Living a Life of Love

The weeks and months leading up to my maternity leave were slightly stressful. Stressful only because the pressure I put on myself of course. I love working. I love working hard–I love accomplishing things and being good at what I do. I also enjoy being a part of a growing company and building a team and providing products and services I believe in. While it sounds like a cushy deal, taking a year off for maternity leave, for me, is a lot harder than it sounds.

Don’t be mistaken, I love my family, and I love being a mummy to Marigold and a wife to Martin, but it really doesn’t define me as a person. It’s not the be all, end all of me. Neither is my job. I am the sum of these things and many others–all of which make me who I am.

While my current job isn’t exactly my dream job, it’s still awesome and I like the company and love my boss and the people I work with. The hardest part is the timing, of course. Putting my career on hold when things are positioned for growth in a major way isn’t the ideal scenario I had imagined when I first found myself with child. I hadn’t expected that I would be getting a new boss, and that I would need to make a new and lasting impression on someone when I was tired, bloated and irritable. I didn’t think that I was about to miss out on something really rad for the next year. I hate to miss out on things–I love to be right in the action!

I’m sure tons of other women and men go through the same thing when they take their respective parental leaves. I truly am grateful for the opportunity to take the full 50 weeks to spend time focusing on my new baby and growing family.

The last time I went on mat leave, I was literally counting the minutes before I could walk out the door and not return for several months, even though I was still there late on my last day. This time I was really sad to go. I was having sleepless nights thinking about the many projects I had on the go just before clocking out for the next year, and as my last day crept closer, I had expected my stress level to spike, but it slowly dissipated. I was ready to go, and I know that I’m not in any real danger of being left behind at work. I’m confident that I’ll be able to return and pick up where I left off and just spend this year focusing on real life–and my family. What a treasure.

Almost three years ago now, I revived my blog because of this overwhelming need to write it all down. I needed to tell everyone how I had never loved as much as I loved right then. With hormones running rampant, I’m sure, I was plagued with so many feelings and emotions, but it was the love that overflowed.

When I first discovered I was pregnant with my second child, of course I was thrilled, but there were hesitations that I hadn’t expected. I was worried about how I could possibly have TWO children (people survive with many more, I know I’m ridiculous) and look after them successfully. I was worried about our finances, and the size of our apartment. I was worried how Marigold will adapt. But most of all I was worried that I couldn’t possibly have any more love to give to another child. I just loved my little Marigold so much that I didn’t think it possible to have the capacity to love a new addition to our little family.

Two Peas on the floor, under a blanket

Martin gently reminded me that love multiplies as a family grows–and we have a never ending supply! We have found love in places that we never even knew existed.

The hardest part has definitely been dealing with my feelings for Marigold. It’s weird, but I miss her. I still spend time with her everyday, but she’s no longer my one and only, and I feel bad that my attention is divided. This has been the greatest source of postpartum tears. She is the most amazing big sister in all of the land, and I’m so proud with how she is handling it all. She is a huge help with Baby Alice, and I can’t even count the amount of times I’ve heard her say “Don’t worry, Baby Alice. Big sister’s right here” in the last 10 days. And it melts my heart every time.

: Miss Marigold and Lady Alice

One night I went to lay in Marigold’s bed with her before she went to sleep because I just missed her so. I couldn’t stop the tears from coming, as they so often do these days. I talked it over with Marigold, and for a not yet three year old, I’m impressed with her understanding. I apologized for not spending as much time with her as I used to. I got up to let her fall asleep, she said to me as I was leaving “Baby Alice needs you, Mummy.” She totally gets it, and it just made me cry harder. I’m so proud of her and I’m amazed at how awesome she is every single day.

Baby Alice is just perfect from head to toe and I loved her just as much as I did Marigold when she was placed in my arms. It’s like there’s a love explosion in your heart when you give birth–I would do it over and over again because the feeling is incredible. And the results–well, they’re incomparable.

So our love has grown. Martin was right–I didn’t have anything to worry about. We’re a family of four now. I’m truly grateful for all the things that I have in this life, and I honestly don’t take it for granted. I came from nothing, and now– I have everything. And it’s definitely not lost on me, this extraordinary life of love.

January Celebrations

January is an especially special time around our house, and it really is nice to have something to celebrate in the cold, dark month of January. Martin was born in January. January 20th, to be exact.

I love his birthday, not just because we get to celebrate his existence, also because it’s when things started for us. It’s the beginning of us. I had met him long before his 30th birthday party, but it was that party that ignited the cliched spark that now burns brightly on a daily basis. Barf, right?

Long before I came along….

I sometimes find myself thinking about what would’ve happened if I’d declined the invite to his birthday party way back in 2009, and I can barely fathom what I’d be doing right now. Certainly not sitting on the couch watching him play video games, with a giant belly bursting with baby.

He’s changed a lot in the last five years. Or maybe I just know him so much better. I’m not sure which–but it doesn’t matter, because I only love him more for it. And I am certain it will be that way until the day we die–I count on it. We are fully committed to each other and we will work hard to make it last forever.

I was watching Marigold kiss and play with her little wind up frog and found myself saying to her: “You might have to kiss a lot of frogs….”. I had to kiss a lot of frogs, and suffer a lot, and I mean A LOT of serious heartbreaks before I fell in love with Martin. I wouldn’t say that it was worth it, but what I would say is that it helped me realize and value what I have in my husband today. I had an amazing life before he came along, but he really has made my life so very nice. And for that, I am extremely grateful.

In light of all that, the lady McWaters’ of Parkdale celebrated by baking a cake while their Mister/Daddy slept late. We ate a lot of cake batter before it finally made it’s way in the oven. Our dinner was delicious Indian and we took it real easy. It’s a far cry from that first birthday we spent drunkenly belting karaoke at the Duke five years ago, but the celebration in my heart is just as strong.

**sorry for the blurry photos!!

And just like that, Toronto got a little less sweeter

Laugh if you want to, but my favourite book is Anne of Green Gables. I’ve read the entire series a few times, and some particular installments in the series, more times that I can even remember. Lucy Maude is a great story teller. And if you’ll remember back to when you read Anne, or even if you didn’t read the story, you probably can probably recall bits of the tv movie that aired on the CBC or you took a class trip to some high school performance of the play. You might even remember Anne’ bosom chum, Diana. On January 1st, my bosom chum got on a plane. And just like that, Toronto got a little less sweeter.

It hasn’t been such a sweet place as of late–the political storms, the weather issues, and the transit follies. Surprisingly to me, I find myself sometimes wondering why we continue to live here. Though today, I drove through the city, and I’m happy to report that it was easy to find all my old loving feelings for the city.

I took the long way home and remembered that there are so many places around with so many great memories attached. Memories of me and my bosom chum–the things we did, and the places we met up, the places we took pictures. I’ll sure miss her while she’s gone.

Magical Adventures

I had already lost her earlier this year. A result of the time and space and the things happening in our lives that began to naturally separate us. An undesired side affect of desirable life changes, I suppose.

I met her in December 2005, at my kindred’s birthday party on Robert. She was wearing mauve, and I knew instantly I wanted to be friends with her. Later, I saw her kitchen and wondered even more about how we were going to become friends. And then, months later, after having moved to Toronto, I found myself meeting her at Spadina and Dundas on our way to see Final Fantasy at the Music Gallery. I’m sure you’ve heard this before.

Photo courtesy of http://wecbmusic.blogspot.ca/

After watching Owen Pallett perform incredible magic on his violin, we headed back to my apartment on Robert for leftovers of the food I had made earlier in the day. There was souvlaki, spanokopita, dolmades and tzaziki–probably the most elaborate Greek meal I had ever prepared. I played her all my favourites from the latest Belle and Sebastian album. We danced around my apartment, smoked a bit and I’m sure had some drinks all before exiting the back door to make our way to the Cloak. There was nothing unusual about the path we took on our way over to see the Gospel Sundays, but AJ’s keen eye noticed a weird lumpy case sitting on top of a postal box. After stopping and inspecting the case, we revealed the contents. A violin.

We found a fucking violin on the side of the road after having just attended a concert featuring the violin!

There was no one to be seen in the immediate proximity of the violin, and we left a note on the post box for the owner to contact us. We never found it’s rightful owner. AJ still has it today. I don’t think she brought it on the plane though, but one day, she’ll learn to play.

It’s a special and unique friendship story that I will carry in my heart forever….re-telling it at whatever chance I get. A cosmic beginning to the friendship I had been looking for all my life. I don’t know how else to describe it–our friendship that is. I have a lot of people I really truly love in my life that are special to me in a lot of different ways. Friends for greater than 30 years, some. Others I’ve known only for a short time, and others still, who I never see or talk to, yet they continue to reside deeply in my heart.

What developed with AJ is a cosmic friendship with a bosom chum. And I’m sure she feels the same way too.

Bosom Chums

I miss her, I do. But I already missed her. In a lot of ways I feel alone without her, and I have for the last while. I’ve shared some of the most incredible moments of my life with her. She has this ability to make any event, situation or circumstance magical. At times I wonder if she IS in fact some magical and mystical creature like Loch Ness or Big Foot. But she photographs well and I’ve seen her reflection in the mirror with my own eyes.

I have three biological sisters, and I am not close with any of them, and speak to them very little, if at all. There’s a myriad of reasons for this I suppose…distance, age gaps, lack of common ground. I haven’t thought about it enough to really understand why…but we’ve never been close, so I’ve never felt that that sister connection was missing in my life nor was I even aware that there even is such a thing as a sisterly connection.

As AJ and I grew closer over time, I grew to love her immensely and care about her in a way that was unfamiliar to me. The only way I can describe it is that I must love her the way that sister’s love each other. And it is a love that will never die.

The second time one of your very best friends moves away in a matter of months isn’t fun/ It is, in fact, exponentially lonelier. I don’t think I have fully accepted the fact that she is gone, and I’ll probably become drastically more aware, when she is not here when this little baby arrives. I know for certain, though, that her pursuits are noble and I’m excited for the chapters that will unfold for her after her short stint away at school in Northern Alberta.

So I wait for her return, and I think of her fondly. My magical, amazing and lovely bosom chum. Sweet, sweet Alana.

My 30th birthday sleep over

In the Alley by the Pie

A stroll after Saturday Afternoon high tea

Turkey Coma on her favourite holiday

Straight from the bottle

On our way to see Mates of State

8 Things

As you may or may not have noticed, I haven’t been writing at all. I am a bit disappointed in myself because one of my goals for 2013 was to write more to ensure that I remember it all. I started the year off pretty good, but as life began to change, writing became less of a priority, more of a chore, and frankly, I felt like the things I have to say on the inside are not what I want other people to read. I hope that I was still focusing my energy on my output and creative pursuits rather than consumption of things. But a small part of me thinks that I’ve spent far too much time in front of the television in the last few months–television is a soul-sucking-life-eating time waster, and if I stop to think about it, I shudder at how it seems to drain the motivation right out of me. I’ll have to work on that this year.

I haven’t quite put together my intentions, goals or plans for 2014 just yet. That is disappointing in itself, but I’ve been having a rough go of it since the holidays started. I’ll spare you the details but I’m just not feeling myself. It is a real let down because I love the New Year. I love the chance to start fresh–to create a purpose for myself and my life and re-focus my energy on all the things I want to accomplish in the coming months. The truth is that I’m in this funny place–my life is about to be consumed by another human, I’ve got 5 weeks left on the job and there are no real and desirable goals that are jumping out at me aside from all the things that need to get done RIGHT NOW! I don’t even have a fucking motto or theme song for this year yet.

But I can’t let that get me down. It will come. It just didn’t come before January 1st. And I’m trying on a few candidate songs for 2014, so that’s something…

Though I’m not quite ramped up for 2014, I can still take the time to reflect on the things that have happened in the last year. It seems, based on my facebook feed, that people were happy to leave 2013 behind them. When I first started thinking about it, I realized I had a lot of great things to remember. So here they are, in no particular order, 8 things that happened in 2013 that make me happy.

Pee and a Plus Sign–We knew that we wanted to have more children, so what better time was there after we got married? I was late 4 whole days before Martin would let me take a pregnancy test. He didn’t think it was likely after only a few weeks, but I knew deep down there was a baby in my tummy. Sure enough, we put Marigold to bed, I peed on a stick, and a plus sign appeared. It’s been a bumpy ride, this pregnancy. I’ve had some minor scares, I’ve found myself much more emotional and much more exhausted. Only 7 weeks left to go until this child is scheduled to arrive. We’ll see if I can last that long.

The newest McWaters at 19 weeks

The Begonia EP–While I didn’t do anything personally to accomplish this, it gives me a great deal of pleasure that Gord finally released some of his own music. It was a long time coming and I’m proud of the time and effort he put into it. It really is a great album.

I’ve got a New Boss Now –I really liked my last boss. He was awesome and hilarious and I literally cried for days when I found out he was leaving. I was certain that there was no way that the new boss would be awesome or good or that really anything positive could come of the change. Well, I was wrong, new boss is great. Awesome and amazing even. I’m actually quite sad to be going on maternity leave!

Hoops and Skeins and Fabric, oh my!–I’m not too sure where I got the idea for needlepoint from, but I had been thinking about it for a long while (I guess as an extension of my sewing dreams). Finally one day, I went to the Workroom and dropped less than twenty bones on the supplies I needed to get started. Turns out embroidery is a really simple and inexpensive hobby. It’s similar to tracing, except you’re using thread and the results are really impressive!

The first actual thing I embroidered

Hoot!

Marigold admiring the scene I did for her

Paying it All Off–I have had this deep dark secret for so very long that I have ignored and shoved aside as much as I possibly could, but it was still always bringing me down. When I put my list together of things I wanted to for 2013, I included details on the things I wanted to accomplish. I didn’t want to acknowledge my financial issues–so I just put a line in my list that said “get financially on track”.

I had terrible credit and huge amounts of debt for a really long time and thinking about it made me feel ill to the bone, so instead of dealing with it head on, I just pretended like it didn’t exist. Turns out that doesn’t make it go away, and it doesn’t make you feel good, because no matter how hard you try, you can’t actually forget about it.

Anyways–through a variety of methods–tax returns, savings and what not, I was able to pay off my student loan, and the majority of my debt in 2013. I am no where near as good as I want to be with handling my cash, but I’m definitely a lot better than I was in 2012. I’m paying my bills and saving–I think that’s a good place to start! And for the first time in a really long time–I’m not afraid to answer my phone when it says “unknown caller” because it’s definitely not someone that I owe money to. The tremendous relief I feel is inexplicable.

Everything I’ve Longed For–I have loved Hayden and his music since the 90’s. I would have to say that “Everything I Long For” is probably the most played album I have ever owned. Actually–come to think of it, I don’t even think I own it–I borrowed it from my pal in 1997 and just never bothered to return it because I loved it so much.

Hayden, live!

I have cried more tears over the lyrics and songs on that album than I could ever dream of counting. They were a solace I could always count on for any break up. My good friend, Ryan T., also loves Hayden as much as I do. It is a special bond that we have shared for over a decade. At the end of November, I finally got to see Hayden in concert–with Ryan T. sitting a few rows behind me. It was pretty rad–the show was great, Hayden was hilarious and awesome–it was everything I ever could’ve wanted in seeing him live for the first time.

Nothing Better–Seeing Hayden live was a lot more likely than ever getting the chance to see the Postal Service. They did one album 10 years ago, and I think they only ever did one tour. I had often dreamed about getting the chance to see them live so when they announced a 10th anniversary tour, I would’ve paid just about anything to see them.

I went alone to the show at the ACC–it was a night just for me. I ate dinner at my favourite Mexican restaurant, did some shots of tequila and went to the show. As an added bonus, Mates of State were opening–they are always good live and also another one of my favourite bands.

Nothing better….

Seeing the Postal Service was surreal. The music was fantastic, the lights were amazing and they loved every minute of being on stage. My heart was practically beating out of my chest and I felt like I had been tele-ported to 2004. The show was outstanding.

From this Day On–I always wanted a husband, pretty much for as long as I can remember. It was getting a bit dicey 5 or 6 years ago–I was beginning to think it was never going to happen. I was happy with my life, and was ok with the idea that maybe I wouldn’t get to have a husband one day. I always thought that I would make a pretty good wife. Turns out I make a great wife–just ask Martin. And really, being a wife and having a husband isn’t really what makes me happy–it’s the person that my husband is. His personality, his beliefs and convictions, his compassion and interests, his strength and honour–all of those things make him an amazing person. I’m thankful on a daily basis that he chose me to become his Mrs. McWaters. I laugh to myself from time to time about how unsure I was in the beginning when we started dating. And now, I couldn’t imagine my life without him. I really do love him more and more each day and really look for forward to spending the rest of my life with him.

2013 was great in a lot of ways. Of course there were some bad times–but what good is it to focus on that? It’s the bright spots that will keep you going…pining over the dark days will only bring you down! 2014 is going to be a busy one for us, and it’s a little scary to think about what we’re up against, but after writing this, I’m finally getting excited about setting some goals and planning for what I want to accomplish in 14.

WOOOOO!

From This Day On….

I wish I’d taken more time to painstakenly savour each moment. Instead it felt as though the entire night was racing past us. All day and night I couldn’t wait to get to the party. The biggest party we’ve ever thrown with cheese, and booze, and music, and donuts and special lights and everyone we know and love. At the very core of my being is a hostess, and it brings me so much joy. It makes me so happy to have people in my home. This hostessness allows me to share and aid in the merry-making of my dearest friends and it is a pleasure unmatched for me on this earth. At the most base level, I really fucking love to party. And you know who else loves to party? My husband.

I’ve always thought having a surprise house party wedding would be really cool, but pulling off a surprise wedding is a lot harder than it sounds. We decided in February that we were to be married in May. May 11th to be exact. Less than 3 months is surprise enough, no?

Years ago, before I’d even met Martin, I was driving along in the good old battle Saturn with my cronies, Gord and AJ, talking about boys, of course (I really was quite boy crazy, remember?). I turned to them and said, I’m going to get married on May 11, 2013. I passed AJ my Samsung flip phone and had her look up the date. Sure enough it was a Saturday. I didn’t have a boyfriend, or really have my sights set on a particular fella, but I knew my wedding date. And somehow, I managed to meet, fall in love and marry my dearest, all in the nick of time. I’d like to say it was clarvoyance, but it’s probably better categorized as a self fulfilling prophecy.

Bottom line? The date was special.

I had spent weeks and months preparing for the celebration, only for the night itself to quickly fade away as I tossed my bouquet to a small clan of ladies on my porch. I stole off into the night with my lover, my husband. I spent every spare second I had in the weeks leading up to the wedding cutting and pasting and planning and scheming and downloading and curating and thinking it all through over and over and over again. And in all that time I never anticipated that the party would go by so quickly. I got to spend 5 short hours buzzing from room to room basking in the glow of the best people on the planet, save a few, doing what we all love best: Partying. And I wish I could do it all over again. Despite how fast the night passed me by, I enjoyed every minute–I had a really really great time.

Me and my new husband, flashing his gold ring.

For me, it all came down to crafts, a 4+ disc mixed CD set, an 8 1/2 pound cheese order, and 5 dozen donuts. Not necessarily traditional, but a Peattie-McWaters wedding it was.

8 1/2 pounds of pure dairy gold

Pennant made from antique sheet music

A small fraction of the 60 glory hole donuts

Hand crafted Sacs Aux Surprise!

Smoky smoky

Porch Party

All of those really awesome things aside, there was love. So much love, our apartment was bursting at the seams. My love for Martin, his love for me, and our love for little Marigold was multiplied exponentially by the love of those surrounding us that night. I felt like was floating. On a sweet cloud of love all night logn. And I’m totally serious.

I was welcomed as a McWaters with a resounding “Yay” and narry a “Nay”, and the feelings are more than reciprocal.

So we danced and we drank, and we smoked, and I untraditionally swore through my speech. We floated through our home around the people that have come to mean so much to us. An outstanding amount of love surrounds our lives and it will shine through us, from this day on.

Special thanks to all our friends that took photos!!!

Becoming Mrs. LadyBird Magpie of Parkdale

I definitely don’t want to forget any of this. Just a bride and a groom and some rings and everyone we know and love.

Where do I even start? A DIY wedding is a blogger’s fantasy, and I did almost all of it myself, so I should have lots and lots to share. Through the exhaustion of the last two weeks, I’ve been trying to find the clarity and the words, trying to find anything to write about, and I’m still unsure about what to say…

I thought I would be much more emotional throughout the ceremony. Like falling over sobbing, with a mascara raccoon nightmare face, but it wasn’t really that bad. I thought I would get to the part where Gord handed me over to Martin and I would completely lose my shit. But I didn’t–I had welled to tears enough many times in the weeks prior to the wedding about Gord giving me away. I cry because I’m happy. How could I not be? Everything makes sense, right? Marrying Martin for starters, and Gord giving me away, and everything leading up to that point. My life has made 100% sense, and I’m full of so much joy.

On May 11, 2013, I had a bath with a Lush bath bomb, I made our bouquets, I traipsed down the stairs of my Parkdale house of dreams without calling a cab because at this point, I don’t even know HOW to call a cab. But hailing a cab is pretty tough carrying a suitcase, two bouquets, a crinoline and smoking a stranger’s cigarette. The neighbour of all neighbours escorted me to the street corner and hailed me a cab. Put my bags in the trunk and sent me off to the Gladstone. It really was very very sweet. He later hauled like 250 lbs of ice up the stairs, and had the time of his life blasting records. What an awesome dude.

The maid’s homemade bouquet

The Brides homeemade bouquet

My room was at the Gladdy was red, and there was just enough time to doll myself up to the fashion by which I chose to get married. My red room, my red dress, and a perfect Parkdale view of the Gladstone Cafe (ha!) and the rug factory in the distance. I hung my dress in the window for all of Parkdale to see. I prepped and primped and listened to old reggae and my escorts arrived on cue, and I got to show off my crinoline for the very first time. And no, that’s not a euphemism.

Red Curtains in the Gladstone Room #303

Outside the Gladstone

We drank champagne and put feathers in our hair and descended down a beautiful three flights of stairs to the Gladstone lobby. I guess whenever I imagined my wedding the two things that were always consistent–I was always coming downstairs and there was always music. As a child, I used to stand at the top of our stairs and have my mother call “Andrea Peattie, come on down”, as though I was headed to contestants row on the Price is Right. No contestants row on May 11, though, just a groom and some rings and everyone we know and love. and the last time I’ll ever descend anything as an unmarried lady. Just Andrea Peattie, for the very last time.

$12.99, just slightly more than my pack of cigarettes

Back of a taxi, heading away from the sunset

My Handsome Groom awaits

I never want to forget, sitting in the judge’s office, singing with my dudes, and my best gal. It was one of the most special moments of my life. The sweet harmonies, Vigoda’s soft strums and some super slow tempoed soul. This all sung volumes to me about the man I was going to marry. They love me, and they love Martin. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

They led me, and serenaded us into our marriage. And while I really wish my dad and Luigi could’ve been there, it didn’t really matter, because I knew they would be so happy, and they would love Martin too. Samson-esque locks and all!.

The words of the ceremony didn’t even occur to me at the time—and I really don’t even know what the JP said. He asked about vows and readings just prior to the ceremony and I told him to say whatever he wanted, just don’t say anything about God. What I do know is that I meant what I said to Martin and I know Martin meant what he said to me and we’re never going to stop meaning it.

……..I will. So will he. The end and also the beginning. Presenting Mr. and Mrs. McWaters.

There are about 1000 things that I wanted to say to Martin the night we got married, and by the time that I got to him, I didn’t have to say anything. Everything just makes sense for us. And we are head over heels in love to boot.

When I first started dating Martin, he had stayed over on a Saturday night, and we went for brunch at Mezzrows, then walked along King back to my former PD house of dreams. We lollygagged up the stairs, sat down on the futon and played Tony Hawk on the PS2. We were having some snacks (naturally) and I turned and looked at him and said…”Does this feel normal to you?” He said “yep” and we went back to playing our video game.

Here we are now, tonight, on the couch, and he’s playing a video game while I write. The snacks will be out soon, I’m sure. Guess what? This is absolutely-one-hundred-fucking–percent-no-doubt-in-my-mind “normal”. And so my first reflection (yes there are more to come), upon being wed, is this: I got married and I don’t feel any different. Not even in the slightest. And as you can see on my face, I am thrilled.

****Special thanks for the photos: AJ, Lisa Dee, Alex in Wasaga, & Maureen & Alan.

Anniversary Traditions

I just looked it up. It was actually March 5th. Turns out that’s actually my pal’s Parks’ birthday…funny coincidence. I didn’t even know there was a Park’s when I moved to Toronto.

In 2006, I made a pretty significant life decision. I quit my job, packed up my shit and moved here. I had exactly 4 friends on the north shore of Lake Ontario. And now, this is my life. Lake Ontario at the bottom of my street, and Queen Street is just steps to the north. I listen to Parkdale sounds as I fall asleep at night, and I wake to Parkdale sounds in the morning. Deep in the throbbing heart of Parkdale, I am at home in my Parkdale House Of Dreams. Until 2006, I didn’t even know what a Parkdale was.

West Queen West upon entering Parkdale “You’ve Changed”

Coming to the decision to move away from my friends, my family, my love, was actually easier than I thought it was at the time. I had been to visit my dear Kindred on several occasions, and cried whenever I left. So I moved, and my life changed. Of course I miss my friends, and it was challenging to make new ones, so that part wasn’t easy. But the rest really was pretty simple. It didn’t matter that I was surrounded by tons of really rad people who I really really really love a whole lot, I always felt lonely in the Cath. I knew that if I stayed in Niagara I would live a sad lonely life. I needed things to change. I needed to be alone to end the loneliness.

I had some ideas about what I was walking into by leaving, but I can assure you that those ideas are so vastly different than what I found once I arrived. There was this thing that was happening when I moved here, and I’ve realized that time was standing still for me then. It was standing still for all of us. I really wish that I could actually paint more than just paint by numbers, because I would paint it all as a giant mural. And it’s a big fucking party mural. A really fun party. The one night only affair that lasted for years, that still finds itself revived in a pub or on a deck, or in a kitchen–over a hot stove here and there.

The Cloak

The cove children

I don’t actually believe that things happen for a reason, and I don’t really believe in fate or pre-destination. It doesn’t actually matter, fate or no fate, when you’re too busy living. Sometimes the universe owes you a favour–you simply accept its kind offer of amazing and be thankful. So, thank you, universe, for this, and all the other things that have followed.

There hasn’t been much else in my life more right than that move I made in ’06. A few things, but not many. Anyways, I’m big on anniversaries, and starting annual traditions and reflecting on special times in my life. It’s all very special and amazing. I do love it when there are things to celebrate. Birthdays, New Years Day, Thanksgiving, Mondays. Celebrations truly are some of the best times of our lives, wouldn’t you say?

There I was yesterday. Here I am now and where I’ll be tomorrow–ever so much to celebrate! I know March 5th, 2013 has come and gone, but each year I try, at the very least, to remember the time with celebratory thoughts. I try to remember how I felt then, and how it feels more right every day.

From Rancho Relaxo, to the Starbank, The Market, Neutral, Maggie’s, the Cloak and Dagger, the backdoor of 106, Croft, Sneaky Dees, The Magpie, The Press Club, Euclid, Roxton, to the corner of Grace and Harbord.

The Dakota, Lakeview, The Gypsy, The Park, 909 and my dress, the dog bowl, Squirrelys, The Paper Place, Preloved, Queen and Dovercourt, The Cock and Tail, The Gladstone. The Dufferin jog, the now bricked up stairway under the GO overpass. Streetcars, Lamport, the amphitheatre, the Caddy, Salvador, the Rhino, Meher’s deck, Capital, Not my dog, The Village of Parkdale mural, Thrift Town. Mezzrows and Tibetan protests. The CN Tower. Going Steady. The Golden Dogs, White Cowbell Oklahoma, and the Wednesday night residency at the Cameron. Bikes. The people. The people on bikes. The transit. The vibe. The sounds. The weather. The fresh flowers on the street corners. I look around me at the city and I am in love. In love with the people and the places. I have never in my life felt more at home.

On the sunny Sunday afternoon that Cindy and Juliee drove me into town, this song by Bjork came on. Just as it was supposed to–this song played and I laid eyes on the city that had become my new home just at the moment where Bjork says “this is where I’m staying. this is my home.” In March 2006 I came home for the first time. Happy anniversary, Toronto.

Roommates Ruling Supreme

Every spring I used to plan a party with Gord to celebrate another year of us ruling supreme as roommates. This spring, I’m planning a different kindof party. A party that I’ll surely celebrate for the rest of my life. I look forward to the traditions that will follow.

It sounds thin.

So Sunday was like a super bonus day. It was so beautiful–warm and sunny and breezy. It. was. great.

We got up and did the usual morning stuff, then we went to Sneaky Dee’s for brunch! Marigold has never been to Sneaky Dee’s before, and I don’t care what anyone says. I fucking love the brunch there.

I’ll have a grilled cheese.

We sat in one of the back booths on the right hand side, which is like my favourite place to sit. Then I started thinking about the first time I had brunch there, And then I started thinking about what Toronto was like when I first moved here and all the things I felt. I really do love Toronto. In fact, just this morning I was sitting on the street car riding along Queen looking up at all the 3 floors of all the old buildings The faded signs, the graffiti. The shops and the restaurants and even the grimy Queen and Bathurst. And I absolutely love the feelings I have about Toronto.

Recently a friend asked me if I would ever move back to Niagara… St. Catharines to be specific. And actually I think she may have even slightly implied that I would be moving back there someday. The thought has never even crossed my mind. Not even when I retire. I can’t imagine living anywhere other than right here.

I am terrified, though, that this house will get sold and I will have to move again. It’s such a terrible thing. I do love this apartment.

Ugh–today I just felt so wretched. Slowly though, as I think about the things that I love, I’m beginning to cheer up. My little rascal-face is sleeping upstairs, and so is her dad. I can hear the cat snoring from here, just slightly louder than The Breeders.

The more time that I spending loving things (people, places, times, things), the happier I am. I have not spent a considerable amount of time loving in the last couple of days, and I feel like that MUST have played a significant role in my foul mood earlier.

I love Martin
I love Marigold
I love my apartment
I love my cat
I love my blog
I love my commute to work
I love my friends
I love the city
I love my street
I love my boss
I love my coworkers
I love streetcars
I love the Paper Place
I love that poster of Trinity Bellwoods that you can see/get at the Type bookstore
I love Andrew McCarthy, circa 1986
I love the Smiths
I love my perfume
I love friendships
I love walking
I love makeup
I love my hair
I love my skin
I love pyrex
I love food, oh god HOW COULD I FORGET THAT I LOVE FOOD.
I LOVE MUSIC. I almost forgot that too!

Anyways, how can anyone feel bad after so much love?

Literally this song just came on at random. Have a listen while you check out the pictures.

You Wanted a Hit.

If you want a hit, you’ve got to make it happen.

I fuck things up all the time. Like seriously, all. the. time.

Somehow I keep doing the exact opposite of what I want to do. There are things I want to be better at.

Things that I want to improve. And for eff sakes, it takes a lot of fucking focus and determination. Mostly it’s just shit that only I notice. The impact on others is minimal, I’m sure. Maybe it’s not. Who knows.

The bottom line is that I have a lot to do and I’m having a hard time staying on top of life. I don’t mean menial daily tasks–I washed the bathroom floor with baby wipes while Marigold was in the bath the other night. Wait, does that make me a bad mother?? Whatever, it was efficient.

I’m talking about personal improvements, quality of life goals. Making things better for other people. Having an impact. Living an extraordnary life. And doing it all in a way that makes sense for my little family.

I want a hit. And maybe just wanting it is enough? Because I still feel pretty good.

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Work-a-hol, not nearly as good as Alch-o-hol

I guess the first step is admitting it. I’m a workaholic.

And, I’m exhausted.

Over the last few months, I have been spending my days watching Marigold learn to grab things with her hands, learn to roll over, and learn to stick out her tongue. Not high in stress levels to be sure. Don’t get me wrong, staying at home and looking after a baby is very tough, but not incredibly challenging. At least not for me. I love my little baby so much and think she is the most amazing thing in the world, but spending every day all day with her (at this age at least) probably just wasn’t in the cards for me.

Leaving her to go back to work was heartbreaking, because I knew I’d miss her. I’ve spent 24 hours a day for the last 150 days with her, save for a few hours here and there. She’s my best friend. I’m her best friend, of course it was going to be hard. Fortunately, she’s staying home with her other best friend, her daddy, who loves her just as much as I do. Thank god.

The transition for all of us wasn’t as difficult as I thought, or at least not in the way I anticipated it to be. I thought I would spend the first day crying in my office because I missed her so much, and that she would be wailing and whining all day waiting for me to come home. Not so much.

I was also worried (and I can say this, because I know Martin doesn’t read my blog) that I would come home to a disaster house everyday. That I would be the one to walk in the door, clean the house, make dinner, do the laundry, look after the baby etc etc and then fall into a nervous exhausted mess and end up locked up somewhere. I have been surprised everyday, that this has not been the case in the slightest. And in reality, it would’ve been impossible, because I just don’t have the energy.

Of course I have high expectations for my home, and men often just don’t get it when it comes to having a tidy house. But that’s ok…I knew I couldn’t expect things to be done my way any more than I could expect Margiold to be dressed clothes that match. Let’s be serious.

He’s doing an excellent job. Accomplishing more than I thought any stay-at-home-dude ever could! And she loves being with her daddy, and he’s great with her. The dishes might not always be done, and she might be wearing a yellow striped onesie with pink polkadot pants, but the house is still standing. And frankly, I’m so happy to walk in the door when I get home, that I really don’t care that much that things are not done the way I would do them.

You see, this is a really big step. I am a boss, a manager, a director. Not just in my job, but in my home life too. To let this go is an amazing accomplishment for me.

So that being said, the whole transition was more difficult for me than I thought be in a way that’s different than I thought it would be. Does that even make sense? Let me explain.

My day goes like this…times are approximate
630-wake up feed the baby from one side, then pump the other
7-745 shower and get ready
745-8:30 Drive to Richmond Hill
830-12ish go go go go work work work work
12-1230 pump
1230-4 go go go go go work work work work
4-430 pump
430-5 clean up any last bit of work before I leave
5-6 Drive home
6-7 Feed the baby and spend time with her while Martin preps dinner
7-8 have dinner and mind the baby
8-10 try to relax and spend time with Marigold and Martin
10-1030 Nurse the baby to bed
Sometime after 1030–go to bed.

There is not one second in my day that is for me, except for maybe when I go to the bathroom. And before you jump on me and tell me to get used to it, fuck you. I’m sick of people telling me it’s only going to get worse. I know this is the way it is when you have kids, but I’m just telling you how it has been for me, ok?

Furthermore, my maternity leave Employment Insurance deposits were screwed up, so I haven’t received the proper payment in close to a month, and we made an error in budgeting for Martin’s last pay, so we are incredibly broke. Which, if you’ve been broke before, know that it’s one of the most stressful things in life. I don’t know how people do it regularly. We’ll be fine and it will all work out, but it’s just one more thing to add to the list.

On top of that, my job is pretty demanding, so when I’m not working or doing anything, I’m thinking about work. The problems, the solutions and how we’re all going to get through all the bullshit that goes on are always on my mind. My day is filled to the brim with things that need attention immediately, which leaves little time for planning, evaluation and staff development….and in my opinion, these should be the key functions of my position. So, that is how I spend my free time. Thinking about work.

I was anticipating that I was coming back to a changed workplace–that things were different now. This is what I was told. Unfortunately, the differences are small and the issues that I felt needed to be addressed, hadn’t in my departure. In fact, in some ways, things are worse, since neither of the two people that were hired to replace me, worked out.

That being said, I have a team of 5. Three of those teammates were there prior to my departure, and have made me very proud. They have worked so hard in the face of adversity, surrounded by crazies and lazies and have managed to come out on top. The amount of effort, time and dedication that I see in my employees, I think, is unparalleled. This is the most rewarding part of any job that I have ever had, and this is why I am a boss. Seeing people change and grow with my guidance is more pleasing than any other accomplishment in my life and it is so worth the investment of my effort and time. And the fact that they were able to keep the ship afloat in my absence is thoroughly impressive. More than anyone else could ever know.

I find it difficult to leave the office every night. I am almost exasperated because in order for the necessary changes to take place to improve our workplace, I feel as though I need to put in the hours like I used to. I can’t do that anymore. I have a life, in fact, an excellent one. And I need to enjoy it…and staying at work till all hours of the night will not allow me to do that.

I’m not bragging here, but I have a fucking awesome position at a rapidly growing company, I have a nice home, and I have a handsome soul mate who is perfect for me in every way who loves me and our little family more than anything. He is faithful and loyal and committed to me and our family in a way I’ve never seen from a man in my life ever. I have a beautiful, healthy and hilarious daughter with a super rad name. I have my health, and I am pretty and sexy (though, a little flabby), and I’m funny, nice and generous and smart and successful and people like me (I think). I have what so many people want in life. I am so lucky. And I don’t take it for granted.

But I am a workaholic. And fighting that addiction is pretty tough. It’s not like heroin or anything, like I’m not going to die from shooting some bad dope into my veins, and the risks are not nearly as bad. But, hurting my little family is too high of a price to pay to see someone else’s company succeed. I’m not giving up on my job by any means, I’m just working at making work priority #2. Martin and Marigold need to be #1. And that’s the part that I’m struggling with inside. My job defined me. My success and dedication have been who I am for the last 10 years, and especially the last 3. The party Peattie that everyone knew and loved in my personal life is gone now too.

The hardest part of any of this is figuring out who I am now and who I want to be. The non stop party days are over. The work till you drop days are over. I have to find the right life/work/party balance that works for my new life….a balance that Marigold will love, admire and respect when she’s old enough to figure it out.

His Name is Rico, and He Likes to Party

My first mother’s day, and I’m feeling nostalgic. Mostly because of the music.

I’m remembering how I used to do this all the time–sit around and listen to music and write crazy things about my life. I was reading back some of those things and I really did have a crazy life…like the pantsless dancing night with AJ. That seems like such a long time ago.

We’ve been watching the Sopranos–we’re almost done the entire series–and yesterday Tony Soprano said “Remember When is the lowest form of conversation”. While I love reminising as much as the next guy, I completely agree. I love my memories, but there are much more impending things to discuss, no? I guess you can’t make new memories by talking about old memories.

While I know today is mother’s day, I’m not going to write about my mum. Nor am I going to write about being a mum or brag about how I’ve carried a baby for nine months, or slept with a baby on my chest blah blah blah.

I’m thinking back to a day I can’t remember. Well, I guess I can remember it, just not the details. Normally I know what I was wearing, what song was playing and what I was drinking, but not this night. I was standing at the bar at the Cloak, on a Sunday night, I had just dumped one guy, was pursuing another and I was introduced to a young fellow by my good friend Brian. I thought nothing of it at the time, I was obviously preoccupied. I do remember it being a supreme night at the Cloak–I think it was a long weekend, as I didn’t have to work on the Monday. I wish I could remember the exact date. It makes me crazy that I can’t.

Fast forward to a year or so later. I’d had the “one last disastrous Peattie heartbreak” that I’d predicted when I parted ways with Mr. Ribs, and things with the One Who Loved Me just were not going to work out. I was single again, on the prowl, and I was invited to a birthday party at the Duke of Gloucester…again, Brian’s doing. Brian told me that his friend who was having the birthday had asked specifically for him to invite me. It was the young fellow I had met at the Cloak the year or so prior. I had completely forgot that I had even met him…forgot that he’d even existed. I’m still not sure to this day if Brian made that part up, but I guess it doesn’t really matter now. Anyways, I was shocked that he remembered me but figured it would be a blast either way, so off I set to this birthday party. The birthday party that changed my life. I spent the night, after many shots of jager and tequila, leaning against a wall staring into the eyes of the birthday boy like nothing else around us existed.

Today I see those same eyes staring up at me as I feed my baby.

After a couple of dates with him, I didn’t really see a future for us. I figured he was going to be another flash in the pan that was my social life. He seemed eager, sometimes too good to be true, and really, he wouldn’t stand for my snarky side, so he wasn’t going to last…this I was sure of. He could read my signals though, and that’s for sure, and I don’t mean in a sexy kindof way. He backed off when he needed to and advanced when the light was green. He knew all the right things to say and all the right moves to make. All the right moves for me.

Suddenly I’d found someone who was good enough, smart enough, and dog gone it–he liked me! His list of favourite bands was more than acceptable, he had a pretty good fashion sense and he was just as cool as me. It took me a while to learn all these things about him, but eventually I came to know that he was the one for me, and that I was in love.

I’d fallen in love so many times before, sometimes a couple of times a day. I was boy-crazy, but falling in love this time was the end of all that craziness. I’d met my soul mate, my life partner, my future husband. He’s perfect for me in every way. While I loved that craziness that was my life, it was worth giving it up for him. For the contentedness I’ve found in him and our relationship. He’s with me till the end of this extraordinary life, and he’ll be game the whole way.

I sit here and look at him reclining in his torn dad-type chair, wearing his fatherly checked shirt, with his dad-like hair cut, snacking on potato chips and playing video games and I’m so thankful. It’s because of him I celebrate mother’s day.

Thanks Martin.

Until the Moment’s Gone

For Christmas this year, we got satellite radio, and what an excellent gift it was for us. There’s about a dozen channels that we listen to on a regular basis, one of them being “Lithium”, the 90’s station. Try listening to 90’s radio and see what it does to you! It’s funny how many songs I hear that cause me to think of certain people, or certain times in my life.

The first three days of this week were complete hell. Don’t get me wrong, I have an excellent baby. She is absolutely amazing–she sleeps well, most of the time and more during the day, she doesn’t cry a lot, she latches on well and she’s generally a happy baby. For the most part I’ve felt fairly rested, although the “sleep when the baby sleeps” business doesn’t really work for me. She spends her time sleeping through the day, when it’s sunny and bright and when I have lots of energy to get shit done or play some video games (I’ve made it to level 6 on Burger Time). I’ve even managed to have a shower everyday since she was born (save yesterday). I really never wanted to be “one of those people” who complained about the sleep they weren’t getting or the fact that they hadn’t showered in days.

I know now, that those people are likely complaining about not having a shower or sleeping, because it’s too taboo to discuss how fucking depressed/paranoid/freaked out/irrational/inadequate you feel as a new parent. And that’s the short list.

My biggest problem is that Marigold falls asleep when eating. Like completely crashes out. And trust me, I’ve tried everything to keep her awake. I take her clothes off, I blow on her, I stroke her feet, I yell at her, I change her diaper, I stroke her cheek, I squeeze my boob, I tickle her, and I even use the torturous cold cloth on her. NOTHING WORKS!!! I hate having to be so mean to her, but if she had her way, she wouldn’t eat at all until it was dark out, then she would be attached to me non stop until daylight.

We had another doctor’s appointment on Monday, and Marigold had only gained 80 grams in a week. Typical baby growth is between 100-200 grams a week. I knew we had had a bad week before, but it was starting to get alarming because she was falling behind. Dr. Mcgee (our family doctor) consulted with Dr. Karlinsky (our OB) on what we should do. Without much questioning, they decided that my milk production was low and suggested I take domperidone to increase my milk flow. I was adamant that it had nothing to do with my milk flow (as that was suggesting that I was inadequately providing for my child). I just felt I needed to be more diligent in waking her up, especially at night where should could sleep for more than 5 hours if I let her.

I left the doctor without a prescription but with another appointment a week later–I just wanted to wait and see. In life, much like Homer Wells, I have become an expert at waiting and seeing. However, discussing it with Martin, he had a different opinion. He felt as though we have waiting long enough and that we hadn’t seen the results that we wanted, so it was time to change our approach. Martin suggested that I start taking Fenugreek which is a natural supplement to boost milk production that typically has rapid results.

After some consideration, I thought maybe it was possible that I wasn’t producing enough milk. I never got super engorged (I mean they’re a bit bigger and harder but that’s it) and I never experienced the horrible pain that a lot of women experience (they’re sore, but I can deal) and I never felt that “Let Down” sensation that everyone is always talking about. And then it hit me….Oh my god, My BABY is STARVING to DEATH and it’s TOTALLY my fault. Cue 3 days of absolute desperation and waterworks. Oh, at around this time, Marigold has decided that she is going to act like the hungriest baby on the planet and not sleep at all between 8pm and 5am and the only thing that will comfort her is being at the breast (a breast that I’m convinced is completely void of milk). Now cue PANIC.

There’s nothing worse than not being able to enjoy your baby because you’re so distraught that you’re completely incapable of thinking about anything other than getting food in them, punctuated with the feeling of failure. Oh, and did I mention how alone you feel? None of my closest or kindred friends have children yet–of course I have friends that are new moms, but really, the desperation that you feel is so shameful that really, you can only share it with someone who knows you the very most for fear that anyone else might think you’re completely crazy.

I have read almost everything there is to read on the internet about breastfeeding. I saw a lactation consultant, I was going to the doctor regularly, but there wasn’t just ONE answer. I just wanted someone to fucking tell me what to do. All problems have solutions–and it is in my character to LEARN what to do, when something isn’t going right and that there must be an obvious answer. The truth is, when it comes to this–there really isn’t just one answer, and you’ll not get the same answer from different so called experts.

Oh sure, you’ll get lots of advice. Unsolicited advice. But really, the advice doesn’t help, unless you’ve asked for it. Plus the NEGATIVITY you get from people about this stage and that stage really doesn’t help anyone.

Moving on–the doctor called Wednesday morning to tell me that they felt it was best if I start supplementing the baby with formula. As if I wasn’t feeling shitty enough, now I had to poison my baby with formula that was going to cause digestion problems and colic and then she wasn’t going to take breast milk and again I was a failure. How could I NOT be able to do this??? When I was working I was managing more than 10 projects at a time, conducting training sessions, managing a support department and basically doing everything successfully, but I couldn’t fucking get my baby to eat or gain weight. What is WRONG with me??

Well, nothing, exactly. She isn’t starving to death in the least. All of these problems I’m experiencing are my own bullshit. My own guilt, and my own fears. Yes, it stems from my little Miss Marigold not eating and gaining weight, but she’s still happy. Martin isn’t freaking out, the doctors aren’t freaking out, and most importantly Marigold isn’t freaking out. It’s all me.

When I was pregnant, Martin and I were both very easy going about breastfeeding. While we wanted to do it, we weren’t dead set on doing it if it didn’t work out. Somehow that changed once I had her and I really felt that I absolutely didn’t want to give her anything but breast milk. When the doctor told me that it was time to supplement with formula, it was like it was all over. I had failed and she wasn’t going to need me anymore, because once I started with formula, she wouldn’t want the breast anymore, or me anymore.

It was a hard decision…Which to me is pretty ridiculous now, because, in total, it’s four ounces a day. I was agonizing over four ounces a day. We breastfeed, we supplement two times. Big deal. It was Martin who helped me move forward with this. And though we had agreed it was the right thing to do, it was still the most painful thing in the world to watch him try to give her her first bottle. (For the record, we’re using a bottle and cup to feed her formula–she doesn’t really like it). I was the sole person responsible for her nourishment for the last 10 months and all of a sudden, someone else was taking on that responsibility.

We’re not too concerned about nipple confusion–she latches really well on the breast, and the reality is that I’m going back to work in a couple of months, so she’ll have to deal with the bottle anyways, as I can’t imagine Martin cup feeding her 5 times a day.

So we did it. We started supplementing and I started taking the domperidone in conjunction with the fenugreek.

The overwhelming support that came to me via the internets was absolutely amazing. Like I said, unsolicited advice is the absolute worst, but hearing other mom’s stories of their irrational emotional breakdowns was a lifesaver. Everything always looks perfect from the outside, I guess, so you don’t really know what people are going through. I heard stories similar to mine, and I heard some waaaaay worse. Friends that were screaming in agony on top of all the shit I had to deal with, or colicky babies that cried non stop WHILE you were trying to sort your shit out. To those that reached out with their stories–you are all TOPS! Keep doing what you are doing and rewards will be reaped.

After all this, we went to the doctor’s again yesterday and Marigold had gained 50 grams in 3 days, so we’re back on track. And I’ve regained my sanity temporarily. I’m learning what works for her–feed her for ten minutes, put her in her bassinet, she cries, feed her again…set my alarm in the night to wake up to feed her…learn to adapt. Be flexible. Oh god, I hope I remember this in about a week when I start to lose my mind again.

So in all this, what I’m trying to say is that like the 90’s, this will come and go. Like the last five years of my life has come and gone. Times change, and people change and certainly your lot in life will change. There’s a line in the movie “Dazed and Confused” that says something like “If I start referring to my high school years as the best years of my life just kill me”. Well, 10 years ago, my high school years were the best years of my life. Then my years working at Scizzions were the best years of my life. Right now 2007-2010 are the best years of my life, but really the best is yet to come. You can’t get too Stuck in a Moment (yes, I’m quoting U2) because in a moment it will all change.

One of my goals in life is to celebrate each moment, each era, and make the most of it so I can reflect on it fondly. Because I don’t want to forget any of this and I want to spend the rest of my life remembering with pictures and words and musical memories. I know in ten years I’ll hear songs that remind me of now and make me feel nostalgic the same way I can hear Treble Charger and think of driving in Cindy’s car, the same way I can hear the National and think of the end of 2008.

A week before my due date I went to see Gord and Meher play at the Press Club. Gord sang my favourite song of his, “You Never Know”, and of course I cried while he sang it. The song says:

“You never know, never know, never know until the moment’s gone. Then you have to live with what you’ve done. You’re not alone, not alone, not alone in your blindfold in the dark….firing at the dartboard of your love”

Of course there’s moments of my life that are gone that I’ll miss, and I didn’t know how much I would miss them at the time. I’m not sure how much I’m going to miss the agony of now, but I’m sure I will look back fondly on my little tiny baby bird, Marigold and forget the despair….because I’m not alone in any of this. Millions of women have gone before and millions more will in the future. Each of them choosing to do what’s best for them and their family, and living to tell about it.