Sunday morning. Running errands. With the boys. My husband was driving and high pitched whiny voices assaulted our ears continuously for what seemed like hours when it fact in had only been one.
One hour too long.
As we turned down our street the little voices of our sons' continued to pierce at our eardrums from behind us and wear us down down down.
They were...
Hungry.
Tired.
He's doing...blahblahblah...to me!
Are we done yet?
Are we home?
When are we going to be home?
Oh.My.GOD. Would it ever end??? My husband's eyes and my eyes spoke with flitted glances of annoyance and eye rolling.
As we pulled into our driveway my husband asked them, "What in the world would you do without Mommy or Daddy for a whole day? What you do?!" A rhetorical question of-course but that which made my mind grey with dark contemplation as the truck came to a stop.
There was a silent pause as the truck was turned off when we heard our soon to be five year old son answer with quiet conviction...
"Eat chocolate."
Monday, January 28, 2013
Monday, January 21, 2013
Rise and Shine
Abrupt movement at my side of the bed startled me from deep sleep. And a dream. A very strange one.
His voice met my ears in the dark of the very early morning. How early I wasn't aware of yet. But my mind was muddled and my voice crackled deep with grogginess.
It was early.
"Mummaaaa...I'm hungry."
"Oh honey..." I lifted the book that blacks out the neon green numbers of my bedside clock..."It's too early. Just give me a few minutes please."
I see his thisclose to five year old body take a seat oh so patiently on the bench opposite to our bed and I closed my eyes again.
My eyes were closed but my mind could still see him sitting there. Waiting. So quietly.
I opened my eyes to find his shadowy figure against the winter grey dawn that peeked from the corners of the window blinds.
How still he sat.
My heart clenched then bloomed as that voice whispered inside my mother-soul.
Someday this won't happen anymore. Someday he'll be able to get up and make his own breakfast. There will be no early morning visits to your bedside. Someday...way too soon...snuggles with Mumma will come to an end.
"Why don't you climb up and cuddle with me for few minutes?" I lift the blankets and he climbs up to form a small S inside my capital one. My arm wraps so familiarly around his torso, my chin rests atop his sleep mussed curls.
"I was having the weirdest dream when you woke me up buddy. I was dreaming about talking baby Rhinos named Casper."
"I dreamed that I was at school and we were playing soccer at gym but we were having our snacks too!"
"You were! Well. That is a crazy dream."
"Uh huh."
"This week at school you're learning about the letter 'O' right?"
"Yeah."
I began riddles of animals that began with the letter 'O'...a game that has become a ritual for us.
.....A bird with really long legs that can run really, really fast...
....An 8 legged (or armed?) sea dwelling creature...
....A very hairy beastly looking animal..
"Mumma? I'm hungry."
And the child's hunger could no longer be denied.
Down to the kitchen we went.
But wasn't it so lovely while it lasted?
Oh my but it was.
His voice met my ears in the dark of the very early morning. How early I wasn't aware of yet. But my mind was muddled and my voice crackled deep with grogginess.
It was early.
"Mummaaaa...I'm hungry."
"Oh honey..." I lifted the book that blacks out the neon green numbers of my bedside clock..."It's too early. Just give me a few minutes please."
I see his thisclose to five year old body take a seat oh so patiently on the bench opposite to our bed and I closed my eyes again.
My eyes were closed but my mind could still see him sitting there. Waiting. So quietly.
I opened my eyes to find his shadowy figure against the winter grey dawn that peeked from the corners of the window blinds.
How still he sat.
My heart clenched then bloomed as that voice whispered inside my mother-soul.
Someday this won't happen anymore. Someday he'll be able to get up and make his own breakfast. There will be no early morning visits to your bedside. Someday...way too soon...snuggles with Mumma will come to an end.
"Why don't you climb up and cuddle with me for few minutes?" I lift the blankets and he climbs up to form a small S inside my capital one. My arm wraps so familiarly around his torso, my chin rests atop his sleep mussed curls.
"I was having the weirdest dream when you woke me up buddy. I was dreaming about talking baby Rhinos named Casper."
"I dreamed that I was at school and we were playing soccer at gym but we were having our snacks too!"
"You were! Well. That is a crazy dream."
"Uh huh."
"This week at school you're learning about the letter 'O' right?"
"Yeah."
I began riddles of animals that began with the letter 'O'...a game that has become a ritual for us.
.....A bird with really long legs that can run really, really fast...
....An 8 legged (or armed?) sea dwelling creature...
....A very hairy beastly looking animal..
"Mumma? I'm hungry."
And the child's hunger could no longer be denied.
Down to the kitchen we went.
But wasn't it so lovely while it lasted?
Oh my but it was.
Friday, January 11, 2013
A Sweet and Sour Chicken Bawlish Kind of Day
Oh ho ho and a mighty hey! Today was an early start - 6:03 to be exact. But that's all fine and good. It was Friday and I deemed the day to be a good one already. 'Cause I'm annoyingly positive like that on Fridays. Even though I'm a Mom now and Fridays really mean squat. But today? Oh today. Well it was full of lovely (note extreme sarcasm) ups and....
D
O
W
N
S
The day was peppered with good and bad. Or sweet and sour as I'd like to so poetically put it. I mean...it wasn't all a gong show of a shit storm.
Here's kind of how the day went:
Sweet: My eldest wanted to do my exercise video with me. We did the whole dern thing together. And let me tell you - seeing your almost 5 year old do lunges and push ups is pretty freaking adorable.
Sour: Having my 3 year old climb on me and cling to my leg like a chimpanzee as I'm doing lunges and squats. Annoying as hell but also? A little cute.
Sweet: Having a play date with my littlest at my lovely neighbours home while my eldest is in school. Bonus? She made Smartie Cookies.
Sour: Smartie Cookies. There goes my morning work out.
Sweet: Watching our little ones play together while having adult conversation (and eating cookies). Oh and I got to hold a perfect little 6 month old baby girl. Seeing, holding, talking to babies = major yearning uterus.
Sour: Play date ended when child of mine decided to have a tantrum of epic proportions over ... a pear? I'm not even sure what happened there but it was disastrous.
Sweet: Picking up my eldest from school and getting to walk home with him just the two of us and talk about his morning while he held my hand and jumped puddles.
Sour: Putting youngest child down for a nap as he continues to kick and scream like a wild banshee with rabies.
Sweet: Playing Candyland and cards with my current favourite son.
Sour: Hearing my youngest sneak down the stairs and announce he just crapped his pants. Okay so those weren't exactly his words. He simply said, "Poop". And my heart sank to my toes.
Sweet: Chatting with my BFF.
Sour: Seeing my youngest once again sneak down the stairs then down into the basement to watch cartoons with his brother WHEN HE'S SUPPOSED TO BE SLEEPING. ARRRRRGH.
Sweet: Finding them sitting as close as possible together on the giant sectional couch watching cartoons.
Sour: Carrying very heavy 3 year old back up 2 flights of stairs screaming and crying because "I not tired! IIIII NOT TIIIRRRRRED!" Clearly. He's not tired. Right.
Sweet: Quiet. Green Tea. Texting with friends about a girls night out for my birthday. Party time. Excellent. That last saying? Means I'm clearly cresting the hill you guys. And if you know the origin of that saying you are too...if you're not already over it. Because that movie was made in 1993. WHICH WAS 2 DECADES AGO!
Sour: My littlest coming back down the stairs from his room where he's supposed to be sleeping.... AGAIN.
Sweet: My neighbour texting me to invite my boys over. Hallejuiah praise everything that is good though not so holy in an awesome neighbourhood.
Sour: This means I actually have to be somewhat productive at home alone. Which means I must finally tackle the 5 baskets of unfolded laundry in my room.
Sweet: I'm folding laundry. Sans children. While watching adult television.
Sour: Dinner must get made. Children must come home. Serenity. Ends. Now.
Sweet: Boys behaved and had a blast.
Sour:Forcing/Nagging Encouraging them to eat their dinner.
Sweet: Mid dinner dance off when my eldest son asked me to dance to 'Beam me Up' by Pink. We twirled and whirled and dipped and danced. And then he smooched me when it ended.
Sour: Right after that delectable dance he wanted dessert but somehow things got misconstrued and everything somehow went to hell in a handbasket. (what does that saying even mean?!) Shit storm of major tantrum number 2 brewing at a fierce rate.
Sweet: He eventually calmed down and made his way up the stairs. We read books and snuggled.
Sour: For some reason that I can't remember even though it was just over an hour ago but I probably blocked it out because ohmygodohmygod the crying! I can't take it anymore.
Sweet: Finley brought his big brother his giant stuffed puppy named Cuddles because 'he was crying' and then proceeded to make me the centre in a love sandwich when he climbed into bed with us instead up going back to his own bed because he didn't want Adrian to be sad but then got annoyed because he couldn't get the covers over himself just right while Adrian continued to sniffle and snuffle beside me and Cuddles the giant stuffed puppy threw his weight around on our faces.
The Sweetest: having both of my baby boys asleep on either side of me. Even if Cuddles the Giant Stuffed Dog practically suffocated us all.
D
O
W
N
S
The day was peppered with good and bad. Or sweet and sour as I'd like to so poetically put it. I mean...it wasn't all a gong show of a shit storm.
Here's kind of how the day went:
Sweet: My eldest wanted to do my exercise video with me. We did the whole dern thing together. And let me tell you - seeing your almost 5 year old do lunges and push ups is pretty freaking adorable.
Sour: Having my 3 year old climb on me and cling to my leg like a chimpanzee as I'm doing lunges and squats. Annoying as hell but also? A little cute.
Sweet: Having a play date with my littlest at my lovely neighbours home while my eldest is in school. Bonus? She made Smartie Cookies.
Sour: Smartie Cookies. There goes my morning work out.
Sweet: Watching our little ones play together while having adult conversation (and eating cookies). Oh and I got to hold a perfect little 6 month old baby girl. Seeing, holding, talking to babies = major yearning uterus.
Sour: Play date ended when child of mine decided to have a tantrum of epic proportions over ... a pear? I'm not even sure what happened there but it was disastrous.
Sweet: Picking up my eldest from school and getting to walk home with him just the two of us and talk about his morning while he held my hand and jumped puddles.
Sour: Putting youngest child down for a nap as he continues to kick and scream like a wild banshee with rabies.
Sweet: Playing Candyland and cards with my current favourite son.
Sour: Hearing my youngest sneak down the stairs and announce he just crapped his pants. Okay so those weren't exactly his words. He simply said, "Poop". And my heart sank to my toes.
Sweet: Chatting with my BFF.
Sour: Seeing my youngest once again sneak down the stairs then down into the basement to watch cartoons with his brother WHEN HE'S SUPPOSED TO BE SLEEPING. ARRRRRGH.
Sweet: Finding them sitting as close as possible together on the giant sectional couch watching cartoons.
Sour: Carrying very heavy 3 year old back up 2 flights of stairs screaming and crying because "I not tired! IIIII NOT TIIIRRRRRED!" Clearly. He's not tired. Right.
Sweet: Quiet. Green Tea. Texting with friends about a girls night out for my birthday. Party time. Excellent. That last saying? Means I'm clearly cresting the hill you guys. And if you know the origin of that saying you are too...if you're not already over it. Because that movie was made in 1993. WHICH WAS 2 DECADES AGO!
Sour: My littlest coming back down the stairs from his room where he's supposed to be sleeping.... AGAIN.
Sweet: My neighbour texting me to invite my boys over. Hallejuiah praise everything that is good though not so holy in an awesome neighbourhood.
Sour: This means I actually have to be somewhat productive at home alone. Which means I must finally tackle the 5 baskets of unfolded laundry in my room.
Sweet: I'm folding laundry. Sans children. While watching adult television.
Sour: Dinner must get made. Children must come home. Serenity. Ends. Now.
Sweet: Boys behaved and had a blast.
Sour:
Sweet: Mid dinner dance off when my eldest son asked me to dance to 'Beam me Up' by Pink. We twirled and whirled and dipped and danced. And then he smooched me when it ended.
Sour: Right after that delectable dance he wanted dessert but somehow things got misconstrued and everything somehow went to hell in a handbasket. (what does that saying even mean?!) Shit storm of major tantrum number 2 brewing at a fierce rate.
Sweet: He eventually calmed down and made his way up the stairs. We read books and snuggled.
Sour: For some reason that I can't remember even though it was just over an hour ago but I probably blocked it out because ohmygodohmygod the crying! I can't take it anymore.
Sweet: Finley brought his big brother his giant stuffed puppy named Cuddles because 'he was crying' and then proceeded to make me the centre in a love sandwich when he climbed into bed with us instead up going back to his own bed because he didn't want Adrian to be sad but then got annoyed because he couldn't get the covers over himself just right while Adrian continued to sniffle and snuffle beside me and Cuddles the giant stuffed puppy threw his weight around on our faces.
The Sweetest: having both of my baby boys asleep on either side of me. Even if Cuddles the Giant Stuffed Dog practically suffocated us all.
Thursday, January 10, 2013
The Drop Off Request
"Mumma you can just drop me off."
My eldest tells this to me from the back seat of the truck on the way to school.
He wanted me to do what I call the drive by drop off. To pull into those diagonal yellow lines beside the school building that's intended for parents in a rush to get their children off to school. Not because they don't care. But because they have somewhere to be. Like their workplace.
But my job is with my children. Always. So why would I do that? When I could stand around and watch him play in the fenced in supervised play area with his buddies until his little brother crankily protests his wishes for home.
I had to do the drive by drop off once before last month. When Finley was sick and I had to get him to the doctor's. It was cold and windy and simply not a good day to have him out in that weather for any length of time.
Oh the guilt when I watched the back of him enter his playground gates. The voice inside me berating with a tsk tsk.
He's too young, too little.
And you're totally being judged.
By those playground teachers. And the parents that care enough to stick around.
What kind of mother are you anyway?
What kind of mother am I anyway?
Such a complicated question with an answer I'm not sure I'll ever know.
"You want me to go to the drop off zone? You don't want me to walk you to the gate?"
"Yes. Drop me off on those lines." Those blaring yellow "uncaring" lines.
I had about 1 minute to mull over his request before the school came into view.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
This was on his terms. His request. My eldest who will be the giant age of five in a handful of weeks.
I could see the ghost of his umbilical cord unravelling at an uncontrollable rate.
I desperately wanted to clutch at it.
It's been gone for almost five years now. Logically my mind is far too hyper aware of this fact. My husband cut it on February 3, 2008 and that shrivelled brown crusty stump that fell off within 3 days? Well I wasn't sentimental (or weird) enough to keep it.
But the ghost of it haunts me. And taunts me, especially in times like these.
I pull up to those bright blaring yellow lines silently getting annoyed at the person ahead that didn't pull up far enough.
My heart dropped into my stomach.
"Okay buddy. You have to promise me if you want to get dropped off here that you must give me one big smooch."
And with that he unbuckled his seat, slid his backpack on, leaned forward for that bittersweet kiss and opened the door to leave.
"I'll be here until you get into the gates. Have fun! I love you!"
He jumped out of the truck. He didn't say I love you too. I call it out to him.
"I love you!!"
"Love you too."
The truck door shuts.
He steps up onto the sidewalk and without a glance back he walks into the gates of the school yard.
I linger for a moment. The tears threaten but do not spill.
The emotions that trample through my heart and mind conflict.
Yes, I was a tiny bit heartbroken. It didn't matter to him if I was there or not. But more than the ache I felt proud. My independent little soul. What a wonderful, beneficial trait to have.
That is what I choose to celebrate.
And with my heart strings pulled tighter than ever, the ghost of the cord faded even more I pulled away from those not so scary yellow lines with a last glance back at my son who was now playing happily with friends.
My eldest tells this to me from the back seat of the truck on the way to school.
He wanted me to do what I call the drive by drop off. To pull into those diagonal yellow lines beside the school building that's intended for parents in a rush to get their children off to school. Not because they don't care. But because they have somewhere to be. Like their workplace.
But my job is with my children. Always. So why would I do that? When I could stand around and watch him play in the fenced in supervised play area with his buddies until his little brother crankily protests his wishes for home.
I had to do the drive by drop off once before last month. When Finley was sick and I had to get him to the doctor's. It was cold and windy and simply not a good day to have him out in that weather for any length of time.
Oh the guilt when I watched the back of him enter his playground gates. The voice inside me berating with a tsk tsk.
He's too young, too little.
And you're totally being judged.
By those playground teachers. And the parents that care enough to stick around.
What kind of mother are you anyway?
What kind of mother am I anyway?
Such a complicated question with an answer I'm not sure I'll ever know.
"You want me to go to the drop off zone? You don't want me to walk you to the gate?"
"Yes. Drop me off on those lines." Those blaring yellow "uncaring" lines.
I had about 1 minute to mull over his request before the school came into view.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
This was on his terms. His request. My eldest who will be the giant age of five in a handful of weeks.
I could see the ghost of his umbilical cord unravelling at an uncontrollable rate.
I desperately wanted to clutch at it.
It's been gone for almost five years now. Logically my mind is far too hyper aware of this fact. My husband cut it on February 3, 2008 and that shrivelled brown crusty stump that fell off within 3 days? Well I wasn't sentimental (or weird) enough to keep it.
But the ghost of it haunts me. And taunts me, especially in times like these.
I pull up to those bright blaring yellow lines silently getting annoyed at the person ahead that didn't pull up far enough.
My heart dropped into my stomach.
"Okay buddy. You have to promise me if you want to get dropped off here that you must give me one big smooch."
And with that he unbuckled his seat, slid his backpack on, leaned forward for that bittersweet kiss and opened the door to leave.
"I'll be here until you get into the gates. Have fun! I love you!"
He jumped out of the truck. He didn't say I love you too. I call it out to him.
"I love you!!"
"Love you too."
The truck door shuts.
He steps up onto the sidewalk and without a glance back he walks into the gates of the school yard.
I linger for a moment. The tears threaten but do not spill.
The emotions that trample through my heart and mind conflict.
Yes, I was a tiny bit heartbroken. It didn't matter to him if I was there or not. But more than the ache I felt proud. My independent little soul. What a wonderful, beneficial trait to have.
That is what I choose to celebrate.
And with my heart strings pulled tighter than ever, the ghost of the cord faded even more I pulled away from those not so scary yellow lines with a last glance back at my son who was now playing happily with friends.
Wednesday, January 9, 2013
He Dreamed a Dream
Dreaming...what was it that he said the other night when I wished him sweet dreams at the frame of his doorway as his Twilight Turtle lit blue stars on his ceiling?
"I not have bad dreams Mummy. I have good dreams. 'Member when I dream we on a rainbow?"
I couldn't recall him telling me about that awesome dream but I didn't let him know that.
I wanted to hear more so I walked to the side of his toddler bed and knelt down and lay my arms across the side rails that were really no longer needed but that he refused to let us take off. Truth be told...at 3 plus years old he still would love to sleep in a crib.
"We were on a rainbow! Yes!"
"Yeah. You and Daddy and A-Dree-Ann (this is how he pronounces his brothers name now, enunciating every.single.syllable. It's super duper delightful) and me. We slide down it."
"Wow. I do remember. I love that dream."
"Yeah me too. Can Kristian come?" How sweet. He wanted his little buddy from across the street to ride rainbows with us in the night.
"Well of-course he can. You want to know the best thing about dreams baby doll?" I asked him.
"What Mummy?" his voice was soft and sleepy and delicious.
I bent over and kissed his nose and whispered, "Anything can happen."
"I not have bad dreams Mummy. I have good dreams. 'Member when I dream we on a rainbow?"
I couldn't recall him telling me about that awesome dream but I didn't let him know that.
I wanted to hear more so I walked to the side of his toddler bed and knelt down and lay my arms across the side rails that were really no longer needed but that he refused to let us take off. Truth be told...at 3 plus years old he still would love to sleep in a crib.
"We were on a rainbow! Yes!"
"Yeah. You and Daddy and A-Dree-Ann (this is how he pronounces his brothers name now, enunciating every.single.syllable. It's super duper delightful) and me. We slide down it."
"Wow. I do remember. I love that dream."
"Yeah me too. Can Kristian come?" How sweet. He wanted his little buddy from across the street to ride rainbows with us in the night.
"Well of-course he can. You want to know the best thing about dreams baby doll?" I asked him.
"What Mummy?" his voice was soft and sleepy and delicious.
I bent over and kissed his nose and whispered, "Anything can happen."
Tuesday, January 8, 2013
20 Questions for my Kids
1. What is your favourite color?
A: Every colour
F: Blue
2. What is your favourite toy?
A: The Amazing Spider Man toy
F: Blue Toy White Toy Red Toy Yellow Toy Orange Toy....and Black Toy and Brown Toy aaand Pink Toy (I think he was still stuck on the color question....3 year olds)
3. What is your favourite fruit?
A: Apples
F: Bananas
4. What is your favourite TV show?
A: Spiderman Cartoon
F: Wild Kratts
5. What is your favourite thing to eat for lunch?
A: Pizza
F: Pizza with macaroni and fruit! (he means pepperoni and pineapple)
6. What is your favourite outfit?
A: Red jogging pants and yellow Bumblebee Transformer shirt (it`s a beautiful bright combo and those red joggers are total floods now. He loves to pair any red shirt with his red pants regardless if red hues match - they never do...also? Clearly he did not get his sense of style from his Mother)
F: Orange (must be reminiscing about question number one again)
7. What is your favourite game?
A: CandyLand
F: Toy Story Innotab game (he`s not so much into the board games quite yet)
8. What is your favourite snack?
A: Animal Crackers
F: Animal Crackers
(I honestly don`t remember the last time they had animal crackers. Very random.)
9. What is your favourite animal?
A: Cheetah
F: Zebra (this was my favourite animal as a child!)
10. What is your favourite song?
A: What Makes you Beautiful by 1D (Oh man. Really.)
F: Gangnam Style (I repeat my exasperation from above)
11. What is your favourite book?
A: Pete The Cat: Rockin in my School Shoes by Eric Litwin (he loves it - came home singing it every day from school so I had to buy it)
F: Finn Throws a Fit by David Elliot (Fitting. Very fitting.)
12. Who is your best friend?
A: Andrew (this changes hourly however)
F: Adrian - okay so this was admittedly a prompt by me...he didn`t know who to name
13. What is your favourite sport?
A: Soccer
F: Soccer
News to me.
14. What is your favourite thing to do outside?
A: Play on my skateboard
F: Jump (on a trampoline)
15. What is your favourite drink?
A: Water (lies. It`s juice or chocolate milk)
F: Watermelon juice (interesting...pretty sure he`s never had such a thing)
16. What is your favourite holiday?
A: Halloween
F: Halloween
17. What do you like to take to bed with you at night?
A: Froggy Doggy
F: Sleepy Sheepy
18. What is your favourite thing to eat for breakfast?
A: Waffles
F: Cheerios
19. What do you want for dinner on your birthday?
A: Hamburgers
F: Cake (can`t blame the child)
20. What do you want to be when you grow up?
A: A Ninja
F: Daddy (awwwwww!!!)
A: Every colour
F: Blue
2. What is your favourite toy?
A: The Amazing Spider Man toy
F: Blue Toy White Toy Red Toy Yellow Toy Orange Toy....and Black Toy and Brown Toy aaand Pink Toy (I think he was still stuck on the color question....3 year olds)
3. What is your favourite fruit?
A: Apples
F: Bananas
4. What is your favourite TV show?
A: Spiderman Cartoon
F: Wild Kratts
5. What is your favourite thing to eat for lunch?
A: Pizza
F: Pizza with macaroni and fruit! (he means pepperoni and pineapple)
6. What is your favourite outfit?
A: Red jogging pants and yellow Bumblebee Transformer shirt (it`s a beautiful bright combo and those red joggers are total floods now. He loves to pair any red shirt with his red pants regardless if red hues match - they never do...also? Clearly he did not get his sense of style from his Mother)
F: Orange (must be reminiscing about question number one again)
7. What is your favourite game?
A: CandyLand
F: Toy Story Innotab game (he`s not so much into the board games quite yet)
8. What is your favourite snack?
A: Animal Crackers
F: Animal Crackers
(I honestly don`t remember the last time they had animal crackers. Very random.)
9. What is your favourite animal?
A: Cheetah
F: Zebra (this was my favourite animal as a child!)
10. What is your favourite song?
A: What Makes you Beautiful by 1D (Oh man. Really.)
F: Gangnam Style (I repeat my exasperation from above)
11. What is your favourite book?
A: Pete The Cat: Rockin in my School Shoes by Eric Litwin (he loves it - came home singing it every day from school so I had to buy it)
F: Finn Throws a Fit by David Elliot (Fitting. Very fitting.)
12. Who is your best friend?
A: Andrew (this changes hourly however)
F: Adrian - okay so this was admittedly a prompt by me...he didn`t know who to name
13. What is your favourite sport?
A: Soccer
F: Soccer
News to me.
14. What is your favourite thing to do outside?
A: Play on my skateboard
F: Jump (on a trampoline)
15. What is your favourite drink?
A: Water (lies. It`s juice or chocolate milk)
F: Watermelon juice (interesting...pretty sure he`s never had such a thing)
16. What is your favourite holiday?
A: Halloween
F: Halloween
17. What do you like to take to bed with you at night?
A: Froggy Doggy
F: Sleepy Sheepy
18. What is your favourite thing to eat for breakfast?
A: Waffles
F: Cheerios
19. What do you want for dinner on your birthday?
A: Hamburgers
F: Cake (can`t blame the child)
20. What do you want to be when you grow up?
A: A Ninja
F: Daddy (awwwwww!!!)
Friday, January 4, 2013
A Mix of Morning Breath and Chocolate slashed with Guilt
They teem with energy and I wish for quiet. To be left.
Alone.
I wish for the bickering, for God's sakes! to end!
An empty tummy sloshing with coffee leaves me agitated.
They ask for some Christmas chocolate and though it's before 9 am I sigh and hand it over with guilt and wonder,
Am I the only Mother that gives in so easily in tired defeat? To stop the whining?
Once it's gone. It's gone.
Once it is gone. It is gone.
This reverberates in my mind and I gnaw at the meaning.
It drifts and I'm left with a sense of doubt.
Always the doubt.
They've had their breakfast after all.
They used their manners so I must be doing something right. Right?
Right?
And they always share treats with their Mumma.
Sometimes I don't even have to ask.
Besides. I could use a bit of sweetness right now.
My littlest approaches me with his 3 year old cherubic face inches from mine and his funny questions,
"Mummy 'mell my bweff?"
And I do. Of-course I do. Because Mothers? We do all kinds of weird and gross things for our children.
I sniff into his mouth.
A mix of morning bweff and chocolate.
Delicious.
I pull him close.
Alone.
I wish for the bickering, for God's sakes! to end!
An empty tummy sloshing with coffee leaves me agitated.
They ask for some Christmas chocolate and though it's before 9 am I sigh and hand it over with guilt and wonder,
Am I the only Mother that gives in so easily in tired defeat? To stop the whining?
Once it's gone. It's gone.
Once it is gone. It is gone.
This reverberates in my mind and I gnaw at the meaning.
It drifts and I'm left with a sense of doubt.
Always the doubt.
They've had their breakfast after all.
They used their manners so I must be doing something right. Right?
Right?
And they always share treats with their Mumma.
Sometimes I don't even have to ask.
Besides. I could use a bit of sweetness right now.
My littlest approaches me with his 3 year old cherubic face inches from mine and his funny questions,
"Mummy 'mell my bweff?"
And I do. Of-course I do. Because Mothers? We do all kinds of weird and gross things for our children.
I sniff into his mouth.
A mix of morning bweff and chocolate.
Delicious.
I pull him close.
Wednesday, January 2, 2013
Return of the Long Lost Zazzy
He handed me the small plastic blue object he'd found while cleaning up the dresser that I'd only nagged him about about ohhh 154 times over the past 2 weeks.
I took it from him and immediately, unsentimentally claimed, "Garbage." But then I looked down at it as I descended the stairs to the kitchen. Light blue with a tiny picture of a yellow giraffe's face on it. I looked at it, contemplated getting rid of it and my heart physically felt like it might crack if I unceremoniously just threw it in the garbage.
I even found myself delicately sniffing it.
I know.
But I couldn't help myself. I'm a scent sensory kinda gal.
I realized that it's quite hurl inducing if you're not the Mother of the sweet boy who pacified himself with it for over 2 years.
(And kind of even if you are.)
But wait. When was the last time he used it?
"Honey when did Fin get rid of his zazzy?"
Zazzy. The word came back to me just as if I used the word yesterday. Zazzy. The made up word that my little Fin used for his soother.
Zazzy. Soother. I see no co-relation.
Then again if you knew my youngest you would simply nod your head, yes, that's about right.
In fact both my sons have the knack for randomness but that's neither here nor there at the moment.
"Oh gosh...like last year."
"Nooo. It was sometime this year. How come I don't know this? I didn't even blog about it!"
I didn't even blog about it you guys.
For. Shame.
But I suppose I didn't blog about it because it wasn't made to be a big deal. We thought it would be. We clearly believed his addiction to be much worse than it really was. But one night we simply put it away in a one of John's valet drawers on the dresser and that was that.
And here was now.
I didn't throw it out. I simply left it on the counter for Finley to notice in the morning. I wasn't sure what would happen. I didn't have any real plan.
He came down this morning and noticed it right away.
"My zazzy! You found it!"
Okay, so we may have told him the reason we didn't give it to him that last night was because we lost it. I can't honestly recall.
"Daddy found it but you don't need this anymore do you? You're not a baby anymore are you?" I teased him.
Of-course he's still my baby though.
I smiled down at him and waited for his reply.
"I not a baby! I'm fwee!"
"I know right! Let's put it in the garbage okay?" He opened up the garbage as I declared, "Bye-bye babyhood!"
"Bye-bye babyhood!" he repeated with a giggle.
He gently placed that little piece of his babyhood very ceremoniously in the garbage. Without complaint, delay or protest.
And after that last sentence I now feel the not so quiet urgency to scrounge around amongst the wrappers, kleenex and chewed up gum to retrieve it once more.
Except this time I probably wouldn't sniff it.
I took it from him and immediately, unsentimentally claimed, "Garbage." But then I looked down at it as I descended the stairs to the kitchen. Light blue with a tiny picture of a yellow giraffe's face on it. I looked at it, contemplated getting rid of it and my heart physically felt like it might crack if I unceremoniously just threw it in the garbage.
I even found myself delicately sniffing it.
I know.
But I couldn't help myself. I'm a scent sensory kinda gal.
I realized that it's quite hurl inducing if you're not the Mother of the sweet boy who pacified himself with it for over 2 years.
(And kind of even if you are.)
But wait. When was the last time he used it?
"Honey when did Fin get rid of his zazzy?"
Zazzy. The word came back to me just as if I used the word yesterday. Zazzy. The made up word that my little Fin used for his soother.
Zazzy. Soother. I see no co-relation.
Then again if you knew my youngest you would simply nod your head, yes, that's about right.
In fact both my sons have the knack for randomness but that's neither here nor there at the moment.
"Oh gosh...like last year."
"Nooo. It was sometime this year. How come I don't know this? I didn't even blog about it!"
I didn't even blog about it you guys.
For. Shame.
But I suppose I didn't blog about it because it wasn't made to be a big deal. We thought it would be. We clearly believed his addiction to be much worse than it really was. But one night we simply put it away in a one of John's valet drawers on the dresser and that was that.
And here was now.
I didn't throw it out. I simply left it on the counter for Finley to notice in the morning. I wasn't sure what would happen. I didn't have any real plan.
He came down this morning and noticed it right away.
"My zazzy! You found it!"
Okay, so we may have told him the reason we didn't give it to him that last night was because we lost it. I can't honestly recall.
"Daddy found it but you don't need this anymore do you? You're not a baby anymore are you?" I teased him.
Of-course he's still my baby though.
I smiled down at him and waited for his reply.
"I not a baby! I'm fwee!"
"I know right! Let's put it in the garbage okay?" He opened up the garbage as I declared, "Bye-bye babyhood!"
"Bye-bye babyhood!" he repeated with a giggle.
He gently placed that little piece of his babyhood very ceremoniously in the garbage. Without complaint, delay or protest.
And after that last sentence I now feel the not so quiet urgency to scrounge around amongst the wrappers, kleenex and chewed up gum to retrieve it once more.
Except this time I probably wouldn't sniff it.
 |
| Ahhhh the sweetness. |
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
Cheers to the Freakin' New Year
My favourite part about January 1st - other than the fact that I've narcissistically claimed it as 'my month' since it's my name and I happened to be born during this bitterly cold month (which is the only thing that makes it tolerable) - is reflecting back on the year that's passed. A moment, a memory, a story, an adventure. I try to recall one of those things for each month. And while that's not an easy task, this is why I blog. To preserve the moments so that I can look back upon them. Moments that otherwise may have gotten lost in the shuffle and chaos of everyday life. Such as...
The challenges.
The beauty.
The Poetry.
Tragedy.
Realization.
Brotherly love.
Terror.
Birthdays gone bad.
The heart aching sweetness.
Great Fun.
And...let's not forget about the time my husband almost lost a digit.
The challenges.
The beauty.
The Poetry.
Tragedy.
Realization.
Brotherly love.
Terror.
Birthdays gone bad.
The heart aching sweetness.
Great Fun.
And...let's not forget about the time my husband almost lost a digit.
This year has been full of adventures and first times.
Looking back on my 2012 bucket list there were some things I did and loved doing. I grew my first herb and vegetable garden. I made scrumptious samosas from scratch that were heralded as so by my Indian neighbours so it must be true.
And some things that I realized I vehemently dislike and will likely never do. Such as running more than 5-6k at a time.
But I also did lots of things I didn't list and things I didn't think I could or would do. 3.5 hour road trips by myself with 2 little ones and a dog to visit friends. It was so much fun I don't even remember the stress if there was any. (right). My marriage survived an almost thumb dismemberment, which you may think is not a big deal - and it isn't in the grand scheme of what else could go wrong in life - but it was challenging to say the least. I even survived hosting our first Christmas dinner while feeling like I was going to croak at any minute on the kitchen floor. Thankfully everyone pitched in while I admitted defeat when the gravy wouldn't thicken, the broccoli remained on the bbq for about 2 hours, long forgotten about and I had no clue what to do with the extra large head of cauliflower. It was demanded of me to sit down and drink up when I told everyone somewhat hysterically to "stop asking me questions because I didn't have any answers". It ended up all fantastically delicious and even more so when my husband took a moment to say his toast and became verklempt. Of-course then so did everyone else.
I've made new friends, kept up old and dear ones with fun trips and visits.
My eldest son started school.. Big deal. Huge.
Yes, last year has begun many memories, traditions and I experienced many delicious moments with my sons. Strawberry picking. Market visits. Zoos and beaches. My boys are becoming of the age where their memories will begin now too which makes this year to come even more exciting.
In 2013 I shall extend my vegetable garden, take more road trips and experience new firsts. I will continue to focus on the joy of my family and practice breathing out negativity, extending my hands and my heart to those that need it while keeping my own needs intact. I hope to continue teaching my boys that life is what you make of it. I liken it to a dance party where the music changes day to day from slow and melodic to upbeat and happy to melancholic and nostalgic.
Go with it, enjoy it, learn from it and move on to where the beat of your heart takes you.
Looking back on my 2012 bucket list there were some things I did and loved doing. I grew my first herb and vegetable garden. I made scrumptious samosas from scratch that were heralded as so by my Indian neighbours so it must be true.
And some things that I realized I vehemently dislike and will likely never do. Such as running more than 5-6k at a time.
But I also did lots of things I didn't list and things I didn't think I could or would do. 3.5 hour road trips by myself with 2 little ones and a dog to visit friends. It was so much fun I don't even remember the stress if there was any. (right). My marriage survived an almost thumb dismemberment, which you may think is not a big deal - and it isn't in the grand scheme of what else could go wrong in life - but it was challenging to say the least. I even survived hosting our first Christmas dinner while feeling like I was going to croak at any minute on the kitchen floor. Thankfully everyone pitched in while I admitted defeat when the gravy wouldn't thicken, the broccoli remained on the bbq for about 2 hours, long forgotten about and I had no clue what to do with the extra large head of cauliflower. It was demanded of me to sit down and drink up when I told everyone somewhat hysterically to "stop asking me questions because I didn't have any answers". It ended up all fantastically delicious and even more so when my husband took a moment to say his toast and became verklempt. Of-course then so did everyone else.
I've made new friends, kept up old and dear ones with fun trips and visits.
My eldest son started school.. Big deal. Huge.
Yes, last year has begun many memories, traditions and I experienced many delicious moments with my sons. Strawberry picking. Market visits. Zoos and beaches. My boys are becoming of the age where their memories will begin now too which makes this year to come even more exciting.
In 2013 I shall extend my vegetable garden, take more road trips and experience new firsts. I will continue to focus on the joy of my family and practice breathing out negativity, extending my hands and my heart to those that need it while keeping my own needs intact. I hope to continue teaching my boys that life is what you make of it. I liken it to a dance party where the music changes day to day from slow and melodic to upbeat and happy to melancholic and nostalgic.
Go with it, enjoy it, learn from it and move on to where the beat of your heart takes you.
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