Multitasking Mommy

 

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So for those who know me, you know how busy I can be. I have varied interests and obligations and I thrive on being constantly and consistently booked. I don’t know why but that is what keeps me going (I sure don’t like that mommy in the image though… I wish!)

I am not complaining at all because I was blessed with so many gifts. This is one of those rare posts where I will side-step the sarcasm and defeat my natural inclination towards humour by counting my blessings.

To contextualize, two Octobers ago, I attended a wonderful feel-good session by an amazing guest speaker called Isabelle Fontaine and she told us an effective and unforgettable story about how she leveraged the feeling of gratitude to feel happy after a painful experience in her life.

 

So I am not taking this blog lightly (although my ulterior motive for this post is to explain why I haven’t posted for a long time, not an excuse- just an explanation).

Here are my blessings:

1) A God who is gracious, merciful, long-suffering and plenteous in mercy and compassion. And a Church that keeps me disciplined, deliberate in my faith and dedicated to the Lord (thank you SMSV).

2) A yummy hubby who loves me and spoils me. He cuddles me without asking and smiles my way when I need it most. How blessed I am with your love.

3) 2 beautiful daughters who appear to be surprisingly full of big personalities and vivacity.

4) My mom, dad, brother, sister, sister-in-law, nieces, nephews and parents-in-law (and Mike- ha ha) who support me, trust me and apparently find me worthy of their love.

5) An amazing business called Oxford Learning Centre with amazing staff and equally incredible families.

6) My best friends who supported me through the years and continue to be the solid splash of shining stars in the night sky of my day-to-day shenanigans.

7) My colleagues at work who are strong, beautiful and courageous- inspiring me to always be more than just good enough.

8) An awesome job at the Government of Canada that awaits me when I return from Maternity Leave. (The maternity leave itself is a blessing because I get an entire year off… I know my neighbours south of the border get only 90 days. Can you imagine leaving your baby so soon. My heart goes out to you- move to Canada!)

9) Every moment and every breath that I get on earth to live my life, cuddle my loved ones and realize my dreams.

10) My Car. I love my car. Oh and  thank you Youtube for teaching me how to knit.

Honestly, I think that is my top 10 list so far. There is so much more but I have to say the things above and the people mentioned do keep me pretty busy!

Until next time (which hopefully will be sooner than this time),

SMartignani

Perks of Parenting

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Here is the thing. The truth is being a parent is not all that bad. There is a silver lining to the sleepless nights, the irritating whining, the endless crying, the anxiety, the nasty poops and the interminable temper tantrums. I will not even mention the incessant screaming, embarrassing sounds and scents or the countless hours spent coaxing, rubbing, carrying, bouncing, singing, humming, gurgling, rasberrying, silly face making to appease/please/calm/restore/distract/heal/put to sleep/make’em laugh/discipline/show them you love them.

Where was I going with this? Oh yeah, the silver lining. Ok. So here is a list of some silly things you get to do as a parent that you could not do before (at least in public):

1) Your cartoon movie collection has now exponentially increased and surprisingly you stocked it with some classic movies that we all know junior will not even understand yet (Transformers? Voltron? Pink Panther? Felix the Cat? really??)

2) You have come to terms with the difference between what “messy” looked like before you had kids and now. A toy here or there and a book lying around your nice living room (where you greet guests) is not messy at all. As opposed to pre-children when you would dust, clean, mop and vacuum. Now we are lucky if we don’t trip over the tiny wind up car left on the floor by the stairs… there it is, I was looking for you car.

3) You realize now that naps are not a luxury but a necessity…for you. Not the kids.

4) Farting in public is so much easier now that you can blame it on the children!

5) Spit-up does not smell very bad after a couple of hours. It has a natural baby-je-ne-se-quoi scent to it that makes people lean in closer and nuzzle you.

6) Baby powder ain’t just for kids… fun fun fun for the whole family! We find remnants of that stuff in every orifice of the house afterwards!

7)  You don’t really need to hang out with anyone you don’t want to hang out with for extended periods of time because junior is going to get hungry/tired/manic/restless/sleepy/gassy/thirsty/sick… you decide on the excuse because we all know that is exactly what it is.

8) You realize that your true friends are the ones who will love you and your kids even through the stage of TEETHING when your child turns into Dr. Jekyll.

9) Moms, you look at yourselves in the mirror and feel good about how thin you are compared to when you were pregnant… the little hanging fold of skin is superficial. Bio Oil makes it disappear, trust Dr. Oz!

10) You never appreciated being alone with your spouse/friends more than when you can drop the kids off at the grandparents/baby-sitters and go out finally… there is an adrenaline rush that occurs accompanied by feelings of euphoria for the temporary freedom. Seriously though, you love your kids but everyone needs a little break dude.

11) You have an excuse to get to Church a little late… and leave a little early… and eat those yummy sandwiches first.

12) You develop a new appreciation for left-over, pre-digested food and candy and juices of all kind. Everywhere you go, you seem to be finishing your child’s plate/drink/sandwich

13) You have made up the words to at least three nursery rhymes/Christmas Carols/Songs/Hymns… like seriously… who knows all the words to Frosty the Snowman?

14) You are getting to be a master at skipping pages in a long storybook without your child noticing…

15) you are memorizing by heart all the words to Dr. Seuss books

16) You are definitely checking the time every 15 minutes when you get close to bed-time and you are secretly planning what you will do in the two hours from 8 pm to 10 pm after the kids sleep. So many exciting things to do, shall I knit or take a bath or cook tomorrow’s meal or catch up on the last episode of Big Bang or just, oh look its already 10 pm and zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

17) You most likely have your phone ringers off after a certain time as to not awake the kids so you really don’t talk on the phone much.

18) You recognize now how vital daycare is…no matter the cost… we will stop eating if it means 8 hours of peace and quiet!

19) You find yourself wondering the weirdest things before you go to sleep like why is the alphabet song is the same tune as twinkle, twinkle little star and who invented Sophie the Giraffe and why on earth you didn’t…zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

20) After a crappy day doing whatever it is you do, NOTHING and I mean NOTHING is better than getting a huge, sloppy, wet kiss from your kids or a genuine smile from your infant.

Beene daddy hug cr2

If that’s not the silver lining, I don’t know what is!!

Until next time,

Smartignani

Jelly Bean’s Journey

Elise

It is time for me to narrate the journey we took as we welcomed Jelly Bean a.k.a Elise to our world and our family. This is no light reading and you may need to grab a cup of tea or coffee before you continue reading this lengthy and detailed blog entry. Be forewarned, this may incite some strong emotions in you.

I started blogging so other moms can relate, react, and generally learn from my experiences. I read other mommy blogs as well so I can learn from them too.

A Brief History:

In my first experience of becoming a mommy, I was disappointed and sad that my FIRST infant was swiftly snatched away from me to the NICU where she had to remain for 5 days in order to gain weight and be released back to us. I had severe preeclampsia in my last pregnancy and I gained an incredible amount of weight. I was induced for two days before being c-sectioned and after all the pain and misery, I was distraught with post-partum depression and the void that my newborn left in my room as she was rushed to the ICU. I was unable to announce her birth to our family or nurse her for two days. I was unable to hold her or have my husband join the other fathers that were walking the hallways to put their babies to sleep. 5 days later she came home and all the pain and agony was washed away by the joy and the hope she exudes everyday until now… as a gorgeous toddler.

Elise’s Journey:

There is much I want to cover in this piece but I will spare you the minute details for fear that you will think me incomprehensibly traumatized. I recall every second and every emotion as a mother but I will try to narrate as an observer so that you can get a clean view from the outside.

On September 19th, we dropped our little toddler to daycare early and checked in at the hospital. After the nurses pierced my veins with the IV and prepped me (which means asked me to undress and wear the lovely, couture blue hospital gown that is incessantly opens in the back). I was on stand-by for a 10 o’clock C-section but they got me in early. The anticipation was mounting because once again we decided to not know the gender and I knew that this pregnancy I did not have high-blood pressure and that the baby was at least 6 lbs. Which boded really well for my hope and dream to have the baby carried out  by my husband back to our room so that everything can be ‘normal’ and I can be given a better opportunity to try and breast feed my newborn.

After a nervous and somewhat brief pain in the back from the spinal, I was laying on the table when my husband came in wearing the blue scrubs given to him by the nurses. He was sterilized and amped to meet our new baby too. I said a prayer in my heart that all goes well and just lay there asking my husband questions and conversing casually while 6 or 7 people got to work at opening me up and extracting my organs and the small, wild child that was rocking my insides for the past 9 months. I cannot describe the deep sense of pride that I felt giving my husband our second child or the amount of joy at being able to withstand all the pain and agony of pregnancy leading up to that pivotal point in our life.

I was convinced that this time, this baby and this pregnancy were different. Everything will turn out perfect and yet deep in my heart, in the black depths of my soul, I hoarded a secret dread that something was going to go extremely wrong. This feeling of foreboding was a constant thorn in my side and it manifested itself in my dreams and waking hours. I experienced several small anxiety attacks which I brushed off as normal hormonal imbalances and standard pre-delivery jitters.

Elise was announced at 10:17 am and scored a 9 on the Apgar scale. She was feisty and the nurses even called her a drama queen which made me laugh. Everyone commented on her extremely long fingers and toes. She was 6 lbs. 5 oz. at birth and I couldn’t even wish for anything more. I insisted that my husband go get her but they were busy cleaning her and readying her. I was feeling the same sense of anxiety as before but this time it was overwhelming. I was nauseated by it which led me to be occupied with my constant need to be sick that I didn’t hear the first time one of the nurses said “She is grunting”. It didn’t register. My husband was given our daughter who equally mesmerized him as our firstborn and I was able to see the grouchy little wrinkled face of my darling little angel. My C-section was just about to wrap up and we were minutes away from the scene I played over and over in my mind… I will be wheeled out to the recovery room with my husband holding my baby at my side as he takes her to show the grandparents waiting anxiously in the room.

Then it happened again… she grunted.

My husband called the nurse over to confirm the noise being expelled from my daughter’s chest to which she immediately reacted by carrying Elise to the NICU where, I was told, she will be kept under observation for one hour to assess her breathing.

Not again.

But one hour, I can deal with that. Fine.

I was in the recovery room where I was willing myself not to give into the powerful urge to sleep. I awaited my husband’s sporadic visits that would relay to me any tidbit or update about our new baby. He kept saying that they are just observing her breathing. One hour later, I was moved to my room and he came in and told me that it can take up to 6 hours.

5 more hours until I can smell her, hold her to my breast or whisper to her how amazed I am at her gift to me- making me her mommy.

I was unable to get up to visit her so I relied heavily on my husband to share every detail. I fell asleep tormented that I was unable to hold her and awoke to the news… she will not be leaving the NICU for at least 24 hours. Elise had fluid in her lungs that was prohibiting her from taking deep breaths and she needed the oxygen they were providing her. I was crushed, Patience and prayers were all I had left and the first was exhausted by the mistakes made while the latter was weakened by my debilitating recognition of my fears being actualized.

Please read the next part with an understanding that I am a mother who needs to vent and warn other moms of what can be. I write this free from malice. I simply state what I experienced,

A Tough Journey:

I visited my baby as soon as I regained some form of feeling in my legs. It was the only highlight to the searing pain I felt in my abdomen as a result of the foot long cut made on me hours earlier. I asked my husband to haul me into a wheel chair and take me to my baby. I needed to be with her and see her. It was all a recurring theme from my first delivery and I was not taking no for an answer. He complied and I was wheeled to her little cot situated in the back of the dark, sterile and sombre Neonatal Intensive Care Unit. She had many tubes attached to her with two different monitors and several other ‘leads’ that measure her heart beat and her breathing. She was taking very shallow, quick breaths and seemed unable to catch her breath even with the CPAP (Oxygen tube) that was attached to her face. The mask on her nose seemed too small and did not sit right on her tiny little nose. It often crept down to suck in the top lip and at times I wondered what this machine was designed to do at all, it seemed quite ineffective. I was informed that she may have swallowed Meconium which is the yukky stuff in my belly. The doctor in charge put her on antibiotics because he thinks it is an infection. I was told that sometimes it takes up to 72 hours for the breathing issues to resolve on their own (which was incorrect because I learned later that something should have been done after 8 hours). I was repeatedly told that they are waiting on her, a day old baby, to resolve her own breathing issues. Levity was attempted through the joke that boys usually take longer to resolve this particular issue and that she was behaving like a boy. I kept hearing the nurses joke with her that she needs to stop “misbehaving” and start “breathing properly”. I was insulted and incredibly enraged by these words and uttered whispers to my newborn.

I patiently waited to see if my baby will “resolve” her own breathing issues but deep in my heart I knew that she would not. Something needed to be done but what? I am not a doctor nor do I have any information at all about what these things mean.

That was Thursday. Friday was more of the same bad news. She was still not breathing or “behaving”. She was still on the CPAP and she was being given glucose through her IV to nourish her. I was asked to pump so that they can dip a Q-tip into the colostrum that I pumped and wet her lips with it. I was still unable to hold her. Friday night I was at her bedside pumping with my mother-in-law when Elise stopped breathing for the first time. The nurse said it was because she was pushing hard to have a bowel movement. She notified the pediatrician on duty and alerted us that if this happens again, the doctor will come see her. They were trying to take her blood. I left at midnight and demanded that the nurse awaken me if ANYTHING happens. I wanted to be there if she decides to stop breathing again.

At 2 am, I opened my eyes and found Elise’s nurse in my room. She told me that she “desatted” again and that the doctor came in to see her. I took my pain killers and anxiously waited until their effect can somewhat dull the extreme pain in my abdomen. I rolled out of my bed and painfully walked over to my wheel-chair. They had placed me in the furthest room away from the NICU so I was to half roll myself and half walk towards my goal while heavily leaning on the chair. No one offered to help me, no one thought to move my room so I can be closer to my baby who just stopped breathing TWICE and needed me by her bedside.

I finally arrived at my destination and asked, politely, to see the doctor. I was talking to my daughter’s attending nurse but the nurse sitting behind her playing Soduko at the computer quickly replied without looking at me and said “She is busy in the Emerg”. Apparently my daughter’s inability to continue breathing was not an emergency and I had to wait. I informed them that I would wait but the nurse clearly told me that she will only page her if anything else happens. I WAS SUPPOSED TO WAIT FOR MY DAUGHTER TO STOP BREATHING AGAIN TO SEE THE DOCTOR!

What?!

I stayed by her bedside until 5 am. She was fine. Labouring to breathe but all vitals were ok and still she was taking shallow breaths. I was completely and utterly exhausted and finally gave up on seeing the doctor. So I informed the nurse that I will make the trek back to my room but if anything happens yet again, I want to be there BEFORE anything is done.

Funny enough, I was speaking to my husband the night Elise was born and he was not happy with the progress or lack thereof that was taking place with her in that NICU. He even told me that he is giving this specific hospital until Sunday then he will be requesting that Elise gets moved to a different facility. This was really frustrating him and it struck a deep fear within me. I was unable to shake the feeling of pure and utter mistrust in their care for the remainder of that fateful night. This goes to show you that you MUST FOLLOW YOUR PATERNAL/MATERNAL GUT INSTINCTS because he was right!!

At 5:45 am, my daughter stopped breathing for the third time. I rushed to the NICU and waited for 45 minutes while the doctor finished consulting with Sick Kids on the phone. She finally came to speak with me and inform me that my baby girl was simply tired of breathing. What a profound notion… and I say that sarcastically.

I was incensed and I told her that I knew this would happen and I don’t even hold a medical degree. I asked her what the next steps were and she informed that they would have to intubate her. I had already did some research on Google (it was all I can do at that time of night prior to this conversation) and attempted to ask some informed questions like “Will you intubate her nasally or orally?”, “What are the risks?”, “Will you sedate her?”, “Have you done this before?”.

I felt no confidence in their ability to intubate her successfully but what choice did I have. I pulled a chair and sat about 12 feet away from my baby’s tiny sized cot that was now surrounded with the head nurse of the NICU who was cracking some jokes, the Respiratory Therapist (who was chewing gum, open-mouthed which I think is not sterile nor code compliant), the doctor who was too busy in Emerg to see me the first two times and the attending nurse who informed that swallowing meconium was a fact of life and everything will be fine.

15 minutes into the procedure I was politely asked to wait outside until they were done. I called my husband and asked him to make arrangements for our toddler and come to the hospital right away. I make this next statement with all the firm belief I possessed at the time… I actually thought that our daughter was going to die.

He arrived and joined me in waiting for the nurses to come out and tell us what is happening with the baby. I saw them changing shifts and finally saw the attending nurse leaving to go home. She came over and asked if anyone came to get us and talk to us yet (she was supposed to do that right after the procedure) and we replied “No”. So she told us that the procedure was complete and to go in.

We did. Our daughter was in a deep sedated sleep. I asked how it went and they said it was done. Sick Kids were on the way and they were going to decide what to do next. A respiratory therapist and a nurse practitioner show up with an elaborate 300 lbs. piece of equipment attached to an Isolette that is clearly designed for transporting sick babies. I am told that she needs a higher level of care and that the Sick Kids coordinator is deciding on the hospital that she will be transferred to. Sick Kids and Mount Sinai are too busy and they don’t have beds. She may be sent out of region. Maybe even Kingston. Ottawa or London, Ontario. I go back to my room because they will need at least 45 minutes to find out.

I only slept one hour that night so I break down. I cry like the world is coming to an end. I was experiencing the most gut wrenching moments ever which will haunt me for a long time. My husband tells me to try and relax but I am devastated.

I recall the my first experience in the NICU and the mom who had gestational diabetes and had to have her baby transferred to Sick Kids. I recalled the empathy I felt for her. I cried just as hard as she did even though it was not my baby. Now I was that mom.

We are informed that she is being transferred by ambulance to McMaster Children’s hospital where she will be receiving level 3 care. I get discharged early and head home to repack my bag and quickly rest before we head down to Hamilton, Ontario for as long as needed until we can bring our baby girl home.

We arrive at 6 pm on Friday night and we are informed that many tests have already been done on Elise. The NICU is leagues above and beyond the first one. The level of care, professionalism and atmosphere spoke to me instantly. I felt like the nurses were proficient and competent. Every half hour, a nurse, respiratory therapist or doctor would approach us and give us updates. They kept us informed and helped us secure a room in the Ronald MacDonald House across the street for $12 a night (my next blog will illustrate how amazing THAT experience was- they need their own shout out for being awesome to us).

We return to the hospital and they ask me to pump because they have attached a feeding tube to my baby girl and she needs my milk. They give me the entire Medela pumping kit and a sterilization bag (at no cost, where as the previous hospital charged us). They were consistently positive and confident that Elise will be fine very soon. THEY FINALLY LET ME HOLD HER after 5 days, I was smelling her hair and feeling her against my skin. I was in awe of her little body next to mine as her breath fanned my neck and I felt her little tiny heart beat moving her chest up and down. It is indescribable how the wait crystallized that moment and made it a million times more special.

I can’t describe the tumultuous roller-coaster of emotions I have experienced up to that moment when I finally felt the sudden release of worry that I harboured in the depths of my heart. I just knew that all will be well. And from that moment on… everything changed.

Within mere days, Elise was improving. Her breathing was even. They extubated her on Sunday morning. She was breathing with very little help from the CPAP machine. I was informed, indirectly, that it took them 4 times to intubate her and after all this, they used the wrong size tube which the RT referred to as “trying to breathe through a straw”.

I decided at the time that I need to focus on the incredible journey that my child was making. I was going to keep my mind on the amazing health care that Elise was getting and her obvious fighting spirit.

I was blessed with calls, texts and visits from priests, friends, family and co-workers. Many people needed constant updates which kept me busy and increased my cell phone bill considerably. I was starting to feel a tentative dependency on the NICU and the positive nurses who lived up to their job descriptions and “nursed” my baby girl back to health. I was told on Tuesday night that we need to check out of the Ronald Macdonald house because they would put us in a courtesy room for parents and release Elise to us for the night so we can call on them if anything happens.

It was a fantastic night. I held her all night. I let her sleep the entire night on my chest. Matching my breathing to hers. I was too elated to sleep and I was never happier to lose so much sleep at night. Every time she woke up, I was awake with her. I would smile at the little noises she would make and I found every little movement she made impossibly sweet. I missed my toddler so much and I was so anxious to bring Elise home and be with both my girls.

We were discharged with Elise on Wednesday, September 25th and we rushed home to pick up our firstborn from daycare.

We were home.

We were thankful.

We were finally a complete family all in the same space, together.

Hold your loved ones closer. Tell them you love them. Hug them and let them know that they alter your life. I can’t tell you how much more I appreciate my girls and husband since this bitter-sweet experience.

I will cover how my toddler reacted to her baby sister in another blog. For now I leave you with one final thought…

You are never given any experience you cannot handle. Raise your chin up from the misery and look around you. You are surrounded with people who love you and care for you and only through the hard times will you see true friendships shine. I am so grateful for those people in my life who asked, who cared and who were in constant contact offering words of wisdom, comfort and reassurances. Thank you for your prayers and for your love. We felt it from Hamilton and we are ever grateful.

SMartignani

Mother’s Day 2013

IMG_9299It is only appropriate since I have a mommy blog that I write something- no matter how brief about this momentous day in honour of women everywhere that are true mothers.

What? What are TRUE mothers you ask?

A mother is not someone who just delivered a baby or nursed him, a mother is much more than that. I know people who are closer to their step-mothers beyond any connection they have with their biological one. So here is my description of a true mother:

a) her heart flutters at the thought of harm to her child

b) her heart breaks with every tear her child cries

c) her mind wanders to the smallest expressions her child made that day or that week

d) her soul soars at the sound of her child’s laughter

e) her energy is directed towards making her child better, smarter and more successful than she ever dreamed to be

f) her dreams are focussed on the sole purpose of meeting her child’s need

g) her career, her ambition, her leisure comes second to her child’s needs

h) her heart sees the beauty radiating from her child no matter what he looks like or how old he is

i) her devotion is eternal, her love is unconditional and her desire to see her child happy is an obsession

 

So whether you are a mom by blood, or by adoption or a godmother or a step-mother of a mother-in-law or an inspiring woman to someone who sees you as a mom, if you feel the things I listed above- then I commend you and I know that you are making a difference in the world by your mere existence.

 

Thank you for being our example and mentor, our life-line and inspiration. God bless you mom and on this day I hope you got spoiled and recognized for everything you are and everything you do and everything you feel.

Happy Mother’s Day all!

Until next time,

SMartignani

Merry Christmas

ImageHard to believe that this was us last Christmas. Now she is 17 months old and getting taller, louder and more temperamental by the day. I wanted to take a moment to thank you all for reading my blog and I also wish you a Merry Christmas.

I understand that “Happy Holidays” is a more politically correct statement but I believe that Christmas is a Christian holiday and we are celebrating the birth of a very important little person who grew up and died for our sin. We do not wish our Jewish friends “Happy Holidays” when its Hanukkah and we certainly don’t wish our Muslim friends “Happy Holidays” when it is their Eid el-Fitr. It is what it is. I know that in the States, they have decided to literally cross out the word Christ from Christmas (Xmas) in order to ensure the consistent growth of mass consumerism and optimize capitalistic gain from the sales of the most inane and unnecessary objects for gifts from “Santa”. However, even Santa is based on the life of St. Nicholas who is in fact a Christian saint that decided to bring needy and poor children gifts on Christmas Eve. So when we decide to celebrate a Christian holiday we should give it the respect and honour we give other religious feasts.

I am not offended when my neighbour wishes me a Happy Hanukkah because he has a right to celebrate his feasts and I have the privilege of honouring that by wishing him a Happy Hanukkah in turn. It does not mean my instantaneous and irreversible conversion to Judaism, it just means that I respect the reason for his celebration and respect his values. All I ask, as a Christian on Christmas, is the same respect.

I know for a fact that a lot of my colleagues who are not Christian still celebrate Christmas for its festive and loving underlying message. I also know so many who celebrate it properly. How you ask? Great question.

Christmas is not about how much we receive under the tree, it is about how much positive change we can bring around to the world we live in and for those who need all the help they can get. The true spirit of Christmas demands a “giving” of oneself to service and to charity. So instead of spending exorbitant amounts of money on gifts that will be discarded within the months, save a little through the year and buy a cow or a goat for a family in need (http://www.oxfamunwrapped.ca/) or sponsor a child in need (http://www.worldvision.ca/Pages/welcome.aspx) or save children from the heinous acts of sexual slavery and trafficking (http://www.traffickingproject.org/p/mission.html). If none of these options appeal to you, then maybe you can search the closest women’s shelter or food bank and volunteer there for Christmas Eve. They are always looking for people to come and serve the lonely, homeless, hopelessly addicted, mentally ill and abused men, women and teens who are strewn on the streets of your very city.

True Christmas is about the joy you receive by gifting your time and love to others. It is truly a time to raise your children to believe that it is not what we receive but what we give that matters. So I encourage you to buy one cool gift that they always wanted but get them to shop and choose a gift for a child in need. Get them to come with you and hand it out themselves so they can experience the true joy of giving, the true joy of Christmas.

Before I end this blog, there is one thing I would like us all to pray for whether we believe in God or not- Sandy Hook Elementary School parents. I am compiling these blog posts and one day my baby girl will read them (hopefully) and become aware of these events as they occurred. There is nothing, I mean NOTHING, more horrendous than burying a child but burying a child who has been shot multiple times by a sick man with an assault rifle is a fate I do not wish on my worst enemy. The murdered was a mentally ill man who ‘lost’ it and shot 20 children. Twenty angels found their way to heaven that day and all I can think about are the parents. Since this blog is dedicated to parenting, I wish to say one thing- END THE ERA OF GUNS and ESTABLISH A WORLDWIDE BAN ON GUNS. Even when soldiers used knives and muskets, there were fewer fatalities among our troops. Everyone out there shooting or being shot is a son, daughter, father, mother, brother or sister. When will it end? Let’s end it now!

 If you are doing nothing about it- do something. Personally, in reaction to this incident, I tweeted the president almost 50 times so far. I try for 10 tweets a day. It’s really not that much but it is something. I can’t count the amount of times that I shed tears as a result of this horrible travesty and all the other times that children (innocent, guileless and completely undeserving victims) are shot or abused. Funny enough, the day of this mass catastrophe, a friend told me that something similar happened in China but the perpetrator was using a knife instead of a gun- there was only one fatality and everyone else survived the madness.

I am sorry to end my blog on such a sombre note but my blogs reflect my feelings and I tell you what, this year my feelings of dread for my daughter growing up in such a cold, hurt, ill world that has decided to trade its soul for wealth and trade in its humanism for consumerism makes me wake up in cold sweats.

Let’s change that. It starts with me. It starts with you.

“We know only too well that what we are doing is nothing more than a drop in the ocean. But if the drop were not there, the ocean would be missing something.”
Mother Teresa

Thank you and God bless you and your family this season and every day. May you always be granted health, wealth and wisdom.

SMartignani

 

 

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