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.

Come Listen To a Story.

The six year old finally lost her front tooth. It was a long process. You may remember it was kicked loose back in June. It re-settled back into her gum for a while but has been wiggly ever since.

In the last week it got very wiggly - I was sure each morning that today would be the day. Each night - it would still be there.
Finally, one morning it was hanging by a thread and the six year old announced she would like it pulled out.

We assembled Orajel for anaesthesia, ice for numbing, tissues for any blood, the camera, a towel, a stuffy to cuddle. Ready.
We tugged, twisted and hauled. The tooth stayed put.

The six year was undaunted but the husband and I felt nauseous so we took a break.
The tooth dangled.
It made it hard for the six year old to eat - so I made 'cob on the corn' to kill two birds with one stone. The tooth remained.

It was still there TWO days later. By now it hung so low, when she smiled it sat on the outside of her bottom lip - she looked like a cast member of The Beverly Hillbillies. People were staring. Children were recoiling - afraid of the child pirate before them.

We got out our tooth removal kit again and hauled. The tooth stayed firm. HOW?
It could swivel 360. By now even the six year old was over it. I called the dentist to have it removed. Less than five minutes later the six year old strolls by with a huge gap front and center.
"Where is your tooth?!"
I thought it had been swallowed and she hadn't noticed.
"Oh, it came out. Can we go to the park?"

Just like that the four day drama was over and the tooth was nestled under a pillow awaiting the tooth fairy.

p.s. My apologies to those who now have The Beverly Hillbillies theme tune stuck in their heads....

Go Green!

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Happy shopping!

Camp Tales - Part Two.

Have you noticed that no matter where you go camping or how well the campsite is managed there are five things you can always find on the ground?

1. The little plastic clip that closes bread bags.
2. Used bandaids.
3. Hair ties.
4. Beer bottle tops.
5. Juice box straw wrappers.

Our last night of camping we were ready for calm and sleep. Everyone else seemed to feel the same way. The kids went down two hours earlier and seemed grateful to go.
The husband and I gave them an hour to fall deeply asleep then decided to turn in ourselves.
Just as I was about to turn the lamp out - I spotted a spider. Not huge but not one I was willing to share my tent with. I tried to encourage him out. He didn't oblige and instead got into my bed.

I'm not particularly freaked out by bugs. I've slept on the ground in the Australian Outback where the critters have intentions. However, when it comes to my babies I am more cautious.

So, I went on Safari. The spider was fast - I just couldn't grab him.
"Pass me a shoe." I said to The Husband.

"How big is it?" said he.

"What? Pass me a shoe!"

"Where did it go?"

It's here - get me a shoe!"

"I'll get it - where is it."

"It's going to get away - GET ME A SHOE!"

OK, so at this point I may have raised my voice and woken the children. Ooops.

"Ssssh!"

"THEY ARE AWAKE NOW - PASS ME A DAMN SHOE!"

"Stop shouting at me."

"THEN PASS ME A SHOE!"

Do you hear the whistling as a shoe flies past my ear?
I 'caught' the spider and tossed it out the tent.

We re-settled the children. I listened to The husband grumbling about 2,000 years of evolution and male response - then we finally slept.

Aaah - the great outdoors.

Part three will run along the lines of just how amazing it is that so much of the great outdoors manages to come indoors with us after camping.

Camp Tales - Part One.

What an eventful weekend. I have been to this campground before. It was peaceful, and very beautiful. It was not a weekend.

It was still beautiful, towering Redwood trees and Giant Sequoia are everywhere making it an adventure wonderland for the kids. The air is delicious and the river perfect for swimming in. We were with a large group, spread out over 3 sites. It seemed everyone else had the same idea. The woods were vibrant with excited kids and relaxed adults.

Trying to get 7 kids to bed should have been a challenge, especially when you throw sugary marshmallows into the mix but all the fresh air and running around took it's toll and we got them all down without much resistance.

Pity we couldn't say the same about the adults! There's something about beer and campfire that makes grown ups with kids forget they will be back up again at 6am.
We turned in way too late. The kid free campers in the site next to ours decided this was a good time to start the drunken singing - sigh.

By 3am everything was finally quiet and peaceful. Cue drama.
I had just given the baby her middle of the night bottle (ask me sometime how I keep a bottle warm in a tent for several hours!) when there was a sudden burst of panicked shouting through the forest.
We were not in bear county so I knew it wasn't that. It turns out some poor soul was having a medical emergency. Thankfully we had cell reception (the wonders of modern science) so the fire department and EMT's were quickly on their way. A firetruck with flashing lights is an odd thing in a campground. It is so LOUD and the lights are so bright. Kids started to wake.
The six year old and the baby were still sleeping and I was so grateful. Then the helicopter came.
Turns out the man needed to go to a hospital and ground transport would be too slow.
A helicopter. I think we can now safely assume there is not a kid asleep in any neighboring houses - never mind tents.

By 4.30am all was calm again. The helicopter was safely transporting the man to hospital. The firetruck was gone and almost instantly the forest was quiet again.
Except for the 30 kids who were now wide awake and pretending to be helicopter pilots....

As it turned out the man was fine and actually back at camp in time for breakfast!
We were all very pleased about a happy ending, pleased in a bleary eyed, no sleep, too much beer and dealing with over-tired, cranky kids kind of way.

Did I mention how much I love camping?

S'more!

S'more laundry. S'more packing. S'more food shopping, cooking and packaging.
S'more driving.
S'more lugging, pitching and unpacking.

S'more fire building, cork popping and S'more ingestion.

I LOVE CAMPING!

We are off for a walk (sleep and pee) in the woods.
It's really my favorite thing to do but I'm thinking that some enterprising young boy scouts could make a fortune loitering at camp sites and setting up camp for a fee.

I will regale you all with our adventures when we return.

In the meantime, thanks for reading - I just rolled over 10,000 hits which feels like a milestone. If you miss me while I'm gone - there's always the archives...

The Walls Have Ears.

We've had guests. I find that my parenting takes a back seat when I have guests.
Firstly, they were from Scotland so my liver needs rehab.
Secondly, they have teenagers - the six year old is still in a daze of awe.
Thirdly, they go back to high school days so my head is stuffed full of memories.
Most of which involve huge 80's hair and ex-boyfriends.

It's hard to be a responsible parent when you are transported back to teenage years yourself. My accent re-surged so strongly that the baby kept giving me confused looks and the six year old asked for constant translation.

We spent so much time talking about TV shows from our childhood that we there was smoke coming from the laptop as we 'YouTubed' each one to show snippets to the six year old.
I barely ate a vegetable all weekend and the kids were fed on the run the entire time.
It's character building right?

I stuck to some of my principles. Much to the teenagers chagrin we didn't allow the TV to be turned on until the kids were in bed. There was a high incidence of drive thru's but we brought alternatives for our kids. The candy count was high but I still successfully diverted with organic ice cream.

On the last night we planned a big dinner and purchased an unfeasible amount of wine.
I bathed the kids and tucked them up after a story.
We opened our first bottle while cooking. Our tongues got loose. We started competition storytelling from our youth.
By the time we were on dessert we were in full adult only conversation.

Far too late and far too many glasses (bottles?) later we crawled up to bed. The six year old's door was open - hmmmm.
There in the hall, which is open to the living room, was a little blanket and pillow.
Hmmmm.

In the morning, bleary eyed and with a thumping sore head, I asked the six year old about the little camp in the hallway.
"Oh yes - that was me. I stayed up to listen to you all night."
Groan.
"What did you hear us talking about Sweetie?"
A huge grin breaks across the six year old's face as she confirms the power of her knowledge.
"Oh everything."

I will need a bigger wallet for what this will cost me..........

Why Is He Doing That?

The six year old and I had a long over due mommy and me date. The impact of the baby has finally hit. We've had lots of tears and pouting. I have been fighting the guilt but the guilt won.
So, I bought tickets to a show.

We got dressed up, left the baby with Daddy and went for dinner. It was super cute.
We had 'grown up table talk' and the six year old wore an ear to ear grin for the entire time. Then we went to the show.

Now I will be the first to admit it was very exciting. There were acrobats and magic, stilt and tight rope walkers, rings of fire and clowns. It was loud and bright.
There was so much to see and apparently SO much to ask about.

"Why is he doing that Mummy?"
"Well it's a show - he's entertaining us."

"Well why is he is doing that?"
"For fun."

"Why is he doing that now?"
"To show us all his tricks."

"Why is he doing that thing."
"Because."

"Because what?"

"Just because - let's just watch the show."

"OK."







"What's happening now?"

"Aaaaaargh!"


Bonding moment completed.
Mission accomplished - sort of.

Lucky Number.

Yesterday I:

Opened the fridge 34 times and the freezer 15 times.

Bent to pick something of the floor 28 times.

Called the chiropractor once.

Replaced discarded clothes 7 times.

Changed 5 diapers.

Made 11 separate meals or snacks.

Flushed 3 toilets I didn't use.

Answered (wait for it) 78 questions.

Cleaned 3 sets of teeth. (All in mouths)

Gave 5 hugs.

Read 4 books more than once.

Cleaned up the kitchen 4 times.

Drove in or out of the garage 8 times.

Did 3 loads of laundry.

Made 3 business calls.

Paid 2 bills.

Went to 2 shops.

Played "Person, Place, Thing or Animal" 11 times.

Sang 7 songs without adult content and 2 with.

Had one hot cup of tea and 2 cold.

Slept 6 hours.

If these turn out to be winning lottery numbers it will all have been worth it.

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Come out of the blogger closet with The Parenting Myth.

I will post one guest, parent-related, blog a week.
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Water Wings.

It's hot. Very hot. The kids are leaving a trail of clothing everywhere they go.
The baby likes to strip then get really frustrated trying to put it all back on. Inevitably, I re-dress her only to find her naked again five minutes later.

The six year old has a slightly different take on it. She tries every possible combination within her closet to find the prettiest, cool outfit. It usually involves wings.....

Our favorite cool down activity is water play. Who doesn't love water play? A mom working on her laptop - that's who. I can't get the six year old to understand that there are times I need to remain dry. For the record - I spent several hours yesterday filling and throwing water balloons and filling and firing squirt bottles. I just also needed to pay bills and do some work.

"Put your swimsuit on mom!"
How to explain why I will not be running around our driveway in my swimsuit?
"Mom needs to stay dressed in case........there's an earthquake?"

Also, why is it that when I spend a very long time filling water balloons the preferred way to play with them is to make a tiny little hole in them and drink them?
We have cups, they are easy to fill and don't involve a knot.
It's possible that I am a little too left brained for parenting.

Parenting 101.

Before I had children I was a health care professional. I helped people rehab from accident or illness. I worked with people to adjust to their disability or even impending death. It was challenging work. It was a cake walk compared to being a full time mom.

On Friday the six year old disappeared into her room for over an hour. When she emerged she was exuding pride and joy.
"Momma - I made a book!"
"Oooh! Let me see."

As we sat on the bottom step of our stairs to read it, I made mental note that the fifteen month old had gone upstairs. The book was glorious. I quickly became engrossed by the six year old's creativity and imagination. It was easy to follow the story by the pictures. It had heart, beauty and intrigue.
I was delighted and felt happy and proud.

My oohing and aahing caught the attention of the baby who came to see what we were doing. In my mind the following events happened in slow motion.
She made it down two steps while I jumped up to get her before she fell. Too late. Watching the baby bounce down the stairs, floppy and banging her head was horrific.
Her face was panic stricken. I caught her after about six steps.
Thankfully she was essentially unhurt but very scared. I held her tight as she howled.

The six year old looked stricken and started to howl too. I held out an arm for her but she pulled back.
"She's OK - don't worry."
She started screaming.
"Honey - it's OK, she'll be fine - she's just scared."

"YOU RUINED MY BOOK!"
I was stunned. I'm not sure how I stayed quiet but I sat there holding the still sobbing baby while I let the emotion of the situation wash over me.
At first I felt incredulous at the six year old's lack of compassion, then anger took hold and finally, after some time, I felt compassion for the six year old's disappointment.
Inevitably, guilt settled on me.

I knew the baby had gone upstairs and I should have made her safe before we started reading the book. I remembered the crushing disappointment of having your parent dismiss you when you had something to show off. If it was to give their attention to a sibling - even worse. I felt a strong sense of failure. I had got it wrong for both of them, One was physically hurt and the other emotionally stung.
In that five minutes I had gone from feeling happy, blessed and relaxed to feeling overwhelmed and a failure.

I sat the six year old down and explained. How I couldn't leave the baby to get hurt.
How I loved her book and how I understood what an important thing it was. Her first book! How being a mommy is hard and how I will make mistakes.

The hardest bit for me is that there was no-one to sit me down and talk me through it.
Once I had smoothed everything over with the kids and they were back to playing and laughing - I was still shaken and upset.
That's the challenge of motherhood - absorbing an enormous amount of intensity and emotion and then shrugging it off in time to move on to the next thing. In kidland you usually have about a five minute window.

I went to college for four years, full time, to get my degree. I didn't even get one text book with the babies. What's wrong with that picture?

Little Joy.

Being a parent is such a trip down memory lane but I have been struck lately by how different the kids childhoods are to mine.

The six year old loves 'Little Joy' stories. In my head they are illustrated and we often have to look things up on the computer so she can see the differences.
It makes me feel a little old.

Take her new passion for example. Here's what I skated on,
at the time I thought they were the coolest thing ever.










When I bought candy (sweeties) they came like this. They had their own designated shop and the smell in that shop is childhood encapsulated for me.












Even as we look things up on my laptop, I remember the day our high school got a computer. That's right - singular. We sat around it in a semi-circle and stepped forward to take a turn pressing the buttons! We never did have one at home.











We sat in the back seat of a car without seat belts - never mind car seats or boosters. Plane trips were an exotic fantasy. Eating out at a restaurant was for grown ups. TV was black and white and had 3 channels - I was the remote.
Laundry had a dedicated day and took all day - OK so some things haven't changed.




It's a relief that the most important things you give your child are the same no matter what year you were born in.

Pride and Joy.

The six year old decided she wanted to roller skate. There was a rink at our resort so it wasn't exactly an unprompted ambition. I was skeptical. It's really an ice rink so the floor, in Summer, is solid concrete. I tried to convince her she'd have more fun doing other things - to no avail. She was determined. So, we went to rent the skates, helmet, knee and elbow pads. If you know me you can now picture my indignant face when they inform me there are only skates for rent. OK, I can deal with this - where can I buy bubble wrap....

If you are a parent you will know that an imploring child is hard to over-rule so, against all better judgement, I take her onto the bone splintering rink. All around us kids are face planting hard onto the unforgiving floor.
The six year old is unfazed.
"Momma - I don't need you to teach me - I can do it."
"Well honey, you've never done it before so I think I'll just show you a little bit."
"NO Momma! I want to do it by myself."
The husband gently encourages me off the rink with the promise of a gin and tonic.
There's a bar at the side of the rink - genius!

I am filled with trepidation. What if she breaks her arm? Knocks out more teeth?
Gets concussion. I gulp down my G&T to remain calm.
Meanwhile the six tear old starts gliding by.
She is a natural. Her delight is delicious to watch.
She is so proud of herself. I make a fool of myself getting tearful and cheering her on too loudly. The husband thoughtfully captured the moment.
Enjoy!