A birth story.

A few days ago my daughter turned five weeks old.

Wow, 'my daughter.' That is still such a strange thing to say...

I have a daughter and I am somebody's mother.

Wow.

It's insane how quickly these five weeks have flown by and how much my little girl has already grown and changed. She's getting so big so quickly; she is establishing a routine and I am slowly learning it. Her cherub face seems to change every day as she becomes more alert and aware of the life going on all around her. Sometimes She looks exactly like a Loewen and other times she's a dead ringer for a Cook.

Looking at her is one of my favourite things to do.

It's funny how things change.

When I was pregnant I wasn't sure that I was capable of being a mom. While I did feel love for the little human growing inside of me I wasn't confidant in that love, nor was I confident in myself until the second I met her.

She changed everything.

I hated being pregnant. I didn't feel beautiful or empowered by this experience. No, pregnancy for me meant that I was this large, uncomfortable, miserable person who was insatiably hungry and who waddled. Near the end of my pregnancy I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes, which meant that I had to adhere to a strict diet, test my blood four times a day, and take insulin when my blood sugar spiked. I was also reminded by my millions of doctor's appointments how large my baby was going to be because of my diet and the diabetes. Two days before I gave birth an ultrasound tech told me that my baby was at least 9.5 pounds if not more. (She was 8 lbs 8 oz at birth.)

I nearly cried and I begged to be induced that day.

Beyond the physical changes, pregnancy turned me into this ticking time bomb, who's life was going to explode with changes that I wasn't sure I was ready for.

Truth be told, I was scared of those changes.

See, throughout my pregnancy other parents warned me about what I was getting myself into. These warnings, though mostly true, lighthearted and meant as a rite of passage, filled me with anxiety. People told me to "get your sleep now," because once baby comes I would never sleep again. Or, they said that I should enjoy my freedom now because when baby came it would all be gone for at least 18 years. When I complained about pregnancy, I was told that I hadn't even seen hard yet.

It almost felt like I was walking into a life sentence and I kept thinking about all the freedoms and liberties I would be giving up in exchange for becoming a mom. I'm selfish at the best of times so I couldn't imagine how I would be able to change my life and sacrifice those freedoms and liberties for this completely dependant little person.

I didn't want this little baby to change me or my life, I wanted him or her to fit into the life I already had.

Looking back now, I realize that all the things other parents told me were the truth, however all of these things have a totally different meaning when they have a little person who you love more than anything attached to them.

Everything changed when she was born, most of all me.

I am mesmerized by her; time is going by so quickly and I am so scared to miss out. I am trying so hard to enjoy every second of holding her, as she is curled up like a little bean on my chest and shoulder. Or when she has that hearty, heartbreaking cry when she is hungry. Or, the way she just stares at everything happening around her in this new life she has.

I want to memorize all of these things about her. All of these feelings, sounds, smells. All of it.

Meeting Riel was the most powerful experience I have ever had in my life. I felt things for this tiny human that I have never felt before. I wept as they placed her on me.

"This is love," I thought.

The second she was born, a part of me was born too.

The old rocking chair...

I bought  a (used) rocking chair and brought it to the new place this afternoon on my lunch break to put it in the little one's room. It's the only piece of furniture in the place right now, as everything else gets moved in this weekend.

Anyway, I set up the chair in the corer of the room, by the door, where I thought it would probably fit best once other things are moved into the small space. I bought the chair from a young mother who likely used it to cradle her own babies, who have since outgrown its use. The rocking chair is nice, and gently used with a little wear and tear on the white finish, and some water marks on the foot stool pad. While it's not perfect, it's perfect in function and price for me and the little one.

After I sat in the chair for a second, I got up and I went to leave. As I was turning the hallway to the front door, I looked in the doorway and I saw this imperfectly perfect chair and I had this moment of absolute awe.

This is becoming real.

I am so ashamed to admit how I've been feeling throughout my pregnancy thus far. I've been super scared, apprehensive, insecure and doubtful of this experience. I've taken comments (which were likely meant to be funny or cute) about how life as I know it is over and how I will never sleep again to heart. I have really started to question this whole motherhood thing.

This is not a reflection of how I feel about my baby, but rather a question of my own abilities and a reflection of how I foresee myself in this new role and the change that inevitably comes with it.

Truth be told, I am shit scared.

That said, there have been moments of absolute joy over the last twenty weeks; hearing my baby's heartbeat; seeing his or her tiny silhouette on the ultrasound screen; feeling him of her get stronger while he or she is doing what I can only assume is killer break dancing in my belly...

It's like nothing I can explain just like that moment in my hallway, looking at the old rocking chair in my baby's room. This new life will be hard and I will doubt myself and feel insecure and apprehensive, but just like that old chair, I will be the imperfectly perfect mom for my kid.

Young ideas take flight...

The young do not know enough to be prudent, and therefore they attempt the impossible, and achieve it, generation after generation.  - Pearl S. Buck

The people who change the world are the ones who are ideal enough to believe in their ideas, and the ones who are confident enough to share those ideas. They are few and far between, but they are certainly out there...

Last year I met a man named Chris Loewen. He had reached out to me through Facebook, asking if we could have lunch to talk about me joining a board of an organization that he was president of.

I agreed, not overly interested in adding to my already insanely busy schedule, but intrigued enough with the organization that I had been an award nominee of in 2009.

A few weeks later we were seated on the patio of a restaurant where he talked for a few minutes about his vision for the organization's board, and how I may fit into it. I was polite and told him that I was interested in learning more (my go to when I don't want to shoot somebody down) and he invited me to come to the next board meeting.

"Sure," I said, already thinking of excuses of how to get out of this...

We ate our lunch, and he started talking about an idea he had, which he called the "platform." His idea was this online page, kind of like Kickstarter, where youth could go online, sign up to either initiate a project in their community or volunteer for a project, and donors could fund individual projects they liked.

Chris talked at lengths about his vision for the platform while I sat there listening to him and eating my lunch.

I admired his passion and grand sense of idealism for what he imagined this project could be. I envied the fact that he spoke with such belief and conviction about his idea and in the people who would one day use it to make their world a better place. I was in awe that life, or whatever it is that beats the good ideas and idealism out of grownups had somehow missed him...

Chris talked. He talked and he talked and he talked, and I sat there listening the same way I listen to my six-year-old niece when she tells me about the things that are created in her large imagination.

Like my niece, his vision was lovely and far fetched but he was a stranger who had asked me for lunch, and I was not going to be anything but polite.

The thing that really struck me about Chris was that he really believed in the young people, the potential users of this site, and their ideas. He confided that young people, no matter their age, experience, or background have the potential to create significant change in the world. He said that often young people aren't given the opportunity to have others believe in them and their ideas.

He wanted to change that.

At the time I didn't ever think that Chris' idea would ever be more than a passionate hope that was trapped in his head. I imagined that he would get bored and refocus his life and his passion on other things that suited him. I was wrong.

Today, less than a year after that lunch, Chris' idea, aptly named 'Our Butterfly' has been born.

It's still in it's infancy, but it's here, ready for young people to use as a platform to launch their ideas off of, and for people like me to give a few dollars to when I can.

I am astounded at Chris' vision, and his belief that he could create something so special that it has the power to change people's lives. I am humbled at the thought that I initially passed his idea off as something that would never come to life. Most of all though, I am proud of Chris; proud of his belief in himself and his idea and proud of his belief in young people and their ideas and ability to change the world.

Chris possesses the kind of idealism that is rare in adults. He seems to understand that young people, filled with idealism and a sort of naivety about how things work in the “real world,” have this boundless mentality about how they want to accomplish things. In fact, you will be hard pressed to meet a young person who's ideas and dreams aren't bigger than the red tape or barricades that may stand in their way.

Young people are curious and often creative, they come up with big ideas or solutions to problems and they set out to do some of the most impossible, world-changing feats, often accomplishing their goal. Given the opportunity and support, there is no end to the incredible things that the world’s future leaders can do. Young people, no matter their gender, race, and background are full of potential.

I urge you to share and invest in Our Butterfly. If you can't do it financially, then share this platform with a young person and give them the opportunity to unleash their ideas into the world. There is no end to what someone can accomplish when they believe in themselves, and have when others, like Chris, believe in them too. 

See what happens Larry...

Dear Kijiji Larry,

Shelley here. I'm the girl who's Backstreet Boys ticket Kijiji ad you responded to yesterday. You know, you emailed me asking me to call you, and then told me you'd be more than happy to buy my Backstreet Boys tickets so that you could take your 14-year-old daughter to the show, but you stood me up at the last minute just as the concert was starting?

We texted back and forth a little, making arrangements on where to meet before you shut off your phone.

We talked twenty minutes before we were due to meet, and you confirmed that the tickets were $120, which was less than the face value that my friend and I paid?

Yeah, that's me!

Larry, I'm not sure exactly what your motivation was. I mean, I've pondered it for awhile, I even slept on it and came up with a couple of scenarios that may be a possible reason you'd respond to a Kijiji ad for concert tickets then back out at the last possible second, wasting my time, tickets, and faith in the people of the Internet (which I will have you know was quite strong before you Larry!)

As I thought about it, replaying the "See what happens Larry?" scene from Big Lebowski over and over in my mind, it dawned on me that you could have been kidnapped on your way to MTS Centre to meet me outside of Moxie's. Or, maybe you were being held hostage by a bank robber as you were withdrawing the $120 for the tickets.

I imagined you Larry, an invisible voice on the other end of the phone, held captive and trying your damnedest to get to me and those Backstreet Boys tickets you and your 14-year-old daughter were so excited about. I imagined a Die Hard scenario where you were the Bruce Willis, any second emerging as the hero of this sordid plot.

I admit that I watch a lot of Dateline and sensational news magazine shows, but it's one of the more logical reasons that somebody wouldn't show up to complete a Kijiji transaction that they'd initiated hours earlier.

And then I looked at Twitter, and there was no breaking news of any kidnappings or hostage situations in Winnipeg, so I started to rack my brain thinking what else could have held you back from meeting my friend Becca and I in front of Moxies...

And then it dawned on me that perhaps you are an evil, greedy music executive like Eric Raymond from Jem and the Holograms. I thought, maybe this "Larry" works for a rival boy band and is trying to lower the number of people in attendance at last night's Backstreet Boys show. Sure it's ruthless, and you have taken innocent hostages like me and Becca into your web of lies and deception, but this type of behaviour is indicative of a greedy music executive villain... At least it is in 1980s cartoons.

I imagined you sitting in a big leather office chair, cracking your fingers and laughing mercilessly at your antics, while n'sync (minus Timberlake of course), or 5ive, O'Town, or 98 Degrees, stood in your presence.

We didn't want to be pawns in the boy band war Larry. We just wanted to sell our extra tickets, recoop some of the money we'd spent, and hopefully give somebody an awesome and discounted Backstreet Boys experience that we knew we were going to have. That's all Larry. That's all we wanted to do.

Then I thought, maybe Larry got lost.

When you texted "I'm here," and then still didn't show up, I called you, but you had turned off your phone.

"Shady," I thought. But Becca and I gave you the benefit of the doubt, because seriously, who says they're going to buy concert tickets and then jams out on the last possible second? Who texts someone to say that they're there and then turns off their phone? Who wastes an opportunity to see the Backstreet Boys, not only for themselves, but for somebody else who could use the tickets?

I'll tell you who does that Larry; Jerks do that. Yes Larry, you are a jerk. Your prank cost Becca and I $120 and a deep-seeded rage deep down in the depths of our Backstreet Boy-loving souls. More than the money though, I am annoyed that the tickets were wasted. This concert has been 16-years in the making, and you ruined that for someone else Larry.

This morning you texted me saying that 'All is good,' and that you did not see me anywhere.

"I did not see u anywhere" you wrote. You didn't even bother to spell out 'you,' which only makes me loathe you more... It's just three letters, you could have taken the time to properly spell out that word!

I think you are a liar Larry...And I also think you are a jerk.

Anyway, that's all. I hope a bird poops on you or something.

Sincerely,

Shelley C.

A few extra pounds on "love" on my bones...

Awhile ago I was out with my friend Emme*. I confided in her that since I've been in a relationship I have gained some weight and that I was starting to feel insecure about it.

An omission that I have a hard time saying publicly because I try to be an advocate for health and beauty at every size; and I do love myself and my body. I am grateful to be able-bodied and healthy... But, I am also human, living in a day and age where a person's value is calculated in part by how they look. Further, talking about my weight in a public form means I hold the door open for internet trolls to call me fat, or it gives the impression that I am giving others permission to pipe in on how my body looks.

This blog post is not a permission slip.

"You might have put on some weight but I have never seen you happier," she told me. "When you smile now you have this genuine happy glow. That's even more beautiful."

She has a point, I am happier than I've been in a long time and it shows. Not only in my smile, or my social media feeds, but it shows in my every day life. I am happy and I'm in love.

(OK, that public confession of love made me throw up in my mouth a little. Sorry about that!)

Months before Emme and I had this discussion, I'd confided in her that I was scared being in a new relationship was going to throw off the rigorous gym routine I had established and enjoyed for myself. I told her that while I was enjoying getting to know the guy, this entire courtship process was cutting into my gym time, and as a result I was going to gain weight.

Photo source: http://iwishnews.org/?p=1431

I didn't want to gain weight.

Prior to this coupled-off life, I was a single girl with no boundaries, considerations or responsibilities other than work, which meant that I could be at the gym five to six times a week without having to think about anyone else's time. For that specific lifestyle the gym was my home away from home, and I thoroughly enjoyed it.

And then this guy, who seemingly came out of nowhere, suddenly entered into my life and my routine was interrupted with the indulgences that come with any new courtship; dinners at lovely restaurants, drinks and appies at some lounge somewhere, lunch at a charming hole in the wall...

It was all so lovely and rich. And even more than the food and drink, I consumed this new relationship and connection with the guy, because it was something that made me genuinely happy. It was over the top, and comparable to being in "vacation-mode." There is no balance in one's life when they are in the honeymoon stage.

"Enjoy this part," Emme told me. "Don't let your fears of change, of love, or of ruining your routine ruin something that could be potentially wonderful."

Further to that, she told me, that I should be enjoying this indulgent stage because all too soon, as in any relationship, routines will form and I will long for the days when things were so chaotically and calorically romantic.

She was right, and I am grateful that I chose to take her advice.

Now, some months into this thing, I am establishing new routines and balances in my life. While I admittedly neglected the gym for awhile in favour of romance and dates, I am back at it with a new routine and a new gym partner. Merging the two has given a whole new meaning to date night.

That said, I still enjoy an indulgent night out every once in awhile.

The one thing I've learned about my body is that it is always changing, and who knows what it's going to look like in five days or five years. I'm excited for establishing this new routine with a partner, and I'm glad I didn't let my fear and old routines ruin that. I'm also glad that love won over vanity...

Emme's* name has been changed to respect her privacy and our friendship.

Celebrate with me?

It's my birthday next week. I'm going to be 35.

Thinking about being that number kind of astounds me. I mean, I don't consider 35 to be "old," yet I can vividly remember a time where this stage of life seemed so far away and foreign. I don't feel like I am as far away from my 20s as I actually am. It's strange, but I feel grateful that I'm at a point of my life where I am happy and where opportunities and experiences still present themselves on a fairly regular basis.

So this year for my birthday I've told my entire family that I don't want them to buy me any presents. I don't want a fancy party, or a dinner, or any kind of costly gesture. I've already told them that I will make my own birthday cake because A) I like baking and B) It will be cheaper and more convenient than a store bought cake.

I'm not trying to be difficult, or come across as some kind of altruistic, unselfish soul (Trust me, I am sometimes difficult, but rarely if ever altruistic and unselfish.) I just want to have a nice day, and I want the people I like/love to have a nice day too. While I like presents, there is nothing I need right now.

So it got me to thinking, while I don't want presents, there actually is something I would like from pretty much anyone who would like to take part in what I'm about to propose...

This year, for my birthday (Monday, April 28th) I would like anyone and everyone who I know, or even who I don't know, to do something nice for themselves and post it on social media, either tagging me or using the hashtag #April28Celebrate

There are two reasons that I want this...

1) I always feel really happy and special on my birthday, and I would like everyone else to feel like that too. So, why not make that happen?! -- Buy yourself an ice cream cone that day, or draw rainbows on the sidewalk with chalk, if it's a nice day outside go for a walk, or take your kid for a Slurpee... Just do something lovely that makes you feel happy.

2) It makes me happy when people post about nice things that make their day a little brighter. (Told you I'm selfish...) But yes, quite literally, I want to see people's tweets, statuses, Instagrams, pictures, etc, of nice things people are doing for themselves or others on April 28th because it will make me happy... It doesn't have to be over the top, in celebration of me, or even anything out of the ordinary. No, I just want my social media timelines to be full of lovely pictures and posts of people who are willing to share a nice part of their day that day because it will make me happy, and I want to be happy on my birthday.

Does that make sense?

I'll be honest, I feel kind of stupid for asking you all to do this; partly because I think many of you will either think I'm weird, or think that I have some kind of weird, ulterior motive (which, I promise I don't) and partly because I am going to feel silly for putting this idea out there, and then having nobody do it...

Oh well, I'm putting the idea out there if anyone is interested and willing to take part.

You can tag me on Twitter with your #April28Celebrate at @ShelleyACook. Or, you can find me on Facebook and tag me there too...

Thanks everyone.

Photo Source: http://holisticshapeupblog.wordpress.com/2013/09/27/what-is-your-happy-plus-my-5-tips-to-get-happy-now/

We are the kids you helped...

Susan Krepart with baby formula donations/ WINNIPEG FREE PRESS

There is a Winnipeg woman named Susan Krepart who is raising money and baby formula donations for Winnipeg Harvest and the thousands of people they help each month.

The stay-at-home mom heard about Harvest's dire need for formula a little less than two weeks ago. She was touched by the plight of Manitoba's largest food bank, so she sprung into action, starting a social media campaign called the Magnus Hay Formula Drive, which has so far raised more than $20,000 and a mountain of baby formula worth a few thousand dollars.

Though Krepart is the modest hero of this story, she was able to accomplish this amazing goal thanks to the donations of generous Winnipeggers and sponsors, including Qualico, a real estate development company based out of Western Canada, who matched her donations to the tune of $11,000.

One of the most amazing aspects of this story is that Krepart and the other people who have contributed and who contribute to charities like Harvest and the Christmas Cheerboard, don't even know who they're helping.

They do this to help the anonymous masses who have somehow found themselves vulnerable and in need of people they don't even know.

We're the kids you helped 

I'm one of the people that Krepart and others have helped. Maybe not directly, but in the grand scheme of things, my sisters and I were those hungry babies that Krepart and others are working so hard to feed.

I grew up in a loving home, my parents worked hard and did the best they could. At times, however, it wasn't enough. There were times when money was so tight that my mom would feed us air-popped popcorn for dinner because there was nothing else to eat. For my sisters and I that kind of dinner was an absolute treat. For a mother, it must have been gut-wrenching to know that she couldn't feed her children the way she should. Still, she kept a brave face and always made it seem like we were getting popcorn for dinner because we had been good.

We had no idea.

Looking back, my childhood was wonderful, and though we were "poor," we were still far better off than many other people living below the invisible poverty line.

I wore hand-me-downs from my older sister and from the bags of clothes that we'd get from the neighbour's kids. I probably only ever got brand new clothes on my birthday, or at Christmas. It didn't matter though, when someone gave us a bag of clothes, my sisters and I would tear through the black plastic and go shopping at the garbage bag boutique on our living room floor.

This probably explains my love for thrift store shopping today.

Our home was clean and modest, and I think most of our furniture and belongings were gently used or just really, really old. As kids that was just the norm though. While I used to fantasize about having a pink canopy bed like my friend Lindsay, I always went to bed warm and happy in the room I shared with my sister.

We had toys, lots of them in fact. I think that's a give-in when you have three kids, and you just sort of start to amass stuff over the years. Still, my sisters and I often got creative by making our own paper dolls out of the Sears catalogue, and dressing our barbies in our own designs made out of our mom's old panyhose. (Our Barbie's wore a lot of black and nude-coloured tube dresses.)

And like I said, sometimes we'd have popcorn for supper and those were the best days ever.

As an adult with two young nieces, I can't imagine that life -- my childhood -- and how hard it must have been wearing the grown up shoes. I can't imagine not being able to feed my nieces properly, or having to stretch a dollar so far, and still not having it last till the next one comes in. I can't imagine the absolute fear of bare cupboards and an empty bank account in the middle of the week. I can't imagine how hard it must be to ask for help...

Well, this is where the Susan Krepart's of the world come in. They see this need and the struggles that some families face, and they step up and they help. They do it for people they don't know; they do it for people they'll probably never meet; and they do it without ever receiving a thank you from the ones they are helping most. (Not because people aren't thankful, but because places like Harvest are there to act as a go-between.)

I'm not sure who the countless Susan Krepart's in my life are, but to them, to Susan, and to all of the people who give and help others, I say thank you. You helped feed me; you helped put presents under our Christmas tree; and you gave me the greatest gift of all: A worry-free childhood where poverty didn't exist.

Thank you.


UPDATE: The Magnus Hay Formula Drive raised 375.5 kilograms of formula worth approximately $10,000 and $25,266.51 in cash donations in 15 days. 

Read about it here.

Bravo Susan Krepart and Winnipeg.

Relation-whaaaat?!

So, I'm in a relationship now...

I don't know exactly how this happened, but it did.

This relationship is in the early stages-- the honeymoon stage-- where the guy and I still go out to eat and hold hands across the table, and we exchange text messages a thousand times a day that are so sugary and sweet that one would probably gag at the sight of them. (Seriously, I’d be embarrassed if somebody got ahold of my phone.) I hear songs on the radio that remind me of him, and they make me happy down to the depths of my soul. So happy that I will text him to tell him all about it.

"Babe, this Bon Jovi song is really speaking to my soul..."

Sigh.

Barf.

While I’m enjoying the newfound romance in my life, it was something that I tried really hard to fend off. I loved being single, and everything that came along with the single life... 

I loved casually dating guys who were kind of, but not quite, suited for me. I loved taking all the inconsiderate liberties I got to take since I didn’t have to think of anyone but myself. I loved not having to compromise on anything. I loved being able to call-screen everyone, and not have to worry about the message it would send. 

Turns out when you call-screen a boyfriend, they think you're fighting or that you've dumped them... 

I just really loved the self absorbed lifestyle I had become so accustomed to. I didn't want to give it up for anyone. Plus I was skeptical of entering into another relationship, because thus far in life I have been a dating underachiever. The men and the situations that I've landed myself into have tended to be less than ideal. I certainly wasn't interested in putting myself in a position to get hurt by someone else. 

Then this guy came along.

It took me awhile to admit that the guy and I were anything more than two people who were hanging out. I felt the need to often clarify my stance on what he and I were, and he was a good sport about my incessant need to reiterate that. 

He didn't freak out when I told him that I thought relationships should be revisited every couple of years, like a car lease, to decide if the people wanted to renew or not. Rather, he agreed with me, and we got into a long conversation about the dynamics of modern relationships. 

He accepts the fact that we'll probably never be "Facebook official," and he knows that I will probably write about him and aspects of our relationship in my column and on my blog, using his online name "The Guy." (Thank goodness he's as narcissistic as I am!)

He's weird, he gets me, and he makes me laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh.

Sufficed to say, I signed that relationship lease.