I’m a thirty-something mom of two little boys and I live a three and a half hour plane ride from the nearest family. Starting a family was something that both my husband and I really wanted. I knew it was going to be tough, being without grandparents to help but I didn’t care, I wanted babies. I would stay at home and raise them, like my mom did, and he would go to work everyday to provide for us. The plan was in place. And after three pregnancies and the birth of two beautiful boys, our family was complete.
And I was happy. I loved (and still do!) being home and being a mother. It’s the hardest and most rewarding “job” there is in life. But what maybe I wasn’t so prepared for was how mentally and physically exhausted I would be some days. A cup or two of coffee in my favourite mug from The Top Knot Boutique and a glass of wine were things I looked forward to every single day.
After awhile, something started creeping in: resentment. I would watch my husband every morning: wake up well rested, get dressed up in a nice suit, take his travel mug of hot coffee and head with purpose to the office. He’d come home at 6:00 (or later) every night telling me of the nice lunch he’d had at a restaurant downtown or the beer he’d shared after work. All the adult things he got to partake in. Then there was me: feeling like if I had to deal with one more tantrum, change one more diaper, do one more load of laundry, or empty the dishwasher one more time, I was going to go outside onto the front porch and scream.
My heart goes out to all the families affected by the wild fires in Fort McMurray. On special days like Mother’s Day, a time for love and family, so many people are experiencing absolute devastation. Their homes and neighbourhoods destroyed and they have lost everything. I know that safety is always the number one priority and obviously lives are way more important than tangible items. But I don’t think we should disregard how important some things are to us too. How do you put a value on those sentimental objects?