Enter to win 1 of 3 $500 makeover packages from Civello Salons and Spas!
Moms.
We stay up late, we worry, we fret, we grapple.
We’re 5 minutes ahead of the game, and 5 years into the future.
We constantly play Tetris with the resources and people in our lives so that we can make sure that everyone is happy.
We cannot rest until things are secure. Safe. Defined. Organized. Planned. If they’re not, we lie there at night with our eyes wide open, shifting details around silently to see what might work better for our families.
We think in to-do lists and live knowing that we will never have everything crossed off.
We don’t even stop to realize how awesome our output is. Which sucks, because it is pretty darn awesome. In fact, as I just learned recently, MOM flipped upside down is WOW.
So here is a special kind of to-do list for us moms with only 6 little items on it. They’re simple ways to restore your hit points, find your centre, and feel amazing from the inside out.
1. Rest
“Sleep when you can.” We say it to new moms — why do we forget it as soon as our babies start walking? The next time you have 20 minutes, do yourself a favour and lie down. And if you’re sofa surfing at 11:30pm? Pack yourself off to bed. Trust me. Sleep refreshes your perspective, brings clarity, helps you focus, and everything feels a little more hopeful and fresh when you’re actually rested.
2. Say No
For some reason we equate motherhood with ‘making everyone happy.’ While consciously we know this is totally ridiculous, we still bend over backwards to give everyone around us what they want. We live for happy faces. We love smiles. But we all know that real happiness comes from setting healthy boundaries — and that means setting them for ourselves too. If you want or need to say ‘no’ whether it’s to your toddler, a client, or a parents' association — do it. Saying no simply means that you value your energy and time.
3. Lose the Guilt
If you’re going to make a decision, feel good about it. If you take an afternoon away from the family, decide that you and your toddler are going to have a pajama day, or need to work late at the office — own it and feel good. Guilt seems to happen when we compare what we’re doing to what we ‘think' we should be doing. Which means that we’re putting a lot of time into judging ourselves instead of just doing what we need to do and enjoying the moment or the sense of accomplishment. Stop judging — you’re the only one doing it. Your kids, family, friends, and colleagues are right behind you. So get on your own team and help them cheer you on.
4. Reward Yourself
Take the time to pat yourself on the back. Whether that’s enjoying a nice hot latte, getting a facial or a manicure, doing a yoga class, or giving yourself 10 minutes to curl up with a book — give back to yourself. The concept of reward needs to be taught to your children just like anything else. If you don’t give back to yourself after an achievement, praise yourself and replenish your energy, how are your kids going to learn? Seeing Mummy do things for herself is super important. You deserve to treat yourself, and they deserve to learn how to treat themselves too.
5. Celebrate Every Moment
What would happen if we stopped worrying for two minutes? We might actually enjoy the little things, right? The next time you feel your worry engine revving, try and go neutral. It’s so easy to be off in the future, but your kids are right now. By turning off the worry and that constant anticipation we might just enjoy the fleeting beauty of a sticky grin, the silliness of a dinner-time joke, or when time slows, and for one lovely, warm, breath, everyone is actually together, curled up close on the sofa.
6. Enter to Win A MOM to WOW Makeover from Civello
Here’s the best part of my to-do list for you. I’ve teamed up with Civello Salons and Spas to help 3 lucky moms de-stress, rest, reward, and celebrate themselves with a day at their beautiful Queen Street location!
If you are a GTA resident, you are going to want to enter to win! We have 3 incredible packages to give away!
2 prize packages include:
Our GRAND PRIZE winner will receive the same amazing makeover package, but also have their experience featured on a Trying Times Show webisode, AND get complimentary digital headshots from the amazing Ali Martell Photography to really celebrate the moment!
Here’s How To Enter
In the comments below, tell me what you are doing to find your own inner WOW. Share your 'Mom to WOW' secret. You have until Sunday, June 30th to enter.
You must be a YMC member — please be sure you've registered your email address in our commenting system so we can contact you if you win.
Yummy Rules and Regs: You must be a YummyMummyClub.ca member to win. Click to sign up! It's free and filled with perks. One comment per member. Entries accepted until Sunday, June 30, 2013. Contest open to Canadian residents (excluding Quebec). Transportation to Toronto not included. Winners will be picked using www.random.org. See full contest rules.
Good luck, and stay positive!
Xo Kat
I found a lump and called the doctor — and now I'm getting it checked out. Read Part 1 of my story here.
At the ultrasound, I put my robe on so that it opens in the front. No guess-work there.
Once I’m ushered in, the technician moulds me into the optimal position to get my pictures.
She is lovely, cheerful, and thorough — and I feel safe.
She goops the jelly on my chest and gently touches my arm. “You’re not breathing. It’s ok. Just breathe.”
I am choked up. The last time I was at an ultrasound I was pregnant. It was at the 12-week mark. It’s when I found out that my baby’s heart had stopped beating. That's swirling around in my head now, along with some awesomely positive 'YOU PROBABLY HAVE CANCER' self-chat.
My nerves rattle and my tongue feels thick in my mouth, still, I start chattering incessantly to the technician about anything and everything — how pleasantly surprised I am that the gel has been warmed up. How interesting our insides look on the screen, and also what conditioner is she using because her hair looks amazing!
“If I get the doctor to come in and take a look at your results, don’t be worried, ok?”
“Ok.”
Sure. No biggie. Not a problem at all. That’s cool. I’m fine with that. Anxiety has my teeny bladder in its massive icy grip and I have the worst cotton-mouth ever, but that’s cool. I’m all good.
The doctor comes in and reviews the screen. For a brief second my surreal sense of humour chimes in. Wouldn't it be hilarious if the ultrasound station was really a Pac-Man console?
The doctor purses her lips. I'm holding my breath.
“Looking good, Miss! You do have ropey, or dense breasts. Fibrocystic. That means that you have to pay attention to them because they’re bumpier in the first place. It’s good that you know your breasts well enough to see if there are changes because whenever there IS a change, you should call us like you did. And at 40 you’re going to want to make sure that you have regular annual mammograms…I don’t even see the cyst, so it looks like it cleared out on its own…that’s probably what caused you the pain in the first place…”
I stopped listening after that. My brain was a blur of relief and ‘I told you so’ hindsight clarity, and a none too small epiphany.
For 2 months I pretended to have it all together while I carried fear with me everywhere I went. I inadvertently saw life through the most negative filter of ‘what if’ there is. I spent my energy holding everything in, instead of letting out. I spent my waking moments feeling betrayed by my body instead of learning from it and adapting to its changes. I experienced sadness around events that hadn’t happened yet and mourned the future instead of anticipating its adventure.
I know some of that is completely natural.
And I now know that it’s the tiniest lumps and bumps that we find which cause the biggest changes in our lives.
Know your body, be proactive, share your concerns….and Stay Positive.
XO Kat
There is a lump in my breast.
Oh.
Well.
That’s nice.
Um.
I’m frozen in the bathroom in post-shower nudity. For some reason I can’t even grab the towel in front of me and water is dripping noisily against the ceramic.
“YOU’RE GOING TO DIE.”
I swallow hard. I can feel my pulse running so quickly and high that it’s become a throaty tremolo.
“Don’t be a drama queen. It’s your cyst. You’ve had a cyst since you were 15. You’re not going to die…even though this feels totally different.…”
I’m still sopping wet, rooted to the spot, and now chattering. My brain leads me through comforting logistics. Grab your towel. Dry off. Put your shirt on. Brush your teeth. I follow the commands, and then blindly go into the bedroom and pick up my phone. My fingers dial a number.
“I need to see the doctor…yes…. there’s a lump.. left breast…tender…expressing fluids on its own…tomorrow? Really? So soon? Ok.. see you then…”
I hang up.
I’m Brenda Walsh.
Yes. Brenda Walsh, Aaron Spelling, 90210.
My brain stutters over the fact of the lump, and recalls the episode simultaneously. All of a sudden I’m flooded with images of Dylan looking shocked and aghast, trying to explain why he hadn’t noticed anything when they were fooling around.
That part always totally embarrassed me for some reason.
Oh crap. There is a lump in my breast.
Now REM’s Losing My Religion has somehow slinked its way into the moment, but thankfully my 3-year-old bursts through the door and I get yanked out of my bizarre sitcom coping mechanism to focus back on the other zillion things I have left to do before lunch.
The next day I go through the motions of getting ready and head to my appointment with a close friend.
“So basically you’re going to go and get felt up. Awesome.”
I shoot him a look of disdain before I surrender a grudging giggle.
At the doctor’s the vibe is the same that it always is and this pleasantly surprises me. There is no minor 7th strumming or morose piano soundtrack in my head either. Ok. So far so good. One step at a time.
We review my health history, family history, and my breast history.
Have I noticed any puckering, soreness, redness, itching?
Is it one breast or both?
Have I noticed any fluids expressing and from where?
Have I been breastfeeding?
When did I stop?
When was my last period?
These are typical questions and I’m answering them the best I can. I don’t know what the ‘right’ answers are though. It briefly occurs to me that doctors would make excellent poker players. I haven’t been able to read her face or reactions at all.
“So I’m just going to do a quick check…my hands might be cold.”
They are. But they’re also smooth and dry. I briefly think about being ‘felt up’ and have to suppress a juvenile smirk.
Then, all of a sudden, I’m holding a requisition for an ultrasound and reading her elegant scrawl.
“Report small mass in left breast. Under nipple. Lower part of breast. Fibrocystic tissue.”
Balls.
Crap.
I really didn’t want to see that.
By the time I finally go to the ultrasound, the lump has consumed my every waking thought.
I’m strangely superstitious. I haven’t talked about it with anyone except for 4 of my friends. Weirdly, it’s reminding me of those first few well-guarded weeks of pregnancy where it feels like somehow silence can shelter you from any harm or miscarriage. Or in this case, cancer.
I think about expanding my support base, but then realize I can’t deal with any more attention or questions.
Also, it’s going to be nothing. Right?
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