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First Day of School – Why It Gets Harder as They Get Older

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I’m an emotional person. I cry at commercials. I cry when my child cries. I cry during Remembrance Day or Terry Fox ceremonies. For goodness sake, I cry during America’s Got Talent when a little girl is singing and they pan to her parents. Yeah, I own it, I cry a lot. I’m emotional.

But, I thought that as my kids got older, the first day of school would be a safe place and my tears wouldn’t start leaking out my eyes. Boy, was I wrong. 

Today my kiddos started Grade 4 and Grade 2. I love their school. I love their friends. I love their teachers (though we don’t know who they are yet). I know they’re safe and that they’re going to have a great time. But, try as I might this morning, the tears would not stop flowing.

When my daughter started Kindergarten, I had a few tears. Not a lot because she was SO excited and I knew she was ready. So, yeah, although I cry every year, this year was by far the worst. I started crying YESTERDAY.

Here’s why: as your children grow, they become cooler and cooler. I’m not kidding. You think your toddler is amazing and sweet and snuggly and awesome? Wait until they’re 8. They have conversations, thoughts, ideas. They’re hilarious and make life fun. Now, don’t get be wrong. It’s not all rainbows, unicorns and glitter over here. They also push their limits which in turn pushes my limits and sends me to the edge of sanity. But that’s part of growing up, isn’t it? They need to find their boundaries and their place.

But, I’m sad to see them go to school again. And, it’s not all selfish, though yes my desire to be with them because they’re fun is a pretty selfish one. I also know that growing up gets harder with each year. The kids get more gangly and awkward, friends become best friends and then the next day they decide they don’t want to be friends any longer. The social aspect of school is difficult and try as you might, your child is going to come home sad and hurt or mad and angry some days. 

For me, what they feel, I feel. I’m not a helicopter Mom. In fact, I give my kids quite a bit of freedom, but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel their hurt when they hurt or cry for them when they make a mistake. So when I cry outside the school during their first few days, it’s not only because I’m going to miss them, it’s also because I know they’re going to experience a lot this year and not all of it will be fun. In fact, as they grow, I know that many days will be filled with emotion…both good and bad.

So, I cry because they’re growing up.

It’s not because they don’t need me. It’s not because I’m going to miss them terribly. It’s simply because…life. 

Life can be hard and although I want to protect those little goobers from the douches of this world…I can’t. They need to learn to stand on their own two feet and they need to come to me when they want to. To talk. For solace. For support. For love. 

So, I wave at my babies and I cry. I cry because I’ll miss them. I cry because they amaze me. Mostly I cry because they’re growing up and as beautiful and wonderful as that can be, it’s also heart-breaking and scary. So yeah…Motherhood…you may learn the ropes as you go, but new lines keep getting thrown at you and the best you can do is the best you can do. 

Stay strong, Mamas. Know that you’re raising amazing people. Know that they’re safe. Know that it’s their life and it’s an honour they get to live it. So, don’t be scared if the tears flow a little more every year, I guess that just a part of us growing up with our kids.

Also…know that wine is fine at 9am after school drop off because, well now, wine makes all the things okay. 

 

Millennials Gone…Right?!

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Hold on to your hats, Party People. I’m about to write something that is going to blow your mind. I had a good experience with…wait for it…Millennials. 

What the what?! I know. I’m as shocked as you.

You see, everything I have read over the past few years is about how lazy Millennials are. How self-absorbed, stupid and selfish they are. And me, being Generation Y (the best generation EV-A…except I just checked and according to Wikipedia I’m a Millennial…nooooooo), well, I’m busy building an empire and working ridiculously long hours to really dive into debating Millennials and all they are. I just read the articles or watch the videos about some of their ridiculous behaviors and think “oh jeez…we’re really in for it”. 

This is probably exactly the way Generation X and the Baby Boomers felt when they hit their late 30’s looking at my generation. It’s just the cycle. We all grow up and then think the younger versions of ourselves are ridiculous and lazy. It’s human nature.

HOWEVER, much to my incredible surprise, it was the Millenials, those hot-bodied, non-baby-stretched, baby-faced 20-somethings that made my day last week.

You see, my car broke down on a very, very busy street last week. It just stopped running. It died. On the spot. A couple Gen-X’ers pushed my little car over to the side of the road where my 6-year old (the lovely and talented Miss P, now officially called a Centennial) and I hung out for an hour and a half waiting for a tow truck to come and rescue us. 

Want to know the most interesting part of my day waiting for that tow truck? It was learning about the kindness and beauty that is our Millennials.

Of all the people that slowed down to check on us, ask if we were okay, offer support, water, a ride and all things in between, 85% of those people were Millennials. That’s right. All tanned, sunglassed and coming back from the beach, those were the people who checked in with us. HOWEVER, of the 85% of those people that talked to us, I’d say 75% of them were actually coming home from work, not the beach. 

Why was this so interesting to me? Because, it was the Millennials who showed compassion to my bored 6-year old. It was the Millennials who offered to go to the liquor store for me to get me a bottle of wine. It was the Millennials who offered us water, snacks and even a song to keep us happy and smiling. Millennials.

I watched car after car with drivers my own age glance at me and quickly look away. Too busy in their lives to even think about offering support or even *gasp* a smile of encouragement. It was rush-hour and the traffic was humming. I know the need to get home after work. I know the desire to get from point A to point B and not have interruptions because you have kids waiting for dinner, lessons to get to and all things Motherhood in between. 

I get it. We’re a busy generation. Life is busy.

But my little Millennials, well, they were where I was 15 years ago. They hold jobs, they go to work on hot, sunny days and they also want to get home. But, much as I would have, they stopped to make sure we were okay. They stopped to show kindness. They weren’t so self-absorbed and selfish that they kept their energy to themselves. They were…beautiful and warm and funny and sweet. And I am so grateful.

It’s easy to put younger generations down. It’s easy to say they’re doing it all wrong. But, who the heck are we to say that? They’re growing up in a world completely different than the one I did. And, the kindness and compassion they showed my daughter and I filled me with such hope and love for the future.

So Millennials…when my generation comes down on you…please know there are people like me rooting for you and praising the way you’re coming up in this world. Fight the good fight, work hard and stay kind. Don’t let life get in the way. Show US that kindness can last through all decades of our lives. 

I believe in the goodness of people. And I am so honoured to experience that kindness every day. From all generations. Thank you, Millennials, for opening my eyes to the goodness and joy that is your generation. I’m a fan. 

Beating Anxiety with Love and Kindness

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Watching your child work his way through an anxiety attack can be an extremely heart-wrenching experience for parents to watch. It is emotional. It is often physical. Most heartbreaking of all? Your child will most likely say things about himself that will make you question absolutely everything you’ve ever done as a parent. He’ll say sorry so many times you’ll never want to hear those words again. He’ll put himself down with words that would make any person crumble, no matter the age. He’ll berate himself, he’ll shake, he’ll cry, he’ll sob, he’ll get sick to his stomach and he’ll make no sense to you at all.

That is what a panic attack looks like. At least, that’s how it looks for my own child. 

My sweet boy has been dealing with these attacks for a few years now and over the years we’ve worked hard to help him cope and come up with strategies.

But, all the strategies in the world won’t help if I don’t manage to get to him in time and the attack goes full-blown. The breathing exercises go out the window. Distraction won’t happen. When he’s in it, he’s in it full force and, for us, the only thing that brings our guy out of it is time, love and kindness. 

But, this post isn’t about anxiety. It isn’t about my son’s panic attacks. It’s about kindness, love and the incredible support of strangers.

My son received tickets to a Shawn Mendes (holy cutie patootie) concert for Christmas. He’s been excited and talking about it since then. The big day finally arrived and we spent the day together. All day it was smiles, hand-holding, walking around Vancouver together and all day he reminded me of his butterflies in his tummy. Noted, son. Noted. I knew he was nervous. 

We had a wonderful Mommy/Son day. Then, it was concert time. We walked to the venue early to beat the crowd (anxiety pro-tip: BEAT THE CROWD as best you can). We walked around the venue. We saw the merchandise lines and he decided he didn’t want to wait in the line and he’d get a shirt online (YAY!), so we went to our seats. He was pumped, excited and all smiles. 

The crowd was filled with young girls who looked like Taylor Swift and Selena Gomez. Did you all know bodysuits and flannel are back? I mean…back, back! Like…every single teenage girl was rockin’ my look from 1992! 

I digress…

Charlie Puth was the opener. Jeez…he sings a lot of songs I know. I’m so hip. But I just used the word “hip”, so no…no, I am not hip now. Shit.

I digress…

During Charlie Puth Owen decided that no, he did want his t-shirt. So, up to the lineup we went. We heard 2 Charlie Puth songs and the rest of the time we were lined up. We got the shirt and headed back to our seats.

The lights go down. My son grabs my hand and tells me he’s scared. The lights flicker. I tell him he’s safe. The audio opening starts. My son says he’s really scared. The light show continues. I tell him to breathe and watch for a spotlight. He squeezes my hand. There’s the spotlight and then Shawn Mendes appears onstage. My son smiles and lets go of my hand.

It’s loud. It’s very loud. Next to my son is a screaming teenage girl. The lungs on the girl were amazing. I don’t fault her. She’s a teenager at a cutie patootie Shawn Mendes concert. Of course she’s screaming. I related to her. She’s me at Bryan Adams. 

Digressing again…

The first song happens. We’re good. Second song happens, I see the change on my son’s little face. It’s happening. I ask “Are you ok?”. He says yes. 30 seconds later “Sweets, are you ok!?”. Yes. Third song starts. It’s louder than ever. It’s a favorite song. The girls are going crazy. I look at my son and I know. He says “Moommmyyyy”…and we bolt. 

Excuse me. Sorry. Pardon me. Excuse us. Can we get by? Sorry. No, he’s okay. It’s okay. Thanks.

We’re now on the concourse and we’re in it. We’re panic attack city. We’re on the concourse and my sweet boy is grabbing his ears, sobbing. One hand in his mouth, the other holding his ears. “It’s so loud, Mommy. I can’t. It’s so loud”. All tears. All sobbing. “I’m sorry, Mommy. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry”. 

Now, for my guy when he’s here the best I can do is hold on, let him know he’s safe and get him moving. So, I say let’s walk. He wraps his little arm around me and we start walking.

He’s sobbing still. He’s still in it. And he’s getting deeper and the attack is getting bigger and I’m trying so hard to be there for him and do what he needs. Then, kindness wins.

One of the staff from Rogers Arena comes up to us. He says “Hey little man. It’s loud, isn’t it? I get it. It’s even loud out here”. My son nods. And sobs. And bites his t-shirt. The man says “Maybe I can help. Maybe you need a drink. A Pepsi maybe?”. My son looks at me for approval and I nod. He follows my savior to his booth and the vendor says “Do you want it now or would you like to keep it for later”. Later please, my son manages. “It’s on the house,” the vendor says…and just like that…kindness broke my son out of his cycle.

My son, in all his panic and worry, turned to me and said: “that was really nice”. He smiles. Tears still on his face, he smiled. And he’s out of it. Kindness wins.

Kindness. Wins.

We continued to walk the concourse. My son’s arm around me. My arm around him. His little face red and swollen. As we walked, I received nods of acknowledgment from many parents. I felt hands on my shoulder and a quick squeeze from strangers in a show of support. Staff member after staff member stopped to chat with us. It was beautiful. Wonderful. And so heart-warming.

To the staff at Roger’s Arena, I cannot thank you enough. From security staff trying to make my son laugh, to vendors handing out earplugs, to the woman who showed my son the set list as he decided to leave so at least he knew what he was walking away from (making the decision easier for him)…I cannot thank you enough. 

To the man who offered my son a Pepsi and broke him out his cycle…I thank you with all I am. You saved my son that night from hours of illness and worry. The power of your kindness was incredible. I know it was a simple act. But perhaps the simple acts of kindness are the most important ones.

This world can be a glorious and kind place. During such times of hatred, unease and disturbing behaviors…there is kindness out there. 

We left the Shawn Mendes concert after about an hour of walking the concourse. The best part? My son made the decision on his own. He told me what he needed and he felt supported, not only from me, but from all the staff in that building. 

We got back to the hotel room and my son turned to me and said “Mama. That was really fun. I had a really nice time walking with you tonight”. 

15 words I’ve never been so happy to hear. 

Kindness wins. No matter what. Kindness wins.

Again, my many thanks to the numerous people at Rogers Arena for your kindness, compassion, understanding and non-judgement. I am beyond grateful. And, my son…he now has a wonderful memory of how kindness helped him. And, isn’t that an incredible lesson and gift to receive?

If only Shawn Mendes did small venue concerts…like a backyard BBQ. LOL. Now that, my son can handle. 

Disconnecting To Become a Better Mama

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I was recently on holiday with my family and, while I’m absolutely attached to my phone because of what I do, it’s the ONE week every year where I go completely radio silent. I don’t log in to Facebook, I don’t check emails, I don’t go anywhere near a computer. And, it’s freakin’ glorious. My phone explodes and overheats the moment I turn it on after the week, but hey…it’s so worth it.

This year was no different. As my friend drove us to the airport, I sat in the back with my kiddos and I had my son push the little airplane button on my phone and just like that, I disconnected. Well, not exactly. I had to turn it back on and do it again so my daughter could also push the button. They love that part. It’s the moment they know I’m going to be with them, really with them, for the entire week. They actually cheer. And then I feel like a jerk because I know how much I’m attached to my phone because of work and random scrolling and I know it affects them.

Why do I even bring my phone on this week-long zero-connectivity holiday? Simple. I like the camera. Seriously. It’s a really good camera. 

I get asked all the time if I sneak off during the holidays to go online and “quickly” check on things. The honest and sharp answer is “NO”. No freakin’ way. There is no “quickly” check on things when you own a company as there will ALWAYS be something urgent going on. Always. 

I have zero desire to go online when I’m on this holiday. It’s my one week every year where I get to just forget it all. I’m just Lindsay, Mom and wife. Nothing else. And those roles, those are the most important roles I have. Don’t get me wrong, being the OHM is amazing, being a friend to many is humbling, being a daughter is the best…but being me, Mom and Wife? Yeah…that’s where I really shine. 

We had a fabulous holiday this year. Really fabulous. But, the point of this article isn’t about how amazing the nachos, drinks, pools and ocean were. No, this is about what happened when we returned.

We got home, I turned my phone on in the airport and…it exploded for about 10 minutes loading everything. And, since then, I’ve been connected and working like a fiend since. It’s like our holiday never happened. And, that is where I need to make a change. 

I was watching a movie with my son the other night, and by watching a movie, I mean that he was watching and I was randomly scrolling through Facebook. Not even “working” just randomly scrolling, checking on my franchise owners’ pages and groups, liking posts, commenting when I could, etc. My son turned to me and said “Mom, it’s like you’re not even here”. 

Shoot. Dangit. Frig. DAMMIT.

He was right. Just sitting next to him isn’t being present. Just being there with him isn’t enough. This isn’t an incredible A-HA moment for most of you and it wasn’t really for me…what was the A-HA moment was looking into his eyes and seeing how honest and sincere…and lonely he was. And I was right there. But, I wasn’t. I wasn’t present.

So, I decided to do something about it. Now, I own a fairly large company and it’s getting busier every day. So, disconnecting for weeks at a time is impossible. I even tried cutting off electronics for certain times of the day. BUT…again, I work in a very consumer-driven company and I’m a startup, so right now, I just can’t do that.

What can I do? I’ve decided I can do mini-disconnects. I can commit to one weekend per month of complete disconnect. Yes, I’m going to have to schedule it. Yes, I’m going to have to plan it and organize with my team. But, it can happen. My son and daughter will get to pick the weekend and they’ll get to push the airplane on my phone on Friday night at 4pm and I’ll push it again on Monday morning at 5am to reconnect. 

That’s my plan. The best part? My son is BEYOND excited. When I asked him what he thought of my idea the biggest and most beautiful smile fell on his face. And, although for a lot of you reading this, this doesn’t seem like much, disconnecting for one weekend every month, for me…it’s a biggie. And, I’m committing to it. This is going to happen and I cannot wait to share with you how our monthly disconnects go.

Hopefully I’ll see a whole lot of this smile…

Will you join me in disconnecting? It’s going to be great. I just know it. 

The True Gift of Childhood Adoration

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Her name is Sam. If you ask my daughter she is the most beautiful girl in the whole wide world. She has brown hair, bright red lipstick…and my daughter fell madly in love with her new “sister” from the moment she saw her dance. 

Perhaps I need to tell this story from the very beginning…

Two years ago my kids and a friend of mine and her daughter went on an Alaskan Cruise with Norwegian Cruise Lines. This was our second cruise together and we absolutely love them. The kids’ clubs, the food, the pools, the scenery…it’s really quite amazing. If you haven’t been, you should! And no, I don’t get paid to say that. There are also performances by the dance crew and that was where my daughter first saw the magic that is Sam. She gravitated to Sam on stage and when she had the opportunity to meet her, she was all smiles, hugs and obvious adoration. 

Before we left for the cruise, my daughter had to decide if she wanted to even go this year, because by doing so she would miss her first ever dance recital. I said we could bring her costume and she could do a private recital for us on the ship. She agreed and thought that was a great idea. 

After meeting Sam, she was bound and determined to invite Sam to watch her recital. She drew a picture invitation (she was 4 at the time) and we dropped the invitation off at customer service, just hoping that it would find its way to Sam. I prepped Miss P that the dancers were very busy and that we weren’t even sure if Sam would be able to make it with her busy work schedule. I was fully prepared for tears and disappointment. 

The evening of her recital came and just as we were about to start, Miss P gave a little squeal and I turned around to see the beautiful Sam and her then fiance (now gorgeous husband) Brian coming to watch my daughter perform. It is kind people like Sam & Brian who help me believe that there is goodness and kindness all around. Sam watched Miss P dance, she taught her a few moves and loved and hugged her up. These are moments of pure joy that my daughter got to experience because of someone else and I will never, ever forget them. 

Even better? Miss P received her own drawing invitation from Sam on our cabin door inviting her to the final performance on the Norwegian Pearl. Miss P made it quite well known to Sam that she was there by standing on her chair a few times and waving her big Miss P waves. 

We managed to keep in touch with Sam while she finished her contract with Norwegian and we even got to meet up with Sam & Brian in Victoria on their last port visit before they left the ship to get married. Again, I won’t forget the moments Sam shared with us, as magic simply surrounds my daughter and Sam when they’re together. 

Fast forward two years and here we are. I recently got a message from Sam about filming a short video about customer service and making connections between the staff and the cruise-goers. And, of course, they wanted to do a story on Miss P and Sam. The best part? They decided to fly Sam out to surprise Miss P and spend the day with her. 

The day of the shoot came and Miss P was a bundle of nerves. It’s absolutely nerve-wracking as an adult to sit on a stool in the middle of a room with a mic on, lights glaring and video cameras pointing, nevermind being a 6-year old. But Miss P handled it all A-OK. We had told her that Sam would video call us and that at least she’d get to see her and talk to her on video. She kept saying “I really wish she was here, Mama. Wouldn’t it be so fun if she was here?”. 

Then, the doorbell rang and Miss P went running to the door, as she always does. I followed behind. She opened the door. Then turned to me and whispered, “She’s here.”. And with those two words, my heart exploded and joy filled my soul from the happiness Sam had once again brought to my daughter. Sam and Miss P spent all day together. The picked rocks at the beach, they jumped on the trampoline, they watched the Trolls movie and Sam even got dragged to Miss P’s swimming lessons. All of this in an 8-hour day. 

So, why do I tell you all of this? Because, for me, I wanted to capture these moments for my daughter. I want to teach her that kindness can lead to many wonderful experiences and going above and beyond for someone can change their lives. I’m not sure Sam has any idea of the impact she had not only on my daughter, but on me. There was the opportunity to be “too busy” to come to the recital or meet us in Victoria, but kindness won. And for that, I am beyond grateful. 

Sam, you are magic and wonder and absolute love. Not only through the eyes of my daughter, by through my eyes and with all my heart. The two of you have a special connection and there’s no one I’m more privileged to share my daughter’s adoration with than you. 

I will remember the cruise on the Norwegian Pearl for all my life, because it taught me the power of kindness, of going above and beyond. It made me believe in the magic of childhood adoration and all the possibilities it holds. 

Thank you, Sam. With all I am, thank you.