Whilst Carving Pumpkins with Young 'uns

"Hey let's carve some pumpkins my sweet darlings!  It's going to be SO MUCH FUN!"  Said no Mother ever.

Because in reality you know deep down in the very pit of your stomach this is actually a shitstorm of a no good, terrible, very bad idea.  

But you do it anyway.  Because children make you do insane things.

Or just make you insane.  Period.

So there we went from grocery store to grocery store on HALLOWEEN DAY trying to find pumpkins for sale.  

Turns out they are in high demand this time of year and quite possibly will be sold out everywhere on the day you actually want to display them.

The unfortunate-fortunate part is that we did eventually find some.

This whole experience is semi-new to me considering the last time I carved a pumpkin I was pregnant with my second son and Adrian had little to do with assisting me, being not even 2 years old. 

Today I came away a little enlightened (and a lot frazzled) and decided to make a short (only slight tongue in cheek) list of tips for carving pumpkins with your little ones if you've not yet dared to...

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Tip #1 - When you arrive home with your sweet pumpkins and future Jack-O-Lanterns in tow you may want to crack open a bottle of wine.  Or a very large bottle of vodka.  Because though not advisable to become inebriated when dealing with children and knives and all those really bad combinations of things thrown together it might make things much more tolerable.  (I didn't do this though upon reflection I probably should have).  

Tip #2 - Ensure your floors have not been cleaned for...say...at least 2 weeks so that any pumpkin guts that fall to the floor won't matter a bit.  Though you've covered every square inch in the radius of 25 feet, your floor WILL become littered with slimy pumpkins seeds and smears of raw pumpkin no matter what measures you take.  

Tip #3 - Do not freak out if your children decide to take a chunk of the pumpkin eye carving and begin to gnaw on it like mine did.  Your child will not get salmonella or botulism or e-coli as I fully believed they would. They will not keel over with food poisoning.  Though they could (if they eat too much) get a bit of a belly ache in actuality raw pumpkin and raw pumpkin seeds are actually very nutritious and a great source of Omegas.  And if you think about it this will probably be the only source of nutrition they'll actually want in the next month or so, so tell them to have at it.  

Gnaw away dear children.  Gnaw away.

Tip #4 - When brainstorming your pumpkin carvings with your children do not use a black sharpie on your white dry erase board.  However, IF you happened to be as distracted as I am (I blame this totally on my children by the way) and you do a dimwitted thing such as I, then be assured all is not destroyed!    

How to Remove Permanent Marker from White Board - it really works!

Tip #5 - when picking out your pumpkin(s) it's important to do an all over inspection to make sure that it is not rotting. I realize this is a very obvious tip but these things aren't always so obvious for everyone.  (ahem - see tip numero quattro...I may not be a genius but I know 2 different languages)

Tip #6 - This one is also simple so lean in close, read my words and heed my advice or you could be very, very sorry.

NEVER, EVER, EVER, EVER agree to carve pumpkins with a 3 and a 4 year old.  

What happens is you end up doing everything...even the scooping out of the pumpkin guts which is ultimately the whole point of kids helping you carve pumpkins right?  Your arm will feel like it's going to fall off as you begin to sweat due to carving ridiculous looking shapes into a very HARD gourd with a very sharp knife.  Your children will have become extremely bored by the whole process (because you won't allow them to wield a knife - which hello! is the most fun part of all) and will begin running circles around you naked, playing spaceships and rockets, screaming like batshit crazy banshees while you'll be wishing you had that bottle of vodka beside you to drink straight from praying aliens would in fact abduct your spawn at that very moment as you yell, "I have a sharp knife!  Stop running!  I have a sharp knife!  Stop screaming! I have a sharp knife!  STOP!!!!!  JUST STOOOOOPPPPPP!!!"  

Eventually you just give up as the madness increases around you.  

And pause amongst the insanity...you've become the eye in the middle of the (shit)storm so you might akin it to, admiring your amazing pumpkin artwork.

This was not enjoyable in the least.
In regards to tip number 5:  Closely inspect pumpkin on right.
Back left molar.
He needs to see a dentist.

 Like 2 years ago.

Deep Thoughts and a Spider-Man Serenade

I've recently come to the realization that a lot of my blog posts (especially as of lately) seem to revolve around bedtime.  This may be because it's my favourite part of the day with my boys.  Not because they're about to delve into sweet, sweet slumber and I no longer have to physically parent them for 12 hours (although...yes that is something I look forward to) but because it's when they say and do the cutest, funniest and most random things.

This is the scene from last night....

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The room is dark and Riley is curled up at the foot of his bed, as my eldest so often requests now.  I lay beside him in his darkened room when Finley meanders in to give me a kiss good-night after cuddles with John.  My little one makes his way into his room, my husband follows to tuck him in for the night.

All is quiet for a few minutes.

I often wonder what goes through Adrian's head at night.  He's not a chatty child.  Perhaps he has deep thoughts, I think to myself.

And then I find out about those deep thoughts, "Mummy?"

"Yes baby?"

"Why is Green Lantern bald?  Not in the movie but in the books?"

My thoughts:  Green Lantern is bald?  He's black in the books.  Is he bald and black? (I try to conjure up the image of the character from his Justice League books) Is it even PC anymore to call a black person black?  I'm white though...I'm not offended if someone calls me white.  Wait a minute...what was the question again?  Oh yeah - Green Lantern...why is he bald.  But isn't Ryan Reynolds the Green Lantern in the movie?  He's white.  But...why doesn't a black actor play the Green Lantern? Wait a minute...aren't there like a lot of different Green Lanterns?  Why are there so many?  How do I even know this??!!!

And then I answered him..."I'm not sure sweets.  Maybe he shaves his head."

Now that is some seriously profound conversation right there.

It's like he reads my mind.  "And why is his skin different in the books?"  He holds his hand up in the air like he stroking something, a face perhaps, that's not there.  "It's like a brown colour."

"You're right.  I'm not sure why.  I actually just wondered the same thing.  I think there were few different Green Lanterns."

Amazing, the things you learn when you become a parent.  Aside from not knowing anything about babies before I had one, I didn't know much about superheroes either. Now I'm like some sort of superhero expert or something.

"Maybe we can look it up on the computer in the morning."  He states and I concur.  He's four yet extremely observant.  Google, he's noticed, is Mommy's 'other brain' when my actual real one doesn't have the answer.

Which, admittedly, is quite often.

It becomes quiet again.  Until I hear the first strains of the Spider-Man theme song coming from my youngest's room.

"Spider-man, Spider-man
Does whatever a spider can
Spins a witch any time...

no,no,no... (becomes a few octaves louder as Adrian squirms in the bed and groans in annoyance about his brother being too loud)

Spider-man, Spider-man
Does whatever a spider can
Spins a witch any time
Catches thieves just like flies."

Repeat this about 6 times with each verse becoming that much more louder substituting 'web' with 'witch' just to shake things up a bit.  He's unpredictable like that.  An outside of the box thinker.

It was reminiscent of when he first began babbling and would wake up in the middle night, not crying, but babbling loudly.  My husband and I would wake up mostly amused by the adorableness of it and a tiny bit annoyed about our sleep being disrupted yet again. We were grateful that he wasn't crying of-course...but ohmygosh those babbles were LOUD.

Eventually it became quiet with the sound of just my son breathing deeply beside me.

The dog warm at my feet.

It was a good night.

Why Gwyneth and I will never be BFF's

I'm just going to begin by saying that I really, really try hard to not judge others.  I truly do.  The person playing their guitar outside the liquor store.  That Mother semi losing it on her children over there.  The squigee kid on the corner.  The unfriendly supermarket cashier that barely looked at me as she scanned my groceries while I semi lost it on my boys who wouldn't stop kicking each other.  Even celebrities.  Yes.  I even try not to judge celebrities.  I was saddened by the Britney Spears fiasco.  The Charlie Sheen dramatics were disturbing to me because it was clear he was not 'winning' anything.  Maybe he really was drinking tiger blood but it sure as hell must've been spiked with a whole lotta something else. Angelina Jolie...well that was a really, really difficult period because she stole my husband and then went on to have 12 kids.  That hurt.  Then there's Gwenyth Paltrow.  Though it seemed like all the Mommy bloggers hate her for...I don't know....feeding her kids too much organic kale and quinoa?  Whatever.  I actually enjoy her cook book, though it seems she does go a  bit overboard on the agave nectar or whatever the it's called.  It's no substitute for sugar in my books so I won't be making her brownies.  Ever.

Besides Gwen's over usage of agave syrup or nectar or whateverthehellitscalled I actually liked her.  I've seen her on Oprah.  She seemed pretty cool. Amusing even. I didn't understand why (a lot) of other people didn't.

Okay.  So that cupping thing was a little alarming.

Odd.  And a lot unattractive.
Gwyneth my dear...what were you thinking?!

Oh and that crazy awful diet she did where all you eat is grass, barley and dandelions and heinous untasteful things like that?  I wouldn't last 5 minutes on that.  And neither would my marriage.  It's just not healthy to be that healthy you know what I mean?

I found myself flipping through the latest In Style magazine, in sweet sweet peace, away from my darling little spawns at the lovely lady's home that does my hair once a year or so and since I quite like G.P. (as only Mario Batali and I refer to her of-course) and since I only question some of her decisions (like naming her daughter after a fruit and her son Moses...then again I'm named after a month so who am I to judge...though technically - not my fault) I stopped flipping to read an interview with her.

There I was enjoying being able to read an entire magazine article without having to referee my children, cook dinner and let the dog out because she's barking, when she had to pause the interview (according to the article) to attend to her daughter.  She returned back and said these words, "She's cross because I only let them watch TV in French or Spanish," Paltrow said of her daughter Apple "When I'm in France, I go to [Boulevard] Beaumarchais and buy all their cartoons." 

My eyes rolled so far back in my head that it actually pained me.  I totally judged her on those two extremely hoity toity sentences.  

You know where I go for my boys cartoons? 

The PBS channel.  

And Walmart.

And then I got really sad.

Because all my dreams of her and I sipping on a chilled glass of white wine while enjoying her fried zucchini pasta (which is quite delicious btw) with our adorable little ones frolicking around her palatial home in England went whooooosh out my sticky finger printed back patio door.  Clearly learning Spanish from Dora and Diego is not sophisticated enough for my former BFF, Gwen.  Though I'll have you know my boys fluently speak the basics.  

Hola, abuela, arriba, gracias and amigos.  

And they can count to three in Spanish too.  I mean, come on now.  That's pretty awesome.

So sadly, I must bid our fake friendship adieu because Gwyneth, though you may be a very nice person, you are just too good for us.  And that's really too bad. You really are missing out on what could be a most fulfilling, fun, down to earth friendship.

 I'm kind of a big deal too you know.

At least my kids believe that anyway.

Love Sandwich

I opened our red front door quietly.  It was 8 o'clock, surely the boys would be fast asleep.

Through the dim light from the kitchen stove I made out four chairs lined up in a row in the middle of the living room deducing that something major was spilled in the eating area at dinner time.

Or perhaps there was a game of musical chairs before bed time.

I'd hoped for the latter.

The thought made me smile.

It turned out my thoughts that beamed on positivity were true.

After putting the chairs back in their place I walked up the stairs towards our closed bedroom door. I could see the blue glow from beneath the door and hear the hum from the television.

My eldest and my husband were curled up in our bed watching a show that had singers competing against one another...so the theme of music continued into the night as it always tends to.

"You look pretty." He looks at me with shy eyes and a small smile.  My hair was a brighter shade of red, shiny and blown out.

I place my hands on his cheeks and kiss his mouth.  "Thank you sweet love."  And then I added playfully, "Did Daddy tell you to say that?"

Not because he doesn't tell me himself.  He told me just yesterday that I was beautiful all on his own.   I'm not sure why I asked or even if I should have.  But I did.

His eyes opened a tad wider, "How did you know?"  Then again...maybe it's beneficial for us all that he believes I just know everything...it should keep him out of trouble for a while anyway.  Until he finds out the truth.

That I'm fumbling my way through this crazy world just as he is.

Just as we all are at times.

I left the room to check on my little one.  I kissed his sweet sleeping face half a dozen times, fixed his half a dozen blankets, settling his favourite stuffed animals around him and quietly padded out of the room returning to my other loves.

I crawled into our big bed. Adrian lay between us.  I laid my arm over my son's middle, my hand finding my husband's on the other side when Adrian made the most delicious observation, "Hey, we're a love sandwich."  And he smiled big as we laughed even bigger.

Indeed we were.

A Love Sandwich.

With our little ham in the middle.

A Night Like This

I walked into our room shrouded in darkness.  I felt my way toward the bed.

"I can't see a thing."  I whisper, knowing little boys were sleepy yet still awake in our bed cuddled up with their Daddy.

I blindly found my place and lay curled around my eldest.

I pictured someone looking down upon us at that moment.  A perfect picture of family happiness.

And we are.

And we aren't.

Life is full of those moments when another could pass us by and marvel at our smiles.  Our laughter.

And those moments that one would judge us in a minute of sharp tongues and dark looks.

Before we become parents we often have our romantic vision of what parenthood will entail.  For some people the dream comes to fruition - perhaps?  Maybe.  But...for many others the beginning can often be an uncomfortable jolt of reality mixed in with the occasional slit of sunshine.  It's hard.  It is that.  We often impatiently anticipate the next stage.  When will they begin to walk so that we don't have to carry them 24/7.  The next year.  When they can communicate their needs.  So that we don't have to hear them squawk every time they're hungry, thirsty or simply in need for some affection.  The next year after that.  So that perhaps those nerve fraying tantrums will come to end.  (I'm still waiting for that time to come).

And sometimes, like tonight, we sigh a happy sigh, surrounded by what is right now.

"Okay Fin...it's time for bed."  I could hear my husband murmur to our little one.

"No way."  Of-course no way.  What's better than snuggling in bed with your whole family?  I'll tell you what...nothing.  I knew where he was coming from.

"Oh but I think Sleepy Sheepy and Bunny want you to come to bed.  They missed you today.  Can't you hear them calling for you?"

This was my cue.  What becomes the teamwork of marriage.  Then the unspoken teamwork of parenthood. I prepared my voice in the upper register of my already slightly high voice and began softly, trying not to awaken my other son, now warm with sleep by my side.  "Finleeeeyyy....Fiiiinleeeey."

"Oh!  Did you hear that?  Sleep Sheepy's calling you."

He giggled with delight.

"And I think I hear Bunny now too."

I prepared my voice once again.  Lower, gravelly.  "Finley!  Fiiiinley...."

He lowered himself from our high bed dropping softly to the carpet, making his way to his room until my husband scooped him up into his arms.

"Don't forget to give Mummy a kiss goodnight."

My husband lowered him down to my face, his lips puckered for mine.  He buried his face in my neck for quick hug and off he went.

As I turned toward my eldest, breathing deeply in dreamland I recalled the too short, sleepless, crying filled nights that I thought would never end.  The endless days anticipating the arrival of my husband from work.  Each minute ticking by slower than the next.  (and still living these days).

I remembered my romantical visions of parenthood before I became one.

I reminisced the collision of my far fetched vignette edged dreams with the sharpened edge of reality as my right now was filled with soft, sweet contentment.

He Loves Me More than Cheerios

We lay underneath the simulated constellations provided by his twilight turtle, in my littlest's toddler bed.  I was as comfortable as an adult can be in a toddler bed (which is not at all...as soon as my shoulder hit that vinyl-like hard mattress it promptly fell asleep) but Fin was as snug as a bug surrounded by about 12 blankets, 3 of his stuffed animals and of-course me.

After singing Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star about 50 times I told him it was time for him to close his eyes and go to sleep  .

"No way."  A simple 'no' does not suffice for him.

"I love you."

"I yuv you."  He whispered back.

"How much does Mummy love you?"

"Big Much."

"More than big much baby."  And just to prove to how much..."I love you more than coffee.  I love you more than...chocolate.  I love you more than..."

"Cheese."

I didn't just laugh.  I guffawed.  Child knows his Mother well.

"What do you love Mummy more than?"

"Oatmeal."  Oatmeal?  Oatmeal??!!  I was only a more than a little bit outraged.  I mean doesn't everyone like anything better than oatmeal?!!

I accepted it.  But.  I had to truly find out the depth of his love for me.  So I asked him the real testing question.

"Do you love Mummy ...  more than ... Cheerios?"

I held my breath.

To be perfectly honest, I wasn't sure what his answer would be.  Baby boy of mine has a serious, serious addiction love for his Cheerios and milk.

His answer was clear.

"Yes."

Whew.

The Past: A Piece of Me

I am not one that lives in the past.  Who sits and stews in anger and regret.  I am not the type of person who holds bitterness toward people who have done me wrong.  I am not a woman that has ever felt sorry for herself.  I am not that kind person and I will never be but occasionally I see, watch or read something and it hits me right in my gut, immediately travelling painfully to my mind.  And I relive things that I would rather forget.

I sit here with a pounding heart and shaky hands after watching the horrendously tragic video by Amanda Todd.  If you're unfamiliar with her story, this is the beautiful young girl who was bullied, harassed and beaten so relentlessly that she felt she had no other option in life than to take it away with her own hands.

While reading it I was bombarded by memories of my own tween-aged and teen-aged years.  And though I wasn't bullied horrifically like Amanda I have more than enough slides in my memory bank to make up a short sad film.  I shudder to think what would have become of me if social media existed back then.  I still don't understand why I was the occasional target of others hate - particularly one girl.  And by no means was I always a total innocent.  As young girls in public school there was a rotation of singling out one person - Mean Girl style - and it's shameful.  I said and did my own share of things that I am not proud of...haven't we all?  But here, I will tell my story, my perspective of what it feels like to be bullied, picked on, made to feel less than I should have or whatever you wish to call it.

I suppose it began when I went through puberty and developed at an early age.  I was called names by boys as they tried to snap my training bra while also running past me to cop a feel. Like my bodily developments were in my control and because I had breasts I was automatically labelled promiscuous (I was not but regardless that's certainly not the point) and deserved this treatment. In grade 8 I moved to a different school, right in the middle of the year.  If that isn't hard enough on a 13 year old girl there were rumours that a girl from my old school had 'sent' to my new school via a mutual 'friend' - completely and 100 percent false.  I can't even type what they were because they were so crude.  I lost my best friend to this girl, I lost a whole group of friends.  I also made new ones at my new school but not without having to prove myself otherwise.  Whatever that means.  I was (looking back now, not realizing then) depressed and later became borderline bulimic.  All of this was piled on top of my home life that was far from functional.  I never really felt comfortable, confident or entirely likable in high school even though I was part of what was considered the 'in crowd'.  Throughout my high school years there were times that were fun and times that were just awful.  Those were the times I was pushed, told I was scum of the earth, screamed at in front of many people on several different occasions.  For many years I just thought this was a teenage girl's right of passage.

How is that even normal to think that way?

These are feelings and events most people do not know about me.  Not even some of my closest friends.

And I'm terribly uncomfortable typing this out.  My hands can barely type at this point.  But perhaps you have a story too and you're nodding your head along with mine.  Or perhaps you cannot completely relate, possibly this could open your eyes a little bit wider.  But I imagine you've all been touched by bullying at some point in your lives.  Whether it happened to you, whether you stood by and watched or whether you were the bully.  But this should not, should never be considered okay.  Just kids being kids.  Teenagers just being teenagers.  Girls will be girls, boys will be boys and all that bullshit. Uh-uh.  No way.  Not on my watch.

The cyber-bullying that happened to Amanda is beyond cruel.  I wonder how the kids that put Amanda through this are feeling right now.  What are they going through?  Though many people believe this raises cyber-bullying awareness to a whole new level, at the same time I am afraid of the aftershocks that this could very well produce. What about the parents of these kids?  How are they dealing with this?  I'm sure they're asking themselves where they went wrong.  How they failed.  I know I would. And Amanda's family.  Well.  It's just excruciating to imagine the nightmare they're facing...that video shattered my heart into a thousand pieces.  But imagine that being your teenager?

This is not a confessional-type of blog about things of this nature, however, I have two sons.  Sons who I want to grow up in a world where people are accepted for who they are.  I want them to know that name calling, rumour milling, BELIEVING rumours, making people feel small and awful about things that are completely out of their control, bra snapping, bullying of any kind are NEVER APPROPRIATE.  And, dear sons, if you see anyone doing this to another person I would hope that your father and I have taught you well enough to be big enough, brave enough, kind enough, compassionate enough to stand up for that person.  Please.  And if you're the person being bullied, I would hope that I would 'just know' but that's not always the case.  So, I beg of you, talk to your Dad and me.  We will always listen.  We will believe what you have to say.

I am a strong person.  I am by nature a very happy, optimistic person.  I somehow had a reserve of self esteem that allowed a tiny part of me to believe I didn't really deserve the things that were said and done to me.  Fortunately I did have a couple of good friends that I could count on during these terrible times.  Amanda, unfortunately, did not.  There's always something to learn from tragic endings like hers.  It's up to us to keep these terrible events close to our hearts and fresh in our minds if only push us even more to keep the lines of communication open and flowing with our children, to talk to our children, and to ensure they are listening intently to us, about bullying.

We must instill in our children qualities of kindness, acceptance, empathy and courage.

It begins with us.

Now.

It's never too early.

But it could be too late.

Will the Real Superheroes Please Stand Up?

The morning began a bit too early for everyone.  The house was still dark.  So dark that the dim light over the stove was just too much for my little one's eyes.

"Turn it off Mommy.  It too bright.  It hurt my eyes!"

Reasoning with him wasn't doing any good.  So I turned it off.  We became blanketed in complete darkness.

He got it then.

Adrian made his appearance minutes later with too much whining.  That hurt my ears.

My head.

My nerves.

I professionally juggled (as all Mothers do) making 2 different breakfasts, smoothies, brewing coffee and grinding coffee beans, soothing the kids and being a referee while the dog whined to be let out.  It really is quite a magical sight to behold.  Especially at such a painful hour in the morning.

After breakfast, children must get dressed of-course as one heads off to school.   This is no easy task as parents well know.  There was crying, more whining, protesting and sibling fights.  And I still hadn't had my morning coffee yet.  This is nothing out of the ordinary.  Just another morning in a house with children.

My husband, just getting out of the shower, was doing his best to help as he always does.  He met me in Finley's room while I was somewhat maniacally pulling out clothes from his drawers to dress him.  He leaned down to where I knelt and looked at me in the eye with a smile and said with utmost sincerity, "You really are some sort of superhero.  You know that right?"

I smiled back and said nothing.  It was very sweet what he said.

But.

Great parents?  Are all superheroes as far as I'm concerned.

We just wear invisible capes.

'S' for Sweet Slumber

"What are you doing in school tomorrow?"  I knew the question was futile but it hasn't stopped me from badgering asking him about school since he started just under a month ago.  It was bedtime and bedtime for Adrian means quiet. Stillness.  Darkness.  And always me at his side.

"I don't know..."  Always, always the answer to most of my questions regarding school.

A change of subject is usually required and then sometimes, if I'm lucky, something will come out. Eventually.

"How about we sing O'Canada."  His teacher told me they sing it in the morning at school everyday, the picture of which makes my heart feel like it might burst into a million tiny red and white confetti hearts.

I began singing, with him filling in the words upon my occasional pause.

As the song came to an end and the lyrics landed softly around us in the twilight he put his arm in the air and said, "S's are easy. You just start at the top and wind it around like this."  He traced a perfect S in the air above us.

Aha.  Here it was.

"Like a snake.  'S' for snake."

S.  For Smile.  He brings a hundred of those to my face daily.

S.  For Smart.  He is.  So much so.

S.  For Sassafras.  The word I love hearing him say with his most adorable four year old lisp.

And then he turned his body toward the wall.  The sign I know all too well.  It is his signal for me to wrap my arm around his middle and tenderly tuck him in towards me. Curled in together.  My capital 'S' to his small one.

I lightly tickle his belly as the wisps of his curls tickle my chin, the rise and fall of his breathing reassuring under my warm hand.

When his breathing becomes deep with slumber I lay there still, a little longer, in the gentle darkness surrounding us.

A night does not go by that I'm not grateful for these moments.  When I close my eyes and breathe in a prayer of immense gratitude.

I lean over his angel-face and kiss the softness of his cheek, whispering words so simple, so true, so often said yet words that can never, ever be said too much, "I love you baby boy."

'Angel-face' sound asleep with his 'Froggy Doggy'.

What I Wish to Teach My Sons'

Dear Adrian and Finley, (I feel the need to put a disclaimer here that I placed your names in sequence of age from oldest to youngest, not in sequence of favourite son...let the record state that I love you both the exact same amount.)

Moving on.

As your Mother I feel it's my duty in life to give you unwanted advice.   And with that I actually mean I've made a list of what I feel you should know to live your lives to it's full potential.  I don't really know what the hell I'm doing or how I'm doing at this Motherhood gig to be perfectly honest.  So this is kind of a reference for us both.  Take heed my sons'.  Take heed.  And I shall do the same. (Or just humour me.  That works too.)

1.  Manners.  I taught you them at a very, very early age.  Use them.  No woman can resist a man with lovely manners.  Prove to the world that chivalry is not dead.

2.  Take care of the Earth.  Please.  I also have taught you this at a very young age and there is still so much more to learn in the years to come.  DO NOT LITTER.  Reduce, Reuse, Recycle.  And compost.  It's great for the garden.

3.  Learn how to cook and cook well.  I am your Mother and I am a very good cook.  I will teach you the basics but you must continue to experiment as you grow into adults.  Cook for your girlfriend often and not just in the early stages.  Continue to cook for her when she becomes your wife.  It comes in very, very handy.

4.  Treat every living thing with respect.  (Except when there are bees living under your front steps.  Then by all means have a bee massacre.  They are stubborn little bastards.  Oh and mosquitoes are okay to smush too.  Especially if they're sucking on your blood.  You may know by the time you're reading this how much I despise those vampiric insects)

5.  Read.  Read anything.  Read everything. Fiction, non-fiction.  Magazines, newspapers, BOOKS.  "The more you read, the more things you will know."  Dr Seuss

6.  Exercise.  And I don't mean turn into some weird bulked up freaky version of yourself.  Exercise because you enjoy being healthy.  Ride your bike, swim, play sports, run.  Work out at a gym if that's what you love to do (that's what I love to do).  Exercise for the sake of not just your body but for your mind.  Exercise is one of the best things you can do for yourself.

7.  Have an attitude.  But make it a positive one.  A positive attitude along with great manners is a winning combination.  It's not always your aptitude in the game of life but your attitude that will work wonders.

8.  Laugh at yourself.  If you can't laugh at yourself in life you're screwed.

9.  Apologize when you're wrong.  (Admittedly this is still a hard one for your Mother to do...so I will apologize in advance for that.)

10.  Be yourself.  Be real.  Be genuine.  People will see right through you if you're anything but your beautiful, quirky, smart, funny self.  "Today you are you, that is truer than true.  There is no one alive that is youer than you."  Dr Seuss (I can't promise that won't be the last Dr Seuss quote here - he was one brilliant man)

11.  Take responsibility for your actions.  This is something I hope to ingrain in you both.  It is an exceptionally important thing to take accountability for your actions or you will never become a reliable adult.  Learn from your mistakes.

12.  Travel as much as you can (and as safely as you can) while you can.  I would definitely prefer you do this with a friend.  But please do it before day to day life and major adult responsibilities sets in.

13.  Work Hard.  Laziness will get you nowhere fast.

14.  Learn the value of a dollar.  I feel it is my responsibility to teach you this and I will do my darndest but after that it's all up to you.

15.  Marry an independent woman that challenges you.  Wait at least 2 years before you propose.  Live with her first.  (and make sure I love her too or life will just become all that more complicated)

16.  Always, always put the toilet seat down when you're done.  Just do it.

17.  DON'T DO DRUGS.  EVER.  (I will find out.)

18.  Eat healthy.

19.  You cannot control people, situations or anything in life.  You can only control yourself and how you handle what life throws at you.

20.  Be a good husband.  This means being present in her life.  This means being thoughtful.  This means being affectionate and loving.  This means allowing her to have her own life, passions and hobbies.  This means being supportive of her.  This means finding out about all of her favourite things and making note of them and doing something with that information.  Find out her favourite colour.  Her favourite smells.  Her favourite chocolate bar.  Her favourite store. As a man I know once said during a speech to his son on the day of his wedding..."Lovingly stalk her".

21.  Be empathetic and do your damndest not to judge a book by it's cover (this is a hard one).  Remember...everyone has a story.

22.  Have integrity.  Be honest and kind.

23.  There will always be people in the world that have more than you and there will always be people in the world that have less than you.  Just always have that thought in the back of your mind.

*Okay boys, brace yourselves for this one because it's about to get reeealll awkward up in here in the next couple of sentences:*

24.  Use a condom.  Make it special not necessarily for you but for her.  Don't be stupid.  Don't be rash. Make sure you truly care about her for sex will probably mean more to her than you. And it likely won't be as pleasurable an experience for her as it is for you. (whaaat?  Yes.)  Just know that.

Deep breaths.  Aaand moving forward...

25.  Come to your parents (or at the very least, me) for help.  Don't ever be afraid to talk to us.  I hope that we don't ever make you feel that way.  If you need to talk, cry, vent.  If you need advice or a shoulder to cry on.  We will always be here with open arms.

26.  Be good brothers to each other.  I hope you always stay close.

27.  Find out what you love and make your career around it.  Pursue your dreams.

28.  Go to University, pay attention and kick ass.  (That's not really an option.)

29.  Don't burp, spit, fart or scratch your man parts in public.  (that kind of goes along with number one but I just wanted to clarify).

30.  Have an open mind.  Try new things, new foods, meet new people, have new experiences.  It's good for the soul to go outside your comfort zone once in a while.

31.  Be a good Daddy (I sure am hoping to be a Grandmummy someday...though please take your time).  This will likely come naturally to you as your father is a very good Dad, so please continue the cycle.  Be present.  Be loving.  Be affectionate.  Be empathetic.  Be patient.  Teach them, play with them, listen to what they have to say.  Love them unconditionally.

32.  Visit your Mother and Father as often as you can...or at least call.  You will never realize how much we love you and how our love for you both has grown exponentially over the years until you are blessed with your own babies...you will wish the same one day.

A Mother's Mind

He was curled in at my side as we watched an afternoon movie together.  Up until and still at that point he had been driving me beyond barmy.  To the point where my frustration with him had built up so much in my chest I had to walk away.  He had pushed every single button I had and if he pushed one more something like spontaneous human combustion would happen.  If that's even a thing.

So there we lay, finally, him somewhat but not entirely still, side by side when he asked me an interesting question out of the blue, "Mumma, do adults get scared sometimes?"

And all of a sudden my mind rewound to 24 hours before within less than 24 seconds...

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Intensely grating delicious chunk after delicious chunk of parmesan cheese for our pasta dinner, wine glass in front of me, Drive My Soul playing in the background I marvelled to myself about it being a perfect Sunday. The late afternoon sun shining through the open back door.  A cool breeze flowing through the house, the scent of simmering tomato sauce on the stove permeating the inside of our home and wafting out towards the children playing and adults mingling just outside our house.

"Hun, is Fin in there with you?"

A casually asked question from my husband who had poked his in through the front door inquiring about our littlest whereabouts.  Our not quite 3 year old's whereabouts to be precise.

"No, he's not in here."  I stopped grating the cheese for a moment.  Took a breath.  Shook my head from thoughts that wouldn't leave.

Of-course there was nothing to worry about, I told myself.  There are plenty of kids and adults running around together - he may have ducked behind a parked car or is in between one of the houses picking up rocks to add to his ever growing rock collection.

Grate, grate, grate.  

Within seconds my cheeks were warm.  My heart began to beat faster.  My mind went to places no Mother's mind ever wants to go.  A beautiful day, a rainy day.  It could be any day.  Full of music, full of laughter.  Family Love.  

And within seconds...as they say...your life can change.  Just.Like.That.  Don't they say that all the time?  

All the time.

January, get a grip.  John's out there with them.  He's fine, he's FINE. 

Mothers are such paradoxical beings.  We are filled with an all encompassing, intense Love for our family but what comes with that enormous Love is also a mind that is slapped suddenly and repeatedly with such morbidity.

Grate, grate, grate.

"When your gone...

Will I lose control...

Your the only road that I know...

You show me where to go...

Who will drive my soul?"

 And with those lyrics - less than 30 seconds from when my husband popped his head into the front door and what seemed like 5 million thoughts later I ran to the front door.

To catch a glimpse of my youngest son's green vest as he kicked a ball around with the neighbourhood kids.  Adults watching on.

Happy and Safe.

As the adrenaline left my body tingling from head to toe and smooth, thankful relief followed through.

*******************************************************************************

"Yes honey.  Adults can get scared too."  I drew him in close and rubbed his belly.  "We're mostly scared of something happening to our babies.  You.  You're my baby."  I poked him in the belly gently and he giggled.  "That's why we're always telling you to look both ways before you cross the street, never to answer the door and to always be careful of who you speak to."

He was quiet.  His focus was back onto the movie.  He didn't respond except to flip his leg across my belly and say, "Tickle."  I obliged.  Of-course I did.  I always do.

I don't think he got it.  Maybe he did.  Did I answer his question right, was it too much information for his age?  I'm not sure.  Possibly.

But it was honest.

It was my real, honest answer.

My only answer.

Know This

Of-course the question is always at the back of my mind, when are my sons' going to stop giving me kisses and snuggles.  When will they begin to cringe outwardly and roll their eyes when I call them sweetie pie, honey bear or lovey.  When will they simply be too big, too old to want to cuddle with me...when will that last snuggle on the couch be?  When will I no longer be required for night time back tickles?  I know that day will come too soon.  And it brings an intense ache to my heart when these thoughts creep in at the most random moments...those are the times I swoop in and bury my face into their soft necks and smoochsmoochsmooch their delicious still slightly chubby cheeks.

But then I was witness to three different Mother-Son scenes in 2 days that made me almost weepy with relief.

*****************************************************************************************

"Thanks Mom.  I'll talk to you later."

"You're welcome sweetie pie.  I love you."

She called her forty something son, father of three, sweetie pie.  Oh yes she did.

*****************************************************************************************

"Good morning sweetheart." She says as she walks toward him sitting at the kitchen table.  She leans down to give him a kiss on the cheek and sets a tea on the table next to him.  He looks up at his Mother with respect and love.

She was still taking care of her son and with a sweet kiss to the cheek to boot.  Her son that is a grown married man.

*****************************************************************************************

She walks up to her son and grabs his face playfully between her loving Mother-Hands.  She leans in for a smacking good kiss, then moves beside him giving him an enthusiastic side hug.  She looks up at his smiling face with so.much.love.  So.much.pride.

She is beaming beside her son.  Her twenty something year old son that just became engaged, his fiance standing at his other side.

******************************************************************************************

These three scenes I watched very closely with light and hope in my heart.  These three scenes meant that the love, the affection...it doesn't just end one day.  It simply evolves into something else. Just because my sons' will eventually begin to have deepening voices, whiskers on their once baby soft cheeks and hands larger than mine that I once easily enveloped doesn't mean that they'll no longer be my babies.  It doesn't mean that I won't be able to give them a spontaneous hug or call them honey bear.  Or tell them I love them to the moon and back.  (Okay, okay. I'll save that one for their birthday cards).  I certainly won't be climbing into my sons' windows when they're grown men in the middle of the night and begin rocking them a la "Love You Forever".  But I get that message from the famous Robert Munsch book...I get it.  It's a book I can never, ever get through when I occasionally feel brave enough to read it to my boys. I become a sobbing, red faced mess. Much to my husband's entertainment.  He enjoys sitting outside the room where I can't see him choking back the laughter while I'm choking back tears.

I'll love you forever

I'll like you for always

As long as I'm living

My babies you'll be

(Just writing that paragraph gives me a lump in my throat)

So my dear boys, loves of my life, lights of my heart.  This is fair warning for you.  Be prepared for your Mother to love you more and more as the years go passed.  And to continue giving you affection and possibly embarrass you more than a few times by calling you honey love and sweet pea for years and years to come.

Because my love for you will just deepen as the years go by.  Just know that my loves.  Know that.

House Rules

I keep seeing these lovely posters with a bunch of awesomeness on them for rules of people's homes.  I'd like to take that a step further and do my own...because I'm obsessed with Pinterest which makes me think that when I pin things I magically believe I can do them and therefore I'm a crafty genius.  I am not.  However.  If I were a crafty genious and if I knew how to do something like that, this is what I would put on our House Rules poster (this was REALLY fun!):

On Having Babies: By Adrian

Adrian, "When are we going to have another baby Mumma?"  I'd like to point out and ask WHY males insist on saying 'we' when referring to having babies.

Me, "Uhhmm.  Never."  (I know, I know.  Never say never.  But really?  Neh-ver.)

Adrian, "I think we will have another baby."

Me, "Oh you do, do you?"

Adrian, "Yep.  You just have to lay an egg Mumma."

Watch out JK - here comes Adrian!

I've recently found out - as in just yesterday - there is more than one writer in the family.  My husband being the other one and I had NO idea. He captured our eldest son, Adrian's, first day of Junior Kindergarten perfectly.  So perfectly that I'm quite sure I couldn't top it.  So perfectly in fact that it brought tears to my eyes and that's saying something...seeing as I didn't well up once as I waved good-bye to my sweet son on his first day.  It's upon reflection, I suppose, that emotions will get you in the belly of your heart and soul.  And my husband's reflection upon our first born's first day of school did just that.   This is an email he sent to the grandparents, aunts and uncles...but I just had to share with the world.

Now.  Get out a tissue.  Or three.

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It was a very exciting day today, as Adrian prepared for his FIRST day of school. 

I peeked into his room the first moment I heard the rustling of his bed sheets. As January puts it, he needs a little "hatching time" before you can really start talking to him in the morning, so I only whispered "Good morning buddy. Do you know what today is?" And with a biiiiiig stretch and soft smile he whispered back "School Daddy".

After a few more minutes he made his way down to about the third of fourth step of the stairs where he often sits to survey the kitchen conversations through the ballisters of the railing. Fin and I were sitting and chatting,  he with his ...of course, Cheerios and me with my cup of coffee. "Hey Adrian, what can I get you for breakfast?" In his still raspy morning voice he replied "Waffles Daddy, I'd like waffles!" Allllright...I look for waffles...Damn, NO waffles. Now normally this could be a bit of an issue when Adrian has his mind set on something to eat and we don't have it, but not today thank God. "Ok...hmmmm, how about a bagel, toasted with cream cheese Daddy?" "No problem little buddy, come sit down." After a glass of OJ and three bites of his freshly toasted bagel, he could no longer control his enthusiasm and off he went up the stairs to put on his new school clothes...BTW, it's not even 7:30am yet.

To start off the school year, Aidy decided to go with a navy blue polo, navy blue shorts and yes, NAVY socks as well!! Cute as can be. As he dressed himself he was all smiles and showed nary a hint of hesitation toward this big day that lay ahead. Fin seemed to be the most emotional, not wanting to lose his best playing partner, (followed closely by his Daddy) and could be heard several times saying "I don't want Adrian to go to school today!". 

Mom and Dad were well prepared for Adrian's first day, armed with TWO video recorders, TWO mobile cameras and our point and shoot Lumix, all fully charged and ready to catch every moment of his morning. (*ahem* this is January here...if it were up to me I'd have brought the Lumix.  And that's it.  My husband's ' eager over preparedness' was a bit much and he caught me *lovingly* rolling my eyes at him a few times...but truth be told it was pretty darn precious.)

Time to go! So off we went, out the door and down the street walking hand in hand, in hand .... in hand, leaving poor Riley behind, tail wagging at the front door. I couldn't help feel a little reminiscent of my early days on Alexander St. as I walked about the same distance to St, Michael's Junior School for my first day with (shudder) Mrs. Plummer...

We walked all of 10 steps together before Aidy and Fin decided to break free, race ahead of us and enjoy a little game of cat and mouse together. 

Upon our arrival, it was a hornet's nest of frenzy with boys and girls of all ages arriving by foot, bus and car. Many starting their first day as well, doting parents following closely behind. It was then that I noticed I may have gone a little overboard as I witnessed most parents snapping off a few pics of their waving kiddies from their cell phones, while I looked like the Paparazzi stalking Hollywood celebs, with camera gear hanging off every limb!  (Hello. January again...this is all too true and more than slightly embarrassing...but still...very precious)

January spotted Aidy's teacher in the small fenced in JK play area and it was time for Adrian to go...but not before one last hug 'n a kiss for Mommy, Daddy and Fin. Adrian quickly found his buddy Jonathan (our neighbor) and after a brief mingling with his new class mates they were instructed to line up on the big spray painted snake before going inside. Aidy, of course, was first in line staring straight into his new teacher's eyes, listening to her every word. After two or three preemptive starts, Adrian was finally given the go ahead, and off he marched toward the doors of the school. I called out his name one last time and he turned only giving a half wave...and like that, he was gone. Nothing but the faint whisper of children's laughter as they disappeared into the florescent lit corridors.

I can't wait to see him when I get home to hear all about the adventures of his first day...

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I know.  I warned you guys.  Tissues were necessary.  Adrian did not just like his first day of school...he told me he LOVED it and even made a new friend.  I, of-course, hung around to talk to the teacher to get some feedback and she said he did great.   He got to put lots and lots of marbles in the bucket for being a good helper and helping clean up the toys.  The school  operates on a bucket filling system which I think is super awesome.  

John and I truly couldn't be more proud of our little JK'er.

Way to go buddy!!!

Cool dude.

It wouldn't be a true Adrian photo op without the
Spidey pose.

Proud Daddy.  Oh so proud.

It looks like a painful 'Cheese' moment.

We told Fin to scoot over to his brother but he refused.
So Aidy did was he does best...scootched over and right on
into his little brother's very important, private personal space.

With his apple.  The child loves his apples.
"Mummy, teachers always have apples on their desks."
I wonder if he even noticed that his teacher doesn't have a desk?

There's Paparazzo Daddy.  Filmed the entire walk to school.
Oh yes he did.

Lining up on the snake.  Note he's first in line.
*sniff* so proud.

There he goes!  With a small wave to Mummy and Daddy through the gate.

Can someone please hand me another tissue now????

It's OK

We all sat in a large circle in the lovely home of my friend's Mother.  There were many generations of women and a couple of adorable baby boys.  We were all here for one very special reason.  To shower the Mother to be and her soon to be born baby boy with gifts of love.

I saw some women that I hadn't seen in a while.  Most of them now Mother's themselves.  It was a wonderful time as we watched the radiant expectant Mother who happens to be one of my oldest and dearest friends open up presents. In between the oohing and ahhing, we gossiped, bragged about our babies, kvetched (can I say kvetch even if I'm not Jewish?  Because I really, really love that word.) about our Mom bodies, discussed in probably far too much detail as all Mothers do about our births, traded information about cool baby items that we used and couldn't live without.  We bonded as Mothers.

I observed a good friend of mine's tears of pure joy as she held her best friend's baby and wished I could be so openly emotional.  I'd had that moment on the way to the baby shower while listening to a sappy song.  There's something about already being a Mother and knowing the Big Love that comes with it.  The realization that a wonderful friend will be bestowed with the biggest blessing in the world very soon is moving.  Babies as it turns out...are kind of a big deal.

I realized on my way home from the shower that I'd forgotten to sign the booklet with my name, address and words of wisdom for the Mother to be.  I wondered what words I would impart to my good friend about Motherhood.  After all...I'm fairly new to the club.  I've only been doing this Motherhood gig for just over 4.5 years now and quite honestly...I'm wingin' it as I go.  Could I say that?  'Just wing it?'  Those aren't especially great words of wisdom.    'Call me.  (if you need to vent, talk, cry)'?  But I know she's probably going to do that a lot anyway.  'Don't sweat the small stuff'...I could tell her that...but what does that even mean anyway?  You could tell a new Mother not to sweat the small stuff until you're blue in the face and chances are...she's still going to sweat the small stuff.  And the big stuff.  And all the in between stuff.  It's what Mother's do.

Nope.  None of those words of advice were worthy or even good.  So instead I decided to compile of a list of "It's O.K.'s" because nothing makes a new Mother (or even another Mother) feel better than when you hear them say they've been there, done that, it's all going to be okay.

Here goes...

1.  It's okay to let your baby sleep on your chest all snuggly warm and scrumptious while watching daytime t.v. for hours at a time.  In your p.j.'s. While eating Nutella from the jar. (or if you're a salt lover, Cheetos) I mean...as long as your not doing this EVERYDAY for weeks straight...enjoy, revel, bask.  Because sooner than you think that little bugger is going to be demanding Treehouse and sayonara Live with Kelly and whoever his name is now.  You're screwed out of watching anything other than Dora the Explorer, Fireman Sam, Caillou and Max and Ruby.  You may actually begin to question things like why does Dora always forgive that jerk Swiper and why is she so damn LOUD?  And why is Caillou bald and why don't his parents ever get pissed off at that little brat?  And where the hell are Max and Ruby's parents?

2.  It's okay to want to do the dishes when your husband gets home rather than hang out with your baby.  You've been with the child all the live long day and chances are he or she's been hangin' off your boob most of it.  Sometimes doing the dishes is a great respite.  Your husband on the other hand will think he's being husband of the year because he's doing the dishes so just quietly hand him your sweet chubkins and take over.

3.  It's okay if you feel like a disgusting, leaky, stinky blob of a person.  You have liquids coming from every orphus of your being.  And you probably haven't showered in a few days.  And you just had a baby.  It's totally normal.

4.  It's okay if you feel like popping your husband in the nose sometimes.  For no reason.  Or for many reasons. Just don't actually do it.

5.  It's okay to cry, cry and cry some more.  You probably will be an emotional catastrophe for the first few weeks and the tears will fall all too easily...over your baby's coos, a sappy song, McDonald's commercials.  You may be surprised at what will make you weepy.  And that?  Is so normal too.

6.  It's okay to ask for help.  Don't even think about it.  Do it.  Especially if you feel like you're tipping the scales toward desperation.

7.  It's okay to think you're baby is being an asshole.  (sorry - but you probably will have these moments).  He or she is NOT actually being an asshole on purpose to make you crazy.  They're just being babies and babies cry and demand a lot from you.

8.  It's okay to want to scream.  Just scream into a pillow so your neighbours don't freak out and call the cops.

9.  It's okay to feed your baby however you wish.  Boob, bottle, both.  You love your baby more than anything else.  That's all that matters.  Don't let anyone else make you feel guilty or weird or whatever for your choices.  It's your business and no one else's.

10.  It's okay to feel like you have no clue what you're doing.  Do any of us really know what the heck we're doing?  There's no Motherhood instruction booklet, no manual.  It's really kind of insane if you think about it.  There are, however, baby books - like hundreds of thousands of them.  And I would encourage a new Mother to not read too many of them. It will skyrocket your (already new) anxiety as a Mother to new heights.  And this thing they call 'Mother's Instinct?'  It's not always there right away.  The best thing to do when you're feeling overwhelmed or simply need to talk is to call a friend who's a Mother.

11.  It's okay if you don't feel immediately connected to your baby.  I think this is probably more common with first time Mama's but even more so with women that have had a very difficult pregnancy and or labour and birth.  I'm no psychologist but it's a pretty bizarre moment meeting this little being that's been growing in your belly for almost 10 months.  It's a beautiful moment, no doubt about it.  Beautifully bizarre though.

12.  It's okay to do whatever it takes to make your beautiful cherub go the f&^% to sleep.  Rock him, sing to him, put him in a swing, carry him, drive him around, walk with him, bounce with him on an exercise ball (take it from me - that thing was my sanity saver).  Don't stress yourself out about the whole sleep training thing.  A regular bed time routine works best (and that's the only 'real' advice I have) but it's definitely not something to really concern yourself with within the first few months.

Your baby will never be spoiled with too many squishes, kisses, cuddles and love.

Indulge yourself at every whim.

Take time to enjoy the ride.  Babyhood is not always easy but the sweet moments sure are delectably delicious.

I Smile (though I would rather Scream)

It's been a nonstop deluge of activities, day trips and weekend trips this summer.  Visiting with family and friends.  It's been full of adventure, new experiences and new places.  Which is why, after returning from a 3.5 hour car trip with 2 young ones AND a whining, unstable canine I decided that today we would simply chill out at home.  Maybe watch some movies, paint, read books and make cookies.  Sounds idyllic doesn't it?  Chill, though?  Is not a word that exists in this household.  We did do all of those activities I mentioned.  But those things don't take up the entirety of the day and when the lull hit.  My boys began to go a little bananas.  Stuck inside on a rainy day.  One child with a terrible cough.  The other one simply a busy little 2 year old boy who enjoys annoying his big brother that happened to have a horrible nights sleep and no nap.

You know this will only end in catastrophe right?

I began to count down the hours (or minutes as they seemed to be ticking an a frustratingly slow rate) until bed time around 3:30 when my eldest demanded his third cookie and fourth cup of juice and my littlest awoke from his nap from less than an hour of shut eye.

There were whiny requests for Cheerios, fights over who could sit on my lap (doesn't sound as annoying as it truly is - though I do love me some snuggles, when they're both yelling in your ear for them it's takes the sweetness out of it.  Somehow.) and me ironically wishing to yell for stillness and quiet as they clambered all over me like I was piece of their backyard play equipment.  We made it down the stairs and within 10 minutes a glass of lemonade was knocked over on the kitchen table (barely missing my open computer), Finley was knocked to the ground accidentally by yours truly (as I ran with my computer to the kitchen counter) He was already crying because he wanted his brother's Iron Man umbrella and being hip checked by his Dear Mother sure didn't help. Adrian began licking the lemonade off the table like an animal as I muttered 'shit' about a hundred times thinking my computer got sizzled with lemonade. The dog began running around growling with my son's sandal in her mouth.  Of-course Adrian then took notice of this when he took a second to glance up from licking the table and ran over to her screaming to drop his sandal.  My littlest then decided that a small green magnetic letter 'a' was of utmost importance to obtain but found he couldn't hide it properly - or to his satisfaction - under a blue tea cloth.  And so the waterworks began again.  And again.

No one ever said that 2 year olds made sense.  Or that 4 year old boys were made up of charm.

Both boys were crying, the dog was barking and I stood there unshowered, unkempt and still in my pj's at 4 pm. I was feeling every bit of the Stay At Home Mother I am...whatever that means.  I didn't know if I felt like crying, screaming or laughing uncontrollably.

And I had no clue how I was to make something from nothing when dinner was due to be on the table in an hour and I couldn't remember the last time I bought groceries.

The next hour brought more of the same as I cooked up a gourmet meal of baked beans, corn, buttered toast and cheese.  And peanut butter and honey sandwiches for my little.  I was beyond coaxing and cajoling food into my youngest child which seems to be all I do at meals now and so what he requested is what he got.  We sat around the table about to dig in to our feast when my phone rang.  Of-course, of-course!  Just as the phone rang Adrian clutched his tummy and moaned about how bad it hurt.  Probably had nothing to do with the fact that he hasn't pooped in 4 days.  I answered the phone to hear my husband's baritone, reassuring voice calling (unfortunately for me) from another country.  Then Adrian (somehow?) promptly fell off of his chair.  More howling from him as I handed my phone to Finley who proceeded to tell his Daddy that he was eating a peanut butter and honey sandwich immediately thereafter placed the phone back onto the table to continue his meal.  Uninterrupted.  Adrian moaned and writhed and cried and clutched while I held him on the couch as my husband's voice sat quiet on the dining room table.  Waiting.

This is what happens in my house.  A lot. This should make y'all feel better now no? ...because I'm sure everyone that is a parent can relate to a day such as this.

Good times friends.

Goooood times.

On a more positive note we've been doing the #30daysofhappiness project put together by a very cool website at http://thesmileepidemic.tumblr.com/....here are some things that despite the chaotic crazy day, have made us smile...

It's such a fabulous idea!  Easy and fun - the whole family can join....you should check it out!  :)

September: The Beginning of Nostalgia

The realization comes in flickers and flashes.

When I reach for your hand to cross the parking lot and you pull away protesting, "I don't need to hold your hand anymore Mumma."  A pang to my chest and I pretend to cry...embarrassing myself more than you when you plainly state, "People don't really cry like that Mumma."  But that doesn't mean I stop.  I may pretend to cry on the outside...but the real crying is beginning on the inside.

When you lie beside me at bed time.  Peaceful, quiet but not yet asleep and I see the face of the baby that you were once upon a time but is now atop splayed limbs, long and angular with deepening muscle.  When your eyes finally close I find myself still beside you.  2 minutes.  5 minutes.  10 minutes.  Listening to you breathe evenly.  And I thank God once again for the healthy, strong boy you are.

When I notice I can almost (but not always) reason with you.  When the beginnings of a tantrum can be desisted with calm word, a look or a hug. (though - again - not always).

When I see you in your role as a big brother, being kind, helpful, playful and dare I say loving.  When you aren't fighting each other tooth and nail that is.  

The other day when I saw you with your second cousin, who is going into her second year of university - when did this happen?! - ...and I recall the moment I held her for the first time as vivid as it was yesterday.  So tiny and curled up in my arms, dark hair and scrumptious pink smushy newborn face, smelling delicious as babies do.  The memories I have of her as a little girl flooded me at that moment.  Giving her piggy backs.  Her obsession with the Spice Girls. The first time she showed me her big girl bed.  The first time she showed me her Big Girl room.  Watching Mary Poppins with her as a toddler as she dozed peacefully on my chest. Seeing her awe inspiring talent as a gymnast.  Singing Happy Birthday to her on her 14th birthday which was also my wedding day.  Watching her bloom beautifully, gracefully into an intelligent, funny, compassionate and stunning young woman.

The memories of you as my first born, her as my baby cousin mesh together as I watch you together.

Suddenly with a start, that pang in my chest hits harder when I realize that your second year of university will also be here before I know it too.  20 years just flashed before me.

Boom. Just. Like. That.

Then I will find the trails of my memory are left scattered like bright delicate petals on a concrete pathway leading away from me.

Too far away from me.

The thought makes the stitches of my heart strain with longing for this space in time to still.  And though the years are far off I feel the melodic swirls of nostalgia beginning already.

The trail of sweet memories began with your first cry and in a couple of weeks you'll be off to your first day of school which will begin another set of bright reflections that I hope won't dull with time.

I can see 2 weeks from now all too clearly.  You, looking so handsome and much older than your 4.5 years decked out in your sharp navy and white uniform.  Cars backpack slung over your little yet strong boy shoulders.  Your wild curly mane of hair sitting atop big blue eyes.  Looking up at me, squinting in the autumn sun with your dimpled smile.  Bidding me your biggest adieu to date.  Excited for what the morning will bring.

"Bye Mumma!"  As you turn away from me, all smiles and become engulfed in your new classmates. My hand that waved too enthusiastically slowly making it's way back to my side as you glance back toward me barely noticing I'm still there. The way it should be I suppose.  It's better than tears.

And maybe you won't hold my hand when we cross the street to your school.  I will reach for it.  Maybe you will reach for mine this time.  I hope so.  I also hope it's not to much to ask that with that adorable squinty, dimply smile comes a hug.  And possibly even a kiss.  You must say an I love you.  There's no negotiating that one.

Might that be asking too much?

For the sake of this Mother's tender feeling heart...I certainly hope not. 

Big Brother to the Rescue

The crying begins and I hold my tongue about to call out Adrian's name sharply for bothering his brother once again.  But Adrian wasn't near him.  He wasn't even in the same room.  My littlest was simply frustrated not being able to do something on his own...his crying face is heartbreaking.  And Mommy's help would not do.  "Not you Mommy.  I do it on my own!"

But he can't.

He sits crying and I stand a few feet away helpless.  No hugging or soft words of encouragement were wished for.  He wanted me to leave him alone.  

My eldest's footsteps came from behind me.  Then around me and towards his little brother.  He sat down beside him.  In his arms was Sleepy Sheepy, Finley's favourite stuffed, silent, sleeping companion.

"I brought you Sleepy Sheepy Finley."  He waggles the soft, large floppy sheep him in front of his face and says the cutest words that have ever come out of his 4 year old little mouth, in the sweetest voice I ever did hear..."What are those wet things on your cheeks?"  Sleepy Sheepy kisses the wet spots off of his face and then he waggles him in front of his face again.  I see the faintest hint of a smile on Finley's lips.

Then Finley winds up and punches his favourite stuffed animal in the face.    

Adrian makes Sleepy Sheepy fall dramatically to the floor with a big, "Ahhhhhhh!"  

They both fall over cracking up and I giggle to myself as I watch from the kitchen hoping that it won't be the last time I see Finley's big brother to the rescue.  Minus the punching of innocent bystanders of-course.

What I Learned on Vacation (a Baker's Dozen)

It was that crazy, stressful, fun time again to start packing for a week away with 4 other families at a cottage resort.  (as an aside - am I the only one that finds packing stressful?!)

And so off we went, our second annual trip...this time to a different place.  One without raw open sewage, massive holes that our children could fall into, no blaring horns from freight trains in the middle of the night or heavy machinery that could potentially harm our babies.  You know...a normal, pleasant kind of cottage getaway.

I always learn a few things while 'vacationing'.

1.  The first thing being the obvious...or not so obvious to those that don't have children.  Vacationing with children?  Isn't really vacationing at all.  Though fun!  Very fun.

2.  A water trampoline should be standard at every cottage resort...especially for the amount of time most children will spend on it far away enough to barely hear the squeals but within watching distance from the parents. (and of-course life jackets are mandatory)

That smile on my child's face is what he pretty much looked like all.week.long.

3.  Don't bother bringing a book to the beach.  The liklihood of getting any reading done whilst looking after your children is ... well.  Unlikely.

4.  While you wish with all your might that your child might be tuckered out enough to nap on the beach, it won't happen.

Doesn't he look so cozy you'd think he'd fall asleep?
But no...not even a wink.

5.  While getting sick on vacation should be totally universally outlawed it does happen.  Thank God it wasn't me, but my husband. I felt as much sympathy as most woman do when their husband's are sick (which is not a lot - this is also something I learned and I felt so much better knowing I'm not the only insensitive wife out there).  It made me feel like doing this when he was down and out...

Action shot taken by lovely husband.
This is what I look like when I stub my toe.
Stubbing toes...is never pretty.

7.  When your husband has a really terrible awful thumb injury it's a great excuse for him to not do dishes for an entire week. (or going on four now - but at least in the comfort of my own home I have a dishwasher) Two thumbs up for no dish doing (for him).

Note the right Frankensteinish thumb.  Gah.  You can still see his stitches! *shudder*

8.  Picking a theme song for the week and dancing to it every morning is a great way to start off the day.  Our theme song unintentionally became Little Talks by Of Monsters and Men.  My 4 year old son is obsessed.  We had to listen to it about 6 times in a row every morning.  This song will forever take me back to this week.


9. When you wish to have serenity now...hop in a kayak and paddle your little heart out to the middle of the lake until you hear nothing but an occasional bird chirp, a flutter of wings from a bird swooping for a snack and the wind in your ears.  I realized that I feel completely at peace surrounded by water.  And I may have to take up kayaking for sport.

See how happy I look?  SO happy. 

10.  The male species can fall sleep anywhere, anytime, anyplace.

11.  Drinking while teeter tottering with children, while not advisable, is still quite possible.

12.  Accupunture can most definitely be done on the beach...
(and also?  having your tongue read is just as terrifying as having your future told)

13.  Cottaging (and marshmallows) makes my boys VERY happy.  Which is turn makes me look forward to doing it again every year until they refuse...and even then I will insist they still come along.

Memory making for my children is my favourite.