The Soother Fairy. He (sometimes she) sneaks into the rooms of unsuspecting toddlers while they’re at preschool, daycare, or maybe Grandma’s house, total unbeknownst the tragedy about to befall them. The tragedy of course being the theft of every soother in the house in exchange for a pile of extravagant, guilt-driven gifts and sugary treats. It’s sad yes. But the Soother Fairy isn’t without good reason.
He/She must distribute the soothers collected from big boys and girls to all the little babies who are in desperate need of their fix. If not from the Soother Fairy, than from who? And if not at the exact moment that mom and dad were starting to get worried about the onset of early addiction… when?
You’ve not heard of the Soother Fairy? That’s because I made him up. The concept occurred to me as the only possible way out of a screaming match that I was sure to lose. Our daughter has been something of a “delicate” sleeper (that’s putting it lightly) since the minute she escaped the womb, so despite our best convictions (after hours and hours… and hours of crying) that baby got plugged. It sort of worked sometimes, and then she got older and it sort of worked a little more often. Continue reading “You’ve Never Heard of the Soother Fairy?”
This week was a pretty rough week to be a mom. Mom-wise, had I been measured on my performance over the last seven days, I would have fallen somewhere between “raging wreck” and “why bother?”
Having recently moved into a job that temporarily involves an 1.5 hour commute on both ends, the routine at home has taken a slight shift. And by slight shift, I mean its been whacked over the head and dragged through the streets of suburbia all the way into downtown Toronto.
Last week, despite my best efforts, I just couldn’t do anything right. Thanks to traffic, I was up and out of the house by 6:20am, leaving work at 4pm and barely pulling in before 6pm to pick up my daughter from daycare. I was too tired at night to prep dinner for the following days which meant leftovers, frozen dinners and one spontaneous pizza night which followed my being $8 late to pick up my daughter form daycare. Sorry, I meant 4 minutes late but since they charge lagging parents by the minute, it’s practically the same thing. Continue reading “We All Need That Mom In Our Village”
It’s Sunday afternoon and I’ve just poured my second cup of tea. My little girl is upstairs sleeping and I finally have time to read the news. During the work week, I handle digital content for a handful of clients and after months curating content for an NGO that specializes in inter-ethnic conflict, I’m fairly up to speed with the latest news and international headlines. Prepping myself for another glimpse into the ongoing refugee crisis or the latest suicide bombing, I just didn’t see this coming.
Child Sex Scandal in Pakistan
Flashing across my news feed was the headline: “Pakistan stumbles upon its ‘biggest’ child sex scandal”, the latest post from Al-Jazeera.
After having a mini melt-down two nights ago after reading an article about a series of child killings in Pakistan, I was hesitant to click into the article, but old habits are hard to kick and I stand by the fact that it’s far better to be in the know. I might have been wrong. My heart sinks as I read:
“Shock and anger as police discovers 400 video recordings of more than 280 children being forced to have sex in Punjab.”
Innocent. Vulnerable. Scared. Abused. Hurt. Helpless. Poor. Suffering. Alone. These words flash through my head as the words “abuse” and “child” embed themselves in my subconscious. “How can they…? Who would…? Those poor…” My brain wants to find words to express the feeling of heaviness that has set in. Like a rock being placed at the bottom of my stomach, making it harder and hard to breathe. But I quickly realize that it’s not the usual empathy I have for vulnerable groups of people. This feeling that is beyond disgust. This desire to lash out that goes beyond revenge. This is happening because I’m a mother. Continue reading “Reading the News Was a Lot Easier, Before I Was a Mom”