My take on promises

I want to talk about promises. This has been on my mind a bit lately, and I wanted to share it with you. We make promises all the time. I made a promise 12 years ago to marry a man and love him forever. I was very young. I hadn't developed into the person I am now. I didn't know about the things I would learn as the years moved forward. We had a son together.

A promise assumes that we know what will come in the future. And I made the promise to get married and love someone forever without understanding how much of the future I had ahead of me. We had been together for 5 years, and at the time I figured that 5 years was enough time for me to get to know HIM. I hadn't given a second's thought to how long it would take to know MYSELF.

We make promises to other people. We make vows and say "until death do us part". We make commitments and say "you matter more to me than my own happiness". Our generation makes these statements, and yet we don't live by them. We get divorced. We call it quits. We move out. We separate when we become miserable. The divorce rate is up to some ridiculously high number. Yet people still get married, and they still make these crazy vows to be with one person no matter what. But they don't live it. We, as a society, don't live it.

I have this radical theory. We should recognize the way our generation goes about love. We should acknowledge that we don't really stay until death. We give up when it's awful. And I think maybe we SHOULD give up when it's awful. I want love. But I don't want to be with someone because they signed an agreement to stay with me despite how they feel about me. And I don't want to live miserably forever because at one point in my life it seemed like a good idea.

So what if we didn't say "Until death do us part"? What if we skipped that part entirely, and we said instead "Until we cannot be happy together". I think if we did that, we might treat love differently. We might appreciate our partners more. We might take an extra minute to check in and evaluate. We might not take love for granted. And we might make the commitment to be together, for the RIGHT reasons. Because of love. Not because of a promise.

Honesty

Today's post is about honesty, and what it means to me.

We all know that we're not supposed to lie. And yet, it is difficult to prevent hurt feelings, or awkward situations, or other people's anger when we are totally honest. How are we supposed to live in honesty when it is so difficult?

For myself, honesty with others is based on honesty with myself. Every action I take, I justify first. Like everyone else, I make decisions based on how I feel, the things I want and need, and how my decision will affect other people. Like all of us, I weigh each choice I make with the alternatives, and choose the action that fits best based on what I feel and what I know. Understanding this process is important to the concept of living within honesty. When you make a choice, you justify that choice as you make it. Most of the time, most of us make these justifications without thinking about them.

Living in honesty means being aware of the basis of our justifications, and being able to share them.

As an example: if someone was upset at me for canceling a plan, then I might need to describe why I thought that it would be okay to do so. Maybe something more important came up for me. I would need to look at my own justifications to see WHY that something was more important. Here is where honesty with self is most important. What emotions were behind the justification? Was I excited about something that I wanted to spend time on? Was I avoiding something uncomfortable? Did I have an opportunity to do something unique that I couldn't do at another time? And how did I think this would affect the person I was canceling plans with? All of these justifications are important pieces of information that you can, and should share, if you're trying to live in honesty.

The problem with sharing our justifications is that in some cases, what we decide for ourselves, doesn't always work for someone else. That's uncomfortable for ourselves, and for others. It's not surprising that we want to avoid that, and that's why we create lies in the first place.

But with practice, you will see that there is always a reason behind the choice that you make, and that is information you can share. Share your justifications. And if they don't work for someone, or you were wrong about something, then you can apologize.

Being honest can mean that you may hurt people's feelings if you are careless about your choices. But being careful in your choices means that you can be honest. You can talk about what you were thinking and feeling when you made a choice. You justified the decision you made, and that justification was enough for you when you made the decision.

As you become aware of the justifications you make, you can begin to live in a way that is easily justifiable. If you cannot justify the choices you make, then you may realize that something in your life needs to change. Seeing this and understanding this can be very freeing.

Being honest is really truly freeing. Being able to be honest with others about how you feel, the things that you want, and then being able to own those choices and decisions means that you are free. And life is much easier when truth is behind all our words.

Awkwaaard stories

Being July, and Friday, I think it'd be an excellent time to tell you three self-depreciating and very strange stories that have occurred in my life recently. Don't forget to leave a comment, and like us on facebook!

I was at Pride Festival in Victoria on Sunday. And I had been in the beer gardens, standing in line to use the porta-potties for about 18 bazillion years. There were a huge number of porta-potties, and they had those indicators on the front that said "occupied" or "available". Well, one of them said "available". Someone asked if there was someone in there, but no-one knew, and no-one wanted to be the one to go and check. Well, since I'm an idiot, I felt like being all 'proactive' for the lesbians in the line up and prove to them that it was empty.

I marched up to the porta potty, and banged on the door to see if anyone was inside. I didn't hear anything in response, so I pulled the door wide open, but without looking inside, in order to demonstrate to those in the line, that the porta potty was in fact empty, and that they were all silly for waiting in line without checking all the doors. Well. Turns out the joke was on me, because there WAS in fact someone in that porta potty. And because I didn't look before I pulled the door open to make my point, I did not just walk in on him, I actually held the door open long enough for everyone in the lineup to get a good, solid look at the man inside. Hello world, I'm an idiot!

The second story happened in Costco. Do you all know what Costco is? It is a giant warehouse sized store that carries EVERYTHING. I didn't have my son and happened to be wearing headphones and listening to music while I was shopping. I parked my cart outside the cold area, and ran inside to grab some almond milk. I put the milk in the cart and kept shopping. No problem.

About 5 minutes later, a disgruntled older woman wacked me on the behind with a 4 liter jug of milk. I pulled my headphones off to hear her tell me she'd been chasing me down hollering at me for stealing her grocery cart. I laughed at the mistake, and apologized, inquiring where MY cart with my groceries went. She didn't find my mistake nearly as funny as I did. How did I not notice? Both our carts were nearly empty and had typical grocery items in them. I hadn't noticed my mistake, even after adding a few things to the cart. She wasn't laughing. She was pissed. I saw nothing special in her cart. I had not made off with her her purse. But she was mad, and she thought I had taken her cart on purpose.

I apologized, and chuckled with the friendly folks in the isle around the scene of the crime. I retrieved the goods I had mistakenly added to this woman's basket, apologized again, and went in search of my own cart. I had made a mistake. I was friendly about it. I apologized. I moved on. But she did not. We crossed paths multiple times through the remainder of the shopping trip, and she pointed me out each time to her husband, moving her cart away like I was going to take it again. Like I couldn't find those grocery items myself! She even put up her fists and let me know that she had been "ready". I smiled sweetly in understanding, but oh my goodness. You'd think I'd had made off with her grandchild. :)

None of this bothered me, in truth. I knew she had been over reacting and must have picked the best steak from the meat department and felt very attached to it. And it was all okay. I just chuckled. But I felt bad for her husband. She wanted to fight me over such a silly mistake. I still chuckle when I think about her chasing me down and bonking me with her jug of milk! As someone 6'0 tall, I think it was rather bold! :)

The third story I want to tell you happened yesterday at work (I do still have a job until Monday). I was at my desk working away and suddenly there was this very loud crash bang sound from the roof directly above me that shook the building. The lights went out and everything went quiet. My first thought was if the building had been hit by lightening, but then I remembered it's July, and sunny and we don't get lightening in Victoria. (Yes, still an idiot!)

Turns out a crow flew into or landed on or somehow otherwise blew up the transformer for the building's air conditioning unit which was stationed on the roof directly above my desk. Poor bird.

But here is the weirdest part of the story. Apparently, the crow, upon exploding the transformer, became a dead, projectile crow, and shot across the street, and it hit a man, walking along the sidewalk, in the head.

So lets recap today's strange stories. Imagine, if you were minding your own business in the porta-potty and some random chick opens the door and puts you on display and doesn't even realize it.

Next, imagine being vaguely threatened with physical violence by a woman twice your age and half your size for making off with a nearly empty grocery cart.

And lastly, imagine what it would be like to be peacefully wandering along the sidewalk, and then suddenly be hit in the head by a dead, projectile crow.

Weird times.

I hope these made you chuckle. Which was your favorite, and why? Also be sure to add your own strange stories in the comments.

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My story of success.

This is the story of my journey, from the bottom to the top. It is much longer than my usual posts, but it was a long journey from where I have been, to where I am now.

When my son was a year and a half old, I separated from his father. (See here for the explanation on that: (Why I couldn't choose to be straight). I went on welfare (also known as social assistance in the US, I think), but it was such a pitiful amount of money, and I knew I could not be happy in that environment. At my mother's urging, I went to speak to the academic advisers at the local college, to talk about enrollment. They checked my transcripts and told me I needed English 12. I had graduated high school with English 11 only, and 12 was required for admission. So I contacted the local adult education school and learned that the course I needed cost $350.00.

I wanted to apply, and take the upgrade course, but I didn't have $350.00 I needed to register. I spoke to my worker at welfare, but there was no budget for courses of any kind and I certainly didn't have $350.00 laying around. I think they probably gave me $800.00 or $900.00 a month all together to survive on. I didn't have $350.00 to pay for English 12, and I couldn't move forward.

So I did the only thing I knew how to do. I wrote a letter. First I wrote a letter to my worker telling her why I needed the $350.00 for the course, so that I could upgrade my English, and enroll into College, and get off welfare.

The response was that while this was a great idea, there was no money for it. So I wrote another letter, to her boss, telling her boss what I needed, and how I intended to get off welfare, and enroll in college. Sure, I'd be on student loans, but I could get off welfare. I had a baby to take care of, and we couldn't live on the income I could make as a single mom working at a gas station. (I did try).

I was told by my worker's boss that I needed to write another letter, which would go to a committee for approval. I wrote that letter, outlining my career goals and intentions, and it was accepted. I was granted the $350.00 for the English 12 course I needed to take before I could apply to college. The cheque was to be written out directly to the school, just in case I was ready to take the money for myself.

So I took the course. I put my baby (2 years old by now) into daycare, which was subsidized by the government for low income families, and I took English 12. I was so thankful. I learned how to write an essay, and to write a block style letter. I loved it. And I worked my ass off, coming in to class when I was so sick, even, to complete assignments. I didn't have a computer at home, so I needed to go into school to do the assignments. I was the oldest student there at the time. The other students were mostly high school drop outs with issues of authority. I was out of place, but I did my best. I got an A in the class and marched my transcripts up to the local college.

I applied, and I was accepted as a mature student. I didn't know what I wanted to take, I was just happy to be there. I felt like I finally fit in somewhere, walking up and down the street sized walk ways. There were students at College who were older than me. There were other parents here. There were young kids who still lived at home with their parents, sure. But I belonged. I was a student. And I was finally off welfare.

I had no idea what I wanted to DO with my education, and the academic counselor recommended I try a few different things in the "University transfer" program. That included a huge range of courses such as philosophy, psychology, English, Anthropology, Accounting, Geography, Japanese,etc and 25 other subjects, and they would all be transferable to University, if I ever wanted to go in that direction. I registered for a Philosophy class, a Psychology class, and a Computer Science class.

I dropped my kid off at daycare and bused over an hour into school every day to work my ass off. I got straight A's in that first year. I busted my ass. I became an expert at applying for student loans and navigating the registration system. I absolutely loved the Psych 101 class "Issues in Contemporary Psychology" class, and decided to take more of those. I was also enjoyed English, and took a bunch of those.

After a year, I was told that I had the pre-requisites I required to get into the local university, so I nervously applied. I was accepted. I met with an academic counselor who was very kind and sat with me in his office to look at my transcripts. He saw the psych courses on my transcripts and encouraged me to take more of those, so I did.

A year after that, I applied for the Co-op program. The Co-op program is a program in addition to your studies that included work experience for a semester with an academic portion. My GPA was good, and I got in.

On top of my full time course load, and on top of being a single mother, I sat in on the Co-op meetings once a week and learned how to write a resume, how to interview for a job, and what a good cover letter looks like. After a semester of that, I was ready to find my first co-op job.

I applied to a bunch of things and didn't get any interviews. Then I saw a Government job that talked about writing a technical manual for a program I'd never heard of called Oracle Discoverer. I had never even heard of Oracle Discoverer, so definitely did not have experience they explicitly requested. But I applied anyways. I was honest in my cover letter and resume that I didn't have experience with that program, but that I was a good writer, and I was willing to learn.

Turns out, no one had experience with Oracle Discoverer, so I got an interview. To demonstrate my willingness to learn, I had gone to the local public library and borrowed a book called "Oracle for Dummies" and brought it with me. They liked my keenness in the interview, and I got the job.

I did a 4 month work term with them as planned, and then they hired me back for a second work term. When they couldn't put me on any more co-op terms, they put me on as a contractor. I was studying full time, being a single mother, and working as a contractor for the Government. My house was a mess, so I hired a friend to wash my dishes once a week and vacuum my disgusting floor. My kid (then 4) was in daycare full time and I struggled to make time for him. I struggled to keep my grades up. I struggled. But I couldn't fail.

I finished the contract and got hired for the summer as a research analyst with the Government again. I was not studying for the summer, so it was easier to have the evenings to myself and my son without a text book looming over my head, but the daytime hours were very long. I would drop my son off at daycare at 8:00am, before most of the other kids had arrived, and I would pick him up at 5:30 or 6. He was the last kid to be picked up every night. It was an extremely long day for both of us. Thankfully he went to his Dad's place on Thursday and Friday. But even then, it was such a struggle. It was hard hard work.

I went back to school again in the fall, and so the hours improved but my schedule was still havoc. Another contract came along and I was working and studying again. The money was good, but I still relied heavily on student loans.

It took me 6 years, from start to finish to complete my degree this way, not including the academic upgrading before College. My grades were shot near the end, but I was passing.


I started the path so that I could do something, anything better than what I was doing. I did it for my boy, so that he could have more in his life than I could have done pumping gas as a gas station attendant. I worked my ass off, missed so much of his early years, so that we could have more, as a family. He was my inspiration, and when I was in the thick of it, and I would picture graduation, I would cry. I would cry knowing that I did it for him.

I finished my Bachelor of Arts in Psychology. I graduated. I made it. I needed him to be at that ceremony. I needed him to see me in my cap and gown, on the stage, receiving that degree. My mother was there with him, and they bought roses to hand to me. He looked so proud of me, and I was so proud. I was so proud of him too, because it was his journey too. He saw me studying, working my ass off, and he lost things for it. I couldn't always play with him. I couldn't do the play dates, and soccer, and I even missed parent teacher interviews. I couldn't pick him up after school. So my degree was his degree too. His success as well. And he was so proud of me.

Our children need to see us doing our best. They need to see us kick ass, and push ourselves, and become more. They need to see us be successful. I believe that he will be successful and strong.

I was recently laid off, but I know that I will be successful. I have lived through hard times, and I am strong. I can do difficult things, and I can do them well. I have the best motivation in the world, and it is that precious and beautiful boy that is my son.

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Pay it Forward!

So I had the good pleasure to be listed in Dad vs Autism's post called "Pay it Forward", where he listed 5 bloggers that are important to him. And he said some really wonderful things about us here at SLMother! This was well timed praise.

The idea behind "Pay it Forward Friday" is that I now take a turn to return the favor, telling all of you about the blogs that have influenced me, helped me, or made me laugh. I want to showcase to you my blogging friends who have helped me and guided me and supported me as I've been growing. These are good people. And they also write.

So first, I will tell you about Dad vs Autism, who nominated me. Here is one of his posts that I liked a lot. He often comments and supports and relates to my blog, which makes me feel good. He talks about life, and getting by, and what it is really like to parent a kid with Autism. And he's a nice person. And he has been struggling to build a tree house for like a billion zillion years (see story here)

Next, I'd like to showcase From the Bungalow.
This post ( an open letter to my kids on Father's day) made me cry. Chris is also a very nice person. He has encouraged me, sent people to my blog, and been my friend. He has left me wonderful comments and given me advice. He is good. He and his partner Karin are sweet and kind and human and they struggle just like the rest of us. It's a breath of fresh air.

Next, I want to introduce you to Daddy Knows Less. He too has encouraged me, supported me, and been a kind human being. These are amazing people, all of them! I found a community amongst these daddy blogs. They are supporting each other and they just accepted me amongst their folds. I feel grateful and appreciative. Daddy knows less often writes beautiful pieces like this one called "My one and only you". It is clear that his love for his wife is a giant sun in his solar system. It's freaking beautiful. We should all be so lucky. Go follow him!

I feel lucky to be blogging alongside these gentlemen. Thanks for reading their stuff, and supporting them, because they have really helped me feel like I am a part of a community of bloggers. SURE they're Dads, and SURE I'm a mom.. And YEAH they're straight and I'm crooked.. But we blog and we support each other and share each other's work. And it's nice. So I want to say THANK YOU to these fine folks.

And I am also running around being quite busy this morning, and would have liked to take more time to thank the REST of you, for supporting me, sharing my work, and being there for you. You have all been really wonderful, and I so very much appreciate it. Thank you, Thank you, Thank you.

Sincerely, and with immense gratitude,

KR Munro

How do we make it work?

I know many of my readers are struggling with trying to do too much. We are parents, or artists, or workaholics, or renovating the house, or hitting the gym 5 days a week, and we struggle to afford the things we want, and it’s just tough sometimes to balance life out.

For myself, I’m a mom, and I work full time. I live here alone, and my son goes to his dad's three nights a week. I commute an hour to work and an hour home, 5 days a week. That means that I leave the house at 7:45 am, drop my son off at school, hop on the bus, stay at work for 8.5 hours, rush to the bus, pick up my son, and I don’t get back into the house until 6pm. Then, dinner, a few minutes of ‘together’ time with my son while he rambles on about something related to star trek or time travel, then it’s “brush your teeth” and then bedtime. 8pm rolls around and I’m writing, or I’m sleeping, or maybe reading- but I’m exhausted.

Right now, we’re in a 1 bedroom basement suite, because it’s what I can afford. My son’s bed is in the living room. This suits my son just fine because he treats it like a giant bedroom with a TV in it. The big downside (except for all the Lego in my living room) is that once he’s in bed, I’m pretty much stuck in my room. Granted he sleeps through anything, but its not like I can watch a movie or have a lot of company over.

So on the days he is here, I’m rushing around, commuting, working, rushing, cooking, cleaning, and then hanging out in my room, alone.

It’s kind of nuts. And we live 45 minutes outside of town (my son’s father lives 75 minutes outside of town and I need to be here to support that relationship). I’m far enough out of town and off the main bus routes that people can’t easily come and visit me at my apartment. I can leave and go to other people’s places on the days that my son is at his dads. But on the days that he is home, I have very busy days and not a lot of ‘me’ time, and I'm alone.

I think that is really common for parents; having to give so much, all the time just to make life work. We struggle to pay the bills, keep the place clean, get to the parent teacher interviews, play dates, birthday parties, swimming lessons, cubs, soccer, and sew the button back on the pants that broke last week.

Sometimes it is just too much. It really isn’t easy some days. And I am honestly not typing it because I want a pity party, because I’m the last person to ever really get down on myself. I say it because I know so many of you (parents and non-parents) struggle with day to day life as well. It’s hard to get everything done. It is hard to make financial ends meet. It is hard to get ahead. It is hard to save money. It is hard to find time to do it all. To landscape the yard, put on that extra coat of paint, wash the car, clean the windows, put in overtime at work, and mail the Christmas cards. Life expects us to be so many things, and to be perfect at so many things.

I know that it is hard. So how do we make time for ourselves in a world like the one we live in? How do we support our relationships with our friends, partners and family? How do we find time for our selves? How do we balance work, social life, keeping the house clean, and being good parents?

I haven’t figured it out, to be honest. I just live in the moment. I follow joy. I am gentle with myself. If I don’t vacuum for 2 weeks it is okay, because really, happiness is more important than vacuuming. I often buy pre-made, immediate food for dinners, because really, I don’t have time to make home-made food. And that is okay. We do our best. I pay my child to wash our dishes, because I don’t have energy to do them myself. I do what I can. I put the important stuff first. I have a list of priorities and I put the stuff on the top first.

First on my list are the people that are important to me. My son, my relationship, my family and my friends are all at the top. Then it is my blog and my job. Then last is house cleaning and cooking. I won’t take time off work to clean the house or make a roast. But if my son is sick, I will take time off work. It’s easy to figure out that way. And I am gentle with myself about the cleaning and the cooking. If it’s not perfect, it’s going to be okay. I am a really busy person. My friends, my family, my partner, everyone understands. And if they don’t, they won’t get invited over for frozen pizza.

Just find the balance. Know what your priorities are. Decide what is okay to slide, and when it slides, be okay with it. It helps. The world will not stop rotating if you don't do everything. Just be happy, really- because that's what the people around you really need. Happiness. Comment question of the day: What are your priorities, and do you ever let some things slide? What are you okay with letting slide, and what are you not okay with sliding?

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Life!

Hi everyone!

I've gotten many comments wondering when the next post will be up. I'm sorry that I've left you waiting. Today's post is an informal one. I want to talk about the blog, and about what you want from it. And I want to tell you what I've been up to.

Today, I left work early to make it home in time to pick my son up from after school care. He's ten years old and I need to meet him by 6 oclock when the daycare closes. I was rushing to catch the soonest bus, and I remembered that I hadn't picked up my bus pass yet. So I was fumbling through my purse, wondering why I had to carry SO MUCH stuff in such a small bag, and saw the bus. Everyone else got on, and I was still searching for the change to pay. The driver waved me aboard, probably willing to accept what change I could find. I found the change I needed, and we were off.

Half way home I notice that the driver has not taken an important turn off towards my neck of the woods and is now on a highway headed in the wrong direction. I had apparently gotten on the 57 bus instead of the 50 bus. The visual appearance of these two buses are only subtly different (whats one digit between friends?) and yet, they are not the same.

I ended up in the middle of nowhere, waiting in the scorching sun for one of two buses required to land me at home. It was a good 25 minutes before the first bus arrived, and by this time it was nearly 6 already. I called Ethan's after school care. His Monday childcare is a licensed daycare, and they have all kinds of rules in place for my child's safety and I'm pretty sure actually for my inconvenience. Such rules as: there will be a 25 dollar late fee if you don't pick up your kid by 6:00, and then a billion dollars a minute after 5 minutes, or the "your kid cannot leave without being signed out by someone authorized on the official form" rule. So here I was, stuck in the middle of nowhere, dying in the sunshine, with my child across town being held hostage by a daycare that was going to charge me a million and a half dollars in ransom for being late.

I phoned everyone I know that lives within a reasonable proximity to the daycare and not a soul answered their phones.

Thankfully for me, while the daycare is designed with these awful (and very important safety) rules, they are also staffed by highschool kids who don't want to do any more work than they have to. So I begged them to release him into the wild to fend for himself, while I prayed that a bus would arrive and I could get home before he died of starvation or lit himself on fire.

In the end, the bus arrived and then the second bus arrived, and Ethan made it home and he knows how to work the TV so he was happy and fine. I was exhausted, and he was fine, and I didn't have to pay a million and a half extra dollars ransom to the daycare. What a day!

So I was going to write an amazing post about truth and happiness and emotions, but I thought that this would be more true to where I'm at today. Today is an unpolished post about what being a single mom is REALLY like. Sometimes it's tricky and imperfect. Sometimes I'm an idiot, and I get on the wrong bus because I forgot to buy a bus pass and end up across town and stranded. But it all worked out. I didn't burst into tears and flail myself into the street in a desperate attempt to acquire rescue, and Ethan didn't light himself on fire. I think it went well.

- KR Munro

PS. What do you guys think of this kind of post? Is this something you would enjoy once in a while? I am hoping to post frequently again, but know that sometimes I won't be perfect about it. Sometimes I'll be stuck on the other side of town because life happens. Sometimes the posts will be polished and artful, and other times they may be casual and playful, or uplifting, or who knows. But they will most likely reflect real life. Real life as a single mom isn't always easy.

Thanks for reading. I'm glad to be back.

- Kell