus on my child’s life, I’ve had my fun and I’m ready for this. I’m established. I’ve built my career, my home, my social network and my bank account. I’m no longer bewildered by all of the responsibility and have passed the point of worrying what others think, making it easy to make the right decision for my family, not just the prevailing, popular one.

So welcome, 40 is the new baby.

I’m childfree!

Posted on January 15, 2016 by urbansuburbanmommy Posted in The Struggle is Real .

Liz Parker is a mom of none, and has something to say about the experience of living in a society where that’s just not well understood by parents!

Long before there was a Christian Grey making all 50 shades a thing that raised eyebrows, I’ve long thought about life in terms of grey – not black and white. One of them was to be childfree.

For anyone debating the topic, I recommend going to a baby shower.

The first time I went was for my high school friend, about 17 years ago. People were playing games related to guessing the gender of the baby and the size of the baby and I found myself wanting to die with indifference. It was when “stretch mark oil” and “nipple chafing cream” came up for discussion that I excused myself, went outside and lit a cigarette.

I really did not identify with these women.

As everyone brought gifts like booties, swaddle blankets and soft toys, I showed up with 10 family-sized frozen entree chicken pot pies.

“You brought me… frozen food?” my preggo friend asked me uncertainly.

“Oh just you wait,” I said, confident in my practical gift-buying abilities. “When you have had no sleep for a month straight, and your husband is not home, the baby’s screaming, and the thought of making dinner makes you want to cry for an hour, you will THANK me for these pies, which contain veg, meat, and carbs all in one!”

Everyone laughed, but my friend thanked me later, as I knew she would. Years later, I felt the same wave of nausea hit me when shopping for a baby shower gift for my sister-in-law. When I was done, I headed over to Banana Republic to recalibrate and calm down.

I haven’t been hassled much re: my choice to be childfree, and while I remain relieved with this decision (especially when I see a toddler having a meltdown in public), that doesn’t mean I don’t occasionally have a moment of reflection.

photo: Daria

Being a mom means you’re automatically part of a club and you will meet people you can relate to. I realize lots of moms judge each other (“how can you resume your career and allow someone else to raise your baby?” vs. “how can you make it all about your kid?”) but nonetheless, there is no auto-club I can join as a woman in my 40s without kids. I also wonder what kind of child I would have had, and what kind of parent I would have been. I do have glimpses into that parallel universe – when I see my nephews and niece, and when I teach piano to children. I mentor these kids, and sometimes it’s thankless.

Sometimes I make googly eyes at babies, or see the joy in parents’ faces when they’re out with their children, and wonder if I could have done that. Then I hear the kid whine, the kid interrupt mommy’s conversation, the kid loses his mind and cries, and I know, I did the right thing for me. One hundred percent.

Liz Parker spent fifteen years in music PR before sashaying over to image consulting for classical musicians. This gig includes styling photo shoots, weeding out wardrobes, and editing website text. She teaches piano to kids on the side (which may have influenced her decision not to have any of her own).You’d think she was a food blogger based on all the food pics on her Instagram. She lives in Toronto with her fur baby Scully (a 90’s cat). lizpr.com

@lafumiko

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