The Motherlode

The Big One.

It's been a while.  A long while since I've written... life just got away on me as of late and it's been pretty low on the to-do list.

So, what could have pulled me back to the blog?  What finally tweaked my interest in writing again and lured me back to the empty page? The subject that any parent can relate to.  The one thing that we always seem to be talking about, worrying about, dissecting, analyzing, cleaning, celebrating, and smelling... POOP.  Yep, favorite topic of children, moms, and most men under the age of 90. 

Tonight, Jude's new-found love of language really, truly worked in my favour.  His insane burst of language skills has brought me much amusement and more than a little annoyance (you try having a 3rd conversation added to your already muddled, overloaded brain!).  But, this episode was grand.  We put him to bed and 15 minutes in he started calling for us.  Normally, we just let him peter out and fall asleep, but thanks to his skillz (yep, with a z cause they're mad skillz) he could not be ignored.  "Dad! Poop!  Daaaad! Poooop!  Poopy bum, Dad! BIG!  Poop!  BIG POOP!" I promptly removed him from his bed (before he started to take matters into his own hands) and equally promptly passed him off.  Let me tell you, his assessment was correct.  It was poop and it was BIG.  I truly appreciated his request for his father to tend to the whole mess.

Of course, Chloe had to come out to inspect the situation and this served to prolong bedtime and solidify her latest edict.  "I will never get married!" Why not, you ask? "Because that means I have to have kids and that means I have to change stinky, poopy bums and I will NEVER change a poopy bum."  Good enough for me.  Seems like a well-thought out, rational, perfectly logical and valid arguement against the institute of marriage.  If only I had thought of it... 

Word fiend

For those of you who have had a 'conversation' with Jude in the past few months I'm sure it left you more than a little confused and wondering if you agreed to buying him a car for his 16th birthday.  Trust me, I have accidentally agreed to chocolate for breakfast on more than one occasion!

Up till this point, language has not been Jude's strong point.  Charm? Check! Mischief? Check! Good looks? Check!  Motor skills, imagination, affection?  Check, check, check.  Successfully communicating with other homosapiens? Not so much.

The majority of Jude's communicating has been done through grunts and words primarily starting with the 'buh' sound... Jason dubbed me Jane Goodall with her apes.  "what's that boy?  You want a banana, 1/2 a glass of milk and a walk to the park?"  Yep, it was pretty sad when I could tell from the exact pitch of his grunt which tv show he wanted to watch.

Anyways, the point of my rambling is that despite my fear that I was doomed to a life of translating for my grunting son, he has been learning and storing all along, just waiting for the perfect moment to spotlight his growing vocabulary.  In the last 2 weeks, I have heard more new words from him than the girls learned in a 2 month period.  "bus, house, pizza hot dog, stinky bum, poop potty, juice..." suddenly, the words are flowing! And yes, being a boy, the predominant words focus on cars, food, and bodily functions :) 

Best job

I tucked my 3 beautiful children into bed tonight, after a practically perfect day.  It was a busy day, but one of those days when the squabbles are few and far between and the moments of pure contentment are mixed in with snowballs and sticky kisses. 

Chloe had gymnastics and she just loves it, which is such a joy to watch.  She can barely contain herself as she hops and skips, jumps and rolls, waving at me on the bleachers.  Then I got to spend the afternoon in Ava's class, a place where she is so comfortable and you can literally see her flourishing in the social and learning environment.  Watching her I can't believe that this is my daughter, that I've done enough things right that she's this bright, happy girl who draws people to her with her energy and smile.  

Full circle, we spend the evening with my parents, going for a walk in the slushy snow and having one of my favorite dinners.  The girls are in heaven at grandma's where everything goes their way and Jude adores his poppa, who happily pushes diggers and trucks on the floor with him.  We come home to stories and snuggles and I know I have the best job in the world as I kiss them each goodnight and receive their precious 'I love yous'.   

 

Springtime?

We here at the Sawers household are desperate for spring to arrive.  DESPERATE.  Cabin fever has been in full force since the beginning of March.  My kids have been riding their bikes and scooters up and down the sidewalk ( a span of 7 houses in total) in a sad attempt to be outside.  The slush/mud factor has been ridiculous, of course, but so worth it just to have them outside and active for 15 minutes!  Chloe has mud splatters on her helmet, Ava has spatters all up the back of her jacket, their bikes and scooters are undistinguishable in color, so covered in mud are they; they look like hard-core bikers traversing whatever terrain might lay ahead. 

At this point, they're so happy to be outside they'll do anything whatsoever.  On average they spend an hour a day 'sweeping' the driveway or garage, clearing out the piles and piles of gravel and mud that accumulates.  I just discovered them 'washing' my van down.  This involved 2  brooms and a mud puddle.  That was ended rather quickly... they should be so thankful it was me who found them not dad!  I can't wait till it dries up a bit and I can introduce them to the lost art of rock picking.  That'll keep them busy for a couple weeks.   Oh, Chloe just fell into the gigantic puddle at the end of our driveway.  That does not make for a happy camper.  Guess now it's bath time!

Ramblings

Funny how once you have kids they're always 'with' you, even when they're not.  Like driving home from work last night I'm observing all the construction machinery and commenting in my mind for Jude's benefit... "Wow, look at that backhoe!  Ooh, a red crane!"  Never in my life have I been so appreciative of a fine piece of yellow CAT machinery.  I'm practically becoming a connisseur! (sp?  I'd spell check but...)  I hum along to a sprightly Wiggles tune, thinking how Jude loves doing the actions then realize I don't have to listen to the Wiggles!!  I can listen to grownup music!!  Or better yet, the silence!

And, by the way, am I getting to be an old biddy??  Who uses sprightly???  And tsks at the state of drivers on the Deerfoot?  I apologize internally to Chloe for calling that driver an idiot.  We don't use that word in our house.   Apparently.  Only in mommy's inside voice.  Or in muttered ramblings.  Another sure sign of old-biddyness setting in.  Rambling and muttering.  And humming down the grocery store isles.  And hanging everything to dry because it prolongs the life of your clothes and cuts down on electricity.  And wondering how kids these days can call that crap music.  Gack!!  It's true!  I'm old!  And behind the times!  Totally not with it!  And totally ok with it. 

Gratitude

I'm sitting here basking in the perfection of my children.  Staring at Jude's perfect profile as he happily munches on popcorn and watches the cement trucks across the street.  Laughing with Chloe as she tries to throw pieces of popcorn into my open mouth.  Imagining Ava on the bus right now, giggling with her friends and talking their ears off.  My heart swells with love for these perfect little people. 

Funny how the most mundane, routine day can become extraordinary in the light of external circumstances.  Maybe it's the book I'm reading, a mother of 3 (same ages as mine) dying of cancer.  This hits close to home and I pull them closer for a kiss, grateful that they are here, that I am well, that we are together.  Even more sobering is the disaster zone in Japan, wave after wave of devestation.  My heart breaks for the mothers, desperate to protect their children, to shield them from the horrors but made helpless in the face of these natural disasters.  That our lives couldbe so different simply because of where we live is incomprehensible.  Today I am just so incredibly grateful for my life, for the simplicity of it and the many, many blessings that I have.

World according to Chloe

I love kids' perceptions and interpretations of the world around them.  Driving home from church tonight she was very perplexed over one little boy in her class.  She described him like this:

" He has nice roundy hair (I took this to mean curly) and it's a nice blondey, light brown, whitey color (so blond?) and really nice big blue eyes (at this point I'm certain she's in love with him but it takes a turn) and he's just so different!"  "What do you mean different?" "He's just so curious about me!  And always about what I'm wearing and how I'm feeling and if I'm ok when I fall down or step on something and he asks me if I'm ok and I say I'm fine and he talks to me but I just don't answer cause I just don't know who he is...(voice trails off and she's looking so confused)" "He doesn't sound different, Chloe, he just sounds very kind and interested in you" "Well, he's just so curious about everyone!" *sigh* apparently curious/friendly/interested just makes you different in Chloe's books.

Chloe was invited to a birthday party and is super excited.  She loves to 'read' things aloud to us, so I thought I would share her interpretation (word for word!) as she 'reads' aloud to me the party invitation:

Dear Chloe,

A wish will come true, on a shining star.

I'll see you at my birfday.  And don't forget.  Right?

I am 5.  I am a princess and I am 5 just like you.  In seven days I'll be 5.

I love you very, very much.  I miss you.  I love you very much and I hope you have a dream that will come true, it's about you and me together.  I'll see you on a playdate because I love you.

The long and short of this particular invitation is this:  Chloe's friend really, really loves her and that's why she's invited.  In a child's world I guess it's just that simply.  No politics, no fence-mending or bridge burning just plain old love.  Aw.

Worn Down

Everyone tells you how hard kids are on their clothes.  Initially, the girls were pretty easy on theirs but since Ava started school (and the playground) she's been going through clothes at an alarming rate.  Passing on pants to Chloe is a write-off because she's going through the knees of every pair.  She even goes through the patches that I painstakingly stitch on in multi-colored thread and cute little patterns.  I can't be too upset  because it means she's doing what kids do best and having fun outside.

What I wasn't prepared for though, was how hard kids would be on my clothes!  I used to have a revolving door concept going on with my clothes; I'd bring the gently used items collecting dust in my closet to a consignment store then spend my cash from recycling them on new items.  Now I can't even donate most of my clothes because they're completely worn out!  I'm busting through the knees in my jeans like a 6 year old in a gravel pit.  Considering I spend most of my days on the floor, either building train tracks or cleaning them up or wiping up a sticky spill, I shouldn't be surprised when the threads start wearing down.  The worst items though are the shirts.  Maybe it's the new, thinner cotton or maybe clothing manufacturing just ain't what it used to be, but it feels like at least once a week I'm discovering holes in one of my favorite shirts.  And I always discover them out in public, usually when I'm actually trying to look nice, and they're always in my midsection.  What is with that??  Couldn't they be under my arm or something where no one can see them??

So, now my 'refresh' my closet fund is shrinking dramatically and my need for new clothes (preferably ones that don't fall apart in the middle of the shopping mall) is growing.  How do I balance those two out again? 

Chloe Cleans

I'm thinking of starting a home business.  It's called 'Chloe Cleans'.  There has got to be a way to monopolize on this outstanding five year old and her attention to detail.  Right now she is organizing my mudroom.  On her own.  No suggestions from me, not even a hint.  We just came home (in a flurry of boots, coats, hats, and diaper bags) and I started lunch prep leaving her to her own devices, which apparently are de-cluttering. 

The incredible thing is that she does a really, really, really good job.  She started with the coats.  They are all hung equi-distance apart, zippers done up, hangers aligned.  Then she moved on to the boot basket.  Every shoe side by side with their partner, facing the same direction.  Now, she has moved on to the scary basket of winter accessories... hats, mittens, gloves, scarves, toques, caps, you name it we have at least 7.  She has taken everything out and is making neat little stacks: glove on top of glove, mitt folded with matching mitt, hats in a neat pile, caps in another, scarves folded into 8 teeny squares.  There are a dozen perfect little towers of wool accessories on the floor ready to be placed in an orderly fashion in the basket.  The icing on the cake?  Halfway through, she comes running into the kitchen: "Mom!  I love you!  And I'm just organizing the back door!"  I LOVE YOU TOO!!!  Tomorrow I'll get here started on the pantry... 

Resident snoop

It appears we've discovered the nosy resident on our street.  You know, the person who watches furtively from behind their curtains and always seems to have extravagent theories on the neighbor's personal lives.  Sadly, this person is.... ME!!!  *gasp*

I put the blame solely on 2 things.  First, I'm at home.  A lot.  This is the way of things with 3 kids, one of whom naps every afternoon.  I seem to see the neighbor's often, whether it's when I'm bringing Ava to the bus at 7:15, leaving for errands or preschool in the morning, or doing the afternoon pickups.  The second reason is my bonus room windows.  There are 4 of them and they are large (basically floor to ceiling) and they have excellent vantage points.  I can see everything without even trying.  Honestly, I'm not trying to spy on them it just happens!!

So, now I can't seem to stop speculating on what could be going on next door.  The dynamic keeps changing and our new theory is: divorce gone bad with husband on a party bender and random houseguests coming and going at all hours.  Throw in 2 teenage children that we think are from the wife's previous relationship who show up every couple of days presumably to gather more things and then leave again.  There also seems to be a shared custody of the 2 dogs (that hubby lets out to pee and poop on my dirt pile every day) and the wife shows up once a week to walk them and then leave.  All in all a very bizarre turn of events from the quiet 4o something couple that we thought we were living next door to.   Wonder who's moving in to the other side of me??