A Demanding Road Ahead...

Being someone's mother is a huge responsibility. I always thought that when women have babies it's exciting and it'll be so rewarding in the end. I still believe that. But I never really thought about how a baby right before my own eyes would evolve into a young child.

I went to a baby shower for my future sister in law, Kristen. She had many people there from mainly her fiance's side. He has a very large family and there are many aunties and cousins to get to know. There were a couple of young kids there. I hate to say this, but at a certain point there comes a time when a child just gets annoying. Always asking questions and needing attention, their mother's attention all of the time. A baby can't speak, it cries and sleeps. But a child can nanner on and on and on forever if he felt up to it. I find that these kids are a handful and all babies no matter how cute they are, turn into that eventually. Having children is a huge deal and I've always known that, but moreso now. But I admire Kristen so much for having her baby boy. She is a young mother, just turning twenty two a few weeks ago. She has a lot on her plate for basically the rest of her life. A baby turns into that nose picking eight year old, demanding attention. And the eight year old turns into a young teen desperate to be old enough to stay out past 10:00. That teen graduates, hopefully, and still needs attention and love from his parents. I still need my parents to this day and I'm almost twenty. Raising a child doesn't end at 18 like it is often said to. It never does. Having a baby isn't just having a baby, it is having a human being that depends on me forever, until the day that I die and even after that as well.

I salute young women that decide to have those babies that are slowly developing in their tummies. Kristen was surprised to find last year that she was one of those girls that just happened to be pregnant, and not having planned it. There are a lot of those these days. She owned up to her responsiblility of a woman and held her head high and let that belly grow. Despite what her own parents felt and others too I am sure. She was strong and stuck to it, even after finding out that her future baby boy had complications. She remained courageous and took care of herself and her son. She made sure to eat properly to ensure that he would be receiving the proper nutrients, fighting the cravings to eat badly. (She said she didn't have many, but I don't believe her.)

March 15, 2005 Kristen gave birth to a healthy, wide-eyed baby boy, Drake. He was transported to another hospital across the city for his very first operation. Drake was surrounded by tubes and machines beeping and buzzing. Kristen stayed confident that things would improve and they did. She finally held her baby boy a few weeks after his arrival. He was home in a little less than a month I believe, healthy and quite happy I am sure.

I admire Kristen for being such a wonderful woman through all of this. She did happen to go through much of it on her own, which wasn't easy. But not once did I hear her complain. It was her life now, Drake first, Kristen second. Now she's raising a wonderful little boy. The expressions on his face show his changing moods. His most common noises are grumbling and the sounds of him sucking on his bottle. I love him already and I can't imagine Kristen's love for him, having been with him everyday since he was born. Even though I am not Drake's true aunty, I am welcomed like I am by Kristen and everyone else. It's an amazing feeling, holding a little baby in my arms. As I feed him, it seems as though he stares into my soul. I have no idea how a baby does that, but he really does. Kristen is a strong woman and evidentally Drake has inherited that from her.

The View From My Backyard

Windex OR Back-Pack??

Lately I feel like all I ever do is work. But I am sure many people feel this way. Most people, who am I kidding? Now I used to love to wait tables but now I find that I don't enjoy the public so much. So now I work as a housekeeper at the Best Western. At first people look at me and tell me that I am better than that and I don't need to clean up after people. My question is; who then deserves to clean up after filthy, disgusting, nasty, stinky men and their numerous wenches that they bring home from the bar? Really, who really deserves that kind of work? No one, that's who. But like everyone says, somebody's got to do it. And so that is where my lovely self comes in. Each day, with my hair pulled back, and my "bib" Paul likes to call it. It's my uniform, that is so poorly made, it's embarrassing to wear at times. All the time. I come to work, sometimes on time, usually a few minutes later than the rest. No one minds, because I have to clean toilets and who really wants to yell at a person for being late fully aware that that very person has a good four hours of pube removing, as I like to call it. Ohh, the beauty of housekeeping. The question really is; why do I do it, for the pittance I receive? For some reason, I enjoy cleaning. It's a great way to relieve stress.

Today for instance, I was rather hung over from a night full of events. When I woke this morning, I felt like a piece of gum chewed by a bum laying in the streets of Toronto. But once I started making beds and windexing mirrors, I felt great. I like my job. It's petty and simple, but hey so am I. I thought about my friends in university and college in far away lands and I wondered if I would be happier if I too chose that expected path. For awhile I actually stressed over that very question and now I don't regret anything. No regrets. Life in my small town with one boyfriend and one or two friends that still live here, was all I needed this year. After highschool, after all the dramatic events such as prom and graduation I realized that life can be a whole lot simpler. Do I really need to go to some college for something I don't really want? Do I need to prove to this town that I am better than everyone else because I left at the first chance that I got? No. Trends. Highschool is full of them, and life is even more jam packed with them. It seems to me that University and College have turned into trends. It's important to go yes, but make sure that it's for the right reasons and the right reasons only.

I have a lot of time to ponder my thoughts as I vacuum and dust night-stands. I think about anything and everything that my mind will allow me to. I love thinking. It's therapeutic and makes a person wiser. I also don't mind walking in on the odd naked man in his room either. No I actually really don't like bursting through the door shouting, "Housekeeping!" and finding a poor, surprised man laying with his blankets off, naked. It's rather embarrassing for both of us. Especially when that very man runs into me a few times before he checks out forever. It's all part of the housekeeping experience. Waterspots, dirty floors, stained sheets and naked men.

I trust my choices because I figure by now I seem to know what I am doing. At least that's how I feel today. Who knows how I'll be feeling tomorrow...

Energizer Mummy

Everyone has a mom. They may not know her, they may hate her, they may think the world of her... the list of possibilities are endless. For me, my mom is everything to me. I know that in a mother's womb, a child is said to bond the most with his mother. But I find now, in struggling times, I bond with her the most.

Kim, such a simple, somewhat dull name doesn't serve my mom justice. Yet, she gives the name Kim more meaning just by being who she is. My mom truly is amazing. She has had a tough life yet she's always smiling. She's positive and is always concerned with everyone else around her. Which can pose a problem. She is walked on, and has been all of her life. My mom will always think of others, even in times when it is her that is in desperate need of attention. When my dad was in the hospital slowly giving in to the cancer, she wanted to make sure that all of the family was okay and taken care of. Even though she was the one in the most pain of all; losing her one and only. She has been through a divorce with my real dad and had to raise three kids all on her own. Her childhood..? Aren't they all screwed up in some form or another? Other's more difficult to overcome than most. Yet she's somewhat like the 'Energizer Bunny'... she just keeps going and with each difficulty in her life... makes her go even harder and stately as ever.

She's my rock, as I've mentioned before. She survives and with that, inspires those around her to do the same. My mom and I are a lot alike in many ways. Before when I was in the snotty, teen stages, that would ignite many arguements. But now it seems to have rendered us closer together. In a sense, we , as in the two of us are in a seperate family of our own. I say this because I feel that we have gone through the very most together, out of anyone else I have been encountered with in my life. My brother and sister may not agree with me, but it seems that way to me. They have been through the same and most definetly more than I have because they were older when my parents were divorced. Yet, I still feel because I am the youngest and still live at home with my mom, that we are going through the very most we might ever have to in our lives at this very point. The loss of a husband, and the loss of the best dad I'll ever know, all under the same roof. I must admit, it's hectic and at times rather depressing here. But it is making me stronger. It is shaping the person that I am becoming. With that, I can't hate what has happened... If this hadn't happened, I wouldn't be who I am today and will be tomorrow.

My mom is who she is because of what she has endured in her life. She is my angel, the person I want to become as I grow into the woman I will be...

My Mom