In the moment

At a wedding, father daughter dance, mother son dance. I’m getting so emotional my fake eye lashes are going to fall out.

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An announcement

An announcement

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I mean I’m on the job.
Totally different meaning.

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Tonight I’m the job. And this how it starts.

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May 23, 2014 · 11:39 pm

JulieTalk Live: Online Radio Show- Week 2

I had a plan, but it went out the window.

http://www.theunclehood.com/join-flow/

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May 23, 2014 · 3:42 pm

2 am . And I’ve been left behind.

It’s 2 am and I’m being driven home from a house party.
Driven home by my parents. I’m sitting in the back of the family van just like the old days.
My parents told me it was time to go and by the time I said my goodbyes I was out the door just in time to see them drive away.
They’ll turn back I thought…
Negative.
So after a few minutes I called mommy’s cell ” you forgot me!”.
They had indeed forgotten me behind.
Tonight we we’re at a “ghena”, which in an Old Armenian tradition to celebrate the bride and groom to be

a week before their wedding, and what a celebration it was .
Cheers!

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Milk, Nipples and Quickies. First ever episode of JulieTalk Live

Just finished watching my first episode of JulieTak Live. It was recorded in studio last night and the producers just posted the link this morning for those who want to catch it. I must say that the live aspect of it is more interesting than I thought. For all those who were watching live, thank you for the support.JukieTalk

It took me a few minutes to decompress and relax but after the first ten minutes I think I was able to let go and just be myself.

I hope you’ll take the time to watch it, I must warn you that it’s an hour long, so make sure to be relaxed, with a cup of tea, bundled up on the couch while you do. Please don’t watch me on your i phone while sitting on the toilet, that’s creepy.

haha.

Heres the link to watch the first episode called : Milk, Nipples and Quickies.

http://www.theunclehood.com/milk-nipples-quickies-2/

 

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There’s a new girl in the house.

The kids are in bed and Jack is watching … Not sure what he’s watching. I’m in the family room and he’s in the basement with our friend.
Our friend Bianca.
She’s our neighbour.
Is this normal?
I’m just kidding. The only Bianca in this house is

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Doomed.

The kids are asleep and  Jack is watching the game. I had to fight him for the laptop. It’s almost midnight and I really need to shower but I’m here instead writing this post.

So, three kids, a full time job, a part time job, a blog and now an online radio show. Do I know what the heck I’m doing…heck no. My first episode is this Thursday night and I’m still scribbling around on a piece of paper trying to figure it all out. What do I have planned so far?

  • A dance party

I just realized that’s all I have.

A dance party! that’s my idea for the show. It felt like a good idea at a certain time… but announcing it brings a different perspective to the idea. I am  doomed.

Well, however it turns out you’ll know that’s it’s real. I’m thinking of having a few shots before, during and after the show. One tequila, two tequila, three tequila, floor.We’re bound to have an interesting show….

After all, best way to learn is trial and error.

Ok enough self doubt! I sound pathetic!

I can do this! I CAN. I CAN. I CAN.

I must thank The Unclehood network for giving me this opportunity and for all the hard work they do.

Check out this fun promo they made for me.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hIl2DdufDIU

Wish me luck.

 

 

 

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Prepping for May 15th and it’s a … mess.

A good mess.

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Just a little Monday night chatter.

It’s 10:15 pm . Kids are in bed and Jack is watching the game. You might be thinking : but the Habs aren’t playing tonight . it’s the Stanley cup finals and Jack’s watching all of the games . I’m sitting on the couch next to him tapping away on my phone writing this post. The kitchen is a mess , I just finished making Jacks supper, the sink is full, the counters are loaded but I am done, finished, kaput, dead tired. Today was non stop. From the am daycare and school drop offs, to work and pickups we (I) had the bright idea of taking all three kids to Cosco after school today. We filled two carts to the top and spent a fortune, by the end of it all I had A2 literally hanging from my neck, A3 throwing everything out of the Cart and poor A1 just trying to do damage control. At some point I lost jack then found him waiting at cash number 14 , I obviously cut in line to join him. Except my cart was full and I got many bad looks. I then took A3 out of the cart seat to entertain the people who we’re waiting behind us, she waddled around, waved hello to everyone and when I felt that the mad looks had softened up I gathered the kids, left jack there with two full carts and sat the kids down for ice cream.
” who you texting ” jack’s asking right now.
You think he would learn by now.
He’s yelling at me for something now, I’m not to sure what it’s about. A check I was supposed to deposit or something… I have three kids with me most of the time,can you imagine stopping at the bank to deposit a check? I rather live without that money and not have to take them all out only to lose 10 minutes negotiating for them to get back Into their car seats when we’re done. “I’m going to count to three and if you’re not in your seats leaving you here” obviously that doesn’t even phase them. I’ve also taught my husband not to expect me to fill up gas. There’s no way I’m doing that, hell breaks lose if I step out of the car long enough for them to start pinching each other. Heck they don’t even need me out to do that, the moment I take a phone call while in the car they know I’m not focused on them and it starts .
“Mom! My sister’s imitating me”
“Imitate her back!” I say! Then I get back to my business call.
You know I could go on forever, but Jack needs a little TLC. For once that I’m not knocked out..
Of you catch typos, try to read through them, I’ll correct them tomorrow .
Goodnight.

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Check out the new promo.

https://youtube.com/watch?v=hIl2DdufDIU

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18 month A3 made her very first drawing… On the couch.

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First drawing ever. I’m torn between cleaning it up and keeping it as a souvenir .
What a beautiful dilemma to have.

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April 24 1915: A genocide today.

We know the history; we have known it for a long time. April 24, 1915 is the date of the Armenian genocide. All surviving Armenians and following generations know endless stories about the genocide, gory details, escape adventures, death. We know the stories but have we ever allowed ourselves to feel the pain? Or even just a glimpse of that pain.

Though those times have past, those times were real, those people were real, and those emotions were real.

The rumors we heard about them coming are real, I can already see the soldiers knocking on our neighbours’ doors, everybody’s outside, and I can hear screaming and crying. They’re now at our door. They’re telling my husband we need to leave right this moment. They say were temporarily being deported. My girls are running around excited, they don’t understand what’s happening, and I don’t understand what’s happening. “Can I bring my doll?” asks five year old A1. They’re heavily armed and are waiting at the door step for us to leave the house; they won’t even allow us to pack up. My heart feels heavy already, feels like an implosion of emotions. I am scared, but first I am a mother, so I am strong. As we’re forced to head for the door I look around trying to find anything I can take along. I grab a blanket. Two year old A2 is getting scared, she knows something’s wrong, we never leave the house this way, with strangers at our door, she wants me to carry her, but I’m already carrying A3. The moment we set foot outside the reality of it all hits us. The looks on people’s faces said it all. No one is asking questions, its complete chaos yet it is completely clear what is happening. The crying and the screaming is bone chilling. They order Jack to stand on this side of the street and point me and my daughters to the other. They’re separating the men from the woman. I am walking with my head up straight, carrying 18 month old A3, while tightly holding A1’s and A2’s hands. I don’t want them to feel my fear. I can’t even bare to turn back to see Jack having to watch us walk away. I can’t even think of what he’s feeling right now. A man watching his family being taken away, not knowing if they will be safe, not having the chance to protect them.

We will be taken away and we will walk for weeks through the desert. Those who can’t keep up will be killed; the rest will die from dehydration. How long will two year old A2 be able to walk on her own? How long will I be able to carry A3 in my arms? Which one of them will die first and how? What if I am killed first, who will care for them? How can I protect them from fear, hurt and death? How will I carry all three? How will I choose between their lives? Stay with my dying child on the side of the road or carry on with the other two? How will I be able to walk away? What have I done to deserve this? Why are they doing this to us?Image

With shivering hands and tears rolling down my face I don’t think I can write another word.

I am blessed to only have to imagine this pain. The 1915 Armenian genocide is real, the suffering is real.

This happened, these feeling were felt by Armenian Women, Armenian women who valued the same things I value today. Nobody deserves this today and nobody deserved it then.

We cannot forget the 1.5 million lives that were lost and we can certainly not forget the suffering they lived through.

Genocide is happening over and over again. We all need to speak up and react. We will not shut our eyes and mouths and let this keep happening. This April 24, speak up. Be heard. Stand up.

For all the mothers who watched their children die, for all the fathers who lost their families, for all the children who never again got to receive their parents love.

Stand up.

 

 

 

 

 

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Stupid with Honor

I claim to be a reality blog, yet most of my thoughts are filtered. Recently I was talking to a friend about one of my projects to host an online radio show. “You’ll make more enemies then friends” she said. “Freedom of speech is for those who are miserable”. Am I too happy to have freedom of speech? “People don’t like to hear about other’s success”. Another friend told me “Why do you want to succeed? It will only attract jealousy from people?” So should I not succeed to stay safe of people’s jealousy? I have more faith in people than that. What I truly don’t understand is why were so fearful of doing. I already fill myself with reasons not to do things and then I go out and search for validation. The reasons we set up in our minds not to do something and the way we listen to people discouraging us from taking action are just means to get away from doing, safely with reason. There’s something in your mind, you want to do it, but you don’t, because of this, or because of that, or maybe because we’re too afraid to. Let’s call things as they are. Fear is the base of all the “I can’t”, fear of change and fear of the unknown.

 

People will give advice, they are seeking what’s “good” for me, and they are trying to keep me safe. But I don’t think there’s anything to keep me “safe” from. There’s nothing to fear. Abject humiliation maybe, but one friend one said “If you haven’t looked stupid enough in your life time, perhaps you haven’t tried enough new things.” I don’t mind looking stupid, come to think of it, stupid is the only thing that I am truly able to be effortlessly. And the best part about it is not caring about that sentence fragment.

 

Is that it? Fear of being judged as stupid?

 

The only thing we can truly know is that we don’t truly know anything. So if I don’t know anything, and that makes me stupid, then I accept the title with honor.

 

Stupid with honor.

 

What a relief.

 

 

 

 

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Love is happy and happy is free .

I don’t know if it’s the raging hormones , the exhaustion or maybe the lack of outings, but I’m just obsessed with my children. I don’t know if it’s the love they have for me or the amount of love that pours out of my heart for them that surprises me more. I never thought I could love so much or that I was worthy of this much love.
I’m with them all day, and the moment I’m away I’m looking at pictures and videos of them and missing them. I don’t know what nature does to us, but I know that when I became a mother my world changed, my perception shifted and I grew everyday into a different person. Sure this sounds mushy gushy but I just can’t help myself.
I’m fully aware that one of the most annoying things can be parents who don’t stop talking about their kids…
All is good in right doses.
I don’t know, sometimes I just get overwhelmed by the whole situation. Nobody is never fully prepared to become a parent, and society doesn’t help by omitting all the real details of it. The last week of my pregnancy with A1 I kept asking :” Are they really going to let us bring the baby home?”, ” Are they really going to leave us alone with the baby ?”. I had so much mental blockage and was so not ready for what was coming. My circumstances we’re kind of special but that’s another story for another time.
Tonight I’m just in love.
There’s nothing more to this life than potential happiness . Every minute we spend not being happy is a minute wasted. Gone forever.
Be happy, seek love.
Love is just a way towards happy .
Happy is free.
Doesn’t really matter if everybody doesn’t get you, doesn’t matter what car you drive, doesn’t matter that your boss is an a-hole.
All that matters is how you feel in this moment. And only you and your thoughts can control how you feel.
Start by being happy and all will fall into place.
Feeling so blessed. How can not want to have more children?
Perhaps I should wake Jack up…

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Night After Night, Day After Day

Written Tuesday night.

It’s 9:30 pm and I woke up 5 minutes ago on the floor of my kids’ bedroom. It was 8:30 when I took A1 and A2 upstairs for bed, A3 was already asleep, they brushed their teeth then fought over the stool to reach the sink. We settled that by seating one child on the steps of the bathtub “look there’s water here too, you can brush your teeth here”, of course they got water everywhere and wet their socks, we lost more time trying to find the perfect pair of socks because two year olds feel the little strings touching their toes and only one out of six pairs of will do. Finally get them in their room, ever since we moved A3 out of the walk in closet A1 and A2 have been sharing a room. They get in bed and then “please stay a bit”, they always ask me to stay and lie down for a while, and so I do. I must admit, as tired as I may be, that is one my most blissful moments of the day, that and giving A3 her last bottle of the day while sitting on the rocking chair.

I make such an effort to try and seize the moment, but it can be hard. Sometimes I watch old videos and I wonder where my mind was and how I missed what was happening right in front of my eyes. Lately, when I recognize a moment, I try to capture it in my mind with the most details possible from visual details to thoughts and emotions.

Last time I did this was a few weeks ago, we took the kids to the park and there was so much snow yet the swings were still up. We put A3 and A2 in the baby swings and A1 and I were on the regular swings. Jack was pushing the little ones, and all were singing and shouting. It was just one of these perfect moments. I grew in a house right across a park, and so I’ve spent a lot of time on a swing, even as a teenager it was where I went to think. So one day I’m 16, going oh so high, holding tightly onto the chains, closing my eyes, imagining that I am flying. And when I open my eyes, 15 years have passed and I’m still on the swing, except this time I am surrounded by these children, and this wonderful man, it is a beautiful sunny day and life is beautiful.

Once again I have shifted off topic and don’t even know what the initial story is, I need a moment to go back and read…

Oh ya, putting the kids to bed… oh this is going to be a long post….

So they ask me to stay, then A2 asks for a story, always the same story, the three little pigs and always the same part, when the wolf burns his butt going down the chimney. She doesn’t want to hear the rest, only that part, so we start at “the two little pigs ran into their pig brother’s house of bricks…” once that’s done, she always asks for another story, and it’s always the same one “goldilocks and the three bears” and always the same part, she only wants to hear about how goldilocks broke baby bear’s chair. Come to think of it she only likes the burning and breaking… what the heck? How did I never realize?

So then when story time is over I try to leave but they ask me to stay some more. And how can I refuse, one day they’ll be teenagers asking me to close the door on my way out of their room. So I stay a bit more, and sometimes I fall asleep. And this time, I fell asleep and forgot that I’m at the edge of my daughter’s bed drooling on a pink and purple lady bug pillow. I don’t know what I was thinking, I just know I woke up on the floor. I got up and started heading for the door when A2 asked “where are you going?” now you might think of me as a hypocrite, but as much as I love being with my kids, sometimes I have to put a limit. So I told her a little white lie. “Mommy’s going to the bathroom to do caca, and I’ll b back when I’m finished”. Of course I used caca so that she doesn’t expect me back in 30 seconds and hopefully falls asleep while waiting for me. A1 clearly understands this concept and is aware that it’s a lie to keep A2 from throwing a fit, we’ve had a talk about it. “You know when mommy says that she’s going to the bathroom and that she’ll be back? Well, truth is…”

It’s a similar scenario every night ever since I’ve been back at work. By the time we finish work, pick up the kids, feed them, change them and bathe them, we are finisheeeeeed. I usually wobble out of the girls’ bed room after they’ve finally fallen asleep and literally crash in my bed only to wake up a few hours later to remove my bra or socks and pass out again until that dream crushing alarm starts again at 5:15 am. Day after day, night after night.

Oui, c’est la vie. But what can I say other than, just go with it and all will be well.

All that matters is that we are happy, we are healthy, we are grateful.

 

 

 

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Chicken Boobs: daily realities.

What’s these kids’ obsession with lifting up shirts and poking belly buttons ? Sure it’s cute, but these kids have no boundaries. They don’t understand that it might be ok when
we’re home playing on the couch, but when we’re in public mama doesn’t want the world to see her new 3 x baby belly. My poor belly button who use to be a inny has been so stretched and pushed during three pregnancies that it’s lost in it’s identity and has now found itself to be an outy that’s inside.
I have a girlfriend who has a belly button like that and when we were younger I would always tell her how I thought it was super sexy. So life plays this funny joke on me and flips my belly button inside out and then adds three kids poking at it daily just to remind me to just be grateful for what i have, because now I have the outty inny and there’s nothing sexy about it!
As thin as I get, as much weight as I loose post pregnancy, my body will maintain proof of motherhood. I have to embrace this. Just like war scars. It makes us who we are, signs of life, adventure, wisdom…
I’m just trying to convince myself here.
Who are we kidding. It’s bye bye bikini forever….
Then again, why would I be afraid of a bikini on the beach when my children have exposed me in clinic waiting rooms, at school, in restaurants and everywhere else we go. ” Why do you let them?” One might ask. I know better than to resist the shirt lift. If you stop them they’ll go straight for the bra. You’re sitting there talking to someone while your child is pulling down your shirt looking for your bra and then putts their hands right in there. Right in the middle, and then they wiggle their hands to get more depth, to get really deep in there. I think they like the heat, like baby chicks under their mommy chicken.
And we just sit there carrying on the conversation like normal with an exposed belly and little hands down our shirts. And we’re afraid of bikinis…pffft!

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