The Motherlode

Alarm clocks

Do you want to know the most annoying kid trait?  The ability to know when you could actually sleep in a little and wake up an hour earlier instead.  Yep, every time you actually HAVE to be somewhere they'll sleep the sleep of the dead.  But, the morning you could actually hit that snooze button and grab a few precious winks they decide to get up in time to watch the sunrise.  Or like this morning, get up before the sunrise and have enough time to make a banner, throw a parade, bake a cake and celebrate the sunrise in true style. 

It's funny how after 8 years of early wake up calls I still can't get used to them.  Every morning is a battle.  I am just not an early riser.  In a perfect world, wakeup time would be around 8:30 and even that would be a stretch.  I could probably train Ava to sleep that late, but it would be a tough sell to Chloe and Jude.  They are my early risers... no matter how many times we put them back to bed with whispered threats and promises of ponies, rainbows, and other such rewards they persistently continue to be our prelude to an alarm clock. 

So, then I figure why even set the alarm?  I have 2 very insistent, perky alarm clocks that wake me up in all sorts of exciting ways.... squeals, pokes, WWF knee drops, quick removal of the covers, flipping light switches, and other equally enjoyable ways to wake up.  With resignation to the fact that I must in fact continue this early rising I switch off the alarm clock.  And wouldn't you know it?  The next morning, everybody sleeps till 7:30!  Hallelujah!  Except the school bus comes at 7:36.... and so begins the frantic rush.  I just can't win. 

Change in priorities

Everyone tells you that once you have kids your priorities change.  You fully accept this, thinking that it will be a few minor tweaks... no going out on a school night, earlier bedtimes, child friendly restaurants and so on.  But, this is just the beginning.  Your entire life changes, down to your time management, how you plan your day, even how you dress.

One day you wake up and realize that the must-have item to add to your new fall wardrobe is  dependable rubber boots.  After all, how can one go on a worm hunting expedition or treck through the rainy schoolyard without rubber boots?  You wouldn't want your favorite pair of sweatpants to get soaked through.  You might have to put on *shudder* pants.

You plan your grocery shopping around nap schedules and the least likely time that one of your children will undergo a massive meltdown mid-aisle.  You choose your store of choice not on the selection of fresh produce and gourmet deli items but on whose bakery offers the biggest, most chocolatey cookie to buy you a few extra minutes of silence and cooperation.

On any given morning you have approximately 10 minutes to prepare yourself for the day so you find yourself planning showers on 'public outing' days and breakfast on the other days.  One or the other, you can't have both.  And 'public outing' days are not as exciting as you think.  These consist of dentists appointments, volunteering at the school library, and mommy/baby play groups.  You're starving, but at least you smell good.  The main goal of the shower on these days however is simply to give the illusion to the world that you are actually a competent parent and functioning adult.

The things you do for your kids.

Night time...

I love 2.  18 months to 36 months is by far my favorite stage.  I know, some of you probably think I'm crazy... there's the tantrums and the potty training and the ability to run away from me and start back talking, but all the discovery and new skills is amazing.

My absolute favorite part of this stage is how they start to express their thoughts and emotions.  Right around 2 is when you start to get the unsolicited 'I love you'... melts me every time.  Jude and I have a nighttime routine that is the best part of my day.  He climbs into bed, requests his 19 necessary stuffies and his 'geen banket' and then I sing him 'La La Lu' (lullaby from Lady and the Tramp).  After the lullaby I bend over to kiss him goodnight and he grabs my neck tight with both is little arms and whispers in my ear 'I wuv you too mom'.  BEST FEELING EVER.

Actually, the night time routine is when all my children are especially lovey dovey.  Ava grabs me in the biggest, tightest squeeze ever as if she's pouring all her love and affection into that one hug.  That's the time of day when she asks me the questions that have been on her mind all day long or have suddenly flitted into her brain as she's ready to drop into sleep.  Random questions like where butterflies sleep or do I have tiny earings like hers.  Chloe's night time rituals can be extremely time intensive if not nipped in the bud.  There is the picking and choosing of who's sleeping in her bed, the preparing of her 'nest' as we like to call it (with dozens of blankets, pillows, and stuffies) and the requests for 'La La Lu' two times and 'Rock-a-bye-baby' once please.  But, within minutes they're all usually fast asleep, deep into dream land and that's when we sneak back in to marvel over these precious little people and plant kisses on their sweet heads.  No matter what the day held these are the moments that make it all worth while.

sarcasm survival

For those of you who know me, you know there is a large dose of humor and sarcasm sprinkled into my day to day life and how I look at parenting... it's kind of how I survive.  If I can make a joke about the fact that the entire jar of salsa just ended up on the under side of my table and, incredibly, also the ceiling then I just might make it through the day.

I think in my more crazed moments I also engage in muttering... you know, as I'm walking to the sink with my hands full of diced tomatoes and dripping with tomatoe juice I'm muttering "fabulous, just fabulous".  Because normally I try to save the sarcasm for my retelling of the day or my inside-my-head voice.  Humorous sarcasm.  My survival weapon of choice. 

However, there might be something wrong when my 5 year old starts whipping the sarcasm out as well... should 5 year olds even GET sarcasm???  I guess I could choose to look at it as a sign of brilliance... anyways, she totally nailed it on the head this morning.

I'm in the shower and I can hear her and Jude going at it, so I send them both to their rooms till I can deal with them.  Chloe stomps down the hall yelling 'Thanks a lot Jude!' and slams her door.  The tirade continues "WOW!  What a GREAT day!  This is the BEST day EVER!  Thanks Jude!".  Well, it might not be your best day Chloe, but that certainly was a highlight of mine, haha :)

birthdays past and present

My baby turned 8 today.  The one who started it all, the insanity and joy that is motherhood, celebrated 8 years of growing up too fast.  She has been part of me, part of my world for nearly 9 years.  Since the moment I discovered her existence, from her very first heartbeat she has held my heart.  I became a mom in that moment and it was the best moment of my life.

Now, I'm helping her celebrate her moments.  We've celebrated first steps, first words, lost teeth, new teeth, first grade, first bike rides.  We've cried over first fights, hurt feelings, lost toys.  She gets on a school bus every day and spends 8 hours away from me.  8 hours where she's discovering the world, her world, and she's not part of my world. 

It's funny how she keeps getting older but I don't feel any different.  I don't feel like I should have an 8 year old.  I'm not ready for the next set of firsts that will come our way: first crushes, first kisses, first dates, first breakups.  I can still feel her in my tummy, can still remember her baby smell, and feel her fuzzy hair on my cheek.  I look at this little girl in front of me and wonder where she came from.  How did it go so fast??

It was time...

Well, Jason and I finally caved.  We gave in to the girls and they got a pet today.  How could we say no as they fell in love with this tiny little life?  They oohed and ahhed, they fought over who got to hold him first, they could barely contain their excitement... and, as Ava solemnly informed Chloe "Pets are a lot of hard work and responsibility", we knew we were teaching them valuable life lessons.

They've been busy setting up his home for the last hour.  Giving him food, holding him and petting him, offering him new forms of entertainment.  He has been their joint focus all afternoon, united by their love for him.  Chloe created a little pen of croquet mallets, Ava is creating  a clothing line including uggs, shawls, and hats.  Yep, this is one lucky caterpillar.

I know, we've raised the bar on you other parents out there.  How are you to compete with our incredible pet??  I apologize for the begging and tears that I'm sure you will receive as word spreads about our new pet and how fabulous he is.  For us, it just made sense.  The girls will learn about responsiblity: who is feeding him, watering him, providing him fresh grass to snooze on, and twigs to nibble?  Then, will come the inevitable 'all things go to heaven' conversation.  We will work through the grief together as a family, and fortunately, he will only require a tiny little burial plot.  The kids will have a companion to share their adventures with, a pet who loves them unconditionally, and will learn a lot about themselves in the process.  I'm sure this will be a thrilling 36 hours with our new pet.

Back by popular demand...

Clearly, it has been a while since I've put my crazy thoughts on paper... I'm surprised they didn't deactivate my account!  Trust me, I had plenty of stories to share over the summer, but just never found the time to pull out the computer. 

Summer was so incredibly busy, having all 3 kids home and keeping them all happy and entertained.  My time was spent swinging on a pendulum of emotions; one moment I was so overwhelmed with gratitude for my beautiful children and the valuable time with them and the next I was ready to rip my hair out as I referreed yet another brawl over whose littlest pet shop was the cutest. 

My main theme for the summer was 'keep them as busy as humanly possible so we don't to kill each other'.  This resulted in numerous road trips (some more entertaining than others), days at the beach, Calaway park trips, and playdates galore.  I may have been a little too ambitious in some of my quests... yes, the Invermere trip of puking, fainting, and strep throat is included here... but, at the end of it all my kids had a great summer. 

I can't believe that fall is here already!!  The 2 weeks leading up to it I was a running Staples commercial... 'It's the most wonderful time of the year!'  Loading backpacks and sorting clothes, learning bus routes and getting haircuts, we were all so excited to start the year.  Then, the day actually arrives and I'm an emotional wreck, beside myself with nerves for Chloe as she embarks on her kindergarten adventures.  Yesterday I loaded her on the kindergarten bus and watched as her little blond head disappeared and she promptly plopped herself down beside some poor, unsuspecting 5 yr old boy and began her dissertation on why she is ready for kindergarten.  I'm pretty sure he didn't get a word in edge-wise for the remainder of the trip.  He was probably quite happy picking his nose and scabs until she descended upon him... anyways, the bus pulls away and I'm in tears because my little girl is taking the world by storm and I'm not there to be part of it. *sob*

So, now I've got even slightly more crazy going on and will feel the need to put words to paper in an attempt at catharsis.  Thanks for joining me and supporting me :)

The Fireman Sam rant

I'm barricaded in the office while supper cooks (fish and chips tonight!) because I cannot listen to/watch another inane episode of Fireman Sam.  I'm not sure who's responsible for this show, but I can assure you their pockets are not very deep.  For starters, I am pretty confident that only 3 actors were hired for the voices... all the voices, including the children are adults. Adults with odd pitches.  Odd pitches that make me want to smash my head into the wall or listen to nails scratching a chalkboard or dogs howling or Jude whining... anything but Norman, Sarah, or Jean a la 'low-paid adult actor with little to no talent'. 

 The second most irritating thing? This must be the stupidest town in all of Scotland.  Population: 12.  Daily emergencies: 12.  Seriously, how many fires does it take before Fireman Sam absolutely loses it on these morons??  Clearly, no one can be responsible for matches, appliances, electricity, fireworks,  or any form of modern technology.  Basically all but the most mundane tasks lead to fires/imminent death.  The worst part is all 3 of my kids love that flippin show.  Maybe because they feel so intellectually superior?  At least they'll know what to do next time we're gathering mussels on the beach and their boot gets stuck between the rocks.  Or playing with a baby lamb who ends up trapped in a burning house because they threw their wet jacket on the radiator heater.  Valuable life lessons here people.  So, I sit in my dungeon with my technology (which is probably about to spontaneously combust causing a massive fire requiring the services of our finely trained fire men) allowing my children to soak up whatever bit of knowledge may be imbedded amongst the irritating chatter and catastrophic situations. 

Back to basics

My girlfriend and I were discussing an emerging trend the other day... not washing your hair.  For a really long time.  My first thought was aversion but then I thought about how delightful it would be to cut out that 30 minutes of my daily routine.  Ok, not daily but at least 3 times a week.  As it stands right now, I plan my 'day one' hair around seeing 'real' grownups, making appearances at school or other somewhat important events.  It's scheduled in and I have to wake up early to accomplish the task of beating it into submission.  Imagine if there was no planning of day one hair or day 32 hair or day 56 hair... it would just be more of the same!  Apparently, once you get over the really long bad hump of greasy, oily hair it begins to revert to silky smooth, soft, healthy hair.  It's original state before we decided to wash, blowdry, tease, curl, and straighten the snot out of it in an attempt to be even more beautiful.  And busy. 

Then I thought, what if this caught on and I apply it to other cleansing routines.  Like washing my floors.  Maybe they were meant to be covered in crumbs, juice, lint, and dirt.  Maybe they would actually be more 'healthy' and 'beautiful' if I let them return to their natural state.  Or maybe my children don't need to be bathed anymore.  I could just let them out in a rainstorm to lather up and rinse.  Or my van.  That could certainly return to its natural state, right?

Frankly, I'm not brave enough to start any of these trends myself.  But, if the majority of my circle of influence joins any of the above I am in... like a dirty shirt!

My less than brilliant outing....

It's yet another rainy day in cowtown.  The drizzle let up for a bit and I'm home alone with the kids, so I thought we'd venture out for some fresh air and exercise.  Best intentions.  Bad outcome.

We head off on bikes and foot to Sobey's and the post office.  The ride there is uneventful and enjoyable, although I end up pushing Jude on his trike 90% of the way there.  Oh well, that just means I've burned more calories and can have a cookie with my coffee this afternoon.  Everyone behaves beautifully in Sobey's and the post office causing me to beam in pride and in my mind I'm imagining how impressed onlookers are with my 3 children.  They clearly are impressed by my excellent parenting and go-getter spirit.  Ha!  They should have been watching 20 minutes later...

Fueled by Sobey's chocolate chip cookies we head home.  The girls lead the way, Jude trails behind stopping every 3 feet to readjust his position, examine a blade of grass and or make a break for the parking lot.  Finally, he's had enough.  He stands up on his bike seat, kicks off both boots and refuses to move.  Awesome.  It is starting to drizzle again.  He is adament about no boots.  We tussle for a few minutes on the side of the road until I admit defeat.  I am laden down with my purse and bag of groceries.  I balance groceries, purse and Jude on one arm and boots and trike on the other.  Thus begins my awkward, angry, wet trek home.  There is much muttering (me) and even more squawking (Jude).  My excellent parenting is obviously not paying off at this moment.  Neither is my go-getter spirit.  Next time we're driving.