A new road…

I took a long break.  I needed it. Trust me.

I thought I was going insane. Too many things on the go, places to go, people to see, impress or keep happy.

Over the last 6 months, I started a new medication to help combat the depression that kept creeping into the corners of my life. While the fog started to lift from my brain, it settled firmly around my hips.
Over 4 months I gained 30 lbs.  30 POUNDS people. I spent the last 2 months working freakishly hard to try and get rid of the weight – nothing helped – problem was that I had ZERO energy to put into any sort of exercise regimen. Spent all day being exhausted, and all night staring at the ceiling. How do you combat that?  Caffeine to wake up during the day, sleeping pills to help me get to sleep at night.

I’ve had enough.

Today, I start my ISAgenix journey.  My friend, Tash, inspired me by talking about her personal success. 10 lbs and 12.25 inches released in 10 days?  More energy?  Sleeping better? Less anxiety?  Where do I sign!?
While I hope to document this amazing journey that I am going to take, I’m also hoping that I can inspire others to take charge of their life too and take that step to better health.  I’m looking forward to having the energy to play with my kids again. Run with the dog.  Feel confident in a swimsuit.
If you want to learn more about the system and how you can change your life, contact me!

Day 1 – here I am – staring down what seems like a long road. I’m inspired by the fact that the average weight loss over the month is 25 lbs. I have a bridesmaid’s dress that I have to wear in October. I’m terrified to go for my fitting. I’ve taken my before pictures, (which I will absolutely NOT be posting until after I’ve finished) done my measurements, and weighed myself. 195 lbs. yikes.

I started my day with Ionix Supreme in a glass of water. It wasn’t bad – I think I’ll try it as a tea tomorrow.
I made my shake at home to take with me – Creamy Vanilla with 8oz of water and 1/2 a frozen banana blended.  This was pretty tasty!
My snack consisted of some cherry tomatoes and my Natural Accelerator supplement.
Lunch was a Dutch Chocolate shake with the other half of the frozen banana blended in. OMG this was delicious.
For my afternoon snack, I’ve had 2 Isagenix Snacks and a Natural Accelerator.
Dinner is going to consist of Sushi/Sashimi with my friend and coach, Natasha.

Tonight I am attending an information night to help me learn more about the amazing products that Isagenix offers, and how to build my business and inspire others to make a change for the better.

I’m excited about this new road.

broken, not defeated

Think back.

Remember the hallways of your high school, lined with lockers. Innocent students gathered between the bells, chatting with each other, exchanging one binder for another, joking, teasing, laughing. Glances exchanged as the student that everyone loves to pick on strolls by, books clutched tightly to their chest, eyes glued to somewhere 3 feet in front of them on the floor.
They won’t look up. Won’t make eye contact.
They walk the gauntlet every day, hoping no one will make a comment that will drive their self-esteem even lower into the ground.

That was me in my early years of high school.

I was never popular. I didn’t wear the latest fashions or care to keep up with the most popular music of the time. I had a small circle of friends that I was very close with, and didn’t care if I had any more.

In Grade 9 I was teased terribly. I wore jeans and t-shirts every day, so I was nick-named “Farmer Girl” even though I didn’t live on a farm. Boys made fun of me for being flat-chested. I had a girl cut a chunk out of my hair in science class one day.

Bullying awareness has been taken to a new level these days. And who can really blame schools for trying to get the message out there that this will not be tolerated? Teenagers are taking their own lives because they are being teased incessantly for being different. Gay. Foreign. Different. Frightening. They all seem to be the same thing anymore.

I read about a 15 year old Canadian boy, Jamie Hubley, who took his own life after years of being teased for being gay. 15. The bullies broke him.
I thought the world was a different place now? I thought everyone was free to be whatever they were on the inside and people wouldn’t judge them for what was on the outside? I especially pride myself on being Canadian because of our reputation for being accepting and welcoming to all.
Apparently a large majority of the population missed the memo.
I think what bothers me the most about this is that the people doing the damage were not his parents, not the adults in his life… it was his peers. Fellow students his own age.

I worry for my own children.
Will the children make fun of Monster for having hearing aids? Does it make him so different that children won’t play with him? Will the fact that he’s always had them make a difference – the number of children with disabilities has risen exponentially over the last 20 years, after all.
Will Peanut get teased for wearing his heart on his sleeve? He is an emotional little boy and is easily hurt – and I don’t mean just physically.

I look at the loss that the Hubley family has had to endure and wonder what they are thinking today. They had allowed Jamie to change schools to escape the teasing. It followed him. In his blog he made it very clear that he didn’t want his parents to feel like it was their fault.

I’m a parent. And while I can’t imagine what they are experiencing right now, I know that they have searched every corner of their brains searching for the moment they ‘missed’ that would have saved their son.

My heart goes out to them.

rain rain go away

I know before I get out of bed in the morning.
I stir to wakefulness, and can feel the pressure behind my eyes.
The curtains are closed, the blinds drawn, but I know before I even open my eyes.


I pull the blankets up over my head and curl into my “spot”. That wonderful little cushion on Hubby’s shoulder between the joint of his shoulder and the base of his neck. I spend many mornings here, but rainy mornings especially.

I can feel him stir… his gentle movement as he lays his strong hand over my eyes and massages my temple.

He knows me.

The shadows that I worked so hard to leave behind find me when it rains.
The grey skies hold the sadness and the loneliness that I felt for years and shower it on me like the tears I have cried. I hear the raindrops hitting the windows, like taps on my shoulder, reminding me that they are never far away.
He wraps his arms around me to protect me from the rain.

He understands me.

I slowly make my way downstairs. The stresses, the pressures of the last few months, weeks, weighing down my steps. I try to kick them loose, like mud from my shoes, but they are unmoving.
He hands me a coffee, some pain medication, kisses me gently, sits beside me on the couch. No words are spoken.

He hears me.

Never pushing, never questioning. Knowing my sadness. Understanding my dark places. Hearing when I need him to help me. He is there when it is time.

He loves me.

since I became a mom…

Years ago, I used to watch the news religiously.  I would wake up in the morning, make coffee and sit down in front of my television to catch up on the latest events, catch the highlights from whatever sporting event I didn’t get to watch the night before, and see what the weather was forecast to be for the next few days.

I would repeat this routine at night.

Then I had children.

Since I’ve had children, I realize just how much depressing news there is in the world. I realize how horrible people can be to such innocent little creatures. I realize that I had been effectively “ignoring” stories of horrid scandal and child abuse… stories of Jon Benet Ramsey, Susan Smith, Andrea Yates.

Since I’ve had children, I can’t watch movies where a child gets hurt, or lost, or dies. As high as the reviews were, and as awesome as the cinematography was for “Slumdog Millionaire” I had difficulty making it through the entire film.
in fact, I had to watch it over several evenings…I kept getting overwhelmed

Since I became a mom, I can’t help but shed tears when I hear of other young mothers who have lost a child… whether it be through illness, accident or otherwise.

Over the nearly 7 years that I’ve been a mother, I have known people who have lost sons and daughters. I have seen their pain, unable to imagine the horrible emptiness that must occur when that tiny fire in the most beloved corner of your heart, your soul, your life is extinguished before it can truly glow. I have sat watching as funeral processions drive slowly by. Mothers in limousines, covered in a shroud of sadness. Unable to grasp a concept of life without their “baby”. Unable to understand how the world can be so cruel as to let them outlive their own child. It makes me pull my boys close. Kiss their cheeks. Breathe in their little boy smell – that tangy scent of mud, sunshine, laughter and innocence.

I was always able to dislocate myself from the emotion of it all.

Not since I became a mother.

Now I very rarely watch the news. I can’t bear to hear those heart breaking stories anymore.

I know – probably a bit extreme considering the amount of good news that is broadcast… but…

Case and point: The recent sensational trial of Casey Anthony almost completely escaped me.
Yes, I had heard about it, but honestly?
I didn’t want to hear about it. I want to live in my own world, where every mother loves their child. Where no one is unwanted or not cared properly for. Where everyone has the courage to ask for help when life gets overwhelming. Before it gets to that point.

Now that my children are older, I dread having to teach them that it’s not always ok to trust every adult, that there may be people out there who may try to hurt them, and that they should be comfortable coming to me whenever they have questions or concerns… without making them nervous of everyone.

Since I became a mom, I have learned that I will do anything – face any hurdle, fight any enemy to protect my children.

What has changed since you became a mom?

Let's BEE Friends

disabilities, depression and why I don’t like some people (part 1)

I am the mother of a disabled child.

It took me years to openly say this.

Monster has a bi-lateral mild-to-moderate sensorineural hearing loss.  He was born with this disability.

His hearing was tested at birth through the Infant Hearing Program. A lovely volunteer inserted a foam earplug in his ear, which produced sounds.  The ear’s response to these sounds were recorded and he was given a ‘refer’ result.

Peanut’s hearing test had been a “pass” right off the bat, so of course I was a bit concerned.

The volunteer shrugged it off with phrases like “quick delivery”, “possible fluid in the ear”, and I was told to wait a few days and take him to the local Health Unit to have him re-tested.

A week later, I’m bundling up my wee babe, along with my nearly 2 year old and heading off to the Health Unit for a re-test. While Peanut played quietly in the corner, we had an instant reply of what had happened in the hospital.  Foam plug in ear, quizzical look on her face, repeat test 2 times.

Then comes the questions:
“Was he delivered by c-section? (apparently fluid can stay in their ears longer because of less compression on the head during delivery)
“Does your family have any history of hearing loss?” Do my practically deaf Grandparents count? (I think that’s more for survival than anything…)
“Did you drink during your pregnancy?”
Ok, now I’m starting to take this personally.  You’re telling me there’s something wrong with my baby and now you’re trying to blame me?!?!  (yes, I got a bit defensive over that one.)

I was referred to an children’s audiology specialist.

Tests, tests, tests, questions, questions, questions…. blah blah blah “your son will have to wear hearing aids” blah blah blah


I’m sorry, I don’t think I heard you properly?

And that, my friends, is when depression set in. I’m sure that was the moment, because I felt my heart drop at those words.  Also?  I was not about to admit that there was anything wrong with my child.  Wouldn’t that mean I had been a bad mother?  I had already spent the last 6 weeks scouring my memory for anything bad that I might have done during my pregnancy…  those few glasses of wine before I knew I was pregnant?

There’s something wrong with my child.  I’m a bad mother.

So, at 6 weeks old, my little Monster was diagnosed with his hearing loss and the wheels were set in motion to get him his first pair of hearing aids.  The world becomes a bit of a blur.

Now, I should explain that I grew up in a very small community and only ever knew one child that had hearing aids, and that was in public school many many years ago – and he was nearly deaf.

Being that my exposure to this sort of disability has been somewhat sheltered, I tended to ask a lot of apparently stupid questions like:
Will his hearing get any better?
Will he always have to wear his hearing aids?
Is there some sort of surgery to help him?

To which I got many eye rolls and gentle, condescending pats on the hand “No, dear. His hearing will never improve and yes, he will always need hearing aids.  His hearing loss isn’t severe enough for a cochlear implant, so no, there is no surgery that can help him.  His ears just didn’t form properly, I guess. Unless it was something during pregnancy.”

Again the accusatory comment.

Again, that stab of guilt at a young mother that has just learned that her child isn’t “normal”.

To top it all off, as I left one of the multitude of appointments that I had to take Monster to, I happened to see on a comment sheet that someone had written that “Mom is very difficult and will not accept the diagnosis”.  I’ve never wanted to tell someone to go Eff themselves more than I did that day.

Excuse me if I have a lot of questions.

Excuse me if I worry that I did something wrong – but thanks for the reassurance that it is probably just hereditary.

Excuse me if I’m a bit overwhelmed at the thought of my little boy not being able to just have a spontaneous life. I want him to be able to run through the sprinklers AND hear his friends all at the same time.  I want him to be able to play in the rain.  I want him to be able to put in earphones and listen to music, not depend on an FM system and boots.


So I spoke up.  Which is not like me in these sort of situations. Really.

I spoke up and said “You know what? I think I’m well within my effing rights to want a normal childhood for my 2 month old baby.  I don’t appreciate being called difficult, just because I have a lot of questions. And by the way, if I refused to accept the diagnosis, WOULD I BE HERE GETTING HIM HEARING AIDS???”

GAWD I hate people sometimes.

I’m a good mother.