Introducing your kids to your new partner doesn't have to be scarier than farting in yoga class. Here's my second post about how I handled the Big Intro. If you missed the first part, you can check it out here.
Introducing your kids to your new partner can be one of the most nerve-wracking experiences. Ever.
When I was first single (post-separation), I was not thinking about dating. I didn’t once consider myself "available," I wasn’t getting out there, and sex was never on the forefront of my mind.
Those topics felt surreal and off-limits to me, somehow.
“So, I’m going to need you to go ahead and give me a semen sample.”
Ok. No. That’s not right.
What about—
“So the thing is, if I’m going to go and get my reproductive situation assessed for the future… then… maybe we should talk about the future… and when that might start.”
Not bad. A little Jerry McGuire-ish, but still down to earth. Was it maybe a little too clinical?
I spent some time in the hospital at the end of 2013, and although it wasn’t serious, it was enough to get me thinking about a part 2 for the 50 Things I Need To Tell My Kid article that I posted more than a year ago.
I’ve had Crohn’s for years, but I’ve been lucky enough to manage it with basic treatment (5-ASA drugs) and a few non-admittance visits to the hospital. This year, I wasn’t as lucky.
This past June I got the chance to emcee Social Capital Conference 2013 and it was a HUGE deal for me. It was also the first couple weeks of me taking on a totally new role at home — that super important role of fur mummy!
I’m shuffling my feet and chewing on my lower lip like it’s a piece of Hubba Bubba.
My heart is pounding.
I’ve just called my OB for an appointment so I can learn about my childbearing options. I’m separated, I have a beautiful daughter and a dynamic business, but I’m just… not done yet.
Having shingles is horrible — the aches, the pains, the feverish nerve inflammation, and that awesome ‘I just took a roll in fiber glass’ feeling where your skin hurts when someone even looks at it… Oh and let’s not forget the gross tell-tale rash and, in my case an eye infection. Eww.
Moms, beware. If you’ve had chicken pox, you can get shingles. You aren't immune. And it sucks. It especially sucks when your recovery time can be clocked with a stopwatch, because shingles can go on for weeks.
My daughter is out of diapers. She is in a great school and has a great routine. My ex-hubs and I are amicable and have worked out a really solid approach to co-parenting.
I have a dog.
I have a small business with ever-changing demands.
I have a new, supportive, and amazing relationship.
I have friends that I can visit with, and events that I can say "yes" to, confident in my child care routine.
After many years, my life is finally coming together.
A while back I sent 3 lucky mummies to Civello Queen St. Salon and Spa for a lesson in pampering and putting yourself first. Each mama got spoiled head to toe with manicures, pedicures, massages, facials, hair cuts, colours, and full make up; but only one lucky lady got to have her story featured on a webisode of Trying Times.
