Can I Get More Random?

So, I've made the decision. We, my indentured servants (sister, brother-in-law and technologically challenged, Mr. Awesome) and I, are turning this little blog into something more ... we're just not sure what that 'more' is, yet.

I have spent some time over the last couple of weeks thinking about all that Some Random Mother is, the message I want to send, the resources I want to offer, the things that I like writing about. I have also spent a fair bit of time snooping around other blogs and websites and I gotta tell ya' ... its a strange, strange cyber world out there!

People will blog about A-N-Y-T-H-I-N-G because people will read A-N-Y-T-H-I-N-G just to fill their day. I swear, its so bizarre. I’ve seen sites dedicated to lamenting over life’s disappointments, to interpreting Michael Jackson lyrics for hidden sinister meanings and to complaining and comparing how lazy the baby-daddies of the world are. There's even this guy who blogs about little known museums. Sound interesting? He writes about museums of discarded human hair, mummified pets and molded fruit ... these places are little known for a reason, folks!

Anyway, after hitting a few dozen weird sites I narrowed my search to 'mommy blogs' and things got a little better. Although I did stumble across a few strange ones (like the one where each post was a list of all the mistakes she made and verbally flogging herself for her failures or the one where a group of moms write about their clubbing with their teens) I also found some hilarious, witty and heart warming blogs about being a parent.

I’ve been taking notes like mad and slowly getting a better picture of what I want my site to be but I need your help. I’m going to post a couple of links to my particular new find favorites, when you have the time take a look and let me know what you think. What do you like? What don’t you like? What layouts appeal to you and what features would you respond to? Feel free to share other ideas you might have too.

I know for sure that on my new site I will continue to blog daily and I will have guest spots available so if have a hobby you are passionate about, a knack for throwing awesome and creative birthday parties or tips on running an efficient household please email me.

Scary Mommy
A Peek Inside the Fishbowl
Dutch Blitz
Canadian Mom Blogger

*To share your input please email me at Somerandommother@gmail.com Thanks!*

Choose Love

Over the weekend Mr. Awesome and I attended a wedding. I have known the bride since she was a wee lass. In fact, she was my flower girl when Mr. Awesome and I wed a hundred years ago. We met the Man of Her Dreams about five years ago when she was babysitting for us and shyly asked if she could have a 'friend' come babysit with her.

It has been an honour to watch these two sweet teens grow into a couple of mature, generous and kind adults. They have conducted their relationship with integrity and respect from the beginning, so much so that during their ceremony the church was filled with the joy, innocence and anticipation of saved love. The atmosphere they created by honouring each other, their parents and most of all, their faith was something to marvel.

At the wedding everyone at our table shared the story 'them,' how they came to be a couple. One couple dated for a couple of months before their engagement, wedding and whirlwind adventure into parenthood, another worked together for several of years and another met while volunteering at a camp. When it was our turn to share, Mr. Awesome and I just looked at each other and laughed. Our story always raises a few eyebrows. You see, the truth of the matter is, Mr. Awesome and I never dated.

We were friends, best friends. We had spent hours hanging out, sharing secrets, hopes and dreams. We told each other everything, all of our mistakes, failures and flub-ups. We got to know each other, the good and the bad, over the course of a year, without pretence, showing off or covering up the truth of all that we were. Knowing all that we did about each other, we loved each other in spite of, or because of, everything anyway.

About a year after we met, I was living in Vancouver and he was living in Winnipeg. We talked on the phone nearly everyday and wrote to each other (pre-email days) several times a week. After about two months of being apart he called and said he thought I should come home so we could get married. I hung up on him but he called back and a month later I was on a plane heading home to my old friend and new fiance.

Every time we tell our story people are in awe that we would marry someone we didn't even date. We get the same questions every time, How can you know a person you've never dated, what about physical attraction, what if you didn't have 'chemistry'? 

We believe that true, lasting love is a decision you make. It has little to do with the emotion of love, sure that might hook you in the beginning but is that enough to make you stay when life gets real and messy and complicated? For us, the basis of respect and affection that grew out of our friendship has been the backbone to our marriage. When things have been rough and Mr. Awesome has been less than awesome I have been able to look at him and know that somewhere in that mess of a human being is the friend that I love. He has been able to do the same with me in my less than stellar moments, too.

Real love is a decision you make everyday, no matter how your relationship began. Living with integrity, fidelity and respect for your partner is not something that you fall into, its a choice that you make. Just like you don't fall in love or out of love. You choose, moment by moment, who and how you love.

Mr. Awesome and I decide every day to love each other, to respect and honour the promise we made to each other nearly 14 years ago. We decide, in spite of our moods and emotions or the mood and emotions of our partner, to love, to protect and to be faithful to the heart of our friend ... our best friend.

Great Reads

This weekend I was asked by seven different people for recommendations for a 'great read' so I thought that maybe it was time for a little Nic's Picks book update.

The first book I always, always recommend is Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen. It is a beautiful story with compelling characters and no matter whether you are a man, woman, young or old you will find something to love about this book.

My next 'go to' pick is Townhouse by Tish Cohen. Its a quirky little tale that is wonderfully written with funny, charming and perfectly flawed characters. Another favourite of mine in The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime by Mark Haddon. I love how this piece of fiction hits the truth right on the head from the perspective of a teen with Autism.

For the thriller lovers out there the 'Byte Series by Cat Connor (Killerbyte, Terrorbyte and Exacerbyte) is the perfect blend of crime, poetry and nail biting terror/suspense. Her characters are as intricate and complicated as the crimes she constructs for them to solve. If you enjoy nonfiction than Look Me in the Eye by John Elder Robison is a fantastic read as is the memoir of a mother and her struggle to balance her responsibilites as a mom with the fight of her life in Cancer is a Bitch by Gail Konop Baker.

Here's a list of some of my all time favourite reads ...

Gone with the Wind - Margaret Mitchell
The Thorn Birds - Colleen McCullough
Pillars of the Earth - Ken Follet
Roots - Alex Haley
The Sacketts  - Louis L'Amour
The Painted House - John Grisham
Sense and Sensibility - Jane Austen
Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte

When God Whispers Your Name- Max Lucado
My Utmost for His Highest - Oswald Chambers

I think that's it for now ... start there and let me know when you need some more suggestions!

The Awkward Good-bye

This morning, through a moment of weakness and bad judgement, I offered to volunteer at Dude's school at 8am. Mornings, as you know, are not my favourite part of the day but I did it. I got myself and all three kids up, dressed, through Timportance drive thru and to the middle school by 8am. The students were on time (mostly) and ready to go with great attitudes, which helped to take the edge off.

As I sipped my coffee and wandered the empty halls supervising the students, I had a moment of clarity. This is it. My baby, my first born boy is in middle school. He isn't a baby or a toddler or even a little guy anymore. He is a full blown tween on his way to all the crazy greatness of being a teen and then an adult. I think this revelation has been pushing at me for a while but I've been ignoring it.

He is taller, leaner and has lost all that baby cuteness. Yesterday someone commented to me how handsome he is and I said, "yep, he's a cute kid." She replied, "No, I mean he is a handsome guy, not like a little kid, but on his way to being a very good looking man." I thanked her but inwardly thought she was nuts, he's just a little boy. But when I stop to think about all that he is, I can't deny it. He is changing.

Sure he still likes Lego, Harry Potter and Nerf guns but so do a lot of grown men! He is calmer, more thoughtful and more interested in life. He has deep, beautiful thoughts that give us tiny glimpses into his soul. He has dreams for his future, intentions for a life filled with kindness, generosity and accomplishment. And he has an eye for a special little gal in his class.

He is growing and I need to accept it and celebrate it, although it breaks my heart and strengthens me in the same moment. All the hopes and wishes I had for the wee baby, the raging toddler, the scared little boy, the bright, brilliant and hilarious little man who has filled my heart and home for the past decade are coming true. He is kind, empathetic, thoughtful, intelligent and independent. He is a guy, just like every other kid in the halls of this school and yet he is unique. He fits in and he stands out.

I was still reeling from this epiphany when I dismissed the students. All the kids filed out of the room, wishing me a good weekend and thanking me for my time. Dude followed them out, but without so much as a good bye. I was a little disappointed but I got it, he's at school with his pals and hugging your mommy in the hallway could be social suicide in middle school. I started to pack up my stuff ,resigning myself to what he was becoming, when he came back into the classroom.

"Bye mom, have a good day."

"Bye, Buddy. See you later."

He walked over, looked around to make sure no one who mattered was looking and he gave me a quick sideways hug. My heart melted. I held him for an extra second and whispered in his ear, "I love you, always."

He walked away and I wasn't sure he heard me until he turned at the door, waved and said, "Always."

And he was gone.

I felt a little melancholy on the drive home, sure that my time with him was quickly passing. I went through the routine of cleaning up from breakfast and hanging up stray coats and sweaters when I noticed two very important items sitting on the couch. Dude's special blanket and his bear, Cha-Cha. He still loved them and needed them so maybe there's hope for me ... maybe I'll get to keep him for a little while longer.

The Sneaky Thumb

This is a tragic tale of a boy with good intentions but a weak will.

When Dude was a baby we gave him a soother. Against all medical and lactation consultant advice, we stuck the Soos in the crying baby's mouth and he magically stopped wailing. And it was good.

When Crafty was born we thought, what's good for the goose and all that, so we gave her a Soos too. She choked and gagged and sputtered in the dramatic fashion that is now her trademark. No Soos for Crafty. She became a finger sucker instead.

Then when wee Mischief came along we decided to try the Soos again. It worked as long as we held it in his mouth but as soon as we left him alone his sneaky thumb would wheedle its way into his mouth and pop the Soos out. Eventually we gave up our efforts with the Soos and gave into the cuteness that was our wee thumb sucker.

Fast forward six years and the thumb sucking is losing its cute-factor.

We have tried all sorts of stuff over the last year to get him to stop with the thumb sucking. We didn't really concern ourselves with it before he started school. We thought since Crafty quit the finger sucking once she realised that other kids don't really do that sort of thing that Mischief would follow suit but he doesn't care. Either he has supreme confidence or no shame (or a mixture of both) because he does not care who sees him suck his thumb. He gets himself up and dressed all cool and dude-like every morning, struts his way into the school, sits down for carpet time with his pals and sucks his thumb. ARG!

On Monday we had him at the dentist. My pal is a dental assistant for the dentist the kids see so before Mischief went in I told her to really put the pressure on about the thumb sucking. She did and so did the dentist. Mischief promised them that he would quit sucking his thumb by his next dental appointment. I was elated until we were on our way out to the van and he asked if I could wait a couple of years before I scheduled the next appointment because he wasn't ready to quit yet.

That night when I put him to bed we stuck a band aid on his sucking thumb and told him to sleep with his hand under his pillow. He said he would give it a try because he didn't want 'donkey teeth' when he was a teenager. Whatever the motivation, I was glad to see him try.

The following morning I found him sitting at the kitchen table, his head on the table, looking miserable. I asked him what was wrong and he held up the discarded band aid and moan that he is for sure going to have donkey teeth.

"What happened to our plan, Buddy?"

"I couldn't do it. The band aid was strangling my thumb so I took it off and then my thumb sneaked into my mouth! I couldn't make it stop. I'm miserable!"

Poor guy, life is rough when you have a sneaky thumb. Anyone know of a 12 step program for thumb suckers?

First vs. Third

Yesterday I had coffee with a friend and over the course of the morning we laughed about how particular we were with our first children, how eager we were to see them reach milestones and learn new skills and how completely opposite we were by the time we each had our third. This morning as I was thinking about the conversation I started to laugh all over again. Here are some of my first vs. third experiences.

On Bedtime - Dude slept in our bed with us until he was four months old, in our room with his cradle right beside our bed until he was six months old. When he finally moved him to his own room we made sure the baby monitor was right beside the crib and the receiver was on my bedside table ... cranked.

Mischief slept in a cradle in our room for about two weeks before I found all his constant 'baby noises' through the night too disruptive to my sleep. We moved him into his own room but by then we had misplaced the baby monitor. After about a thirty second conversation we figured if he really needed us he would cry loud enough that we would hear him from across the hall.


On Milestones and Skills - We spent many hours on the floor with baby Dude, watching him and encouraging him to roll over, sit up and crawl. Each time he developed a new skill we cheered and immediately wrote it down in his baby book.

When Mischief was born I vowed to never teach this kid how to walk or talk because the work load increased exponentially with the other two once they developed 'skills.' He figured things out on his own despite my best efforts. Each of his new accomplishments was met with groans of discontent and dread as I searched for some scrap of paper to write down the date and event with the intention of someday buying a baby book to record everything in.


On Childcare - For the first couple of years of Dude's life we only left him with family members and even then we were nervous. In fact, the first time my aunt, a very loving and competent mother of three herself, babysat Dude for an evening we left a three page note on the proper care of our precious wee one. The note included helpful tips like, "hold him at a roughly 45 degree angle while feeding" and "be careful if you place him on the couch as he may roll off."

In contrast, when Mischief was about four months old I  forgot to tell the new babysitter his name before I ran out the door. When she asked the other kids, they told her his name was Boobah.


On Illness, Risk-Taking and Injuries - As Dude grew and tried new things we were always vigilant, ready with open arms to catch him in case of a tumble, and a tissue to wipe away tears as well as a fully stocked first aid kit to stave off infections and treat wounds. We sterilised his soother, washed his hands frequently and had the provincial health line on speed dial. Anytime we could helmet, pad and buffer him we did.

With Mischief things are a little more lax. One of the first sentences he learned was "I'm okay!" and he set up a system of rating his scrapes so we knew how serious his injury was (dots, smears and gushers) and whether we needed to intervene. He was a thumb sucker and there was no telling where that thing was before he stuck it in his mouth and no way of keeping it clean so we just stopped thinking about it. If he wasn't changing colour, developing spots or a rash or spiking a fever we decided he probably wasn't that sick. Our safety rules for him include wearing a helmet if ramps or tricks are involved, no stunts when he is higher off the ground than he is tall and if it hurt to do it the first time don't do it the second time.


Like most parents, by the time we had our third child we realised that kids are half rubber, half cement (they bounce and rarely break) and our worry does little to keep them safer than they would be if we just relaxed and gave them a little room to explore ... that and by the third kid, we were too tired to be on 24/7 hyper protective watch. Dude and Mischief are both active, courageous and down and dirty boys ... Mischief just has a few more battle scars, which he tells me, 'the girls like,' anyway.

What is genius? - It is the power to be a boy again at will.
James Matthew Barrie

The Secret of Becoming a Cool Kid

At some point in every grown person's life they have wanted to be a cool kid, or at least hang out with the cool kids thus being cool by association. Some of us achieved some level of cool during our adolescence and others not so much. Some found our dorky niche with others of like kind and were fine with that, others never did find our groove and spent their youth in a solitary funk.

We tell kids that it gets better as we grow up, and for the most part it does, primarily due to our ability to cope, understand what really matters and make friends of substance. We grow up, develop skills, a career and settle into ourselves, leaving the dorky years behind us ... or so we think.

As much as I try to be confident and comfortable in my own shoes, I still find myself revisiting my dorkhood from time to time. I'm not sure what it is but some people bang the drum, sound the alarm and draw out my inner dork every time I'm around them. Maybe its my insecurities or their radiating coolness or a combination of both but I can almost feel my overbite reforming and my hair frizzing as I attempt to make conversation with them. The whole interaction is filled with me second guessing and editing my own comments to the point that I am an awkward stuttering mess while they look for the quickest escape route.

I, all to easily, confirm what we both knew before we entered into the conversation. I'm a dork and there's nothing that can be done about it. But, there's hope, I have discovered that all is not as it seems.

I have come to believe that we are all dorks, deep down inside. Even the most confident, talented, cool-under-pressure, charismatic person has an inner dork lying dormant inside of them. Don't believe it? Ask to see their grade seven school picture and you'll see, its true. We are all dorks, some of use are just better at taming The Dork Beast. Some find a way of suppressing the urge to dork and walk through life with a confidence that si to be envied. But I have discovered a trick that I think just might work!

The next time you are standing in front of a 'cool kid,' flubbing your way through a conversation, picture them as their dorky 13 year old self. Visualize the acne, the braces and the mullet. See their too short acid wash jeans, picture them on their way to band class with their clarinet or to debate club with a gaggle of other geeks. Once you see them in all their dorky glory, blink twice and see them as they are now, poised, confident, clear skinned, de-mulleted and realise they are no longer living the dork. They grew up and grew out of that insecurity ... and so did you.

Your overbite, frizzy hair, teased bangs and collection of panda bear sweatshirts are long gone. You are smart and funny and talented. You have seen things, experienced life and have every right to be respected and heard for the person you are, not boxed into the stereo type of the person you were. The dork is no more. You are a cool kid ...

Oh, you still here? I thought I was alone ...

Well ... all this goes for you to! Be the cool that you are!