Food for Thought

Lately I have noticed that my second child, the one I often refer to as "passionate" because it sounds a little less harsh then spastic is particularly "passionate" about her food.  I don't mean that she is being a picky eater, but seems to have strong opinions about how her food is presented to her. 

Sometimes she gets upset if she doesn't have the plate she anticipated getting, or the fork, or the cup, or she has a spoon and wanted a fork, or whatever.   Usually she resolves the frustration she is experiencing by throwing a fit and rolling on the floor while the rest of us carry on with our meal.  Heartless I am, and often hear myself quoting "Pinkalicous" saying "You get what you get".  Other times I give in and tell her to pick the items that she was hoping for, really just depends on the day. 

This has been one of her traits for some time now.  More recently she has begun to get very upset if the actual food on the plate is not presented as she would anticipate.  For example if she wanted a sandwich cut into squares and without thinking I cut it into triangles.  The biggest issue with this problem is that she already could be one of the most indecisive individuals ever.  She says she wants bread in triangles, then squares, then triangles.  So you go with triangles, hand her the plate and she melts because they are not squares.

Recently I took a picture of her while in the midst of one of her fits to show my husband as he had missed it.  She had gone bat sh*t  crazy because I had cut her spaghetti after she had asked me to.  She was unable to eat it long because she cannot twirl noodles on her own.  She would not allow someone to assist her in twirling noodles, thus she wanted it cut.  After it was cut she realized that it was no longer twirlable and lost it.

This instance was pretty funny due to her dramatic response and the epic fit that followed and therefore picture worthy.   Because I possessed the picture, it then became a topic of conversation between me and friends of mine who also have small children.  Friends indicated they attempted to pinch the bread on sandwiches back together to create the desired shape. Others shared trying to stack items into certain shapes or hide food underneath other food all in attempt to satisfy their child.  One girl explained to me that she spent about 10 minutes trying to mush a hamburger patty back together because she thought it would work because her child decided that she did not want it in pieces any longer.

At the very least sharing my photo and story with others has taught me that  I am not alone, and that we all attempt the impossible of putting food back together in some crazy manor.   Please feel free to share some of your own crazy reconstructing moments!

I Wish Someone Told Me

Recently while at a baby shower for a friend of mine I was asked to write down a piece of advice for the mom to be.  I wrote the following:

We all know nothing in the beginning.
We learn as we go.
Everything you think you know is probably wrong.
Best of luck!

This exercise got me thinking a little bit about the few things I did learn about labour & delivery, postpartum, and life after with a baby.  So in honour of my many pregger friends at this time here is a few things I do know, now.

Labour & Delivery
This is way messier then you can ever imagine

After you deliver your baby your body goes into shock as you have been through a major trauma including full out body shakes and shivers.  At this point the nurses will be your best buds piling warm blankets fresh out of the oven onto you and you will love them for it

Post Partum
Although some people's body's bounce back not everybody's does.  I was told that you will still look pregnant when you leave the hospital and I was prepared for that.  I was not prepared to always have an apron of excess skin hanging over my abominate area.  I was never super fit or thin but this was still shocking to me and very upsetting.  I was always the type of person thinking I would age naturally and would not choose plastic surgery; however, now I would be first in line for a mommy makeover.

Not everyone likes their baby instantly.  I loved them but I certainly did not like them until they were about 14 months old.  Life can feel a lot like groundhog day, doing the same tasks day in and day out.  Don't feel inadequate or like you are a bad person for not being over the moon about the baby stage if it isn't necessarily your thing.  I believe everyone has an age that they excel at dealing with.  Unfortunately I think I might currently be in mine which mean things may only go downhill from here.

Life After with your Baby
Your baby is not the same as anyone else's baby and so you need to learn the things that your baby likes and techniques that will work on your baby.

Nothing lasts; just when you think you get things figured out they change.  This is also true for the not so nice phases and none sleeping as well.

Hand warmers work fantastic to warm bottles on the go.

Adopt your new uniform: skinny pants with full tummy coverage; flat slip on shoes that easily go on and off without bending; short or long sleeved t-shirt with scoop neck for easy access if you are breast feeding; scarf to hide stains on said shirt, hide possible uncomfortable cleavage, and wipe  up baby puke; and lastly, a cardigan with pockets to throw pacifiers or whatever in.  The cardigan also works  wonderful to turn around and wear backwards if you are breastfeeding as a cover, when you do forget the expensive actual cover you bought.

So this is it; about all I do know and I hope it is helpful to all I know that will soon be expecting

Defeating Trick or Treating

Last night marked the first successful trick or treating experience in our home.  It also marked the 5th attempt at trick or treating.  Our first three years of trick or treating we actually did in the afternoon to our four neighbours and just went by for visits, so they were fairly uneventful to be perfectly honest. 

Last year was our families' first attempt at evening trick or treating like most other people do.  My husband was on nights and I decided I would attempt to take them out alone.   After work I got home and shoved a quick dinner in front of them.  I got them dressed, which was a huge fight because apparently they no longer wished to wear the costumes they initially chose.  We were out the door at about 6:40pm.  We walked through our yard, and across the road to the neighbours; one kid on each arm with the dog being dragged along behind.  About three steps into our neighbour's yard the younger child decided she wanted to be picked up, so of course then, the older one wanted to be picked up.  Now I had one child on each hip and was dragging the dog behind me.  I attempted to have them walk up to the door to say "trick or treat".  I set them down and the trouble began.

They used the divide and conquer method against me and ran in opposite directions.  I used my best Border Collie abilities to herd them towards the porch of our neighbour's house.  They finally got to the door and were greeted by our neighbour.  She gave them each a bag of candy causing more issues to arise.  Both girls then wanted to eat the candy at precisely that moment and could not fathom the thought that they would have to wait until trick or treating was over.  They both melted in her yard and began rolling around in the grass crying that they really wanted the candy.  It was cold and terrible outside, and I was hot and sweating by this time.  I decided to let them have their candy and we headed back home to eat it; me carrying one child on each hip dragging the dog behind us.

I learned a lot from last year's experience.  This year I prepared dinner the night before, I bribed them to put on their costume by letting them know that costumes equal candy, my husband and I both took them so neither person would be outnumberd, and we brought along a double buggy cart type apparatus to put stuff in.

I am proud to say that despite the fact that it rained the entire time, we walked through our small village and trick or treated at approximately a dozen houses.  Success, and at the end of the night although wet and kind of tired I didn't want to put anyone up for adoption.  Plus, as a bonus by them going to substantially more houses then last year, I now have way more candy to steal from them once they are sleeping.  

Memories Worth Forgetting

There are not many instances when I have been legitimately embarrassed of my children.  Angry, frustrated, self conscience, yes; but embarrassed they belong to me has only happened twice. 

The first time was shortly after my second child was born.  My oldest was about 1 ½ at the time and I had made an appointment to have our dog groomed.  I packed both kids up and headed to town, which is approximately a 30 minute trip.  I dropped the dog off assuming we would have about a 30 minute wait; however, I was unpleasantly surprised to find out it would be around 3-4 hours.    This was too short to go home but too long to stay unprepared.  I attempted to stay in town and by the time we pick up the dog I had two very tired children.  One strapped to my chest in a carrier and the other walking beside me.  We entered the store to get the dog and by this time the youngest was unhappy and crying.  The youngest was whaling really, and my older child was becoming impatient.  When we were trying to leave the oldest decided she would like one of the dog toys and when I told her "no" she started having a full out tantrum; laying on the floor kicking and screaming. 

I stood in the middle of the store with a new baby crying on my chest, my toddler screaming and rolling on the floor and our 85lb dog jumping around on a leash.   I picked the oldest off the floor under my arm and carried her screaming to the car with the other one crying on my chest and the dog tugging at his leash the entire time. 

The second instance was much more recent.  I had decided that we were going to have a fun girl's day.  I thought I would take them skating and then head to the grocery store with the kid's carts.  It was to be my youngest child's first time ever skating.  I knew right from the beginning that it had the potential to be a bad experience, yet I remained optimistic and pursued on. 

We arrived at the area, laced up skates, put on helmets and winter items, and by the time we were going to step foot on the ice I was already exhausted.  I grabbed two plastic bar type things provided to assist little ones on the ice and headed out.  Instantly, the youngest was not interested in using the aide and only wanted to be held.  She started yelling and so I tried to head back to the door to exit.  This made her yell louder and when I mentioned to the older one we might have to get off the ice she began to whine as she was not ready to leave yet.  I hoisted the youngest onto my hip which was apparently against some kind of safety violation and was scolded by the 14 year old monitor.  I injured my back hunched over the youngest while trying to encourage the oldest; all the while trying to act excited and have fun.  Not long after I dragged them off the ice pretty upset.  They then whined  for a treat and I gave in defeated.  There is limited selection at the snack bar so they ended up splitting a chocolate bar.  Bad, bad, bad decision. 

I still had to head to the grocery store to pick up a few thing.  By the time we arrived I has two girls beginning to enter a downward sugar spiral.  They were beginning to become delirious;  but unfortunately our cupboards were bear and so we perserved on into the store.  I bent down to there level and threatened them within inches of life and informed them of how I expected they should behave.  I believe that they could see through my guise and knew they had me.   I mean they had already won the candy bar.  Next races insured through the store as well as a game of bumper carts, and run over mommy's feet all the while I am trying not to bust out my possessed my the devil growl and scream at them.  I did refrain and kept my cool somewhat; however, I am sure onlookers tisked me behind my back.  We made it to the till and my youngest ran over to the greeting cards starting to pull them out.  I ran over and told her "no" which provoked a screaming fit.  People began to stare at me and wonder if she was injured.  I picked her up onto my hip causing her to act out with violence and me trying to restrain her in a publicly appropriate way.  

At this moment my oldest thought it would be fun to run away from me.  Off she goes looking over her shoulder laughing all the way.  I paid for my items, ran after her and grabbed her by the arm. This action caused her to start screaming as well.  I dragged them to the car and secured them into their seats.  I closed the door and screamed at them in my evil voice.  I think I saw them both shutter and the car went silent.

We haven't been back to the store since.

Reasons for Ratings

We are fairly avid car travellers in our house.  I have mentioned in the past how we definitely have our fair share of car trips.  Because of this I am always on the lookout for inexpensive movies to add to our collection.  This is how I first discovered the $5.00 movie bin at Wal-mart.

Each time I walk by the bin I do a quick sift to see if there are any children's movie's I can grab to watch in the car.  I have been doing this for some time now.  Sometimes we have hits and other times we have very big misses.  We have been subject to watching the "Pebble and the Penguin" movie for days on end; it doesn't have the greatest animation or story line.  For some odd reason my 2nd child's favourite movie at about 18 months was "The Cat in the Hat"; not the cartoon but the one staring Mike Myers (probably not appropriate).  I think I actually bought "The Cat in the Hat" three times from the bin as it kept getting scratched.

Looking back I believe it was one of the first times that I ever perused the $5.00 bin that I learned by biggest $5.00 bin lesson.  I had grabbed out a couple of children's movies and through them in my cart.  My oldest was just under two at the time and I had purchased "The Pebble and the Penguin" as well as "Coraline" for her to enjoy; both of these were movies I had never seen but appeared to be child friendly by the cover.

We got home and my husband went into work for the night and so I decided to turn on one of our new movies.  I threw "Coraline" into the DVD player and pressed play.  I was tidying things in the other room and dealing with my second child who was an infant at the time when I heard strange noises coming from the TV.  I walked back into the living room to find a somewhat horror type film playing on our TV.  I quickly turned it off.  Later that night after putting both of my girls to bed I finished watching the move and realized that it was definitely not a movie intended for small children.

The basic story line is a little girl feels neglected by her current family.  She finds a passage into another, alternate world with a new family.  Despite warnings from others she continues to visit this other world until she learns that the "other mother" is evil wants to sew buttons on her eyes and turn her into a ghost child.  Then there is a fight between the girl and the evil other mother and the little girl wins.  After this she learns to appreciate her regular life.  This is clearly, not a kid's movie.

I had kind of forgotten about the whole ordeal and by the weekend we were off on another car trip to visit the zoo.  My husband popped in a DVD for my oldest and attached the player to the back of the head rest.  Not far into the trip and turned around to ask my daughter how the penguin movie was.  I had thought he had put in the much loved "Happy Feet" and noticed she had a strange look on her face.  I looked at her and said "What's wrong, you love the penguin movie?"  To this my husband replied "oh, no I put that new Coraline one on".   I then asked my daughter if she wanted it off and with wide eyes and a horrified face she nodded yes.

And this is when I learned to not judge a movie by its cover and always read the rating first.

Cloudy with a Chance of Screaming

Fairly recently my husband and I have been discussing taking our oldest child to see a movie for the first time.  Since she was fresh and new she has been a TV kid.  She loved the colour and movement as a baby and continues to love shows and movies.  She will actually sit through a movie at our house quietly on the couch. 

Now, our next child does not have this same appreciation.  She rarely stops moving long enough to notice if the television is turned on.  The only show she has any interest in is Bubble Guppies and she can't even sit through a 20 minutes episode of that.  So understandably when I mentioned we all go to the movies together my husband gave me a sideways glance.

The truth is we both wanted to experience going to a movie with our oldest for the first time and I thought I youngest may enjoy it as the screen is so large and didn't want her to miss out.  Even though I didn't want her to miss out on the experience I also was prepared.  I said that if it wasn't working out I would just exit the theatre, no big deal.  I mean it's a kid's movie on a week night, I am sure it won't be busy and should be a fairly kid friendly place.  We had discussed a plan that if the youngest was not cooperative that I would leave with her.

We arrived at the theatre, got our seats, and sat down to wait for the movie to begin.  Our youngest did fantastic during the previews and I began to think she might really be into this.  She seemed tired and cuddly and I dared to think for a moment she might even just go to sleep.  However, as soon as the movie began it was like her cue to become restless.  We were sitting in the very back row and she began getting in and out of seat down the aisle.  There was no one in the row and probably around 15 other people in the entire theatre so it wasn't that big of deal.

This lasted for about 5 minutes or so when she decided she wanted to move.  I picked her up and we walked down to the very front row.  In front of us was a fairly large open area and she was running in it and dancing to the movie.   After about 10 minutes of this behaviour she decided to go back up the stairs.  I took this as my cue to exit the theatre as she was being disruptive.  I placed her onto my side part way up the stairs.

My stride was then interrupted by an incredibly boisterous woman informing me to get control of my child.  She then proceeded to engage in an argument with me in the middle of the theatre.  She informed me that my child was out of control, distracting her, and that she had paid to see this movie.  My response was that it was a children's movie, she should look at the screen and that yes we all did pay to see this movie including me and my child.  I reminded myself that my child was with me and told her to try and set an example for hers, then exited the theatre.

I would have liked to remind that women of instances I am sure she had in the past in which her children did not act perfectly in public situations.  I would have liked to express that my child was acting like a child at a children's movie.  And I would have liked to publically maim her using a lot of profanity.  However, I did not do any of these things, instead I practiced self control because I did want to set an example for my child.  I take away from this a reminder that we has parents are all in this together and to be more understanding for other parents.

After the movie finished my husband exited the theatre with my other child.  I told him what happened and he seemed surprised.  He then told me that he was surprised anyone said anything because he moved to the front of the theatre part way through the movie and there was another family seated beside him with a child that yelled and carried on through the rest of the movie.

I then smiled to myself, thankful for karma.  

The Blame Game

My two are continually justifying why they have just done some sort of undesirable behaviour.  I hit her because she took my toy.  She bit me first.  I had that baby.  That blanket is mine.  I am sure that these are common phrases that all parents hear with more than one small person in their home.  I don't think this is in any way special to our circumstances.

Often I find myself acting as a referee of sorts between the two.   I determine who gets what, I make them apologize and hug, and I take away toys if a compromise cannot be reached.  Again, nothing terribly uncommon.  I am sure most parents can relate to these kinds of situations. 

I try to understand and empathize that sharing is difficult and something that may not be so natural.  We try and instil that we take ownership for our mistakes and we don't blame others.  However, inevitably whenever one of my two is questioned on their actions, blame is placed on another. "Why are your toys not put away" I ask, "because you wanted me to come for dinner" is the reply I am given.   This list is endless.

This got me thinking as to why?   We talk about mistakes and ownership for them a lot in our house, so then why is it so hard to accept responsibility for ones actions.   I continually look at my husband and say "why is it so hard for them to just say they are wrong?"  

This past weekend I got my answer.  As per the usual when dealing with me I was running late.  We were headed to the Library then to dance class last Saturday morning, like all Saturday mornings from fall to spring.  I was rushing to get my two out of the house.  They were clothed in their dance attire toting along their books to exchange at the library, dance bag placed by the door and away we went. 

The library was a fairly typical experience with me giving warnings on proper voice amplification in such places and reminders on using our walking feet.  After counting down the number of minutes we had remaining until departure time, we left the library to head to dance.  Of course, we were delayed in our departure due to watching diggers nearby, and situating little ones into seats along with proper snacks.  

We drove to town and arrived perfectly, with about 2 ½ minutes to spare.  I turned to the back seat to tell them they would need to hurry when I noticed that the dance bag which carries their tap and ballet shoes was not

in the car.  I then proceeded to give them a lecture on the importance of remembering their things, stating it was their responsibility to bring their dance bag and that they would have to dance in stockings today.

We went into class when another mom came in and stated apologetically that she felt so bad because she forgot her child's dance shoes.  I told her that we did as well, and that she shouldn't feel bad as I just told my two it was their responsibility. 

Then it hit me.  I just blamed my 2 & 4 year old for me not remembering their dance bag.  Clearly, they are a little young to take responsibility for this.  Maybe this mom needs to work on admitting when she is wrong too.

Get Out of My Bed

I have come to realize that being a mom really means never being able to finish any plate of food you have fixed for yourself.  It means every time you pull your own hair up you must also do the same to two others.  It means never leaving your house in clean clothes again.  It essentially means you must share everything with your children. 

In most instances I am good with this, although I am often annoyed at not getting to eat my own dinner, and every hair accessory and scarf I own being stolen, but I deal.  However, I do not deal (at least not well) when it comes to my bed.

My husband and I first purchased a king sized bed a few years back prior to children.  At the time our 85lb lap dog insisted on sleeping in our double bed with us, and we were cramped.   We purchased our king bed and the dog still slept on me.  Not long after the dog was kicked out to his own bed because I really don't like sharing my bed. 

Truthfully, I find our king sized bed a touch small when my husband shares it with me.  He is a shift worker and when he is on nights it feels like just the right size for me, and only me. 

Soon after our oldest daughter arrived,  between lack of sleep and desperation (she would wake up 7 to nine times a night until nearly two) I allowed her to sleep with me at times.  Scratch that, not so much allowed her to; but more, was too exhausted to move her back to her own bed once she finally fell asleep.  Although she has not spent even close to a full night in my bed in a very long time, she still awakes most nights and comes into my room whining to sleep with me at about 4:00am.

Not letting her sleep with me has nothing to do with principal, or a lesson, or any views I have on co-sleeping.  I simply cannot let her sleep with me because I wake up resenting her.  She has got to be the worst person to share a bed with.  She does not lay still, she kicks,  she sucks her thumb and all around makes me miserable.  To top off this situation, if I insist she return to her own bed, the whining and crying begins as she is too tired to cope or realize the reality of how sleepy she is. 

This morning like many mornings I had my 4:00am visitor to my bedroom.  And this morning like many mornings I lost my marbles on her.  My husband was in bed next to be.  He does a much better job at dealing with these early morning visits and is able to sleep next to her without a problem.  So when she arrived in my room whining to sleep with me I told her to go to her daddy.  She argued and I told her to either get back to her bed or lay with her daddy or bad things would happen. 

She did crawl into our bed between the two of us and I warned her not to touch me.  When she started kicking me, rubbing her feet on my legs and sucking her thumb in my ear I could feel my blood nearly boil. 

I then got up, got ready for work, got her ready for school.  I did my hair, then her hair with my hair clips.  I made us all breakfast and she ate most of mine, even though it was the same as hers.  I walked out the door trying to wipe the sticky figure mess from my shirt, and it's fine because I can share all of these things- just not my bed!

Dad Envy

I want to be a dad.  They have a way better gig.   Everyone is continually complementing my husband on his fathering skills.  Don't get me wrong I do think he is pretty good; but, for the amount of praise he receives he should be offering "how to" classes. 

In today's society, it is my belief that in most two parent homes both parents work and are required to do so in order to live.  However, this has not always been the case.  In the past when many women were working in the home they became primary caregivers for children and thus dads were perhaps slightly less involved in day to day care-taking.  Fast forward to our present, and dad's no longer have a choice; they must have greater involvement in daily tasks as both parents are working outside the home.  However, older society members (boomers) who make up a large portion of our population are not exactly 100% used to this reality yet.

This is why I think it is a prime time to be a dad.  Things that my husband does with my children are praised; however, if I were to do the same, harsh judgement would be cast upon me.  Example, if a "dad" uses his sleeve to wipe a booger soaked face he is being resourceful; but, if a "mom" does the same she is so unprepared.

Since having children this double standard has been driving me crazy.  I cannot count the number of times that someone has said to me "wow, he is really good with your kids".  In the beginning I would just smile and say yeah even though secretly inside I was really annoyed by the comment.  Now my response is "I know, right? I thought he was going to be a dead beat too, but I thought hey what they hell, let's give it a try anyway".    Or sometimes I say "Yeah well they are his".  Clearly, before we had children and I married him I did give it some thought.   I mean really people!

Another annoying matter is the shock, then amazement, then approving smiles he gets once someone learns he has his own diaper bag.  Somehow, the bag is a symbol for people, correlating to the amount of involvement he has in our children's lives.  He did not want to carry the bag I chose, nor did I want to share the bag I knew I would be carrying for the next 3-4 years.  It is just a bag!  He takes our children out of our home and does not carry a purse, requires diapers & wipes and therefore has a vessel to put these items in.  Again, it is just a bag and it isn't even that nice of one.

All this aside, I do believe there is light at the end of this tunnel.  I believe that as time goes by expectations will be raised for dads as well.  In the future they will face the same sideways glazes that moms receive when brushing dirt off of our children's snacks and then handing it back to them.

But until that happens I want the "dad" job!

Lazy Moms use Diapers

I am often asked why my second child isn't using the potty yet.  I usually respond with "oh, she just is not ready".  I can see this translates to many people as, mom is just too lazy.   But when are they ready?  As in ready to use the potty.  This is the question we have been asking for nearly a year in our house. 

Our first was very typical and was diaper free just before 2 1/2 other than at night.  Everyone told me when they are ready it will be easy.  So we waited and when she was ready things went fairly smoothly.  Within the week of finishing with diapers we headed on a 10 hour car trip.  This is how we were introduced to assisting toddlers to pee in the wilderness.  It was a quick lesson after the first stop included her peeing all over my Uggs!

This one account led me to believe all the hype and offer the same advice of "When they are ready you will know and it will go fairly easy".  But what happens when you don't really want to wait that long?  When you are sick of changing toddler diapers and blow outs, when your child can tell you to change them and that they have pooped, when they can offer assistance in completing this dirty task; it is time to take action.

Clearly, their are many other parents like me.  A billion dollar industry exists marketing tools to make this task easier and more exciting.  I was offered a few different methods to try including placing them on the potty every 15 to 20 minutes, offering prizes or treats, & sticker charts.  

In the spring and summer, I had already tried just putting underpants on her out side and telling her to let me know when she needed to use the potty. A few accidents later I chalked it up to her not being ready and put a diaper back on her.  

I chose my next steps wisely.  This year she is signed up for dance class for the first time.  Although she is still a little young I was able to convince the instructor to let her into the class after she witnessed her meltdowns the previous year when she was forced to sit on the sidelines and watch her sister.  So I set the stage and informed her that the dance teacher said she couldn't wear a diaper under her dance clothes.  I told her that if she wanted to go to dance class she would have to use the potty and she agreed.

The stage was set, it was Friday night and potty training was to start the next morning.  I had decided on a multi-faceted approach.  I planned on having potty breaks every 15 to 20 minutes, and had gotten her her own potty.  Also I told her that every time she went on the potty we would blow up a ballon, and if she used the potty enough times we would have a party by the end of the day.  She agreed to these terms and seemed excited; I had hope that diaper free was in my sights.

This hope died when her first accident occurred shortly after a potty break while she was pretending to be a dog on the only area rug in our entire house.  I told her the rules of our agreement again, put new underpants on her and she seemed excited once more.  The hope dwindled further during her second accident on the same carpet while rolling around in blankets and pillows.  The hope was completely killed with the third accident on the same carpet within minutes of a potty break sitting in a puddle six inches from her potty.

Currently a week later she is back in diapers (one size up to try and prevent blow outs), and my carpet stinks even after being scrubbed multiple times with different cleaners.  I guess we will wait a little longer.  The next time I am asked "Is she still in diapers?", I am just going to respond "Yes, I am really lazy"!

Getting Schooled

September will never be the same.  Last Tuesday we sent our oldest child to her first day of school.  Preparation for this date began weeks and weeks ago.  Things I had not previously thought much about had now become very important.  It started with backpack and lunch bag choices.  My mother had mentioned to her that she remembered her mommy (me) taking a My Little Pony lunch pail for kindergarten which sparked discussions on what type of lunch bag she would like, and my worry began.

Although she stated that she too would like a My Little Pony lunch bag or Care Bears (still a huge fav in our house) I was hesitant.  I have heard terrible stories from other parents on the young age at which teasing can begin over superficial things.  Due to my worry I talked her into a generic pony patterned matching backpack and lunch bag.

Upon ordering these items online (we live close to no shopping) the option was presented to have the bags customized with your child's name embroidered on the back.  At first I was a sell, thinking how cute, and perfect something I won't have to put a name sticker on; but then fear.   Thankfully I didn't inform her of this choice and decided against it because I have watched too many Dateline episodes warning against this type of thing.

Next decision was the actual containers in which to place the packed lunch in.  I cannot convey the amount of time and energy I put into this.  Weeks of consideration and research with an end result of way to expensive containers being ordered.  Then the realization that due to my constant worry and procrastination they probably wouldn't be in on time, followed by purchasing plastic ones for under a $1.50 each from the grocery store. 

Surprise, the Friday prior they did arrive.  The day before her first day we talked about what to expect and what she wanted in her lunch.  We made strawberry mini muffins at her request and cheese crackers shaped into hearts (which she didn't like).  We assembled her lunch and practiced opening the containers, picked out clothes and were ready to rock for the morning of the first day. 

Then it was here, her first day.  We woke up, had breakfast and got dressed.  We snapped a couple of pictures in the yard and off she went to the bus stop with her entourage consisting of her sister, dog, dad and me in tow.  We waited for the bus giving our hugs and kisses before its arrival as not to embarrass her.  The bus arrived and our older neighbour took her under her wing and onto the bus even sitting with her (tear) and away they went. 

I was off to work, so only my husband got to greet her when she returned home.  That night I felt as though I was using my best interrogation tactics sprinkled in with some bribery on her but I am still unclear about all the events that took place on her first day.   I am sure I will never know and that sucks. 

Yesterday was her second day and she was still excited to go, so I guess it couldn't have been too bad.  We all survived the first day, and I understand that this is only the beginning of many more new starts.  September will never be the same.

Cake Determines Gender?

This summer our family has been introduced to a new kind of party; the "Gender Reveal" party.  For people who are not aware, this is a new trend in which a pregnant couple, who are planning to learn the gender of their child prior to delivery, have a party and learn the gender at the same time as their guests. 

We have attended two gender reveal parties this summer and our children came along to both for a backyard afternoon style affair.  Upon entry to both parties guest were encouraged to choose what they thought, boy or girl, and either wear their choice or cast a vote.  Of course our girls hoped for girls both times.  At both of these parties the soon to be mom & dad learned if they were having a boy or a girl from cutting into a cake and discovering pink (at one it was actually yellow as it went with the girl décor better) or blue.

At one party our girls' wish came true and the inside of the cake indicated it was a baby girl inside the soon to be mommy's tummy.  They were elated and felt as though they had won something for being right.  At the other party the baby was determined to be a boy and this is when the questions started.

A few months back I learned that I was going to be an aunt and I couldn't have been more elated by the news.  Soon after, the mommy to be asked me if I had told my girls that they were going to have a new cousin to which I replied, "no, I assumed you didn't want everyone in the world to know".  Not taking my head seriously the mommy to be laughed and shared the news with my little ones. 

After that my oldest went around sharing this with everyone she spoke to

"My baby (referring to her little sister) is getting too big.  So they are growing me a new one, but I have to wait until Christmas to see it".

As her mother I was given some sideways looks and some congratulations until I could explain that I was not expecting but instead her aunt.  Thankfully now the news is out and those awkward moments have passed; however, the gender reveal parties have struck a whole new kind of awkward.

I believe being incorrect on the baby's gender sent her to a very thought provoking place and she asked my husband "how does the baby get out of the tummy"?  My husband side stepped around this question and gave me a heads up that I would be handling that one. 

After some consideration I decided I would just answer the question directly and not make it a very big deal.  A few days later she came and asked me the same question "how does the baby get out of the tummy"?  I looked at her and said very casually "well women's private parts are called their vagina and that is where the baby comes out".  She looked strangely at me and said "oh mommy that's so silly", and walked away.  At this point I kind of thought we were in the clear until a couple more days passed.

Now this is our four year olds new favourite game.  First she stuffs a baby doll up her shirt and says "I have a baby in my tummy", followed by "oh, it's coming out of my privates" and finally "now I have to cut the cake and see what it is; it's a girl"!

Hopefully this game ends before school starts!

Ignorance is Bliss

Ignorance is bliss.  The longer I have been a mother the more I understand how true this statement is.  I believe that I am not alone in my choice to often ignore what is happening around me.  I am a firm believer in letting things happen and often utter the phrase "just work it out girls".

I am now able to turn a blind eye to many situations I never thought possible.  Sometimes I just sit back and watch the scene unfold.  The other day my oldest was in the yard playing.  I could clearly see she had to use the facilities as she sat on the ground rocking, looking somewhat like a dog with worms.  I hollered out to her "time for a bathroom break" to which she replied "I don't have to".  A few minutes later as my husband and I watched out the window, she dropped trousers and squatted in the grass in the back yard.  My husband and I looked at each other and started laughing.

There are times when I take the looking the other direction approach just a little too far.  While trying to unload the dishwasher and get dinner started, I willingly ignored the other room because it was silent (never a good sign with little ones in the house).  I later walked into the other room to find stream on the living room floor created by the little ones with both my girls sitting beside it pretending to be at the beach.  In this instance, my choice to embrace the silence and try and frantically get some things put away created a lot more work! 

Other times, I holler over my shoulder without even looking to just work it out because I do not want to be judge and jury yet again and decide who had what toy first.  This situation is a 50/50 split; sometimes they figure it out and sometimes someone walks away crying. 

This ability to choose to ignore situations is a skill that I did not posses pre children.    Pre children I was a crazy control freak and referred to myself as "passionate" because I had an opinion about everything.  Now I refer to my youngest as "passionate" and am getting much better at going with the flow.

I guess with chaos also comes calm. I perceived my life was much busier and more important than it was.   Don't get me wrong, I can still tap into my emotions and be as crazy as ever; it just is slightly more infrequent because I am too busy cleaning up various liquids my children have spilt all over the floor.  

Telling Stories

In our house each night includes the same routine.  A race upstairs followed by bathroom breaks, teeth brushing and books in mommy & daddy's bed.  Finally piggy back rides and spins to their beds, a song, a kiss, a hug, and out the door.  As it sounds, it is quite the production and sometimes takes upwards of 45 minutes to get them both in their beds for the first time.

They share a room, so lots of nights this first drop into their beds is followed by many trips upstairs by yours truly, and warnings that they need to get back to bed and go to sleep.  Sometimes I actually just stomp up the bottom few stairs as a warning.  As I do this I can hear their feet scurrying around the room and jumping back under the covers.

For over four years this has been our routine and like it or not we are kind of stuck with it now to some degree.  Looking back I think I am sure we could have made this nightly chore much faster and kind of kick myself for not knowing better at the time.  I wanted to share this because we are coming to the end of an era in our house and I believe this routine might end up being stretched out even longer.

My oldest turned four a few months ago and her comprehension is now far enough ahead that pulling the wool over her eyes is becoming increasingly difficult.  Like most people I know with small ones I am tired at the end of the day.  I mean those kids wear me out!  So on more than one occasion I have been known to paraphrase a book or two, or perhaps skip a page here and there if not enough attention is being paid.  I mean sometimes things just need to move along a little faster.   I for one am sick of that white bunny Ruby always being such a bossy know it all and take a creative story telling approach.

However, over the last few weeks I am able to get away with less and less creativity.  I am constantly being told that I have missed a part, or a page, or that it doesn't go that way.  One of the biggest problems is that sometimes the corrections she is telling me about are actually not even in the story.  They are from other nights in which I was taking creative license and no longer remember what I had said. 

The other night during her giving me lectures for reading inaccurately I told her that she could just go ahead and read the story then.  Now I thought I took creative license, while this kid was another story.  That was the longest story with absolutely no plot I have ever sat through.  It included a song that I did not understand the words to, dancing and parts where I was expected to interact.  Really big mistake.

So for now I am going to have to read the actual stories as they are written; or, maybe a better idea is that it is time for some new books.

Too Old?

How old is too old?  This is a loaded beginning to any sentence and the way a recent conversation began with my husband.  One night not so long ago he turned to me and asked "So how old is too old to have a belly button ring?"  "Why do you ask, because my stomach is eating mine" I replied.

Now, I know I usually tell stories about my munchkins; however, this is related because my body looks the way it does because of them.  I have been told many times in the past that I am probably too old  to still have a belly button ring.  People are actually very surprised to find out that I kept it proudly through both pregnancies.  

Anyone  other than my children or husband would not even know that I had it.  My abs have not seen sunlight for probably five years.  My oldest regularly presses on my stomach and states "Your tummy is squishy because you grew babies in it, right?"  They both think that I am so lucky because I have a jewel in my tummy.  

Usually when people tell me it is time to get rid of it I don't think much of it.  I snuck out at lunch one day at school when I was 14 and got it pierced.  It wasn't until about three years later that my parents even realized I had  it pierced.  It has been a part of me for so long that I can't really imagine life without it.  In fact I have had it longer that I have lived without it. But when my husband commented on it I got thinking- is it time to retire the belly button ring?

After a lot of thought I decided that maybe he was right and that I should take it out.  Clearly, a 29 year old mom of two with a serious case of mommy tummy having a belly button ring is quite ridiculous.  So the other night I took it out.

After it was gone and I looked in the mirror at my stomach I thought it looked odd.  My usual bling was not there and I can honestly say I wasn't sure that I liked it.  

I think it was about 20 minutes later I felt sad about its lack of presence.  I decided that too old or not I am not ready to live without it and put it back in.

Maybe I will try again at 30.

Riding in Cars with Girls

We do a lot of car travelling in our house.  First of all, we kind of live in the middle of nowhere and any sort of town, grocery store, or gas station is 20-30 minutes away.  In the summer time, we fairly regularly live between two locations that are approximately eight hours apart.  There are times during the summer months that my husband and I do this trip weekly.  This being stated, it is fair to say that both of our girls are fairly used to car trips. 

I feel as though this makes us pretty chill travellers.  Typically, I can pack us up for a couple of weeks without much stress in about an hour; however, we have had our fair share of travelling disasters.  Our first trip after my oldest was born; she was 10 days old and we had to continually stop to feed her.  Our typical eight hour trip took us over 12.  Our first trip with our second whom was a terrible traveller  she screamed for three hours consecutively.  Our oldest kept saying, "she sure does cry a lot", and when she finally fell asleep we were all too scared to speak.  We took our oldest to Belize for three weeks when she was about 9 months old.  Three plane rides there and back, cramped seating, breast feeding in public and her trying to scratch the tattoos off of the guy sitting next to us, we arrived.

Each time we decide to attempt to travel with two little ones, I build it up in my head that it is going to be a horrific event.  I dread how many times they will ask, "are we there yet", how many unplanned stops we will need to make for bathroom breaks, how many gross public bathrooms I will have to encounter (I secretly believe my oldest wants to try out every public bathroom she can and loves to poop in public), and how much unsatisfying road food I will end up shoving in my face.  Travelling with kids is just so much more work.

This year we went to Tennessee and oooooh how I dreaded the car ride.  I tried to convince my husband that we should fly, but upon researching the location of the airport compared to where we were staying, he decided that flying would not make sense.  So off we went in the car.  Ten hours later we arrived at our destination to find ourselves locked out of the place we were staying at on the side of a mountain.  Literally the yard was angled down, so needless to say not a lot of outdoor play in the yard while waiting.  We spread blankets and toys on the porch and my husband and I drank wine out of the kids sippy cups until we could get the access code to get in (had I known at that time we were in a dry county I would not have shared my wine).  After six days of touring around the area, we packed everyone back into the car and headed home.  After another 10 hours, many bathroom stops, and a couple of crying fits, we made it. 

Thinking back to the specific events of each time we travel, they are pretty horrific, which is why I probably always dread going away.  Somehow each time we return home I convince myself that it wasn't so bad and it could have been worse.  Logically thinking of course it could be worse, it can always be worse.  Yet here I am in the beginning phases of planning our next family trip.

Disney here we come!

The Hard Way

Today I was reminded of the questionable choices my oldest decides to make.  We work hard in our house to always offer choices.  Whether it be between shirts, scheduling options,  yogurt flavours or my husband's favourite " the easy way or the hard way".

Usually this method works fairly well in our house and I like to think prevents a tantrum or two.  I figure that if they buy into the options they are less likely to just say no and by us offering the choices we approve of  in theory, should prove for less arguments.

Apparently these options get a little old for their liking and the threat of the hard way is not great enough...

One day our two were playing outside.  In our yard we have a play set with swings and a slide.  At the time the set was new and it was hard to pry them away from the set when it was time to go inside. 

Our oldest was up on the top of the set pretending to be a pirate and hunt for treasure.  My husband gave her our usual ten minute warning (thankfully, the concept of time is lost on her so ten minutes could be two or twenty).  She accepted the warning and continued to play.

A little while after he informed her that it was time to go inside.  She pushed herself into the farthest corner of her play set and looked down at my husband with a defiant look on her face.  Before he could offer her any choices she looked at him and said "I choose the hard way".

He climbed up the play set grabbed her kicking and screaming and carried her inside under his arm. Today a year later we had a similar episode in which she again chose the hard way.  I am reminded once again how much they have grown and yet that they are still learning.

Hopefully she starts to chose the easy way soon because she is getting heavy.

If Jaws was a Toddler

What do mosquito's, sharks and my children have in common?  They all bite.  Both of my girls were biters.  Thankfully another child at daycare chomped on my oldest nipping that in the bud fairly early on.  We were not so fortunate with the second one.

Her prey has always been her big sister as at a young age she determined that biting was a successful method in retrieving her desired item from her older sister.  The biting issue had started to fade and dissipate the older she has gotten.  They are fairly close in age and size so currently they are fairly evenly matched.  For these reasons I believed our biting issue had ceased until earlier this week.  

My mom was watching our girls and having fun playing with them both.  She had our smaller one perched on her hip while the bigger one was tickling her sister's legs and feet.  Apparently things got a little carried away and the small one sunk her teeth in deep.  My mom instantly dropped her to the ground and yelped out of pain.  She informed the little one that she had hurt her and that biting is not allowed.  

My mom's interior of her arm was black with tiny teeth indentations.  She seemed to understand the message that she had really hurt my mom; perhaps all to well.  

The next day we were still visiting my parents.  Once more my mom was playing with the girls.  My youngest decided that she should have a treat of candy at approximately 8 in the morning.  My mom decided that this probably wasn't the best time for treats and told her "No, not right now".  To this my youngest uttered her first threat,

"I bite you".

Hopefully this is our last incident...

King Can Catastrophe

As I have posted before (Care Bear are the New Black) my youngest is rather hard to dress.  So it was no surprise when we left the house with her wearing a Care Bears shirt for the third day in a row, black capris, and old cracked rubber boots with a questionable fit.

My husband and I had decided to use the divide and conquer method that day.  I took the second one to town to run errands and the oldest one stayed with my husband.  We have a very limited selection of stores in the town closest to us, so I knew at best I would need to make at least three stops.

We started first with a stop at Wal-mart in hopes that I could get as much as possible at this stop; thankfully since it was Wal-mart her fashion choices didn't stand out as really odd.  While travelling through the aisles she decided she needed a snack.  As usual I was unprepared and grabbed a box of peanut butter crackers off of the shelf and busted into them.

Now along with her poor fashion choices she sat in the front of the cart munching on the unpaid for crackers with peanut butter everywhere.  I noticed now for the first time that the black capris she was wearing had two rather large holes in one leg.  She then decided she was all done with sitting in the cart and wanted to move around.  This was definitely the cue to exit the store with whatever items we had obtained thus far.  Like most shopping trips with children along I ended up leaving the store without getting all the required items; we will live without them a few more days.

It was a long weekend and we had plans with friends and a babysitter coming so of course we required adult beverages.  I had my priorities in order and thought we should skip stop two and head straight to stop three, the liquor store.

Upon entry to the liquor store she was already showing signs of being tired but I figured I would be quick as I only needed a case of beer.  We headed back to the area where the beer is kept and then it started.  "Me tired" she stated, then proceeded to lie in the middle of the isle and roll around.  "Feet hurt" she whined and kicked her old cracked rubber boots off revealing broken oozing blisters on her heals.

So there we were, me with 11 king cans in a box on one hip (they were out of cases) and my daughter rolling on the floor in her dirty Care Bear shirt, pants with holes, and bare oozing feet.  I scooped her up onto the other hip, threw her boots in with the king cans and headed to the till to pay.  I tried and walk with confidence but I could feel the other people's eyes in the busy store burning into the back of my head.

I paid and asked the attendant to help carry my purchases to the car.  I figured hey why not by this point.  I got into my car, laughed, and vowed to never enter that store again.

Care Bears are the New Black

Getting my 2 year old dressed each morning is a struggle.  She is already very opinionated about her clothing and shoe choices.  I know this sounds ludicrous.  I mean she is two give her two options and let her pick or better yet just put whatever on her.  However, I have tried both of these methods many times with terrible results.  Typically, this ends with me restraining her to dress her and then she gets mad, cries and gets naked again anyhow.

Recently I have been trying to encourage her independence by allowing her to pick her own clothing and dress herself.  Usually if we are leaving our house I do try hard to have more influence; but, many times I fail even at this.  Countless times she leaves are home looking as though she has been in the wilderness camping for weeks on end.  She loves one particular dress that on many occasions I wash each night to avoid a fight in the morning.  I am sure that her daycare workers probably think she only has three old dirty things as this is all I can seem to get her to put on right now.  I am okay with this. 

She wore her winter boots well into May.  She is very difficult to catch and try and get pants on.  If they are pink then she may stay still long enough to get them on depending on the day.  Sometimes after she is asleep and I go to check on her I find her naked or wearing a princess dress, neither are what she was initially put to sleep in.  Only a select few can comb her hair and I am not one of the select few.

I can't blame her as I too am rather particular.  I have had my fair share of fashion mishaps including ill-filling military pants with baby tees (i.e. trying to emulate Gwen Stefanie in the 90's) and am told when I was about her age I wore my lifejacket for the entire summer, including to town and while trike riding.  No one in my personal life dare buy me an article of clothing unless a gift receipt is included or it has been preapproved by me.  This being said, I believe that may be why I give her a little more room to express herself in this area. 

So although I was thrilled the other day to receive a bag of handed down items all in her size I knew I had to plan my next move cautiously.  I knew I couldn't just place the items into her closet (I have tried this in the past and she does not believe the clothes are hers and thus will not wear them) or god forbid attempt to just put something on her, so I set them aside and  waited until I could come up with a good strategy.

The best idea I could come up with was to turn our spare room into a "shopping center/dress up area" where she could pick out things and pretend she was shopping for all of her new clothes.  That was a week ago and so far we have added two new things to her wardrobe, a Care Bears t-shirt, and a green dress that reminds her of Tinkerbelle.  My spare room now looks like we were ransacked and robbed with things thrown everywhere.

Hopefully by fall she has finished her shopping and thank goodness we don't have a lot of overnight visitors.

Bike Rides & Ice Cream

Yet another morning summoned from my bed by a crying toddler.  My second child is now 2 years old and continually in the struggle between independence, and the not yet capable skills she wishes she possessed. 

Since the beginning she has been a more "passionate" child than most.  At about three weeks old she became colicky and cried each night for about 5-6 hours.  When this phase ended we moved to baby tantrums.  Now I know what most think, "oh yeah, they are upset about something not going their way and cry".  But NO, I am talking screaming, throwing, rolling on the floor, doesn't want up doesn’t want down, foaming at the mouth fits that last upward of an hour with no apparent trigger.  At this point there was a large chunk of time where I thought she may be suffering from some sort of medical concern. 

Now we have moved on to toddler tantrums.  Although as loud and long as ever, they seem to at least be able to be linked to reason.  One of our most recent occurred while attempting to create a lovely girls' night out of a bike ride and ice cream.

My husband is a shift worker and works nights on a somewhat regular basis.  This typically results in me attempting to come up with things done easily alone with my two little ones.  We live in a very small hamlet (I believe we have lost our village status) so I figured we could bike to the corner store and get an ice cream after dinner.  Seemed easy enough as the round trip is probably about 600 meters.

I started to get everyone ready.  Pulled out bikes and trailer for the smaller one, got helmets down and placed on heads (I am unsure why they must wear a helmet while riding in a bike trailer- but hey I do what I am told).  Finally everyone is good to go (the process of getting ready is probably actually longer then the whole trip) and we depart.

The ride to the store was pretty uneventful - really a fairly calm 4 min tour.  We got to the store and went in to order.  My oldest wants the electric pink ice cream which is actually raspberry sorbet.  I was thinking that this was probably not a great choice for her but she was mesmerized by the colour.  I asked if she was sure and the attendant lets her try a little.  "Oh yes" she says and so I ordered her a small.  The attendant suggests birthday cake flavour for the other as a popular choice so I ordered a small of that.

Rookie error- never allows them to get different things.  So of course they wanted to try one another's and before I could protest the smaller one let the bigger one have a bite and vice versa.  The bigger one liked the smaller ones better and decided they should trade.  This did not go over well and so the tantrum began.

I scrapped her kicking and crying off the pavement outside the store and put her into the bike trailer.  She started to scream louder.  I clicked the buckle around her, a task she normally insists on completing herself.  Her tantrum escalates more.  We start to bike down the street as people in my neighbourhood stare.  She decides to unclick the buckle and try and stand in the moving trailer.  My oldest girl is whining that her legs are tired.  I pull over on the road fighting to get one back into the trailer while the other is standing crying that she can't possibly peddle the last block home.

Then, a door to door sales person decides it would be a good time to approach me and ask if I am happy with my hot water tank service provider.  At this point I cannot believe this is really happening.  I looked at him; I imagined with a stunned angry look on my face and tell him "not really a good time" in a clearly sarcastic tone.  He tries to speak more and give me a sales pitch in which I just reply NO and turn away.

I restrain them both into the bike trailer screaming and push the bikes home the last block. 

Just another fun girls' night out.

Lessons in Determination

Typically my Newly turned four year old is 100% mule (as in stubborn).  I distinctly remember my first attempt to wait out her stubbornness when she was just over two.  At that time we had merely five rules in our house:

1. No hitting
2. No kicking
3. No biting
4. No throwing
5. No pushing

These rules were reciting many times throughout each and every day; and on many occasions my then two and a bit year old recited them as well.  On this particular day  after I took something away from her she decided to rage against the man and gave me good hoof in the arm.  I promptly took action and told her "No, that hurts mommy".  Then I followed by asking her to say sorry and tell me what the rules were.  This was followed by a 45 minute wait until she finally gave in.  Now I would think that for a two and a bit year old that must be equivalent to like a week for an adult.

Since this time I can recall countless struggles due to how stubborn she can be; however this past week this normally troublesome trait shone through in a most positive light.

Last week we took her and her sister to a kind of indoor amusement park type of place.  Inside they had something referred to as the rope challenge.  Basically this was a series of ropes and beams suspended approximately one and a half stories above the ground.  Individuals are harnessed and clipped to tracks on the ceiling and then complete the series of obstacles.  My daughter decided she would like to give this a try.

So off the two of us went to line up and wait our turn.  The guy running the coarse buckled us in and showed me how to hold on to the clip on the back of her harness in order to keep her more stable.    It was at this point that I started to have second thoughts.  We climbed up to the first pedestal and looked at the coarse in front of us.  Now I was truly thinking I don't want to do this.

I bent down and said "you know we don't have to do this.  We can just climb down and go back to the rock wall."  She looked up at me and replied "no, I want to".  We stood on top of this pedestal for about 10-15 minutes trying to determine our route.  During this time some passed us, while others, some four times my little ones age backed out.  I bent down at least three more times trying to convince her to back out without sounding scared myself.  But she had decided in her head that she was going to do it.

Finally we took our first steps onto the beam.  Slowly but surely we made our way through a loop of four obstacles.  Then she relented and agreed to my suggestion that we could be done.  Thank goodness for that; I had been so stressed during this entire ordeal my calves burned and my arms ached.  I don't believe that I could have physically done anymore.

Never have I seen her so determined to complete any challenge and I could not have been more proud.  I felt very fortunate to have witnessed the power that stubbornness mixed with a goal can accomplish.

Night Owls

I started out being a person who said things like "my kids won't sleep in my bed" , and "they will just have to learn to sleep through it".  Four years in and these statements have been somewhat adjusted.  "My kids won't sleep in my bed unless I am to tired to move them back to their own" , and " we just have to get through this".

I have two wonderful girls that I have a great deal of patience with during waking hours.  My usual outlook does shift however in the wee hours of night.  I have literally been exasperated that my husband has walked down the stairs on the right side and did not miss the fourth step; because, everyone knows that that is the quietest way to get downstairs in my house.  I have completed all out army tactics of tuck and roll to try and get out of my kids rooms so they won't see me after dropping them not as gently as I would have hoped to into their cribs.  And I have taken the "shhhing" method to extremes as my neighbours have mentioned a hissing noise coming from our house that could have been a gas leak.

All in all we have experienced many sleepless nights in our house.  With this being said I am continuously amazed on how little sleep I require to get through a day.  I would have never believed anyone if they would have told me everything that I needed to complete in a day after a night of three hours of sleep.  I would have laughed and said it impossible; but alas, here I am in it.

In the morning when I get up (I refuse to say "awake" as that would imply that I slept) I know longer speak until that glorious brown caffeinated beverage has graced my lips.  Some days are a total fog, just counting hours until I can return to bed.

Many suggestions have been passed my way, most very contradicting.  One person stating to try rubbing their backs, while another one warning against it suggesting you wouldn't want them to get used to that.  Really I just want them to sleep no matter the means; so, I have tried everything.  What I learned is there is no sure fire method, and you can't force a little one to sleep.

Both of my girls are awake typically at least once a night and I am fine with it.  Just as clarification they don't require me to help them return to sleep each night, I just hear them in their room.  I know that this stage too shall pass.  I could be just delusional from the lack of sleep; but, for now I have come to peace with fact that I have rarely slept more than three hours consecutively since 2009.

Presently I am headed to bed, staying positive and hoping for a full nights sleep.  Goodnight.

Cake & Friends

We recently celebrated our oldest child's 4th birthday.  We have now attended a couple of parties for other children and were thinking for throwing her first official bash this year including "friends" (children she currently stands beside while she plays more or less on her own).  I started to Google ideas for themes and food and other fun festivities. There are many companies offering beautiful packages to outsource this planning on behalf of your child with great ideas.  I had settled on the theme of Princess and Pirates as these are currently two of her favourite things at this particular moment and also very popular.  I was undecided with how much I thought I may outsource.

Next I started to create a guest list along with my soon to be 4 year old of all her friends from school.  Soon my count was over 20 and growing fast.  As I looked at possible activities including hiring some sort of professional to entertain, goody bags, craft idea and maybe a bounce house I soon realized that my first endeavour into party planning for my 4 year old would probably cost more than my wedding and would be setting a standard on which we would be expected to meet each year. 

After still having mommy gilt for being away for her Birthday last year and telling her she was born on a different date so I could celebrate with her I continued to look at the party option.  I calculated and justified to myself that really you only host this type of party approximately 5 times for each child as once they are around 9 I am sure they would just prefer a sleep over with friends.

I spoke other mom's and friends who all had many suggestions of great creative ideas.  I searched Pinterest and found beautiful crafty ideas and photos.  Then I realized that I do not have "Oprah money" or even a fraction of the time required to pull this type of thing off. 

Yet another time in which I must take and step back and breathe. 

Upon further reflection and the fact that as per the usual I had waited until less than a week until her Birthday to seriously look at any of the information we decided against the party.  We had a homemade (boxed) cake and ice cream (store bought a.k.a. outsourced) with our neighbours and close family. 

Maybe next year there will be a party.

Effortless Perfection

We are supposed to be fit, pretty, intelligent, creative, have chef worthy skills, and a clean house.  Not only are these unrealistic expectations but we are supposed to be able to achieve all of these things while all the while making it appear as though little to no effort was put into it.  I would like to say that if this is truly the standard then I am an EPIC Failure.

My house has dust bunnies that hardly fit under the furniture and could possibly attack at any moment.  I work really hard at most things I do with mediocre results on many occasions.  And as hard as I do try to look "put together" I can't count the number of times I have gone to work to find Rice Krispies cemented to my back side or that my underpants are on backwards.  This notion of Effortless Perfection is making many a mom feel inadequate

Last week in my house was disastrous.  We all had THE SICK.  Not one of those 24 hour bugs where it was totally worth it because you lost 3 pounds; but an everyone pukes for 6 days consecutively sick.  I can say I have never experienced anything like it.  While trying to wipe the puked up Cheerios out of my hair with a baby wipe and decide if my fourth shirt warranted be changed by having enough puke on it yet- It hit me.  This is not what I had pictured in my head before my first child was born. 

I always say that I was a way better parent before I had kids.  I knew everything then.  I had visions in my head of being showered and dressing in cute casual clothes, hair done, makeup on with perhaps my children either matching or at least coordinating with me.  I can say honestly that not once since becoming a mom has this EVER happened. 

I was led to believe that I should be able to keep everything together, with everyone happy and clean including myself.  This is just simply untrue and not possible.  I know now that people are dishonest and don't want to share what really happens for fear of judgement and feeling inadequate in comparisons to other perceived super moms.

For these reasons and also to add a little more creativity to my life is why I am going to blog.  I want to share with all the other questionable parents like me what life with little ones is really like.