Canucks.

We're going away again. Call me crazy. I just can't get enough of the laundry and the packing. The allure of flying with a toddler - I crave it.

I'm particularly excited because this time our flight is only two hours, so it's one of those small planes. Here's the dilemma - if I buy the baby a seat we get split into two rows with some poor unsuspecting stranger seated next to us. If I don't buy her a seat - we get our own row but she doesn't have a seat. What's a mom to do?

We've gone with the no seat option. If you live in the Pacific Northwest you may hear my screams as we fly over.
We're off to meet Granddad in Canada ehh. He's flying in from Scotland. I'm thinking the combination of over-excited kids, tired parents and a jet lagged Granddad should be fabulous.

Traveling with the kids is so complicated. We need two car seats (Canada has strict car seat laws so the six year old needs one) a stroller, a travel crib, a high chair the list goes on. I did find a company in Canada who will deliver the crib and high chair to our rental house so that's two less things to haul. I still find myself fantasizing about strolling down the jet way with one little carry-on and a book. Sigh.

My kids passports have more stamps in them now than mine did at age 21. The baby has her own air miles. The six year old has two separate airline club cards. I think she can upgrade herself on her next flight. Thinking about it that might be the one time I would be happy to sit in coach...

And The Winner is.....

We went to a "Making Way For Baby" party yesterday.
A really lovely version of a baby shower without the emphasis on gifts. Each guest made a hand print on fabric to be made into a quilt for the baby. We tied wishes and blessings to a tree - it was beautiful.

Trying to get my baby to provide a viable hand print was very entertaining. Especially when the 'paint' was actually permanent fabric dye. The poor baby, who had only an hour earlier been gussied up for the party, was stripped to her diaper to participate.
The end result was super cute though so the the child abuse was justified.

Most people there were parents, so in true parent style, we talked about our kids.
The fact that a labor and delivery is imminent inspired the moms to share their birth stories. Always a delight for a pregnant woman! The stories were so varied in length, trauma or ease. It got me thinking about how much we go through to have kids.

Having two successful pregnancies was a ten year marathon for me and many others had similar experiences to share. Then there's the births. Evidence that God must be a man. My first daughter's birth was so long, scary and eventually medieval - I needed therapy to deal with it. The second was fast and made me feel strong and euphoric but still involved a level of pain that's just not funny. I, certainly, was not amused.

Once you get through that little adventure - there's the next 18 years to look forward to. I watched the adults trying (hoping) to have a conversation, a glass of wine, a seat. I saw them juggling babies on hips, chasing them away from the cake, trying to get them to eat, nap or change. It's endless and exhausting.

We compared sleeplessness stories. Height, weight and development worries and triumphs.
Accident and injury woes. Food battles.
It got me thinking that really we parents need some incentive.
Sure, the heart popping love is reward enough but a little trophy or some cash always brightens the day. I think we need the parent Olympics or Oscars.

Think how much more fun it would be to get your fruit and vegetable quota in baby for the day if there was an award, a pretty outfit and an acceptance speech to look forward to.

"I'd like to thank ketchup and ranch dressing....."

I'd like to stand on a podium, with a ribbon and medal round my neck, watching the Scottish flag wave in the breeze and singing my national anthem. Taking the Gold for completing seven loads of laundry in one day would feel really good.

In the meantime I'll settle for a sticky hug, a lovingly drawn picture and a gummy kiss but I'll hold out hope for my image on a Wheaties box...

I'm Just a Girl Who Can't Say.......

Why is saying NO to our kids sooo difficult?
I find it's a word that trips of my tongue fairly easily in many other circumstances.

Actually, I'm quite good at saying NO to the kids but it always comes with gut churning guilt or doubt.

"Can I have a cupcake?"

"No"

"Pleeeeeeeeeeze."

"No."

Face crumpled with disappointment "Awwwww I really wanted one."

The moment is over. I have said No and we are walking away from the cupcakes but the sad face is heartbreaking. Then the conversation in my head gets going.
Why shouldn't she have one? She's a kid, childhood is about candy and treats and fun.
But here's what I know - sugar makes her hyper, then she'll start acting out. Then we'll fall out and the whole thing will end in tears. If I just steer her over to the fruit she'll pick a pear and be just as happy. I'll be teaching her healthy snacking habits which I know from (bitter) experience is a skill really worth having.

There are times when cupcakes and the sugar high will work - 4.30pm in the supermarket is not one of them - I know I'm doing the right thing but oh her sad little face.

Causing disappointment is one of the hardest things about parenting for me. It's a physical thing - I feel it and it's uncomfortable. Having the strength to say NO is often hard to do.
I remember being told that if it was easy then I was doing it wrong and it is so true.

I don't feel the markets are helping - they definitely have a child catcher approach to merchandising. Maybe we could lobby for baskets of apples or carrots at the check outs. Surely, everyone would benefit.
What parent wouldn't love to have a trip to the market without a meltdown and the inevitable disapproving looks or even comments?
We might be disappointing those who are just waiting for their chance to judge but adult disappointment I can handle!

Who's with me?
Dear Safeway........

Ten Year Plan.

The husband and I went away this weekend. We went to a wedding in the most gorgeous beach side setting. We were kidless for 27 hours. (Not that I was counting.)

It involved a three hour drive, each way. That's six hours of OUR music choices and six hours of question free conversation. Take a moment to absorb the beauty of that.
Six hours.

After a dinner we didn't have to share, eat in 15 minutes or do a bathroom run in the middle of, we went to our hotel. Actually first we walked on a starlit beach. The only sounds were crashing waves.
Then we had TEN, count them, TEN hours of uninterrupted sleep. It makes me a little tearful to recall it. I haven't had a sleep like that for seven years.

The wedding itself was also kid free. We only had to think of ourselves. We drank our cocktails, ate a delicious meal and danced. We were at tables of eight. We talked about......our kids.

It's sad, pathetic even but it seems unavoidable. In the same way that attending a wedding makes you think and talk about yours, being without the kids made us want to talk about them. It was not entirely our fault, people asked us about them. Things reminded us of them - like the ocean, the dessert and all the pretty dresses.
"The six year old would have loved this beach, a cupcake, a dress like that.."

It's my goal, which I hope to achieve in the next ten years, to go away without my kids and not miss them, talk about them, show complete strangers their pictures or count down the hours until I see them again. I'll let you know how it goes.


Now, pop on over to my good friend Moseyalong and check out her fabulous Giveaway!

Perfect Ten.

The six year old lost her sixth tooth. She now has that classic gap in the front and an entirely delightful lisp to match. Since we have lost all six teeth in a fairly short period of time - the silver dollar has lost it's edge. Not helped by the fact that there are many, much more creative Tooth Fairies depositing treasures at her class mates pillows.

Admittedly, I am much less excited by the whole thing too. The novelty is gone and it has become a bit of a chore to assist the fairy. So, it is with that in mind that at 11pm at night I suddenly realize we need a treasure. Aaagh.

The husband and I begin the hunt and quickly find we must be very tired as we are considering our wine cork, a button and some old stickers as possibilities.

Then I have my moment of genius! I have foreign coins from our various travels. I find the little bag I keep them in and we start to look through.
Vive la France! The 10 franc coin is beautiful AND has a fairy on it. It might be an angel - who cares - it's an ethereal type figure with wings. On either side of the fairy are the letters RF - for Royal Fairy (obviously.) It's gold and silver and has pretty edging. I am ecstatic.

The six year old is pretty impressed too. Not so much by the fairy but by the 10.
"Mom - I got ten whole dollars!"
Oh dear - yet again - my genius is flawed.

Talk Show.

The baby is talking!
Seemingly overnight she has twenty new words. I am so proud.
I am proud in a way only a mother could be proud.

Why is a mother's pride different? It's simple.
If you were in my house today - you would say that the baby is very talkative,
chatty even but you certainly wouldn't hear any English.
You would hear babble.

I hear Hug (ug), Shoes (oooze), Hat (at), Book (ook), Milk (naa naa) OK even I know that one is a stretch. To me it is genius. To me she is verbose, articulate and easy to understand.
I am surprised when I have to interpret for friends.
What's confusing about "Momo?" (more.)

In the same way that some scribbles on paper is the most beautiful art you have ever seen. The way that a poop IN the potty is medal worthy. My baby's utterings are poetry or maybe a haiku.

Sweet little voice trying hard,
No volume control,
Best sound that was ever made.

The Snail.

The six year old is a slow poke. It's infuriating.
It's infuriating because she's only a part-time slow poke.
When there is the park, a play-date or ice cream involved she's Speedy Gonzalez.
The snail appears when I need her to be speedy.

This morning was a bus morning. We have half an hour from wake up to walk out the door.
We've been doing it for a year so this is not a new routine.
I lay out her clothes the night before. When she wakes - she's supposed to go into the bathroom then get dressed.
Next step is breakfast, then teeth, shoes, jacket, leave.
I make her lunch, 'do' her hair (often when she's eating breakfast) and meet at her at the front door.

We made a to do list with pictures to remind her of the steps.
It's on the wall in her room.
Why is it then that I spend that 30 minutes checking on each step.

"Did you put your socks on?"

"Oh no - I forgot."

"Did you clean your teeth?"

"Ooopsie."

After her teeth are cleaned there is always a ring of toothpaste around her mouth.

"Did you wash your mouth?"

"Yes?"

"Please go and wash your mouth."

"OK we gotta go - are you ready?"

"Yes!"

"Where are your shoes?"

"You didn't ask me to put my shoes on."

It's at this point when I usually begin to wonder if I'm on Candid Camera.
It's also at this point that I may earn my reputation as 'Cranky Mommy.'

How can she be so impressively smart about so many things and not know to put her shoes on?
How can she 'forget' that she went upstairs with the sole purpose of getting a sweatshirt and set up a tea party for her dolls?

How can I want this wonderfully distractable six year old to be any other way?

Grandparents Day!

If you are lucky enough to have Grandparents in your life - today is the day to celebrate them. I'm sure this is a 'Hallmark' generated celebration but since my Granny was my most favorite person to date - I'm going to go with it.

The kid's Grandparents (we have three actual and one honorary) all live in another country but there is no mistaking the twinkle in the kid's eyes when we get on the phone. They LOVE their Grandparents. It's a very special relationship.

If you are spending time with Grandma today, swing by the bookstore first and get a copy of 'Because I love Her.' by Andrea N. Richesin. It's a beautiful book and the perfect gift for Grandma. You can also order it via my Amazon link.

Yes, this is a shameless plug for a friend of mine - but it really is a good read and Grandma will love it.

We will be celebrating by baking - something the kids do with Grandma when they are together and by doing magic tricks - Grandad's favorite activity.
Enjoy your day!

Ridiculous.

I find many moments in parenting ridiculous. The amount I need to do in a day - ridiculous. How alert and organized I need to be on 4 hours sleep - ridiculous.
I could go on.

Last night was a prime example. Dinner was a messy affair, so as soon as I wrestled enough into the baby I took her upstairs and ran a bath. The six year old was still finishing her meal and had instructions to join us when she was done.

The baby LOVES her bath. I believe her goal is to drink it all by dunking and sucking her washcloth. She also enjoys depositing a healthy amount on me and the floor. We were splash happy. At 16 months, the baby has finally decided to grow her hair. I can now do hair sculpture with her shampoo and we were working on an Ace Ventura look when there was a piercing shriek from the kitchen.

The shriek was followed by silence. Uh oh.
It was the silence between a kid hurting themselves and the tears that follow.

"Waaaaaaaaaaaah!"

"What happened sweetie, are you OK?"

"Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!"

"Are you hurt, can you tell me?"

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaagh, Owie, Owie , Owie!"

Then more silence.
What am I supposed to do? I can't leave the baby in the bath.
If I grab her out and run downstairs - she's going to get soap in her eyes.
At this point I still have no idea what the six year old has done. She's in a kitchen. Alone.
Immediately, I imagine her with a cleaver in her head.
We don't even have a cleaver.

'Sweetie, can you come to mummy? Are you OK? What happened?
Please tell me."

In the meantime I am frantically sloshing water on the baby to wash off the shampoo.
In the end we meet on the stairs. Me with a dripping wet, confused looking baby. The six year old still screaming. I see no blood. All limbs attached. Eyes in place. No internal organs on the outside.

It takes a while to calm her down enough to elicit the story. The baby is frantically trying to wrestle free so she can get back in her bath. I feel nauseous with worry, waiting to find out what the injury is.

"I bit my tongue."

Are you kidding me?????
(I hope that this was said only in my head but I'm not 100% sure.)

I know, that biting your tongue can hurt but come on.

So there it is. I find that I actually, momentarily, am disappointed that my kid is not more injured. Ridiculous.

Cake Walk.

We had four parties this weekend. All were wonderfully different but the central theme for the six year old was cake. When I say cake what I actually mean is frosting.
Thankfully there was a beach or a bouncy to help with the sugar high.

One party was at a rented beach house. It was a glorious place with the beach and the ocean as a backyard. We set up for the day. Nearby the six year old found a crab that had been some lucky birds meal. It was quite large and although well picked over was a whole crab with legs. We became biologists. We studied that crab in minute detail. Made his pincers pinch. Looked at his joints and how each attached. We studied the detailed symmetrical pattern on his shell. We sniffed his salty sea worn smell.
We stopped the baby from using one of the legs as a chew toy.

It was one of those moments where I was lost between the delight of discovery with my child and the nostalgia of remembering my crab dissection days.
The smell was instantly recognizable despite too many years and even a different continent and ocean. It may be absurd to think an Atlantic crab might smell differently from a Pacific one but it crossed my mind!

The first time I found a crab at the beach I kept the pincer in my pocket for weeks. (Much to my parents chagrin.) So, when the six year old asked to bring the crab shell home - I found a treasure bag. Safe in the knowledge that she (and I) will forget all about that shell and next time we open the beach bag it will be a wonderful but stinky surprise.

Later the guitars came out and I luxuriated in motherly pride watching my sweet girls dance in the sand. My childhood beach days usually involved sweatshirts, windbreakers and frigid waters. My girls will remember hot sun, warm(ish) waters and blazing sunsets.
Either way, golden moments abound.

Dinosaur Jnr.

The baby is part pterodactyl. Thankfully she still only has two front teeth (and bizarrely, all of her molars) so it's more of a noise thing. She emits a squawk that is ear splitting. It is almost always instantly followed by a NO!

When the six year old was a baby I followed the philosophy of never using the word No! with her, so she wouldn't use it back. I said No! but just in different ways.
It was really effective - I lived a No! free existence for about three years.

The baby is the second kid so she has heard No! from birth.
I am reaping what I have sowed. Sigh.
It's quite the oxymoron to ask your baby to do something then have the sweetest little face, in the cutest little outfit walk up to you, kiss you, then deposit food in your hair, shout NO! and runaway.
The good part is that I am a second time mom so I don't really mind (notice.)

Yesterday we were at the store. It's a smaller chain of markets and they hide a stuffed toy in the store for kids to find - genius!
While we were looking for Larry the Llama I actually got to put things in the cart.
Once located - you report the location to an employee who gives you a treat.
Usually the treat is pirate booty, popcorn or a fruit strip. Yesterday it was a lollipop.

"Would your sister like one?" the lady said sweetly.
"Oh no" I say, "She's just a baby."
I am drowned out by the pterodactyl shouting "NAK!" and clambering out of the cart in the direction of the lollipop.

Sugar was offered in the form of fruit or yogurt only, until the six year old was about three. What's a mom to do? I don't have a tempting alternative with me and it is clear from the look on the baby's face that nothing is coming between her and that lolly. Strike two.

Strike three comes in the form of a cupcake. The six year old has a birthday party invite. It's at the beach so the baby and I keep busy while the six year olds do their thing. At cake time - the mom has very thoughtfully made extra. The baby is presented with a lemon cupcake with cream cheese frosting and sprinkles. Oh boy.

It may be projection but I'm pretty sure I can see glee in those 16 month old eyes as she realizes that yet again she has scored a second kid triumph.
So three strikes - I'm out. I'm thinking that if No! and some sugar are my biggest problems today - we're doing alright.

It Begins.

I knew this - I just had to learn it.

All the excitement about shopping for back to school clothes and shoes. The special trip to the fabric store to choose fabric for the clothes bag for the cubbie and a pillow case for story time.
The hours spent sewing as I volunteered to make 26 beanbags as well as the clothes bag and a pillow case.

The labeling of every item that goes or may go to school with name tags or initials.
The new lunch box lovingly packed with nutritious yet delicious food and snacks. (Labeled.)

The long bath and early bed the night before, with extra long story and re-assuring words and cuddles.

The calm but enthusiastic face greeting her in the morning, helping her into her specially chosen outfit.
The cheerful goodbye when it is finally time to go into class.

None of it was really for her.
My baby went to First Grade.