Posts By: Heather Dixon

Good mother.

My Mom is one of those Moms.

I got out of bed the other morning at the sound of my 4-year-old trotting down the hallway. When I turned the corner to find her, I nearly bumped into my Mom. She had stayed overnight to help me with the girls while my husband had to work a late night.

This is what my Mom does. She helps me.

I went to get my daughter her cereal. “I think I hear Lauren. I’ll go get her,” Mom says as she walks towards my two-year-old’s room.

When they come out to greet us, Lauren is clinging to my Mom like a baby monkey. She’s tired and sleepy-eyed and not ready to take on the day yet. She wants a snuggle with the woman she has bonded so closely with already.

And why wouldn’t she? Grandma is always here when I need her. Grandma’s always there for the girls, too.

I smile at them and think about all the times Mom’s been there for me.

Running her fingers through my hair when I was home sick with a cold. Writing simple notes and hiding them in my lunch bag for school. Attending every single performance of every single dance recital I was in. (Not just one showing per year – but all 4 shows that were all. the. exact. same.) Telling me I looked nice before I left for school. Smiling like the best thing had ever happened to her, just because I walked into a restaurant to greet her for dinner. Reminding me over and over again that I’m a good mother. Showing up at my house in her pajamas for a pj day with my daughters. Helping me with the children whenever I need them. No matter what.

“Why don’t you go get ready and I’ll feed the girls?” she asks.

I snap out of my daydream and go about my morning. I am happy knowing I don’t have to rush. I won’t start the day feeling tense.

We’re a long way away from my awkward, irritable teen years. When my eyes rolled almost daily at the thought of something – anything – she had done.

Now I know. I know the value of her love. Her patience. Her caring. I can understand why she felt the way she did. I know why she would smile at me like I was the best little human that ever existed to her.

I carry on with my day, relaxed and at ease.

And I am grateful. I am so, so grateful.

 

About the Author:

Heather Dixon is a copywriter at Mabel’s Labels, a smoothie aficionado, a runner, a wife and a Mom to two – soon to be three! – highly advanced little girls (according to her husband and her).

An open letter to my daughters – from your over-thinking Mom.

Dear Anna and Lauren,

I’m writing to you today for the same reason that I always blog about you or write to you. So that one day, when you’re grown, you’ll hopefully be interested in knowing how your Mom thought and felt about your childhood and raising you when you were wee.  And you’ll be able to read all about it.

(Goodness knows I won’t remember all the little details.)

I want to give you a look into the inner ramblings of my mind. And it goes a little something like this:

 

I’m laying in bed.

I’m thinking instead of sleeping again. I’m thinking about how late it is. Thinking about you two.

I turn over and stare at a strong, quiet face – covered in stubble. It’s a peaceful face. Sound asleep. It’s one of your most favourite faces in the world.

I marvel at how the brain inside that head has the ability to be so carefree. I wonder if he ever lays awake thinking about every little thing that happened that day. Would sleep ever take a backseat to the worry that he didn’t do good enough today?

I wonder if your little 4-year-old self will remember that I lost my cool and yelled at you this morning? Or will you remember the afternoon we played on your bed for over an hour – kissing and hugging, then laughing… hiding under the covers, giggling and rolling around.

Will you, my sweet little 2-year-old, have happy memories growing up in our house? Playing in the court outside, running and biking and picking up leaves and insects. Will you think I took enough pictures of you? Will you talk about our family vacations with fondness when you’re grown?

What does it take to do it right? What do I need to do? What do I need to say?

Of course, I realize, for the most part I just need to be. Be present. Be here for you. Kiss your boo-boos. Hug you each morning. Tell you how happy I am to see you when you get home from school. Just be me.

Because “me” is someone who loves you intensely. Who can’t quite remember being someone other than your Mom.

Someone who will always do things like smile and laugh with an incredible amount of pride at the sight of you jumping on the trampoline at gymnastics class. Or immediately start bawling when you give me your first Mother’s Day card made at daycare.

And as you get older, as we make different choices together – I’m learning. About you, and me, and the decisions I have to make as a parent.

And I’ve realized that there’s no script to follow. I can’t answer the question “what does it take to be a good Mom”. There are no rules for everyone to obey.

But, I do know that it doesn’t matter if we stay at home or go to work, have one child or have six, if they’ve got special needs or not, if we believe in attachment parenting or if we’re laissez-faire. We all have the same worries. The same feelings. The same questions.

And we all love like we’ve never loved before.

Remember that, my girls. Remember that I love you. Remember that, Moms. Remember that you love like you’ve never loved before.

And for that reason, the kids are going to be alright.

Everything’s going to be alright.

We’re alright Mommy. You can stop worrying so much. (For now…)

 

About the Author:

Heather Dixon is a copywriter at Mabel’s Labels, a smoothie aficionado, a runner, a wife and a Mom to two – soon to be three! – highly advanced little girls (according to her husband and her).

Outsmarted by a toddler and a cookie.

Cookie? What cookie?

I can clearly remember the exact moment I realized my toddler was getting too smart.

When my 4-year-old daughter was not quite 2 yet, the little buttertart pulled me by the hand to the kitchen one day and pointed to a tin sitting on our counter. A tin she has never seen before.

“Coo-ee!” she exclaimed, over and over again.

Yes, there were cookies inside. But how the heck did she know?

So I did what Moms do sometimes. I lied to my kid. (The right kind of little white lie doesn’t hurt that much, right?)

“Sorry honey, the cookies are all gone. No cookies! All gone! Cookies all gone!”

She looked at me with a furrowed brow. I got down to her level (as I’ve been told by experts to do to help her understand what I’m saying) and repeated myself.

“No cookies, honey. Sorry.”

She looked at me and started saying something I couldn’t quite understand. I kind of stared at her for a moment… Just enough time for her to get frustrated with me. “Mommy! Coo-ee!!” she yelled while pointing at my face.

“I don’t know what you mean, sweetie.” I replied.

So she touched a spot on my face. And when she pulled her finger away, there was a brown spot on it.

Chocolate.

I wiped my mouth and realized I had a huge blob of chocolate chip on my face.

Awesome. I had just been caught red-handed. So I grabbed the tin and gave her a cookie. “Here you go, honey. Have a cookie.”

She smiled and trotted off.

I stood in the kitchen for a moment, watching her walk away happily, realizing I had been found out by a 23-month old.

The kid. She’s too smart for her own good.

Mama’s in trouble.

 

About the Author:

Heather Dixon is a copywriter at Mabel’s Labels, a smoothie aficionado, a runner, a wife and a Mom to two – soon to be three! – highly advanced little girls (according to her husband and her).

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