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JulieTalk Live Montreal’s new weekly most ruthless online broadcast.

If you still haven’t caught an episode , here’s your chance. Julietalk brings topics to the table and hosts no limit conversations finally allowing truths to come out and lessons to be learned.
Be part of the fun, tune in.

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Part 1: Saturday Night Special

He watches the hockey game while I watch the baby monitor. I’m watching the Saturday night special, a crying baby that refuses to sleep. Oh wait a minute, that can’t be the Saturday night special because this happens every night!
I’m writing this post on my phone and Jack just asked :”who are you writing to for this long?”. He thinks I’m texting someone and Is asking questions. Keeping an eye out… Isn’t that cute…
A little bit of possessiveness can be a good thing as long as it doesn’t turn into ridiculous jealousy.
The other day I posted a status about how I was about to lose it, maybe I can find the post.

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As soon as I posted that I got a text from a couple of my girlfriends, we’re coming to take you for a drive. As I’ve previously mentioned, sometimes I’m kidnapped late nights and taken for drives in the rich neighbourhoods to watch the big houses or find a perfect waterfront spot to chit chat. That night, when they brought me back home Jack was already asleep, so I just went to bed. Usually, if Jack’s asleep not much can wake him up, so I just got into bed, the moment I was in there I heard …
Jacks asking who I’m texting again. And now A2’s up yelling “I pooped!”. I gotta go.

 

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3:37 am to 4:24 am.

3:37 am . I’m lying in bed wide awake. What’s the problem? My mind. It’s racing and thinking of anything it can think of, calculating, planning, organizing… I can’t get it to stop! Usually when I’m this way in the middle of the night I get
up and go for a hot shower, I clear my thoughts relax and come back to bed. But today, even in the shower, I was just standing there, thinking and thinking!
A3’s crying, gotta go.

Ok I’m back. 13 month old A3 still wakes up several times a night, when I went into her room she was sitting In her bed and was startled when I walked in. I was trying to be quiet to not wake the other two but I should’ve given her a heads up, next time I’ll wiggle the doorknob or something. I scared the poor thing !
The other day, I got up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom , on my way past the mirror, I stopped and got really up close to it, checking out the evolution of my acne when suddenly I see, in the reflection, a small shadow standing in the doorway . My heart stopped I turned, it was A1 just standing there, “The Ring” style, with some her hair in front of her face.
” Mommy? what are you doing?” She gently asked.
What am I doing? What are YOU doing!?
She just needed to use the bathroom.
My heart was still beating fast even several minutes after the fact!
Poor A3 , I just did the same thing to her and just out of the shower too, with wet hair! She hardly ever sees me with wet hair… I picked her up and hugged and kissed her, I couldn’t just put her back to sleep like I usually do, this was my apology. I decided to change her diaper, I usually don’t change diapers in the night because that tends to wake them up more, but she deserved this one. The whole time she was starring straight into my eyes. Sometimes I feel like she can see into my soul. Has it ever happened to you to be stated at by a child, in a bus or grocery store? They just lock eyes with you and don’t let you go. I decided to put on a smile , and when I did , she did too. I’m so blessed to have little angels smile at me in the middle of the night. Little angels with mismatched socks.
Which reminds me , I forgot to put the laundry in the dryer again!
I put her back in bed, then went in to check on the others. My blissful rounds, I go in and caress their faces and backs so that they can feel my presence. Jack taught me this. “Let them feel you in their sleep, let them know you’re there ” he said once and I do it every night ever since.
Sure I’ve got a million things to think about but I’ll just have to make time to think another time. My mind is not racing anymore. I’m just here, in this moment, with my family.
Now , I can sleep.
Goodnight.

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Midnight snack

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October 22, 2013 · 1:11 am

The game and the blog will have to wait.

I’m trying to be positive, but it’s not working right now. I’m sitting in front of the lap top that I had to fight for! We put the kids to bed and by the time I made it down the stairs, I realized Jack was already in the basement watching the recorded game. The kids were still yelling, the kitchen floor was covered in food and the family room looked like three kids had gone wild in it five minutes ago.

I took a look around and realized the bag of chips was missing along with the laptop. Jack was probably all set up downstairs, watching the game and checking his hockey pool with one hand, with the other hand buried deep in that bag of chips.

When I finally made it to the basement I had to wrestle him for the laptop. As soon as I sit down to start a post, we hear A3 in the baby monitor. Now the silent argument starts. Who’s going to get up? We stare each other down, we’re both mentally cursing at each other. I got up. Went upstairs to find A3 rolled up in her blanket, holding the crib bars while looking out of them, like some kind of sad prisoner. We know the drill by now. Pull the crib forward of an inch, hear the pacifier fall, lie down flat on the floor, tap in all directions to feel the thing, grab it, rinse it, stick it back into her mouth until next time. I go to check on A1 and A2, A1 is asleep and A2 is standing in her crib. “I pooped in my diaper” she said. I know she didn’t poo, because if she did, let’s just say, you can’t miss it! A two year old eats, drinks and poops normally, if you know what I mean. Now, I’m not sure why she says that she pooped, does she confuse pee for poo? Or does she know we’ll definitely change her if its poo and that will give her a chance to escape the crib. I check her diaper, no poo. “It’s not poo, its peepee ” I tell her. “Go back to bed”. You wouldn’t imagine the number of times you say the words “peepee” and “Poopoo” in one day, when you have kids.

I come back downstairs, the moment I sit down, we hear A2 crying through the monitor and now she’s woken A3 up again. “Your turn Jack”. Jack goes upstairs and 5 seconds later I hear him calling for me through the monitor. I go upstairs to find him changing A2’s diaper…she got him. I go attend to A3, while I hear A2 arguing with her father “I want mom!”. Jack and I switch positions. I take A2 back to her crib.

A2: “The sun’s sleeping?”

Me: “Yes”

A2: “I want to see”

So I take her towards the window and as I do I see the biggest smile on her face. She’s just happy she’s not heading to the crib. I show her the moon; explain to her that the sun is sleeping and that she should too… back to her crib.

A2: “But I didn’t wave goodbye to the cats”

ME: “Not this time! No cat! No shmat! You’re going to bed”

A2: “Ok then, I want another milk”

As I leave A2’s room, I see Jack leaving A3’s room.

“She throws away the pacifier while looking into my eyes! She playing with me man! She doesn’t take me seriously! “

He’s talking about his 10 month old daughter. Imagine what will happen when she turns 15.

We come back downstairs, and 2 minutes later, A3’s crying again. Who’s turn is it now? We figure, we should to let her cry for a bit, she has to learn. 5 minutes later, Jack can’t take it anymore and he gets up.

I’m watching him right now through the monitor, he did the pacifier routine, and now he’s stroking her hair while gently talking to her.

He went up, and it wasn’t necessarily his turn, to me, this is romance.

Sure it’s hard with three kids, we don’t get a moment to ourselves, they drive us up the walls and we empty our anger on each other. But once in a while a little gesture is all it takes to show each other, that after all, we’re on the same team.

She’s still crying, I better go up there and give him a hand.

The game and the blog will have to wait.

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A real talk: The son I loved and the gunman I feared.

I was barricaded in my glass home, and could see a masked gunman getting out of his car walking towards me. Somehow I knew who he was and why I was his target. I ran to the back of the house and handed my two year old son to a neighbour and watched as he was dragged away kicking and screaming with his arms reaching out to me. My heart shattered, for I knew this would be the last time I saw him. My body was overwhelmed in a sense of panic; I could feel my heart rate racing and my breaths getting shorter.

Suddenly I wake up.

It was a dream.

For a brief instance, I did believe it all. I had a son who I loved and a gunman who I feared. They were all real at the time. Everything that I base myself on to define reality was involved in this illusion. My senses wronged me, my memory failed me and my common sense was outright absent.

I realized all this when I woke up. Or else, I’d still believe it.

So what tells me that I’m not dreaming right now?

Who’s to say that right now is nothing but an illusion?

Quantum physics theorists state that matter as we know it does not exist. They compare “matter” to a hologram. According to them, a difference in vibrational frequencies is what differs the visible from the invisible, or the tangible from the intangible.

So basically, it is all an illusion. Kind of like my dream.

Real for now … until something else is reality.

Perhaps when we die, we wake up from this illusion into another dimension of reality, just like I woke up from my dream, back into this life.

My dream was my reality, while my reality was right there…sleeping. My dream and my life were both real, at the same time, in the same place, but in different dimensions.

Life is the same. The reality we seek is present, at all times. Except for now, this dimension is the one we perceive as our reality.

Heaven is here.

Hell is here.

Don’t worry so much. Just ride the wave. Someday, we’re going to wake up from this, and realize we had nothing to fear all along.

Perhaps, if someone had told me I was dreaming, while I was dreaming, I would’ve realized that whatever was happening was a creation of my subconscious mind. Perhaps, if I were aware that I was dreaming within the dream, I could focus, concentrate on my inner self and communicate with my real self. Basically just think to myself. Perhaps, if I realized that I, the I that I am, who is sleeping and dreaming of a glass house, a gunman and a son, perhaps I, could’ve changed the outcome of the dream.

Perhaps if I were conscious, I would have more control.

If life is an illusion, as these physicists claim, if life is a vibrational frequency, a reality within a parallel universe…then to me, it sounds exactly like a dream.

So how do I take control of this dream? Can I take control of this life?

Is the power of consciousness real? Is the power of the mindset real? How about the power of attraction?

This is where I am now, testing all this out, within myself.

I’ll let you know what happens…you know I always do.

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Futile vs Futile: A toilet story

Kids were put to bed a few minutes ago and I’m sitting in my bed.

I can hear my on heart beating and my breath weighing heavier and heavier. Sheer exhaustion.

I’m at a point where I could sleep anywhere anytime if you gave me the reassurance that the kids are taken care of. Actually, I take that back.

Any reassurance is never enough unless we’re the ones tending to them isn’t it?

Never a moment of peace…I’m not complaining, I’m just describing.

I’m too tired for structure so I’m just going randomly jump from one topic to the next (as usual)…I’m the shame of the blogging community…I know.

But seriously, who else shamelessly tells you what happens to them on the toilet…

Isn’t it the worst thing when you have to go and you’re not home ? I mean go…#2. I know someone who can’t do it unless they’re home. They’ll drive home no matter what! I find that to be risky business. You should avoid long stretches of road, speed bumps and potholes in that state…

Driving home is a little over the top, but trying to be discreet about it isn’t. There are various tactics used to maximise discretion. You can try to pick the furthest bathroom without going too far. If you go too far you’re going to raise suspicions. Once you’re in there you should assess the 4th sense situation. No one’s seeing dead people… I’m talking about smell.

Girls’ smell like potpourri and/or roses of course.

You try and locate a window, maybe find some air freshener. Actually, I don’t recommend the air freshener per se because then you’re somewhat giving yourself away. If you walk into a bathroom and it smells like freshly sprayed air freshener, then you know the previous user definitely has a secret. The window is your best bet unless it’s facing people.

Why would a bathroom window be facing anywhere where there could be people? Don’t they think of these things when they build homes?

I’ve been seen on the toilet by a fireman.

Whaaa?

No he didn’t break the door open and save me from wild flames while I was on the John . Though that would’ve been bitter sweet… Actually the big wide open bathroom window was facing the neighbour’s roof, which happened to be on fire. You get the drift…

So all this to say, that if you have children, all these discretion tactics are completely futile.

Futile! You see Jack? I’m using the word in the right context this time. One time Jack caught me misusing the word “futile”. I use to think that the word futile was meant to describe a bad smell. Like, “Ouf! That was futile!” What’s ironic is that this word only came up in this post that is turning to be mostly about bad smells.

Why would I tell the world that I didn’t know the meaning of a simple word like futile?

Don’t you know me by now?

If you judge me, that makes you a person who judges.

What were we saying? Oh ya, fuuuuutile.

So you assess the situation, discreetly head for the bathroom, locate the window, make sure there’s nothing on fire, do your deed and try to make it quick.

When suddenly… you hear your child.

– “Where’s my mom?”

I swear these kids have a talent for extreme accuracy in worst timing.

– “Where’s my mom? Does anyone know where my mom is?”

At this point everyone’s actively thinking about your whereabouts.

You’re child gets worried and frantically starts looking for you. Yelling “MOM!!!???!” in every room.

Jeez! What am I supposed to do right now? Yell back from the toilet?

I’m just going to hope she’ll forget about me.

Ya right.

People start suggesting locations and then someone gets it. “Maybe she’s in the bathroom.”

Thank you kind Samaritan.

Your child quickly locates the bathroom and starts pounding on the door.

Yelling “MOM ARE YOU IN THERE?!!”

You try to hold back your real emotions and answer with the softest voice. “Yes honey…”

It all stops.

Finally.

Is she gone?

– “OPEN THE DOOR!”…

– “I’m not going to open the door, mommy will be out in a minute, now go play”

– “No! Open the door!”

What was I thinking saying “go play”? That never ever works, why would it work now when I really need it to. THINK!

Ok I got it.

-“How about you go hide and I’m going to come find you when I get out”

– “OK!”

And she runs off.

You know everyone heard you and therefor know that you’re in the bathroom. The situation can still be saved. If you come out within a reasonable time from this incident you can still stay below the radar.

BOOM BOOM BOOM

She’s back! Pounding on the door!

– “MOM?”

Why yell so much? I’m on the other side of the door not on the end of an overseas call from the 70’s!

– “WHAT?!”

– “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”

Oh gosh…no please.

– “MOM? ARE YOU MAKING A POOP?”

What can you do at this point? Answer? You better, because if you don’t they’re just going to keep repeating the question louder every time.

– “Yes honey, now go hide.”

I hear her footsteps getting further and further.

That was interesting. Glad it’s over. Could’ve been worse I guess.

“It’s a normal thing, not a big deal” I’m thinking, trying any consolation I can have.

Until I hear her voice in the distance.

– “EVERYBODY! EVERYBODY! I FOUND MY MOM, SHE’S MAKING A POOP IN THAT BATHROOM.”

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Hope and Gratitude

Tomorrow morning I will be heading out to the Montreal Weekend to End Breast Cancer for the 6th year in a row. The feelings have already taken me over. My heart is already feeling heavy and my eyes are already holding back tears.

6 years ago, I lost my sister to cancer.

I keep shifting from anger to acceptance, back and forth.

6 years have passed and yet it feels like it all happened yesterday. The emotions are still so fresh.

 Time heals they say…

But in my case I feel as though every year that passes my emotions get stronger. I grow older and therefore understand more and more about the impact that this reality has.

It is only after having a husband that I understood the impact of this reality on a husband.

It is only after becoming a parent that I could merely understand the impact of this reality on a mother or a father.

It is only after reaching 30 that I could imagine how it would feel to know that you will only live 31 years.

I’m still not sure of the lesson life was out to teach us but, at this price, it must be an important one.

All I can say is that we should all be grateful for having the opportunity to live this life.

I am grateful every day, and I feel like I owe it to myself and to my sister to make the most out of this life.

Tomorrow is about hope.

Let’s make that Hope and Gratitude.

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Bed time: A mind war

It’s almost 9:30 pm. 23 month old A2 is standing up wailing in her crib. 5 year old A1 who shares the bedroom is narrating what’s happening and A3 just woke up by the chaos.

Beautiful.

It’s these moments that keep me in peace.

A2 just tossed her blanket and pacifier out of her crib again. I tried explaining to her that if she tosses them again, she won’t get them back… but we both know that she won’t sleep without them. So this is another mind game.

She threw them out, again, and she’s still crying. I tried taking them for a while. She cried… I held on to them for a few minutes then gave them back. That will work, I hoped.

Well it didn’t. She tossed them out within the same second and is still crying.

I went back to my chair without picking them up. And here I am. I’ve written about the chair before. I have a chair set up outside their bedroom, where I sit until they fall asleep. It’s been a while though. They’ve been good lately and didn’t require me to sit here until they fell asleep. But A2’s getting close to the crazy two’s and so I’m back here again.

It’s been a few minutes, I’m wondering if I should get up and hand her the pacifier and blanket just yet. Her cries are sounding more and more tiresome, with yawning intervals.

I got up and handed them to her, came back to my seat. I talked to her…I shouldn’t have talked to her.

She just threw them out again!

She wins this round, again.

Why don’t I just yell at her?

Because then I would teach her that yelling is a mean of communication that I use.

Because then she will fall asleep with fear having been her last emotion of the day.

Because then I would have put my child to bed in anger.

I’m hoping there’s a better solution.

I’ll figure it out…eventually.

This isn’t working.

A1 just suggested “call dad.”

Ya, call Jack and have him do the dirty work…

Ok one more try…

I tried the utter most tenderness. I went in, didn’t say a word picked her up, held her tight, kissed her, cleaned her face from tears, leaned down with her, she reached for her blanket and pacifier. I stood up, still not saying a word, I pointed to my cheek, she reached in and gave me a kiss. Then I pointed to her crib, placed her in. Sung her a lullaby and walked out.

Went back to my chair.

By the time my butt touched the seat …

She was already up and bawling again.

That was a complete fail.

Jack just came up. He gave it a go…

He tried tenderness, some discipline, yelled a little, played a little, danced a little…

Still a no go.

He leaves.

We should make them pay for tickets at this point, because we’ve become a show!

Ok I’m desperate; it’s been over 40 minutes. I know she’s tired.

I take out my phone and go online. Search for an Armenian Lullaby. I play it and go back to my seat.

She stopped.

This song is really beautiful.

She’s sleeping.

Unbelievable!

The power of music…

They’re sleeping in peace, no one got mad at another, no anger, no fear, no guilt.

Just love and music.

Ah… now that this is done, I should start with my chores… I’ll rest when I’m old.

Goodnight.

P.S Listen to this song, it will make any man, woman or child give in to slumber.

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Feedback

I love getting feedback from readers. This week I learned that Julietalk has become a part of people’s bed time routine and for those who don’t sleep it’s a little bit of company during the night.

Right now I’m in a transition period. I’m looking to start Vlog-ing, basically video blogging. It’s kind of scary, putting yourself out there for the world to judge, I’ll need to get over that.

I would think that in a Vlog I would be able to say more in less time. Just a thought for now…

If you have any suggestions I’m all ears.

Looks like I might need a little push.

xoxo

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June 1, 2013 · 11:06 pm

Blame the Hand

There’s a thunder shower outside and A1 is holding a flash light in case the lights go out.

Earlier on I was on the computer when she came up to me, pressed on a few keys and my page was lost.

“How many times have I told you not to press on random buttons when mommy’s on the computer?”

She gave me her usual new age puppy face. Face down, eyes up, lips pinched and a little side to side rocking of motion of the head.

Are you reading this and trying the face?

“My hand did it, it wasn’t me” she said.

That answer took me back 20 years. I was 9 years old when I was sneaking around my parents’ basement. I was looking for a secret door leading to some kind of Candy Land/ Never Never Land when I came across the electric box; right under was a big red switch. I couldn’t resist, my hand just went for it. I pushed the switch off and the electricity of the entire house went out. I just stood there in the dark until my father found me. When he asked “But why?” My answer was non-other than “My Hand did it, it wasn’t me”.

I wish I could use that excuse now…

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“Stop saying you’re a Hockey wife, you’re not a hockey wife.”

Game 3 of the first round is over.

Jack is in one of these moods…

“Stop saying you’re a Hockey wife, you’re not a hockey wife.”

So he says that, then the press conference starts with the Team coach and I know better than to argue with him during something he really wants to listen to.

This is what makes me a Hockey wife. You don’t need to be married to a professional Hockey player, as soon as hockey enters your wifely role in any shape or form, you are a hockey wife. During the playoffs, we can’t put the kids to bed until the period ends… not only am I a hockey wife but our children are Hockey kids!

We’re still watching the press conference, now it’s the opposite team’s coach speaking. I try to listen to what he’s saying. I understand the words individually but have to clue of the general idea. I just look at Jack’s face to know what I should feel about what he’s saying.

Same way our kids look at us to decide of their own emotions. That’s why you shouldn’t flip out when you see a spider. I did that once and saw the fear on  A1’s face. To be honest I’m not even that afraid of spiders, I’m just afraid of what one might do with that spider. I rather get over the disgust and dispose of it myself, instead of being chased around the house by a certain someone holding the squished thing in a Kleenex threatening to feed it to me.

 

 

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no structure…and looks like it will keep getting worse.

It’s after school but before supper. A1 and A2 are playing in the backyard while A3’s sleeping inside. I’m sitting on the porch. I’m just letting this sink in. They’re playing outside on their own. There not crying for me, they don’t need anything from me… just on their own.

Already?

It’s feels weird, bitter sweet in a way? I guess I’m going to be like those mothers who feel like their kids grew up too fast and then hold on to their youngest and never let them grow up.

Nah!

Sometimes I think ahead and wonder what kind of journey lies ahead with 3 teenage girls….

I watch Roseanne sometimes and get worried. “We’re quit alike” I think.

Don’t think too far ahead, take it one day at a time. Better yet, don’t only take it one day at a time, enjoy each day, feel each moment and be grateful for what is today. It could all be gone tomorrow.

Easier said than done and even easier read than done.

Sometimes I have to actively stop all my thoughts to ask myself “Am I in the moment?”. I’m usually not. But I would like to be. I’m trying.

Now A2 and A3 are fighting over a toy. Should I interfere? Or let them sort it out on their own. I usually let them deal with each other, I’m not even sure if it’s the right thing to do. I feel like today’s adults are much more involved in the children’s lives. I remember playing in the basement or outside a lot, without my parents hearing all the nonsense I said.

Not sure if it’s a bad or good thing.

I’m going to suddenly change the topic now.

There have been many posts that I’ve deleted, sometimes I felt they went nowhere and other times I felt they were too chaotic and no one in their right mind would be able to follow.

Well, from now on, I’m going to post all of my drafts.

Today a good friend of mine gathered her courage and told me “Your posts need structure, I start reading and give up mid-way because I can’t even follow”

Oh my I gotta go, A2 went inside, she might attack A3, and she has chalk on her face. Not sure if she ate some.

To be continued…

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