Laughing at Gunpoint

I swish the hangers along the rod one by one, pretending to be searching for a new garment while intermittently glancing up towards the cute boy across the aisle. I flash a nervous grin at him and whip my head back towards Grace who is finishing a story I'm not listening to. Lost in whispers and giggles, Grace and I do not notice the stranger who approaches us. He hovers closely, waiting quietly, unnoticed.

I glance up in his direction, startled by his presence. Assuming he is one of the store clerks playing a trick on us, I laugh at the bandana tightly wrapped around his face, just under his nose, and turn back to Grace to continue our conversation. He lifts something up towards our faces and mutters something I can't quite make out. I turn my head and focus on the object. Thinking it's a toy, I laugh again, flick it with my fingers, and comment that it must be a water gun. When I feel the cold metal press against my cheek, and make out the words he has been repeating, I realize it isn't a joke at all.

"I said get the F*#@K on the floor, this is a hold up!" says the stranger nervously but with authority. Grace and I make eye contact and then divert our attention to the rest of the store. We had been so wrapped up in our conversation, we hadn't noticed that the rest of the customers are lying facedown on the floor. We drop to our knees and begin to giggle nervously. "I said get DOWN" he yells, frustration surfacing in his tone.

Grace and I slowly bend down on the floor and shuffle so that our sides are touching and we are holding hands. Our faces are pressed firmly on the cold floor. My eyes are squeezed so tightly shut that they sting. Suddenly a burst of giggles pops through my sealed lips. Grace catches the giggles and we are suddenly giggling uncontrollably. I squeeze my grasp on Grace's hand in an attempt to calm my nerves. We lay there for what feels like hours, face down, hands squeezed together, eyes tightly shut.

I feel something press against my back and slowly peel my eyelids open and crack my neck to see what is prompting me. It's a police officer. "Ladies, you can stand up now, it's over, they're gone" he says, trying to hold back the tinge of laughter in his voice. I look at Grace and we slowly rise to our feet. People are wandering around, talking to cops, eyeing us mid-sentence.

We had been laying in the middle of the floor, holding hands, giggling quietly for quite some time. Unaware that the holdup had ended, that the cops had entered and the other customers has risen and begun talking and wandering around the store. We look like idiots. We leave in disbelief, completely stunned. 

Today I'm linking up with Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop.

Believe It Or Not

Do you ever stop and think to yourself, "Holy crap, I'm a MOM. How did I get away with this!?" I do. Often. I like to think I'm a pretty great mom, but there's this other side of me who still thinks I'm 17, who still has juvenile insecurities, who isn't confident in my independence, who can't believe I actually have responsibilities. Feeling a little cheesy, poetic (and a lot over tired), I wrote this little somethin' somethin' for the mamas:

Believe it or not
You are a mom
When they go to the bathroom
You must wipe their bum
When they cry and scream
It's you who must try
To calm them down
And get them to comply

They will try to resist
When you teach them what's right
When you serve up the dinner
They'll put up a fight
At bedtime they'll fuss
And try to stay up
They'll ask for some water
And you'll refuse them a cup

But when they're tucked in
All cozy and snug
And they give you sweet kisses
And a genuine hug
When they whisper "I love you"
And hold on oh so tight
And you wish them sweet dreams and a very good night

The tough times seem easy
The stress goes away
Sleep seems unimportant
As do the challenges of the day

Believe it or not
You're a fabulous mother
Your children look up to you
Like they will to no other
You may not believe it
How could this be true?
You're the one who made them
And they're all about you

Random Things I've Learned This Week

Inspired by Life With Baby Donut's Sunday linkup, and by the crazy fabulous fantastically fun mommies gone wild weekend I've just enjoyed, I've decided to share with you some random things I've learned this week. Here are my top five:

These ladies rock my world

1) Never turn down a menu item that lists "lardon" as a main ingredient. I saw this on the menu last night (a few  dozen drinks in), and didn't have a clue what it was:

"premium semolina macaroni, crisp lardons, soubise sauce, local camembert, black truffle tapenade."

 

I jokingly asked the waitress what "lardon" was, and she said "bacon". That's right people, crispy BACON and macaroni & cheese with black truffles. Effing deliciousness. Dinner gave me a lady "lardon".

2) Despite every effort made, alcohol + a group of mommies leads to endless conversations about kids and babies. I have been in so many group settings that have started with "ok, no kid talk tonight ladies" and have ended with "OK, let's ALL try for another baby!"

3) "Beer before liquor, never sicker - liquor before beer, all in the clear." I have spent many sleepless nights trying to remember this adage, and while it seems pretty simple when sober, it's a different story once you've started drinking. Last night I started with wine, then on to champagne, a caesar, margarita, then finished the night off with beer. I didn't get sick - so I believe I have officially busted the myth.

4) If you ever decide to make the fashion-forward decision to buy a romper, be sure to buy it one size too big. No need to explain, just do it.

5) Despite my previous belief, aromatherapy is not some hippie money making hoax, it actually works. I received a free aromatherapy add-on with my 90 minute massage today (yes, you read that right, read it and weep), and I came out feeling fuzzy-headed and fancy free. I will be scouring the shelves of Costco for the "relax" aromatherapy oils very soon.

That's it for this week! Don't forget to follow my blog and link up through the button below!

Dichotomy of Bee

"A dichotomy is any splitting of a whole into exactly two non-overlapping (and not necessarily equal) parts, meaning it is a procedure in which a whole is divided into two parts."

I thought this would be a good way to describe how I feel as a working mom, as I am sometimes divided between the "Worker Bee" side of my life, and the "Mama Bee" side. I feel like these two sides of me are so different, that if someone from one side were to cross over to the other side, they wouldn't even recognize me.

Love the boy's face in this picture

This is "Mama Bee". She starts her day at 6:30am (on a good day). She is usually shocked awake by a piercing scream, or a 4 year old standing 2 inches from her face repeating the same sentence over and over again. "Mommy, can I please have breakfast?". She rushes through a 5 minute shower (hair washing not included - those are saved for evenings), scrambles into an office-appropriate outfit, and rushes her two children into their clothes. She brushes their teeth and hair, and hurries into the kitchen to prepare breakfast. While they eat, she packs their things, packs a banana for herself to eat later, and lets the dog out for a pee. Once the kids have full tummies, she rushes them into the car and speeds off to daycare. At drop off, the kids grab at her, beg her to stay. She has to turn and leave or she'll be late for her morning meeting. She knows the kids will be ok as she walks out to the doors to distant calls for her attention.

 

 

Trophies make me happy

This is "Worker Bee". She's a career focused sports marketing & sponsorship professional for a major league sports team. She starts her work day at 8:30am, powers through meetings, works hard to meet deadlines and does what she has to do to get the job done. She jokes with coworkers over 3-4 cups of coffee. She takes a temporary break around noon, where she shuffles out of the dark confines of her shared office pod. She opens the front doors and squints into the light like a newborn baby opening her eyes for the very first time. She gulps down something unhealthy and heads back to the grind. She works as quickly and thoroughly as she can in hopes of being able to leave on time. If she's lucky, she packs up her things, transfers her to do list to a new page, and rushes out of the office by 5pm.

At 5:30pm Mama Bee is back in full swing. She arrives at home, kicks off her heels and heads straight to the kitchen where she prepares a healthy, balanced meal for her family of 4. She juggles stirring dinner with hugging and chatting with her hubby and kids. She sets the table, serves up dinner and eats with her loving family. One dinner is complete, she clears the table and heads to the bathroom where she runs the tub for bath time. One kid gets washed, then the other. Jammies, teeth brushed, story times, snuggles and bed time fly by within a 30 minute period. Then it's off to the laundry room for a load of laundry, then (if there's time) a quick trip to the grocery store around 9pm. When she returns, it's time to make lunches. Finally around 10pm or so, she settles onto the couch with her laptop and cup of tea for a little blogging and catching up on emails. She settles into bed around midnight, crossing her fingers that for just one night, her babies will sleep soundly. Then one of them calls her name around 2am.

Alright, it may sound busy, stressful and at times unpleasant, but the truth is, I love both sides of my life (which is why I'm smiling in both pictures). I'm happy to have a career that I love and to earn my own money, and I'm also happy to balance that with a loving family. I definitely have days where it feels unbalanced, where I want to spend more time with my kids and less time at the office, but I make it work. This is me. Both sides of Bee.

May The Fours Be With You (Wordless Wednesday Post)

I try constantly to snap sentimental photos of my little 4-year-old McSasserson, but no matter how hard I try, my camera lens is greeted with one of many famous 4-year-old poses:

The Googly Eyed Pose

The "I Think I'm A Model" Pose

The Stink Eye Pose

(Most Common) - The "Mouth Wide Open" Pose

But when I'm really lucky, I manage to snap a keeper like this one:

The "My Beautiful Princess Is Still In There" Pose

And when she's not looking, I catch sweet moments like this:

Brother Love Pose

Once this "fun" stage passes, I'm hoping I'll have a better time capturing those sweet smiles on camera, but until then - May the Fours be with you!

Mama's Bits



Before I had my precious babies, I had a pretty rockin' rack. Not to toot my own horn (but I'm gonna toot my own horn). The girls were pretty perky and plump.

While getting dressed this morning, I made the mistake of lingering on my reflection in the mirror. It had suddenly come to my attention that since having had my second child (and after weening him off mama's milk), I had gone from a Halle Berry C cup, to a Kate Hudson A cup. Shrinkage on the top, and swelling on the bottom.

Gravity is working double time on my bod - all my body parts seem to be fighting to see which one can touch the ground first. I raised my arm at my reflection and gave it a little shake. Bad idea. It was like a loose chicken neck had made sweet love to my underarm.

My eyes slowly shifted upwards towards my face. Prominent under-eye baggage and thinning hair met my gaze. Lovely I thought to myself. Then I paused for a minute, taking it all in. I reshifted my focus (maybe squinted my eyes a bit), and looked back at myself in the mirror.

I made these two fabulous kids
(with a little help of course)

You are an amazing being I thought to myself. You made two human beings with that body - and that makes you fabulous. I'm not 20. I'm not unhealthy, and I'm not unhappy. I'm actually happier than I've ever been in my life! I have so much to be thankful for, and my post-baby bod should be one of them.

So to myself and to my fellow mamas who feel drab, jiggly, saggy, or baggy -  I say rock that bod, flaunt that flab and love yourself for the fabulousness that you are. We made people ladies - and there's nothing in the world more beautiful than that :)

Bee's Awkward Confession

I have a confession to make. Some of my very closest friends know this about me, but most others who know me well would be quite shocked. I'm quite outgoing in person, sometimes even a bit over-enthusiastic (to put it nicely). So one wouldn't immediately assume that I...am...an awkward....hugger.

It doesn't stem from a traumatizing childhood memory, or a most embarrassing moment from my teen years, it's just something I've always felt awkward about, and something I thought I would come clean about to my blog readers.

Picture this: you're out with a group of girlfriends, and one of them has brought along a friend who you've just met that night. At the end of the evening, the group begins a rotation of hugs. Do you make the rounds and hug the stranger as well? Do you initiate the hug, or wait until they lean in and make the first move? Awkward.

Another scenario: you're at a gathering with your girlfriends and their partners/hubbies (who you don't know quite as well). Upon exit, your girls do the usual hug circle. Do you extend the hugs to each of their hubbies as well? Do you wait to see if the other girls do it first? Is it inappropriate to hug other girls' guys? What if they accidentally graze your boob? Awkward.

Work functions. Many work friends will exit an event with a cordial hugging it out. If I'm in a chat circle and a work friend leaves the scene, leaning into another work friend for a ritualistic hug, do I step in and hug it out too? Do I wait for an invitation and stand awkwardly with arms at my sides until they lean my way? Awkward.

My biggest fear is a repeat of an awkward moment I've experienced a few times before. The moment when I step up, swallow my pride, and make the concious decision to initiate a hug. I smile awkwardly, pretending to hear the funny story a friend is saying upon departure. I slowly outstretch my arms...and they counter my weak hug attempt with an awkward grin and a hand wave. Totally lame and totally awkward.

Know that I love being hugged. When it comes at me with no hesitation, wide open arms wrap around me, complimented by a firm squeeze and even a cheek kiss. All good. You initiate and I'll gladly submit. Hesitate, and be prepared to experience an awkward hug from Bee.

Becoming Mrs. Bee

A great blog hop by Mommy of a Monster has inspired me to share a photo of the Bees on our wedding day. I love that we are walking away from the camera, focusing on each other instead of the photographer. I feel as though we are walking towards our future together, taking our first steps towards our exciting adventures as a family, oblivious to our surroundings.

Mr. & Mrs. Bee - July 2006

It was the most beautiful day, a celebration of our love for one another and our love and appreciation for our closest family and friends. It was the beginning of our future, and the beginning of the Bees.

Bit of Zzzz's

"Sleep is a naturally recurring state characterized by reduced or absent consciousness, relatively suspended sensory activity, and inactivity of nearly all voluntary muscles."

Oh, is that what that means? I wouldn't know.

Since I've returned to my full time job (about 6 months ago), I have been deprived of sleep, or anything that resembles sleep.  My schedule is jam-packed from 6:30am until 11:30pm, and the 7 hours in between are eaten up by thoughts of things I should have done during my busy day, work issues and projects, and kids waking up and wanting my undivided attention. So how long can I go without any semblance of rest?

I can remember a time in my life when I thought I was so busy. When I was working a 9-5 job, and had to worry about feeding myself. A time when I would sleep in on weekends until 2pm, and then worry about where to go for brunch that would still serve coffee and eggs. I'd love to have a conversation with that younger me. "Bee-" I would say. "You need to take more pictures of your tight face, close ups of your youthful eyes and colourful complexion. You will miss these features when you've had children and have returned to work. You need to sleep until 3pm, eat a ton, and then go back to bed and sleep some more!"

I would also like to go back in time and have a conversation with myself when I was pregnant with my first child. "LISTEN to the advice of other moms!" I would say while shaking my plump little pregger body. "Sleep NOW, and sleep when the baby sleeps for the love of God." Why I didn't take that advice when I was pregnant with my second, I will never truly understand.

When my children are fully grown, I would like to saunter into their cozy bedrooms when they have drifted deeply into dreamland. I would like to stand with my face 2 inches from their faces, and start talking to them at my highest volume, repeating the same 2-3 words over and over again while prying their eyelids open with my fingertips - until they are fully awake. Then I would like to wait until they have fallen back asleep, and then do it all over again. Every hour until the sun rises. Is it wrong for me to think this way? I blame it on the sleep deprivation.

After 8 nights in a row of 2-3 hours of sleep, I've lost my mind and all patience. I've decided to cry it out. And the toddler can cry it out too! Ferber needs to hook a mommy up with some new sleep techniques. 

Attitude of Gratitude

It's been a tough week in the Bee Hive - a week full of sickness, sleep deprivation, sassiness, procrastination, and frustration. But as I was just about to write a post about my tough times, I came across a lovely linkup Attitude of Gratitude - which has inspired me to shift my mindframe, and to focus on the fantastic things I am so blessed to have in my life.

I'm grateful for Mr. Bee, whose patience, playfulness, and positivity balance our little family when I'm having a rough day and need a time out.

I'm grateful for my group of besties, who have seen me through my awkward years, who have shared in weddings, births, funerals, loves and losses. They are my rocks.

I'm grateful for the beautiful and diverse group of ladies who make up my mommy group. Who have supported me from the beginning of this wild and crazy journey through motherhood, and who through our 4+ years together, have become so much more to me than a mommy support group. They have kept me sane, kept me laughing, and kept me grounded.

I'm grateful for my parents, who may not be the ones who made me, but who are the ones who made me who I am today. They inspire me, humour me, support me, and love me unconditionally, and I am truly thankful.

I am grateful for my beautiful babies, who light up my life, who I could not live without, who have taught me more than anyone about love, life and laughter.

I have so much to be thankful for, and compared to this small list of a million things I love about my life, my tough week pales in comparison.

Boy Bits

Meet Gavin. My second child, and my first little boy. When I was pregnant with my second, I thought it was going to be a breeze. I had done this all before, I was a pro. What I didn't realize was that no child is the same. He has an entirely different personality from my first - different interests, different ways of learning. I watch my children interact and I can't help but wonder, do they do things so differently because he's a boy, or is it just that every being is a different person with different behaviours?

Emma (big sis) has a bevy of nicknames for her little bro - Coops, Budge, Budgie, Budget, Gavster, and my favourite one she came up with: "Mommy, Gavin cries so much, I'm gonna call him GIRL-vin". They love each other in a way I could never understand (having grown up mostly as an only child), and they melt my heart when they hug on each other. But sometimes when I watch them, I notice the differences. For example, Emma was playing with her barbies the other morning. She held them gently as if they were truly alive. She spoke through them in gentle words, role played quietly in a little house she had built for them in the corner of the living room. When her little bro strolled up in an attempt to join in, she happily handed him some barbies. He immediately grabbed the dolls by their ankles and smashed their heads into each other, while letting out a devilish laugh, then tossed the dolls as far as he could. Emma was devastated and he thought it was hilarious. Is that a boy thing?

When she was a toddler, Emma would sit quietly and read books or colour with her crayons. She could keep herself busy without assistance. She had no interest in climbing, opening cupboards or eating whatever she found on the floor. Gavin - not so much. He’s a dare devil – climbing onto everything possible, taking every opportunity he gets to explore, sneak, swipe and eat anything that crosses his path. Boy thing?

Gavin has a serious meat tooth. While eating dinner the other night, he decided his plate of chopped up dinner wasn’t enough so he reached across the table and swiped an entire pork chop from his daddy’s plate. He ate the whole thing with his hands, like a little Neanderthal. Totally adorable, and totally not the way his sister would have handled it.

I’m now about to approach that big milestone of potty training. With Emma it was easy (mostly because I had a lot of help from my mom). She was totally trained by 2. But with the Gavster, I just don’t know what to do with his boy bits! I sat him on the potty the other day and he seemed to enjoy it, but all he wanted to do was tug on his bits – leaving me dodging left and right, trying to avoid the possibility of getting hit in the face with pee should he decide to go. Teaching Emma was easy because I was working with the same equipment I’ve known my whole life – but what do I do with the boy bits?

Whether it be a gender thing, or just nature showing me that everyone is different, I’m loving the parallels I see in my children, and know that I still have a lot to learn and look forward to in my adventures of parenting. In the meantime, tips are more than welcome!

Bit of a Blogaholic

Well it's been 10 days (and 6 posts) since I popped my blogging cherry, and I hate to admit it but..

My name is Bits of Bee, and I'm a blogaholic. In honour of my newfound addiction, here are some things I've learned (so far) about blogging:

Blogging is crack. Here I thought it would be an outlet for me to express myself and apply my love for writing –if and when I had the time. But it has already become so much more than that. I find myself dreaming in blog topics, and checking my Blogger stats every chance I get. Beads of sweat appear on my forehead as I pass the laptop while chasing my little ones around the living room, calculating the time it would take to quickly check in and read new comments on my post before returning to my game of Polly Pockets with my princess. On work days, I can’t help but keep the Blogger page open in a hidden window for quick peeks in between work tasks. They say the first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem. Consider this an admission.

Klout is a way to measure your online influence, not a form of Ghonoreah.I keep seeing Klout ratings referenced on blogs and blogger tweets, and I eventually had to Google it (yes, that just happened). Still learning, but I now know that Klout is cool and not a directory of people who have contracted an infectious disease.

I'm an attention whore. I tried to convince myself that I wanted to blog for myself, that I didn't care if anyone read what I wrote. Who am I kidding? I get giddy when I see that I've had more viewers on a recent blog post. New followers? Hells yes! Number of visitors just went over 200? Awesome!

Blogging is a confidence roller coaster. I post, I love what I've posted and can't wait to read the comments. Then I feel like deleting my post. I regret what I've written. I criticize my writing/choice of topic, and analyze how others will react. Then I want to re-read it 100 times pretending it's my first time. Then I want to share with anyone and everyone to see if they like it as much as I do. Then I want to take back the post/invitation and delete the blog altogether. I'm not crazy, I swear!

Despite these realizations, I'm loving it and don't plan on stopping anytime soon. Any tips, comments or feedback on the ins and outs of blogging would be greatly appreciated. I need some enablers to keep my habit going!

Our Happy Place

This is why I don't miss the weekends I had in my 20s. A sunny day at our happy place is all I need to put a smile on my face.

This is where the hubs and I went when we adopted our puppy (almost 10 years ago).

This is where my hubs proposed to me (5 years ago).

And now this is where we take our little family, every free sunny day we have.

This is where we took our newborn baby, the one who made me a mama. Her first outing at only a few days old.

This is our happy place. Where I see us visiting when we're hobbling with walkers. When our children are grown. When we've retired from our busy jobs and have time to just sit somewhere special and reminisce. Pure love. Pure happiness.

Weekend Flashbacks and Fist Pumps

"Where did you hear that song mommy, on your transistor radio?" - Emma (4)

My four year old says the darndest things, but her honesty sometimes gets me thinking. I am getting old. I'm a mom. I'm not the worry-free, responsibility-free, fun-loving, late night partying, pineapple Malibu drink-sipping, booty shaking at the dance club, 20-something I once was. On this sunny Friday night, my daughter's comment got me thinking about how I used to spend my weekends when I was young and single, vs how my weekends are spent now.

Then: Hit a pizza by the slice for a quick “dinner”, blast the tunes and belt out songs like this one: Jumpin' Jumpin' while getting all dolled up with my girlfriends. Roll out of the house around 10pm with big hair, small clothes and big plans. Dance and drink till my legs ache, hit another pizza by the slice for a midnight snack, and crawl into bed around 2am.

Now: Hit a Boston Pizza at 5pm with my family of 4. Blush in shame as I notice we’re the only ones in the entire restaurant. Hold my starving, fussy one year old on my lap in a cramped booth while I wait for the 15 year old waitress to bring the high chair. Wolf down a pizza while coaxing my children to finish their Bugs N’ Cheese. Rush home for a family snuggle while watching Cars. The end to a perfect Friday night ("end" being at 8pm might I add)…

“Mommy, when I call you to wipe my bum, I only want to have to ask you once, OK?” – Guess which 4 year old this was?

I joke, but I love my life and am happy to spend my Friday nights with my family after a jam-packed, stressful work week. Gone are the days when my weekends were jam-packed with worry-free hard partying plans. Nowadays, on the rare occasion when I don’t have an uncontrollable amount of weekend plans, I do a big ol’ *fist pump*

Happy Friday readers!

Note: please comment on my posts, I'm a newbie blogger and I love feedback!

The Challenges I Face as a WoMo (in idioms)

Minis - Emma (4) and Gavin (1.5)

One of the worst things a daycare teacher can say to me when picking up my kids is, "oh he didn't sleep at all today!". As a WoMo (working mom), my time with my little ones is limited to about 2-3 hours a night. A napless day at daycare means a hapless evening for mama.

There are many things I love about being a WoMo, but there are also many challenges I face in my attempts to balance my busy schedule.

1) Cleanliness is next to godliness. The good thing about this saying is that it's an idiom, and I love idioms. The bad thing is, I don't have time for cleanliness. For me it's more like "Tidy now, clean later."

2) There's a method to my madness. (alright, sticking with the idiom theme here) Because my days are so packed with chaos, I feel the need to stick to a strict schedule. So much so that I had decided this morning to go into work late (boss is on vacation - while the cat's away, the mouse will play!). My plan was to sleep in, laze around with the kiddies, take my time dropping them off, hit a drive through for a coffee, and roll in an hour late. What actually happened: I slept for an extra 20 minutes, until I was awoken by a screaming 1 year old. I rushed into my barely appropriate office attire, threw my hair into a pony, moved at lightning speeds to get myself and the kids ready, and ended up at work 20 minutes earlier than usual. A routine is good for a busy mom - so good for a control freak like me that I can't seem to break it (even on purpose!).

3) The grass is always greener. I wake up eager to rush through my morning routine, looking forward to arriving at my desk and taking my first sip of a steaming hot cup of jo in blissful silence. But once I get to work, all I can think of is how much I want to rush through my day so I can hurry home to my sweet babies. When I get home and my evening routine is complete and the babes are all tucked in, it's straight to the computer and my working hat is back in place. Always happy, never satisfied.

4) Rome wasn't built in a day. I sometimes feel like splitting my time between work and family results in me giving 200% of myself to these areas in my life, leaving nothing left for myself. What I'm starting to realize is that true happiness comes from a balance between family, work, and "me" time. To achieve this balance, I need to move at a slower pace, let go of the little things I feel I need to control, and to allow others to help me. Step 1 - I sent the hubs to the grocery store tonight (a chore I've coveted for all of these years).

Result? The fridge is full, and I've found time to update my blog. Icing on the cake!

Linked up on: http://www.BloggyMoms.com

Buy & Sell Baby

In the late 70s, we didn’t have Craigslist (or even the internet for that matter), so when one wanted to search for gently used items, job postings, garage sales, or anything else they wanted to buy, sell or trade, they would look for it in the Buy & Sell. You could find almost anything in there, but I’m pretty sure I’m the only one who found my parents through the popular publication.

1979 was the year of the child. To celebrate, my adopted mother decided she wanted to help a child in need. She posted an ad in the Buy & Sell offering free child care for a family in need. My biological mother came across the ad and jumped at the opportunity. Luckily for me, a babysitter who was found by chance, became my mother by choice. Fate is a beautiful thing.

My adopted mother is a rare kind, someone who doesn’t just love children, but someone who lives for children. She loves unconditionally, endlessly, and altruistically. She not only provided me with the most wonderful life, but has blessed the lives of many other families in need. She has been a foster parent to almost a dozen children, and has spent the better part of her lifetime running an infant/toddler child care centre. She has also been a very supportive and influential person in the lives of my children.

I believe that if you are raised by a loving family, then you believe that your family situation is “normal”. I’ve always known I was adopted, and as an interracial adoptee I didn’t look like the rest of my family. But because I was so loved and accepted, I didn’t feel different from the rest.

Now that I’ve become a mother, I aspire to be like the mother who raised me. I will teach my children about the varieties of families in our world, and that there is nothing more important than being surrounded by a family who loves and supports you.